Chapter 1: Sign of Affection
Chapter Text
The first time Orion held Megatronus’ hand, they’d wandered into the midst of a rough-looking crowd: a gang of hardened street mechs armed to the teeth, turning their helms to sneer at the shining Champion and his little pet. Orion caught the intent in their eyes and groped unconsciously for Megatronus, looping his fingers through the gladiator’s as if they’d done it a thousand times before.
::Mega. Danger. We are being watched.::
Megatronus cast a cursory glance at Orion’s hand before recognizing the threat. The gesture forgotten, his field bloomed around them both: a defensive shield that would alert him to any move the mechs might make towards them. His cannon thrummed to life at his side, and he snarled, a low rumble in his chassis that Orion felt like an earthquake through his frame.
“Fear not, little archivist,” Megatronus said, pulling Orion nearer. “No harm will come to you while I am at your side. Just stay close to me.”
As always, Orion’s spark sang at the fond endearment. Little archivist. Hearing it in that distinctive, guttural voice sent a prickle of heat through his lines - a sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Sometimes it made him a little uneasy, how deeply Megatronus affected him - but that was normal, wasn’t it? That was right, given how close they had become.
They were like - they were like -
Brothers, Ratchet had told him when Orion had tried to describe how he felt. He’s your brother-in-arms. Your mentor. Your friend. And yes, all of that was true. But something about that label, brothers, didn’t feel quite right. There was a better term, Orion was sure of it - but his neural net just kept coming up empty. He’d tried out confidante, companion, compatriot, ally, comrade, and associate, but none of those fit, either.
One day, he would know the right word. For now, brother would have to suffice.
Orion smiled up at Megatronus by way of thanks, clinging tightly to the gladiator’s hand. “I am honored that the Champion of Kaon so willingly offers himself as my personal champion, too.”
That won him the tiniest flicker of a grin: a soft look that Megatronus only ever shared with Orion. “Do not mock a lowly gladiator for guarding what is precious to him,” he said. “I’ve no intention of losing my dearest friend to street riffraff.” He paused, arching a brow ridge. “And incidentally, I am not offering to be your champion, Pax.”
Orion winced, pressing apology into his field. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - ”
A small smirk played on Megatronus’ mouth. “I claimed the position long ago, when first we met,” he said. “I could hardly do otherwise. You are my archivist, after all - entirely mine, to guard and serve as I see fit.”
Orion blushed so deeply the air around him shimmered with heat. Megatronus was always doing that - saying things that made him burn inside, somewhere in his lower core. Sometimes it burned so deep it felt like longing. “I… oh. Th-thank you...” A tiny glint of mischief shone in his optics as he leaned in closer to Megatronus’ side. “... my Champion.”
Above him, Megatronus smiled, a rumble of fierce pleasure sounding in his chest. “You are ever so courteous, Orion Pax. Would that all mechs had your manners.” Here he paused and cast a pointed glare over his shoulder, as though the mechs who were still following them might be shamed into departing; but they either had not heard or didn’t care, still trailing after the pair, servos upon their weapons.
They’d been following Megatronus and Orion for at least a block. Orion was beginning to worry that they might be forced into confronting the band of ruffians - and while he had no doubts as to Megatronus’ skill in battle, the idea of being forced to watch Megatronus fight - this time for him - horrified him. Wasn’t it enough that Megatronus’ every day was filled with battle and blood? Couldn’t the city that claimed to honor him let him rest, just for a few hours?
“Thank you,” Orion said quietly. “I know my presence here does you no favors among your fellow citizens - even those who should see you as a hero.”
Megatronus made a low, disdainful noise. “Please. What do I care what the rabble thinks of me? Those who hear my call will rally to me regardless of what company I keep. I long ago decided that any mech who does not value you is of no value to me.”
There he went again - saying such lovely things, making Orion go hot and cold all over. How did he do that, exactly - sweeping Orion off his pedes with every tender word?
But in a brotherly way, of course. Of course. Orion wasn’t so foolish as to think Megatronus would ever be attracted to him. There were hundreds of mechs clamoring to find their way into the Champion’s berth - mechs more intelligent, more attractive, and far wittier than Orion would ever be. He could wish he was so lucky as to draw the gladiator’s eye, but to what end? No, he and Megatronus were simply… whatever they were, and that hot-cold-static-zipping-sparking-prickle-in-his-circuits feeling was just part of that.
He took comfort in Megatronus’ nearness, the heat of his frame bathing Orion in a cozy glow. The speculative stares of the interlopers in their afternoon walk did not matter when Megatronus was there to guard him. Come to think of it, very little troubled Orion when Megatronus was with him. Being around Megatronus was like climbing into his own berth after a long journey, or settling into his favorite armchair with a crystal tea and a good book.
Being with Megatronus felt like coming home.
When Orion bothered to glance back at the mechs he’d spotted, he could see they were still considering their odds, sizing the pair up. Orion made a small, frightened noise, a low hum of alarm - earning another angry snarl from Megatronus.
The gladiator turned, field bristling and cannon humming, and faced the mechs head-on, pushing Orion behind him.
“Think very, very carefully before taking another step,” Megatronus hissed. “I’ve fought and slaughtered the monsters you see in your nightmares, and come out with barely a scratch. Test your fortunes if you like, but if creatures ten times the size of Cybertronians can’t kill me… what makes you think you can?”
The mechs paused. Exchanged nervous glances. Bowed their helms together and whispered. Orion shuddered as they glanced his way: trying to decide if he was worth the risk.
Megatronus’ cannon hummed louder. Touch him and die, his narrow glare said. I will tear your sparks out one by one if you so much as blink in his direction.
The mechs exchanged a few more glances, nodded once, and slunk away, muttering under their breath.
Orion sagged in relief as they retreated, gratefully squeezing Megatronus’ hand. No Kaonite was foolish enough to fight the fully healthy and angry Champion of the Pits, no matter how they felt about the archivist he kept company with.
“Stay close,” Megatronus ordered, still glaring after the disappearing mechs. “They may try to come for you again. Do not leave my sight until we’ve reached the arena.”
Orion beamed, more than happy to oblige, tucking himself close to Megatronus’ side. Megatronus kept his hand locked with Orion’s until they were well past the darkest, grimiest streets. Even once they’d reached a safer neighborhood, Orion didn’t much feel like letting go, and Megatronus offered no protests at the contact. Orion happily hung on, enjoying the warmth of Megatronus’ palm in his.
I should have done this sooner, he thought, as the arena at last came into view. Maybe I will again.
The next time he reached for Megatronus’ hand, it didn’t quite go as Orion had expected.
As before, they wandered the streets of Kaon together. This time their destination was the city’s center, specifically the market square. Orion had never been, but he had heard the place was wondrous. Despite the city’s well-earned reputation as a filthy slum, its market served as a hub for merchants from every known galaxy, a gathering place for sentient beings of every heritage, color, and planetary origin. Under the smoky sky, the brilliant, jewel-colored lanterns of the square stood out like fireworks, infinite variations of temporary shop structures piled side by side creating a fractal pattern that lined the entire perimeter of the square.
Orion gaped, overwhelmed by the dizzying array of merchandise: unusual energon goodies, arena collectibles, instruments and weapons from every corner of the galaxy. It was brilliant and beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever thought Kaon could be, bustling with mechs from all walks of life.
“This is what Cybertron should be,” Orion said, hushed and awed. “Free and open, where all may mingle regardless of function.”
Megatronus smiled fondly at him, his hands folded behind his back. “Would that we lived in such a world, my friend,” he said. “Sadly, these last remaining pockets of peace are quickly being stamped out. The Council and the Guilds who run it hate to see us crossing caste divides. They would have us all believing the castes were set by divine right - that our forging determines our destiny, our intelligence, our worthiness. Reach outside your caste, however, and you quickly realize that no caste is wiser than another, or kinder, or more efficient. That within each caste, there are individuals, as varied and diverse as the universe itself.”
Megatronus vented heavily, shaking his silver helm. There was a weary, endless sort of anger in his face that made Orion’s spark ache. Megatronus had suffered so much - more than Orion could even fathom. He did not like to talk of his time in the mines, but Orion knew it had been a dark, miserable place - that he had quite nearly died there. He had seized his only chance at freedom and made the most of it, rising to become a star in two arenas: the gladiatorial and the political. Yet still he was barely considered sentient by the laws that ruled their homeworld.
How, Orion wondered, could anyone look at Megatronus and think him unworthy - unintelligent - useless? Orion had never known a mech more capable, more wonderful. His respect for Megatronus ran so deep it felt like something else; just another thing Orion had no word for.
“Those who would oppress the lowest castes fear what truths we all might learn if we only spoke to one another,” Orion said gravely. “Cybertronians would certainly struggle to believe the low castes lacked intelligence if they ever heard your speeches.” He pressed admiration into his field and let it brush against Megatronus, allowing the gladiator to feel the full depth of regard he held for him. It was one of his favorite ways of sharing his feelings with his friends: the clearest way he could express affection or concern without having to say it aloud.
Megatronus twitched, spinal strut stiffening as the edge of Orion’s field touched him. “Don’t,” he said, too sharply. “That isn’t safe here, Pax.”
Orion flinched and pulled back, audials wilting. “I - I’m sorry, I - ”
Cold blue eyes locked with his, filled with suspicion. Orion shrank even further into himself, staring into Megatronus’ faceplate in bewilderment. He hadn’t intended to cause any offense - but how could he express that clearly without using his field, if an apology wasn’t enough? He lowered his gaze and hugged himself, looking away and pulling his field in tight. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll… step over here then.”
“Orion, wait.” Megatronus’ voice was pained, expression softening. He hesitated, glancing around them at the gathered crowd, before surreptitiously reaching out to ghost his fingers over Orion’s helm - almost as though he was afraid to get too close. It was the most dissatisfying touch Orion had ever experienced. It was almost insulting, really, a cheap consolation prize. Orion leaned away, sullen and dejected. Had Megatronus forgotten how closely they’d stood together only the week before, walking these same streets hand in hand?
Megatronus frowned and let his servo fall to his side. “I only meant that other mechs might read your field and find you to be vulnerable. That’s all. Don’t be angry, little archivist. Come here.”
Orion blushed despite himself. How could he stay angry when that rough, low voice rumbled such sweet endearments? He couldn’t hold onto his annoyance even if he wanted to. These moments with his gladiator were fleeting and precious, and wasting them on petty irritation wasn’t worth it in the end. No, better to let it go; Megatronus had meant no harm, and anyway Orion knew what kind of touch Megatronus would accept.
He smiled and caught Megatronus’ hand in his.
Orion knew Megatronus well enough to expect some sort of reproach: a raised brow ridge, a teasing remark, some comment about his reputation being torn to shreds over Pax’s insistence on being so affectionate. He did not, however, expect Megatronus to stop dead in his tracks, optics cycling to their widest possible setting. The gladiator’s field crackled with confusion and disbelief, completely outside his control just long enough for Orion to feel it.
“What?” Orion said, stopping too. “What is it?”
Megatronus stared at their twined fingers as if he’d never seen the gesture before. His optics snapped up to Orion’s, filled with questions. “Orion,” he said, his vocalizer spitting static. “What… what are you doing?”
Oh. That was what had caused this reaction - the hand-holding. Orion’s chest flooded with hurt as he realized Megatronus must not want to be touched at all. The archivist had overstepped, making himself look foolish in the process and offending his dearest friend. Just when he thought he understood Megatronus intimately, he realized what he knew of his Champion could barely fill a ball bearing.
He blushed and loosened his grip, almost pressing apology forward in his field before catching himself. “I was just...um... holding your hand?” he said, hesitating over the words. They sounded a little silly spoken aloud like that. “Is that wrong? I’ll release you if you want - ”
A ripple of terror from Megatronus’ field washed over Orion at that word, release. “No!" he gasped, grip tightening so viciously that Orion winced. He’d never seen Megatronus flustered before, but there was no question: Megatronus wasn’t just flustered, he was panicking. “No, don’t you dare, I just - I wasn’t expecting - I didn’t think you would…” He paused. Reset his vocalizer. Vented fiercely. “Orion. Are you sure?”
Orion stared up at him, bewildered, uncertain whether to be happy or angry. “Of course I’m sure,” he said, folding his other hand over their twined fingers. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I…” Megatronus blinked, taken aback. “I… suppose I thought...”
Orion waited, brows furrowed, gently petting the gladiator’s scarred gauntlets. Perhaps it was the physical contact that was throwing him off so badly. Maybe he feared that asking Orion to stop would cause irreparable harm to their friendship. Orion winced, hating that notion. “You don’t have to indulge me simply because it’s what I want,” he said quietly. “I am all too aware how few choices you’ve been given since your forging. But Megatronus - I promise, with me, the choice is always yours, no matter how small.”
And just like that, every single strut in Megatronus’ frame seemed to ease, expression melting into one of such fondness that Orion’s spark skipped. He closed his opposite hand over Orion’s, dwarfing his slim black fingers. For a moment, Orion even felt a little pulse of Megatronus’ field: deeply affectionate and deeply touched.
“This is always what I would have chosen,” Megatronus said. His voice was soft and full of pleasure, choked with some other emotion Orion couldn’t quite grasp. "Always. Be assured of that, my archivist. I just…” He exhaled, laughing quietly at himself. “I suppose I thought I would be the one to reach for you, and not the other way around.”
“Oh!” Orion laughed, relief flooding his frame. “Well, you have to allow me some opportunities to outmatch you, Mega. It’s hardly sporting of you to be the Champion of everything.”
Megatronus chuckled, like thunder in the distance, squeezing Orion’s hands. “As always, little archivist, you’re absolutely right. Forgive me my ego and my foolish assumptions, my sweet one. I am merely surprised. Pleased - but surprised.” A faint heat shimmer glimmered around Megatronus’ faceplate, as if he was blushing - a notion so ridiculous that Orion immediately dismissed it. The day was hot and the market was crowded. It was easy to overheat out here, especially with a frame as big as Megatronus’. “Well? Aren’t you going to take the lead?”
“Oh!” Orion brightened, tightening his grip on Megatronus’ hand. Megatronus rarely let him lead anywhere - a tedious habit that had become quite irksome over the years. “Yes, gladly! Here, there’s a confectionery I’ve been wanting to take you to near the station - they have purple rynagen. I know it’s your favorite.”
Orion turned and pulled Megatronus after him, lugging the giant gladiator by one hand. For once, Megatronus seemed content to let himself be tugged along, a little smile never quite leaving his face.
All through their walk, Megatronus kept Pax’s hand tucked in his much larger one. Despite his insistence that it was fine, Orion caught him glancing at their fingers every few seconds, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Under normal circumstances, Orion would have wrapped his field around Megatronus, reassuring him that this was alright, that Orion cared about him and hadn’t meant to make him feel awkward - but Megatronus had asked him not to, so he settled for rubbing his thumb over the back of Megatronus’ hand instead. See? This is good. This is nice, isn’t it?
Megatronus’ grip tightened, and his thumb began to trace Orion’s: nervously at first, then more insistently.
Orion smiled, squeezed his hand, and kept talking, glad his friend had finally accepted the touch for what it was.
Chapter 2: Declaration and Acceptance
Summary:
It's odd how Megatronus has grown more openly affectionate lately. Yes. Truly a puzzling thing.
Notes:
With special thanks to CyanideOreo for the fucking adorable artwork at the end and for continuous encouragement, and to AndromedaPrime for talking about The Boys with me and flailing over my rough drafts <3
Chapter Text
In the visits that followed, Megatronus began to get a bit… demanding about the hand-holding thing.
If at first he’d been shocked by the gesture, now he seemed to expect it: snatching Orion’s hand in his and clinging to it so fiercely Orion sometimes thought his digits might snap. It didn’t matter where they were going, or why - Megatronus always insisted on taking Orion’s servo in his own, stretching his arm out and gesturing impatiently with his fingers until Orion gave it over. If that failed, he’d arch a brow, an irritated prickle running through his field as he pointedly cleared his vocalizer, until Orion realized his mistake.
And if that, too, failed - if Orion was too distracted to notice Megatronus’ displeasure…
“Orion," Megatronus growled, drawing the archivist’s gaze from the rare book he’d been examining just then.
“Oh, what’s wrong? Did you say something?” Orion said, abashed. “Forgive me, I was so absorbed - ”
Megatronus held out his servo. “Give it here,” he ordered.
And there it was: that demanding tone Orion had become so accustomed to. He knew Megatronus could be gentler when the mood struck him, but when irritated, he was forceful, imperious. Do not deny me what is mine by right.
Orion pursed his lips, casting Megatronus a disapproving look. “Ask me nicely,” he replied, “And I will.”
Megatronus rolled his optics, armor plates flicking in exasperation. Orion stifled a smile at the gesture. He found that annoyed little eye-roll terribly endearing, for no reason he could name - even when it was directed at him. Perhaps especially when it was directed at him.
“Orion Pax,” Megatronus said, a low, rasping drawl that both mocked and reproached. “Light of my spark; brilliant and clever archivist; the jewel of Iacon itself - please, give me your hand. Now.”
Despite the sarcasm dripping from every word, Orion blushed so deeply even the air around his pedes shimmered with heat. He reset his vocalizer, attempting to give his servo over with some kind of dignity. “Well… if you insist…"
Megatronus took it with a smirk, optics glittering. “I most assuredly do, little archivist,” he rumbled, linking their digits together. “There. Much better.”
And it was much better, truly - a feeling so natural that Orion missed it whenever they were apart. When he was home in Iacon, he sometimes found himself reaching back for a strong grip that wasn’t there, simply expecting the gladiator’s frame at his back.
The jolt of anguish when he remembered he was alone, that his next visit was a few weeks away, always turned him melancholy: a feeling that remained with him until Megatronus called him at the conclusion of his matches, his gruff voice echoing in Orion’s audials.
It wasn’t really so terrible, Orion reflected, having his friend insist upon his touch like this. Yes, Megatronus was… a bit aggressive about it, but he was a gladiator. He was aggressive about everything. He seemed fond of this new turn, like he enjoyed the affection - like he enjoyed being close to Orion as much as Orion enjoyed being close to him.
Though Megatronus had grown commanding over Orion’s physical touch, he’d backed off entirely from choosing what they did on Orion’s visits. He entrusted himself to Orion’s care, letting Orion pick the places they went, the streets they walked, the oil houses they ate and drank at. Orion tried to express his gratitude for the change by taking Megatronus places he knew the gladiator would like. So far, they’d visited a sweet shop with one of the rarer mineral candies Megatronus loved; a vintage music and holovid shop with unusual recordings available at decent prices; a sporting arena for injured miners (one Orion had donated a small portion of his salary to, though he didn’t mention this to Megatronus); and a laser tag course. He monitored Megatronus carefully for his reaction to each new place they visited, and was pleased to find that Megatronus seemed to like them all. Orion beamed to himself every time, full of pride. He knew his beloved friend so well!
Hand in hand, the gladiator and the archivist explored Kaon at each other’s sides, an ever-growing fondness lingering between them.
It hardly seemed like much of a leap to progress from hand-holding to hugging. In fact, Orion wondered several times why they’d never done it before - why every visit merely ended with Megatronus kneeling and gently pressing Orion’s knuckles to his forehelm as a gesture of respect and farewell. Surely an embrace between two friends would do no harm?
But the first time Orion made to hug Megatronus, he might as well have thrown a punch.
The second Orion closed his arms around Megatronus’ intake, popping up on the tips of his pedes to reach him, Megatronus went into full attack mode: plating clamping down, a fearsome snarl echoing in his intake. He picked Orion up as if he weighed nothing, slamming him into the steel flooring.
“What are you doing?” the gladiator growled, glaring into Orion’s faceplate. He bristled with anger and violence, fist poised above Orion’s head, field rippling with betrayal.
“What are you doing?” Orion wheezed. He looked between Megatronus’ fist and his face, struggling to calm his racing spark. His back struts burned in agony, his HUD flashing warnings about disrupted circuitry and scraped plating - and beneath that, a deeper hurt, a hurt that wasn’t physical. I thought you liked having me close. “If you were uncomfortable and wished me to stop, you only had to say so!”
The fury seemed to drain from Megatronus all at once. He sat back on his heels, bemused, rubbing the back of his helm with a nervous hand. “I… don’t understand. Were you simply trying to touch me? Why would you do that?”
Orion stared back at him, burning with confusion. “W-why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “You - Megatronus, we hold hands. All the time. Does… does that not count?”
The two stared at one another, swapping mutually baffled expressions for a tense few nanokliks. Orion pressed his field forward in an attempt to convey his worry and apology, but Megatronus rebuffed that too, drawing his field tightly against his frame. “Don’t,” he ordered. “Not now.”
Orion’s optics widened; but he withdrew as requested, field snapping closer to his frame than he had ever kept it. “I - I’m sorry if I startled you, or offended you,” he stuttered. “Please, I never intended to upset you, I just…”
Megatronus cast him a guarded look, eyes narrowed into slits.
Orion didn’t know what to say. Physical affection came so naturally to him - especially with Megatronus - that it had never occurred to him a hug might be received so poorly. But how could he explain that without sounding… juvenile?
“Megatronus. I… think very highly of you, and care very much about you,” he said, testing the words. They were awkward and uncomfortable, and the look of shock on Megatronus’ face only made him feel worse about what he was saying. “I only intended to express that physically, as words are sometimes a little harder for me. I won’t try it again, I promise. I can see that it makes you uncomfortable.”
Megatronus' vents caught in his chassis. “You… wanted to…?” He shook his helm abruptly, turning stern and irritable. “I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?”
Oh, this was ridiculous. Orion’s faceplate burned, his confusion turning into anger. “You didn’t need to ask,” he snapped. “You slammed me into the floor as if I was a fighter! Regardless of what you did or did not say, your feelings on the subject are quite clear to me now.”
Megatronus winced. His field unwound from his frame, tentatively brushing over Orion’s. A flood of apology and humiliation washed over him, so physical he could all but hear it: I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, my sweet one, I’m sorry…
“Forgive me, Orion,” Megatronus said aloud, helm lowered. “I was merely startled. I expected an attack, not… whatever it was you were doing.”
Orion’s optics narrowed. “Hugging?”
Megatronus looked even more surprised, and maybe a little delighted. “Is that what you were trying to do?” he said. “I’ve heard the gesture mentioned in passing, but no one has dared attempt it with me before.”
Orion’s optics cycled to their widest setting, his spark cracking in his chest. “You… you’ve never been hugged?”
Megatronus laughed bitterly. “Of course not. I was built for violence and brute strength, Orion - not affection.” He gave a rueful little shrug. “It simply isn’t done.”
Orion choked on a sorrowful sound. He threw himself into Megatronus’ grip before he could think better of it, pressed spark to spark with him. “I don’t care if it isn’t done,” he murmured, clinging to Megatronus. “I don’t care if it isn’t what you were built for. You deserve this as much as any other mech. More than some, I daresay.”
Megatronus sat stiffly beneath him for a long moment. The uncertain flutter of his hands told Orion that he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was supposed to do: how he was meant to respond to a touch this intimate, this tender.
Orion pressed affection and warmth into every last inch of his field, keeping his face buried firmly against the gladiator’s intake. “I’m so sorry, Megatronus,” he murmured. “I’m sorry no one ever touched you gently. I’m sorry it took you this long to know what it feels like.”
Megatronus shivered, lightly running his digits over Orion’s helm. “You are so soft,” he said. “Tender even to things with claws and teeth. Is that wise, my sweet one? Don’t you fear what you risk, being close to me like this?”
Orion could only cling tighter, pressing the flat of his palm to Megatronus’ helm. “I could never fear you, Megatronus,” he said. “You are so much more to me than a thing with claws and teeth. To me you are… everything, really.” He sighed and cuddled into the gladiator’s lap. “I want this closeness because you matter to me - more than anyone else in the universe.”
Megatronus’ field crackled like a firework. “Is… is that a confession?” he asked.
Orion smiled against his intake. “If you like.”
Megatronus’ engine revved, hard, and then he had hold of Orion so tightly Orion thought his back strut might actually break.
Bliss.
Orion sank even further against Megatronus’ frame, letting the gladiator drink him in. There was some new, burning excitement in him that Orion had never felt before - and beneath that, terror. Fear of being vulnerable. Fear of being used.
Poor Megatronus. The world had been so cruel to him. He couldn’t believe that he could trust anyone - not even his dearest friend.
“It’s alright,” Orion soothed, bumping his helm against Megatronus’. “I’m not going to hurt you, or use this against you.” He nuzzled against Megatronus’ audial, holding him close. “You are important to me, Megatronus. That’s what I wanted you to know - what I wanted to… confess, I suppose. That you matter. That I care about you deeply. That I’ll miss you when I return home.”
Megatronus’ vents completely stalled out. “Just how long have you felt that way?” he asked.
“Mm…” Orion considered that, nuzzling the gladiator’s helm. “I… I can’t remember a time where I didn’t feel that for you.”
“Primus, sweet one,” Megatronus breathed, muffled against Orion’s intake. “I never realized, til recently. You’ve kept your intentions uncommonly close to the spark.”
Megatronus hadn’t realized Orion cared about him? What had he done to make Megatronus think otherwise? Orion would have to make it up to him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer,” he said. “I’ll try not to make that mistake again.”
Megatronus pressed his faceplate deeper into Orion’s shoulder, smiling against his armor. “Mm. Well, if you’re looking for ideas on how to make it up to me… more of this would not go awry.”
“That’s the easiest request you’ve ever made of me,” Orion laughed. “More of this is all I want.”
Megatronus actually purred, a low hum of his engines against Orion’s chest. “Far be it for me to deny you anything, little archivist,” he breathed. “Take as much of me as you wish, then; I am all yours. Always.”
Orion smiled, overflowing with warmth and regard, and clung to his more-than-friend, more-than-brother, more-than-sky-and-sun-and-stars, content to hold him close and be held in return.
The next time he arrived in Kaon, Megatronus swept him up into a hug before Orion had even spotted him. One moment, he was closing his subspace, tucking away a datapad and some other supplies he’d brought for the few days he’d planned to visit; and the next, he was lifted from the ground, crushed tightly to a shiny armored chest. His vents gave a pathetic little whine, fingers scrabbling at a waist he instantly recognized.
“Mega,” he wheezed, kicking his legs a little. “H-hi - gently, please, I’m not as strong as you…”
“I’m quite aware of the fact, little one. Stop squirming!” Megatronus clung to him, soaking him in: face pressed against Orion’s audial, arms locked around his waist. He didn’t say it aloud, but Orion felt it all throughout his tightly reined-in field: I missed you I missed you I missed you I missed you -
“I trust you’ve been well,” Megatronus murmured, still holding him close.
“Never as well as when I’m with you.” Orion ran his digits over Megatronus’ ventral plates, petting what he could reach of the bigger mech’s frame. “Mega, I don’t wish to be critical, but hugs are generally better when the other party can return the gesture.” He winced. “You may also be crushing my spinal strut.”
Megatronus huffed. “So ungrateful!” he said, fangs pricking Orion’s finial as he grinned. “Here I offer you my warmest greetings, and my only thanks is a cold appraisal of my technique.” He tsked, turning aside and carrying Orion off the landing platform. “I’m quite content to hold onto you like this awhile longer.”
Orion blushed, taking a moment to enjoy being held - even if his joints were groaning. “Please?” he said, tapping more urgently at Megatronus’ plating. “I promise it’ll be an improvement. You’ll only have to put me down for a moment.”
Megatronus gave an irritable rumble, but obediently stopped and set Orion down on his pedes, a petulant expression on his face. “Very well,” he said, watching Orion with narrowed optics. “Show me this improved technique of yours, then.”
Orion beamed, laid his hands on Megatronus’ shoulders, and used them as leverage. He’d pulled himself up and wrapped his legs around Megatronus’ waist before the gladiator could even blink, arms tight around his intake and helm resting on his shoulder. “Hi, Mega,” Orion said, humming contentedly. “I missed you.”
Megatronus stood stock-still for a moment, overwhelmed with delight. When he recovered himself, he took hold of Orion in a fierce grip, crushing him against his far larger frame: helm lowered and pressed to Orion’s, inhaling his scent through his olfactory. “Hello,” Megatronus said. He almost sounded shy. “I missed you too.” He bumped his faceplate against Orion’s audial, pressing as close to him as he physically could manage. “You know, little archivist, you run the grave risk of becoming my prisoner if you keep this up.”
Orion lifted his helm, leaning away from Megatronus with a startled look. “What?”
Megatronus smirked, optics glittering with a predatory light. “One day I might become so fond of you I won’t be able to bear letting you go, even for a few days.”
The tension in Orion’s shoulders eased. He laughed softly and pressed his forehelm back to Megatronus’, swallowing the imprudent urge to lean in for a kiss. Friends didn’t kiss each other - not the way his frame seemed to want him to, at any rate. What a strange feeling. “There are worse fates,” he said. “Being your captive doesn’t sound so terrible.”
Megatronus’ field crackled like fire, optics gleaming and bright with heat. “Don’t give me ideas, Pax,” he rumbled. “I may eventually take you seriously.”
“May the Primes forbid it!” Orion gave Megatronus one final squeeze before reluctantly unwrapping his legs from Megatronus’ waist. He slid to the ground as Megatronus let him go with equal reluctance. “You promised me a bookshop day! I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Megatronus arched a brow ridge, a soft growl sounding in his intake. “As have I, little archivist,” he said. “Though I now find myself reticent to share your hard-won attention with the books you so adore…”
Orion laughed, taking Megatronus’ servo in his own. “However shall we resolve this terrible dilemma?”
Megatronus glanced at their twined digits and smiled, lifting Orion’s hand upward and pressing it to his forehelm in a gesture of respect and affection. “Do me the honor of allowing me to read to you, Orion Pax,” he said, “And I shall be content.”
Oh, Megatronus reading to him in that rough, guttural voice… Orion shivered, pleasure burning through his field. “I would like that very much.”
“So be it.” Megatronus lowered Orion’s hand and released his fingers, only to tuck Orion under his arm a moment later, the weight of his cannon heavy on Orion’s shoulders. “Come along then, little one.”
Orion eagerly wrapped both arms around Megatronus’ waist, sighing contentedly, and let the gladiator guide them through Kaon’s streets: safe and secure under his Champion’s watchful eye.
[Glorious art for this fic done by CyanideOreo/ShapeofMetal <3]
Chapter 3: Courtship Gift
Summary:
An afternoon at the bookshop turns into a disaster when the demons of the caste system rear their ugly heads.
Notes:
GOD I'm sorry it took me so long to get this posted. The past two weeks have been kind of hellish and this chapter gave me issues. I hope the fact that it's a long one makes up for it!
CW for a brief mention of what amounts to forced prostitution.
Chapter Text
The bookshop was located in the most upscale district in Kaon - a gentrified neighborhood that native Kaonites disdainfully called ‘Little Iacon’. The spot where Kaon proper ended and Little Iacon began was marked so clearly that the border was almost physical: one half of the street lined with old, dirty buildings with broken windows and barred doors, while the other shimmered with the protective light of a filtering shield, its buildings gleaming white and pristine. In the distance, elegant spires with penthouses at their pinnacles loomed, pointing like the fingers of a mocking hand towards the sky. Climb if you wish; but you will never reach us .
It felt wrong standing in those shining, expensive streets with Megatronus - like they were trespassing, like some secret pact had been broken the second they set pedes across that line. Orion swallowed, pressing himself more firmly under Megatronus’ arm. “I… didn’t realize the shop was here.”
Megatronus glared up at the marble spires. “I will confess to a certain amount of surprise when you mentioned wanting to visit,” he said. “But I did not wish to presume ignorance on your part.”
“I wouldn’t have minded if you had.” Orion worried at his lower lip, squeezing Megatronus’ waist. “Mega. Is it... ”
“Will you be permitted to enter with me at your side?” Megatronus finished bitterly. The gladiator worked his jaw, optics burning with a fury Orion only barely recognized. “I cannot say. If you wish to go alone, you are more than welcome to do so.”
Why did Megatronus have to be so - so prickly? He was always jumping to the worst conclusion, no matter the evidence before him. In his spark, Orion knew it was only a defense mechanism, a shield the gladiator had been forced to develop to survive this awful place - but oh, how it stung him.
Orion frowned, optics narrowing. “You mistake my question,” he said. “I intended to ask if you would be safe here. I cannot, in good conscience, go anywhere you would not be welcome - whether you are at my side or not. Surely you know that?”
Megatronus’ shoulders eased, tension fleeing his frame. “You never do sink to meet my expectations, do you, Orion Pax?”
Orion’s gaze caught upon a fresh mark on the Champion’s lower derma, a chip of metal scored away by a blade. It had left behind a crack in the metal that stretched and strained as those otherwise-perfect dermas shifted. Orion almost - almost - lifted a servo up to touch it. Just another piece of you the Pits stole away from me.
He shook himself, forcing himself to focus upon what Megatronus had said. “What do you mean?”
Megatronus shook his helm. “Only that I always anticipate the worst of you, yet you only ever are the best of us.” His optics sparkled, gloriously blue and warmer than Orion had ever seen them. “You never disappoint, my archivist.”
Oh, now, that was lovely. Orion blushed and hid his face against Megatronus’ side, bumping his helm against the gladiator’s armor. “Should I ever truly disappoint you, Megatronus, I will be sorry indeed.”
Megatronus chuckled. “I’m no longer certain that such is even possible.”
Primus, he was effusive with his praise, unusually kind and sweet. Orion let his adoration pulse through his field, brushing over the gladiator’s frame - the only way Orion knew to share properly how he felt. There were no words in any language for this deep and endless swell within his spark: this heat and ache and longing that sang only for Megatronus.
Orion drew in a deep vent, staring up at the stretch of clean, neat road before them. “Well,” he hedged, tapping nervous fingers against Megatronus’ abdominal plating. “It is still part of Kaon. We should be alright, shouldn’t we? Surely they will not deny access to their own Champion.”
Megatronus gave a noncommittal shrug. “I have only been to this part of the city a few times, and always with an escort,” he said. “Many of the Pits’ sponsors host functions here. Sometimes they command my attendance.” He pointed to the tallest spire, and Orion squinted up at it: a twisting tower of white and gold, cloaked in the shimmering protection of a filtering field.
“The Guild invites you to parties?” Orion said, grinning. He couldn’t quite picture Megatronus in the midst of an opulent high-caste function. “That is uncommonly generous of them…”
Megatronus growled, baring his teeth in a snarl. “As a trophy, not a guest,” he said. “A…” He paused, hesitating over words he did not wish to say. Orion’s frame gave a little hiccup, fear and horror overwhelming him as he imagined what, exactly, Megatronus might be expected to do at such functions. “An object, really. As I am currently their highest earner, the elites demand my presence as part of the price for their continued sponsorship. The guild is all too happy to make me available for their use.”
Orion’s spark sank. “Their… use?”
Megatronus ground his dentae. “Don’t make me say it aloud, Orion. Not to you. I don’t think I can bear that.”
Orion’s vents hitched and stalled completely, his fingers clutching at Megatronus’ side. I should have known. I should have known they would take every scrap of him they could. I should have known they would demand the Champion in their berths. “Oh, Mega,” he whispered, leaning hard against the gladiator’s frame. “I - you never said - ”
“No. I never said,” Megatronus agreed flatly. “And I never intended to, either.” He hesitated, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “If you wish to release me because of it, I understand. I cannot imagine you wish to so closely align yourself with a mech the elite use as shareware.”
What? How could Megatronus even think -
But there it was again, that same cold, prickly suspicion that always threw itself between them whenever Orion thought that they’d moved past it. Orion set his jaw, letting go of Megatronus only long enough to storm in front of him. “No,” he said, fierce and full of fire. “No, I will not simply cast you aside because of the horrors other mechs have visited upon you. Do not for one second think that I think less of you for this. I loathe only those who saw fit to use you so cruelly.” He held out his hands, both of them this time. “Mega,” he murmured, softer. “Please. I…”
He trailed off, lost for words. What could he say? He had no comparable experience to what Megatronus was saying-without-saying. Words would not bring his gladiator comfort; only actions would. Only staying would.
Megatronus’ field was wary and anxious as he reached out to take Orion’s servos in his own. Orion opened himself up fully, by now used to the gladiator’s need to probe him: to reassure himself that Orion did not lie. That he meant every word he said. His Champion’s field washed over him, touching every piece of Orion it could reach. And when it found nothing but reassurance, affection, understanding -
Megatronus pulled him close and just… held him. Buried his faceplate against Orion’s helm and vented quietly.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “I - Orion. Thank you.”
Orion smiled and held him in return, curling against his frame. “You owe me no thanks, Champion of mine,” he said. “Nor should you feel any shame. You are… by the Primes, you are so much more than they could ever understand. And what they choose to do to you - what they choose to see you as - does not reduce you in any way. Alright?”
Megatronus clung to him even tighter. “What did Cybertron do to deserve you, Orion Pax? You are too good to be of this place. Too good for all of us.”
Orion shook his helm. “You flatter me too much, I think. I am as flawed as everyone else.”
“You absolutely are not. You are…” Megatronus paused, hesitating. “There is no word for what you are. Holy, perhaps. That might do.” He untwined his fingers from Orion’s and gently tilted his chin up. For a moment - an absurd, wild moment - Orion thought Megatronus might kiss him. Orion’s optics snapped to the little scar he’d noticed earlier, focusing on it. I could taste it if he kissed me. But the gladiator simply leaned down and pressed his forehelm to Orion’s, closing his optics and wearing a soft smile.
Then he was gone, pulling back and gesturing. “Come, then, little archivist,” he said. “Let’s visit this high-caste bookshop and horrify the clientele, shall we?”
Orion laughed and reached for Megatronus, sinking happily against the gladiator’s side.
The bookshop was in a self-contained tower of three stories, painted white and gold and topped with a sparkling golden roof. Orion blinked up at its grand doorway and fancy, gilded sign, squeezing Megatronus’ servo in his own. He could see through the large triple-shielded windows that the shop played host to several floors’ worth of rare and unusual books, though none were showcased here. The owners of this place knew the shop would be a target if their valuables were displayed too freely, even if those who stole the rare books within knew little of their value.
It was a much more elegant place than Pax was used to visiting, especially here. He preferred smaller, hole-in-the-wall bookshops: the kind of messy gem where there was no organization, where datapads and books were piled in stacks along the floor - where the most peculiar and rarest works could be found for absurdly cheap prices.
He expected that somewhere in Kaon such a shop existed - but this place was decidedly not it.
“The architect designed this building after Iacon’s styling,” Orion said aloud. “The whole city looks like this: rounded turrets and huge windows, marble and gold and silver.”
“I envy you the beauty you walk amongst every day,” Megatronus said. He was staring into the bookshop too, an ember of longing in his optics that Orion had never noticed before. “I find myself grateful to have you as my guide here. I imagine I will be quite out of my depth.”
He offered Orion a smile, warm and soft, and Orion’s spark melted. He leaned against Megatronus’ side, grateful for the weight of the gladiator’s huge arm around his shoulders. “I may be less help than you think,” he confessed. “My work often finds me digging through some dusty ruin or abandoned spaceport to find what I’m meant to bring back. This will be an adventure for both of us.”
There was a moment of hesitation where Megatronus seemed poised to say something else; but he must have opted against it, closing his mouth and gently nudging Orion forward. Orion’s frame temperature instantly dropped several degrees when the gladiator stepped away, allowing - no, insisting - that Orion walk in front of him. It was a lonely sort of feeling to be without the gladiator’s touch on any part of him, especially when he was so close at hand.
Orion pushed open the door to the tune of tinkling bells, staring in wonder. Within the interior hung several enormous crystal chandeliers, lending the shop the feeling of a ballroom turned to an enchanted library. Tucked behind tied-back velvet curtains, a group of clerks chatted with one another, casting a cursory glance to the door and to Orion before turning back to their conversation.
Then, as one, they all did a double-take, staring wide-opticed at the hulking gladiator behind Orion’s shoulders.
Thank Primus that Megatronus was too busy gazing around the three-story shop to notice. Bright blue optics cycled to their highest setting as Megatronus took everything in: the scent of real paper and leather, parchment and reed and vinyl and ancient digital all mingling. The shop was sectioned off by topic and then by rarity, with the rarest finds kept inside laser-shielded cases.
“I’ve never seen this many books in one place,” Megatronus managed, vocals dampened to a hushed whisper.
Orion’s spark flared involuntarily at the look on his dearest friend’s face: stunned, incredulous, as if he had wandered into a dream too exquisite to be real. There was something almost childlike about his amazement, something innocent and precious and…
Megatronus would kill him if he ever uttered the word allowed - but the gladiator was adorable.
The flash of Orion’s spark was so bright that it caught every eye in the shop, including Megatronus’. The gladiator glanced at his chest with an arched brow ridge, a knowing grin wiping any sweetness from that face. Orion flushed, reset his vocalizer and pretended it hadn’t happened. “Imagine this, but ten times larger, and you can picture the Hall of Records,” he said.
“Ten times?” Megatronus’ gaze snapped to Orion’s face. Orion beamed, pleased for once to be the one showing Megatronus something new. “I… cannot even fathom it.”
“Well, remember this moment, my Champion,” Orion said, taking Megatronus’ servo in his. “One day, when you see the Hall of Records, this is how exactly how you will feel.” He grinned and pulled at Megatronus’ wrist. “Come on. What would you like to see? History? Art? Literature? Science?”
“Science?” Megatronus’ face lit up. “Perhaps they might have something on the various plagues of Cybertron. I’ve been searching for a rare text on the subject for ages, but can’t seem to find it anywhere on the black market...”
“You could just ask me, you know,” Orion laughed. “I’m more likely to have access to such a text than your usual contacts.”
Megatronus hesitated. “I wouldn’t wish to put you to any trouble…”
Orion lifted Megatronus’ hand to his forehelm and nuzzled against it affectionately. “You never are and never will be a trouble to me, Champion of mine,” he said. “For you, I will gladly seek any record.” He lowered Megatronus’ servo, only just noting the thunderstruck look on Megatronus’ face, before bounding gleefully towards a shop map. “Let’s see. Science… science… science… ah! Second floor, to the left. Come!”
“So bossy,” Megatronus laughed as Orion dragged him up the stairs. “I’m right behind you, little archivist. You cannot shake me quite so easily.”
Orion grinned over his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs, a touch more loudly than they ought have. Megatronus was slower than usual, glancing around at the color-coded shelves, the signs marking each section, the enormous variety of works available here; but Orion was too eager to slow. It was rare that he was given an opportunity to show off in his area of expertise, especially here in Kaon.
It was a matter of moments before Orion pulled Megatronus to the correct section, gesturing proudly to the sign that hung above them. “Here we are!”
Megatronus gently touched one of the color-coded shelves as they slowed, smiling to himself. “Purple,” he said quietly. “A good color.”
That… had not been the response Orion had expected. Still, he was hardly disappointed to learn a little more about Megatronus, no matter how small the detail. “Are you fond of purple?”
“My favorite, in fact,” the gladiator replied absently. He was frowning now, reading the metal plates on each shelf. “Hmm. Interstellar travel… mining and agriculture, ha, no thank you, I know quite enough about that already… meteorology… botany… geology… biology… anatomy...”
He paused, squinting, and then his field flared with that same childlike glee.
“Pathology?” Orion asked, smiling up at him.
Megatronus glanced at him guiltily. “I know you’ve no particular interest in the subject…”
Orion laughed and nudged him, shooing him away with a gesture. “Go, browse, be happy! Bring me something interesting for later, yes?”
Megatronus grinned, bent - and actually did kiss him this time, albeit on the top of his helm: a sweet, chaste little kiss that made Orion’s tanks flip, hard. Orion leaned towards him with a tiny sound, tilting his face up - but Megatronus was already turning away, striding down the aisle with purpose. Orion’s spark constricted, his intake tightening unwillingly, as if he was choking; as if something inside of him was struggling to escape his chassis, tear open his spark chamber, and crawl out through his throat.
He gazed after Megatronus for a lingering moment, watching as the gladiator delicately sidled his big frame through aisles built too thinly to accommodate him. He stopped maybe ten meters beyond in the section marked Pathology, huge and handsome and frowning in concentration. Orion’s optics snapped to that dour tilt of his mouth, the little scar bending with his dermas. By the Pit, he was a vision, like an ancient painting of a knight in repose, or a hero from a novel: a weary soldier finally content and at rest among the things he loved the best.
Orion realized faintly that he'd been staring too long, that his own energon was thundering in his audials, that his spark was flaring again and heat was crawling through his circuits and oh slag was he recording this? He was. His processor had started filming, snapping image after image, layering them one over another and flagging each as important. You need to remember him, his frame seemed to say. You need to remember him just like this: shining in the light of the windows, polished and handsome, tenderly touching the spine of a book… warrior and scholar made one in him, strong and proud and brilliant.
You need to remember him like this: your spark, your light, your everything.
Orion closed his optics, vented slowly, and swallowed. There was a word for this sensation. He knew it. Why couldn’t he find it? I - adore him. He is the dearest of dear friends. Our souls, our minds, our sparks are as one. My brother. My Champion. My soul-twin.
It was the closest Orion had ever come to finding the right word - but it was still all wrong. It wasn’t enough for the vastness of emotion contained within him, the swelling sea of feeling spilling out through every seam.
He turned and left Megatronus to browse in peace, sliding away to find the sociology section. That would be a good place to tide himself over, calm himself down for a minute. He would still be close by if Megatronus needed him. If Megatronus wanted him.
He grabbed the first few datapads he saw, carried them to a chair, and sat down, trying to lose himself in one. Perhaps that would finally shake this hollow ache inside his chest.
Maybe forty kliks on, he received an internal comm from Megatronus. ::Orion. I found it. They have it.::
Orion almost dropped the record he was reading, jumping from his seat so quickly the pile of datapads at his side crashed to the floor. Chagrined, Orion bent and scooped them up, gently stacking them once more atop the table. I’ll come back to shelve those, he thought, noting the aisle and location for later. He rushed to compose an internal comm, turning towards the last place he’d seen Megatronus. ::Where? Still in Pathology?::
::No. It’s in the rare books section. In a case.::
Orion’s spark clenched. He had some idea of how expensive anything in a case was likely to be. There was simply no way Megatronus could afford it. He was given a share of the profits from his work as a gladiator, but the percentage was small. The Guild had promised to provide him with anything he needed or desired, but they both knew from experience the Guild’s leaders would never willingly buy him something like this. Oh, sweetspark, we don’t pay you for your brain. You’re our glorious, gorgeous killing machine. Why don’t we buy you a nice cannon instead? Hmm? Would you like that, Megatronus?
Megatronus was easy enough to spot, even tucked into the shadowed corner where the rarest works were kept. Orion stepped into the little alcove with him. Megatronus had one servo splayed over the glass case, just above an older datapad engraved with the title, Seeking the Cure: Reverse-Engineering Cybertron’s Worst Plagues. The engraving was too elegant and lacking in uniformity to be anything but hand-done. No widely-published document would ever have used glyphs with such unnecessary swoops and curls. This was someone’s personal copy, possibly even an author’s draft or a gift to some high-caste scientist. The cost went up in Orion’s mind, and he inwardly flinched, resolving not to ask just yet.
“Reverse-engineering plagues?” he said instead.
Megatronus nodded. “A few centuries ago, when the populace of Kaon began to grow restless, someone - I know not who issued the order, but someone - released a virus across Kaon. A monstrous plague designed to attack and kill the rabble-rousing miners. Its effects were devastating - thousands offlined, gray frames piled in the streets. They melted them down for scrap metal and used them to build new miners.” Megatronus worked his jaw, staring unblinking at the text. “Can you imagine the power we could take back if - ”
“If we could reverse such a plague?” Orion finished, field flaring with affection. “You’d seek to find cures for every ill that harms us, Megatronus?”
Megatronus cast him a narrow glance, the smallest hesitation in his field. Finally, he smiled and nodded, returning to the text. “Something like that.”
Orion laid his fingers against Megatronus’ arm. He was so, so lucky to know such an incredible mech. “If anyone could manage it, I believe it would be you.”
Megatronus’ smile widened just that tiniest bit. “You believe the best of me always, Orion. Someday that might get you into trouble.”
“Oh, I very much doubt it.” Orion looped his arm through Megatronus’, frowning down at the book. “How much do they want for it?”
Megatronus growled, his gaze locked upon the book. “Nearly eight thousand shanix,” he said. “The author’s signature is supposedly carved into the back, in addition to it being quite a rare find - a draft copy, per the note below. A more formally published copy might cost slightly less, but this…”
Orion squeezed Megatronus’ arm in sympathy. “I’ve experienced such disappointments many times in my functioning,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, my friend. I know how deeply you desired this work.”
He’d expected glum agreement, maybe even an angry noise in reply - but Megatronus was eerily silent. Orion looked up at him. He could see Megatronus’ processor working: calculating earnings and how many extra fights he would need to take on, how many fuelings he would have to skip, to afford this.
Oh, no. Absolutely not. He would be injured or killed trying to afford this, he couldn’t possibly think -
“Megatronus,” Orion said, his voice sharp.
Megatronus glanced at him, arching a brow ridge. “Orion?”
“Don’t.”
Megatronus chuckled in amusement. “Don’t… what, my archivist?” he asked, petting Orion’s helm.
“Don’t play the fool,” Orion snapped, jerking his helm away from Megatronus’ palm. “I know you. You cannot possibly think it wise to participate in more matches than you already do - to… to cut your rations, starve yourself, put your life on the line, just to earn the funds for this book.”
“Aren’t you precious! Fretting over me like a nurse and his sparkling charges.” Megatronus waved him off, laughing to himself. He was still thinking, still calculating. There was a glint in his optics, an obsessive little light that terrified Orion. He’d seen it before sometimes when Megatronus spoke of victory, of triumph over the guilds and High Council: when he spoke casually of leading the planet with Orion at his side, as if it was a guarantee, as if one day it would be reality. “I assure you, sweet one, I can handle it. I remain undefeated after fifty vorns. I am unlikely to be killed at this stage.”
“If you are exhausted and underfueled, you will not be at peak strength, and therefore more vulnerable,” Orion countered. “You'd be mad not to see that! Mega, please. Don’t do this. Don’t this to yourself - to me . I can hardly bear the amount of matches you fight in as it is. I can’t take worrying every second of every day that I am apart from you, I can’t - ”
Any trace of amusement was gone when Megatronus looked at him. His optics were both cold and burning all at once, flame and fury deep within bubbling to the surface. “Are you issuing commands now, Pax?” he said frostily. “Am I to kneel before you, Iaconian, and simper and beg forgiveness for thinking to disobey your will?”
Orion clenched his fists, returning Megatronus’ glare. “Stop it.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, archivist!” Megatronus replied, the words dripping mockery. “Does it sting you to be reminded of what you are - that you, who so casually issues orders to me as if you rule my every hour, are not the master of me when you are not at my side?”
Orion’s optics went wide. “That’s - that’s not at all what I - ”
“Is it not?” Megatronus said. He towered over Orion, looming huge and dark and terrifying above him, like an oncoming storm. “Is it not what you meant, Pax? I’ve starved before and will again, no doubt - whether by my own choice or by the Guild’s. I’ve fought ‘til every strut in my frame burned with agony and my neural net begged for recharge, and still come out the stronger. What makes you think you know my limits better than I do? What makes you think you have the right - ”
“I can’t lose you!” Orion shouted.
Megatronus blinked, taking a step backwards. Suddenly he was all uncertainty, that moment of darkness dissipating like smoke.
Orion’s plating clattered as his frame shook, anger and sadness and hurt pouring from him in waves he couldn’t control: striking like a whip-crack at Megatronus in sharp reprimand. “How can you even think that that’s what I intended?” he cried. Primus, his vocals were loud - louder than he’d meant them to be. “When have I ever ordered you about as if you were my - my possession?”
Megatronus blinked again, flexing his fingers. “I - ”
“Why can’t you ever take me at my word?” Orion demanded, choking on that same damnable emotion that kept killing him inside: that word for this thing that pulsed between them, alive and complicated and hurting so much Orion could hardly bear it. “When will you understand how important you are to me, how much I - ”
“Is everything alright here?”
Orion and Megatronus’ helms turned as one to glare at a slim clerk, fidgeting nervously near a shelf. Orion’s faceplate burned with humiliation, realizing how loud he must have been to draw the clerk’s attention from the lowest floor. It wasn’t often that Orion lost his temper, but when he did… oh, when he did. It was ugly.
He closed his optics, burying his face in his hands for a moment. He cycled his vents a few times, forced his shoulders to relax, and looked up - just in time to see Megatronus hesitantly reaching for him. The gladiator set his jaw and snatched his hand back the second he realized Orion was looking at him, folding his arms behind his back.
Fine. That was how it was going to be, then. Orion exhaled sharply and turned to the clerk, forcing a polite, tense smile. “Yes,” he said flatly. “Everything is fine. Forgive me for disturbing you.”
The clerk cast a glance at Megatronus, disdainful and wary. “We can throw that out if you like.”
His tone as he said it, as he called Megatronus a that, sent another uncontrolled bolt of fury through Orion’s entire frame.
That.
That thing. That object. That not-a-sentient-being. That toy of the elites. That possession.
That.
Megatronus snarled, cannon humming to life, right as Orion made a shocked, incensed sound. “You will do no such thing,” Orion spat. “I was the one who shouted, not him - ”
“But it was because of… of him that you shouted,” the clerk said, still looking at Megatronus with contempt. “We don’t mind Iaconians bringing in their pets, but we do prefer it if they don’t make a mess on the rug.”
Orion fists clenched so tight his servos nearly punctured his palms. “What did you say?
“Orion.” Megatronus’ vocals had an odd inflection, one Orion didn’t quite recognize. “Orion, don’t. If it will allow you to remain, I’ll go - ”
“No,” Orion said fiercely, throwing an arm in front of Megatronus, as if by the gesture alone he could protect him from this cruelty. “No, you are not leaving because some low-level clerk thinks he’s superior to you in any way - ”
The clerk looked bewildered, then embarrassed, then angry. “You’re awfully attached to your creature,” he sniffed, casting a sly, nasty glance towards Megatronus. “Quite unwise for a mech of your station. You might need to be taught a lesson on the subject.” He grinned. “Perhaps I should call an exterminator. Seems to be a lot of vermin crawling about the shop today.”
Something in Orion snapped. Blinding rage shorted out his circuits in a blaze of wrath. He’d heard mechs talk like this in casual conversation, passing him by in the streets; heard Megatronus’ stories of such treatment. But this was the first time he’d been confronted with it so blatantly, with an already-wounded Megatronus at his side.
Megatronus, who was always so defensive and guarded because of mechs like this.
Megatronus, who growled and glowered and said cruel things because such cruel things were so often said to him.
Megatronus, the mech whom Orion…
Orion’s fist was making contact with the clerk’s mouth before he could finish the thought. A loud, metallic clang echoed as knuckles met faceplate, warnings flashing across Orion’s HUD about busted joints and scraped plating right as sparks of pain burst in his hand. Time felt unusually slow and misty as Orion realized that his other hand had taken hold of the clerk by his intake, that he was swinging the mech around. The clerk flew backwards in slow motion as Orion hurled him with all his strength at the alcove. Plate glass shattered as the mech smashed into the display case, an alarm screaming somewhere in the background as Orion advanced upon him, lifting his fist to swing again and again and again -
Someone caught him around the waist and yanked him off of the clerk. He made a sound so vicious he didn’t recognize it as his own, kicking and snarling as he was tugged away; spinning against that grip upon him and swinging again, hard -
Megatronus’ palm took the brunt of his fist as it hit, closing around his balled-up digits while the other hand caught his wrists. “Orion, stop!”
Orion froze, venting hard, staring into Megatronus’ very worried face. Time picked up pace again, and all the anger drained out of him in a rush, his optics widening as furious tears threatened to spill over.
“Oh, sweet one,” Megatronus murmured, letting Orion’s hands drop. He laid both hands on either side of Orion’s helm, cupping his face, opening his field wide - oh, that was lovely, there was so much affection there, so much fondness, so much worry and fear and oh something else, something deeper, something like Orion felt for him, what was that -
A laser blast shattered the moment. Orion whipped his helm to the side, gasping as a cluster of security mechs crouched low and started firing. Megatronus swore under his vents, whirled, and transformed his shield arm. The next second, Orion’s view was gone, blocked by that same shield arm.
Megatronus had thrown his shield in front of him. He was protecting him.
“Stay low,” he growled over his shoulder, lifting his cannon arm. “This could be unpleasant.”
Orion ducked behind the shield and stayed there, wincing at every shot. “You need the shield,” he called up to Megatronus over the sound of laser-fire. “You could be killed - ”
“So could you,” Megatronus retorted. “And unlike me, you are not armed.” His sword slid out of his sheath and blocked a bolt of laserfire, right as another scored his armor.
Orion’s processor spun, wild with panic and fear. He couldn’t allow Megatronus to die, not for him, not like this. He needed to do something. He kept low and crawled away from the shield, keeping his frame aligned with it and searching for a weapon.
Instead, his gaze landed on the clerk he’d beaten.
The mech was bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth, energon dripping in a bright blue puddle. He’d passed out, but his systems were still functional, engines humming as his nanites rushed to repair the damage. All around him datapads lay scattered, rare works lit by laser fire and sunlight. Orion longed to gather them all up, to protect them - but Megatronus was in danger too, and he had no weapons, he couldn’t keep him safe, he couldn’t -
“What the frag do you think you’re doing?!”
The authoritative voice, heavy with an Iaconian accent, burst over the sounds of laserfire - sounds that quickly dwindled at her cry. Orion sagged in relief, bending to glance around Megatronus’ shield. Odd - that vocal inflection sounded familiar; like someone he’d met at a party once, perhaps, or encountered in the archives…
A yellow and white mech stormed into view, her EM field apoplectic with rage as she examined the destruction. Orion recognized her at once. She was a frequent contact for the Hall of Records, a rare documents dealer and aficionado named Solarsweep. He’d reached out to her several times for help locating a rare record for the Hall’s collection, and she’d always been pleasant and cheerful, easy to work with and easy to like.
Nothing about her was pleasant or cheerful just now.
“Look what you’ve done, what a mess you’ve made!” she shouted, yellow optics wide and horrified. She whirled to face the guards, hands on her hips. “What were you thinking?!”
The security guards exchanged chagrined glances, cowering back from the small femme. “But this Pit scum here - ” their leader protested, pointing at Megatronus with his gun.
“No," Solarsweep snapped, stomping her pede. “We do not use that kind of language here. We do not. Do you understand me?!” She turned, still shaking, and pointed a finger at Megatronus. “And you - “
Orion’s spark leaped to his throat. No, he couldn’t allow Megatronus to take the blame for this, when all he had done was defend his friend - his friend who had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
Orion stood up from behind Megatronus’ shield, showing himself fully. “Solarsweep, wait,” he said. “I can explain - ”
Solarsweep froze, mouth dropping open. Her optics cycled once or twice, fingers flexing at her sides. “Orion!” she said in a choked voice. “Oh, Primus frag me, I - ”
Shock and embarrassment quickly became anger. The femme spun to face her security detail, one of the nastiest glares Orion had ever seen carved upon her faceplate. “You absolute glitches,” she hissed, gesturing behind her. “Do you have any idea who that is?”
The guards made a series of alarmed noises, glancing at one another. Their faces echoed Orion’s own puzzlement. He was hardly anyone important - certainly not important enough to earn such a reaction.
“That’s Alpha Trion’s apprentice,” Solarsweep said, stabbing a digit in Orion’s direction. “Yeah! The heir to the Hall of Records! One of the most accomplished archivists on this planet! And you… just… shot at him!”
Oh. Yes, there was that. Orion had never really considered that he might be seen as something of a celebrity among the bibliophiles of Cybertron. He was just a simple clerk, after all, even if he had trained under Alpha Trion.
He felt the gentle, amused brush of Megatronus’ field against his. ::Why, Orion, I wasn’t aware you were the famous one between us.::
::In fairness, neither was I,:: Orion replied dryly. ::Are you alright?::
::I am unharmed.:: There was a hesitation, full of concern and anxiety. ::Are you alright?::
Orion didn’t have the chance to reply. Solarsweep spun to face them, approaching Orion with trembling hands outstretched for his. “Orion Pax, I beg your forgiveness,” she said. “I’m so very sorry for this grievous slight. Our welcome is not normally so inhospitable, I assure you.”
Orion kept his arms at his sides, calmly ignoring her outstretched digits. “I question the veracity of that statement, given the things that were said to my companion and I.”
Megatronus’ plating rustled faintly at the phrase my companion, a tiny flicker of heat pressing from him to Pax.
Solarsweep seemed genuinely distressed at the words, wringing her servos in dismay. “Oh. I hesitate to even ask, but… what was it that was said?”
Orion flexed the fingers of his injured hand, rubbing at the twisted joint at the crook of his arm. “One of your clerks seemed to find it amusing to repeatedly degrade my companion,” he said coldly. “I… may have lost my temper. I’m afraid security heard the commotion and came running, but saw fit to start shooting before asking questions.”
“Slagging Pits,” Solarsweep swore. “What could he have been thinking, insulting a patron - ” She turned and abruptly trailed off at the sight of Megatronus, looming darkly behind Pax. She blanched, hard, and for a moment Orion thought she too would start in with insults and taunts - maybe even instruct security to open fire again.
Instead, she pressed a shaking hand to her spark, bowing her helm. “Megatronus,” she said. “I - it’s an honor, Champion. Truly.”
So she knew who he was, too. Of course she did. She lived here, after all, and was obviously more interested in Kaon’s citizens than her security detail. She rose from her small bow and met his gaze, looking him over with a frown. “You say that one of my clerks insulted you, Champion?”
Megatronus cast her a cold stare. “Quite enthusiastically.”
“Frag. And you’re injured, too!” Solarsweep clicked her glossa against her teeth in disapproval, staring at several painful-looking scorches on Megatronus’ armor.
Injured?! Orion’s helm had never turned so quickly. He took in the dark lines of scorched metal, a few of the wounds dripping energon in slow lines down Megatronus' chassis. Orion made a small, worried sound, lifting frightened digits up to touch the wounds. Oh, Mega, I’m so sorry, I should never have brought you here...
Megatronus gently took his servo in his own and pulled it away. He did not, however, let him go: lacing his digits through Orion’s with a softness Orion hadn’t dared to hope for. “Surface wounds,” Megatronus said, waving in dismissal. “The nanites will take care of them in a few days.”
“No, no, I won’t allow you to leave with these still marring you,” Solarsweep said. “What an unforgivable show of inhospitable behavior that would be! Come, come, my Conjunx is a medic - she’ll see to it that these are healed before you go.”
“No,” Megatronus growled, plating flaring wide. “I will not leave Orion Pax alone and at your mercy, not under any circumstances - ”
Orion squeezed his hand in gratitude, stepping closer to his side. Whatever had happened before they’d been shot at, it seemed he was forgiven.
Solarsweep glanced between them, curiosity and then understanding dawning in her eyes. “Ah, I see,” she said quietly. “Forgive me, Megatronus. I didn't realize. I’ll send for my conjunx - she can meet us here, so you won’t have to be far from him. Yes?”
Megatronus hesitated, glancing at Orion. Orion smiled encouragingly, squeezing his hand. “It’s alright,” he said. “I’ve met her and her conjunx before. You’ll be in good hands, and I won’t be far.”
Megatronus did not appear convinced, but he nodded in agreement, finally. Solarsweep gave a second little bow and stepped away, calling her conjunx on private comms.
Alone at last - relatively, anyway. Orion looked up into Megatronus’ face, his free hand coming to rest on Megatronus’ chassis. “Are you alright?” he asked aloud. “Truly. Are you well?”
“Are you?” Megatronus reached for Orion’s injured hand, looking over his energon-stained knuckles with a disapproving frown. “You are an idiot,” he growled - but it bore no anger or menace, carrying only begrudging affection. “Once this is healed, I am teaching you how to throw a punch. A proper punch.”
Orion vented a wave of warm air, tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding exiting his frame in a rush. “A thousand pardons, Champion of Kaon,” he said, a tiny smile upon his dermas. “Some of us don’t have a need to punch on a daily basis, you know.” He hesitated, growing more serious. “Besides... what I did, I did in defense of you.”
“I know,” Megatronus said, glowering down at him. “And it was foolish of you to do it. I am more than capable of defending myself, Orion - but you - ”
Orion held up his injured hand, waving his busted and bleeding digits in Megatronus’ direction. “I seem to have done alright on my own,” he drawled.
Megatronus set his jaw. “You could have been killed,” he said. “You have no armaments, no shields, no protection, nothing. Had I not been prepared to protect you at all costs, you would have been shot down in a blink.” The gladiator took Orion’s face in his hands, staring into his optics. “Do you think I am any more ready to lose you than you are to lose me, my archivist? Do you think I would ever, for one second, consider sacrificing you to save my own spark?”
Orion stared up at Megatronus, shocked speechless. He had never seen the gladiator so shaken. “And yet I could not stand by and let him speak of you as if you were an object,” he said at last, clinging tighter to Megatronus’ waist. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear that indignity for you, even if you could.” He paused, hesitating as he tried to find the right words. “When I tell you that I value you above every other mech - that you are more important to me than anyone else on this planet - I mean it. What kind of partner would I be to you if I gave less than my all to defend you? No matter my lack of weaponry, I will fight until the last flicker of my spark to shield you from such ignorance.”
Megatronus blinked, field roiling with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. “I… Orion, you don’t have to - ”
“I know,” Orion said quietly. “But neither do you need to protect me from every single threat that comes my way.”
“The Pit I don’t,” Megatronus snapped, but it lacked any kind of heat. He lowered his helm and rested it against Orion’s, forehelm to forehelm. “Orion… the things I said to you… the things that summoned that clerk - ”
“You were angry and hurting,” Orion said, leaning gratefully into the touch. “I know why you thought the way you did. I understand.”
“That does not make what I said forgivable,” Megatronus replied. He slipped a digit under Orion’s chin and tilted his face upward. “You were right. You have never been anything but good to me, never seen me as anything less than a mech with a mind and spark instead of a labor drone. I know that. And I…”
Orion smiled and laid his good hand against Megatronus’ faceplate. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Just… trust that I never, ever mean to do you harm. Yes?”
Megatronus’ smile was brilliant and soft as he turned and pressed his faceplate into Orion’s touch, gratitude pulsing through him. “As you wish, my Orion.”
Orion’s spark nearly burst at the words. He nestled against Megatronus’ frame, holding him close: grateful for him, grateful that he was safe and everything was alright, finally. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing this. Of losing his Champion.
Solarsweep returned with a red and white femme in tow. “Megatronus, this is Suture - my conjunx,” she said. “She’ll see to it that you’re taken care of. If you’ll follow her? There’s a study table just a few rows that way that should do.”
Megatronus looked over Suture with a slight sneer, digits gently stroking Orion’s back. Orion gingerly stepped out of his grip, giving him a small push. “Go,” he urged. “Take care of yourself. I’ll be fine.”
Megatronus rumbled, low and threatening, before reluctantly stepping away as Orion had bid. He followed Suture to a nearby corner - close enough that he could see Orion if he leaned forward a little, but far enough away that Solarsweep and Orion could speak in private.
As soon as they were gone, Solarsweep turned back to Orion, rubbing her temples. “Pax, I don’t know how to begin to apologize,” she said. “I would have been honored to receive you both as guests here in my shop, had I known you were here. You are welcome anytime you wish, of course - though I doubt very much that you’ll have any desire to return after this.” She vented heavily and looked up, almost pleading. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Anything at all?”
Orion considered, tilting his helm. What could Solarsweep possibly do to make amends? This entire afternoon had been so utterly traumatic...
A flash of light reflecting off glass caught his attention: the shattered rare books table, its contents still scattered all over the floor.
Rare books.
Rare books.
“Actually,” Orion said, turning back with a slightly mischievous grin, “There is something I’d accept in recompense…”
Megatronus’ quarters were the largest in the arena, but they were far from any Iaconian standard of luxury. When Orion had first started visiting, the walls had been gray, the furniture busted and old, and any sense of personality lacking.
Now that he had won so many victories and become so famous, Megatronus had seen fit to paint the walls a deep purple color. He’d had a personal energon dispenser installed, though the quality of energon was still lacking. There was a decently-sized living space where Megatronus could entertain guests in his limited free time, and beyond that lay his private rooms: his berthroom and washracks. Orion had only ever passed through the berthroom to reach the washracks after a particularly dusty walk, and he’d tried hard not to pry too much - but he had to admit some curiosity about Megatronus’ most personal space. Not enough to press him, of course - Orion would never - but enough to wonder sometimes.
They spent most of their time at his habsuite in the living space, where Megatronus had long since upgraded the furniture he’d been allotted. He’d traded the beaten sofa for a huge, luxurious black couch for Orion to sleep on, and he’d added a few soft chairs and a nice table. He’d even managed to get a holoscreen somewhere. Orion sneaked him interesting Cybertronian films he wouldn’t otherwise have access to, and sometimes they watched them together, Orion in one of the chairs, Megatronus on the couch.
Tonight, after the unpleasantness at the bookshop, Orion wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with Megatronus and just… lay there with him. Feel the gladiator’s arms around him. Be as close to him as he possibly could.
When they finally reached his habsuite, Megatronus all healed and Orion hiding his prize within his subspace, Megatronus dropped onto the couch in exhaustion, venting sharply. “Well,” he said. “That was certainly an adventure.”
Orion chuckled. “Interesting. I wasn’t aware adventure could be used as a synonym for disaster."
Megatronus laughed, but quickly fell silent again, a serious expression on his face - something queer and strange and unfamiliar. Orion paused, staring back, lingering over the thin scars Suture’s work had left behind. “Something on your mind?”
Megatronus shook his helm slowly. “You put your life at risk for me today,” he said softly. “You did it without a second thought, despite your anger, despite how I insulted and hurt you. Why?”
Orion shrugged. “You did the same for me, did you not?”
Megatronus considered that, still hunched over upon the couch. “I owe you my spark several times over,” he said. “It… concerns me. Having another mech hold so much of me feels…”
He paused, and Orion smiled, allowing all the warmth within him to press forward into his field. “Vulnerable?”
Megatronus gave him an answering smile, thin and wan by comparison. “Quite.”
“You have no need to fear me,” Orion said. “I do not do the things I do anticipating it is a debt you will repay.”
Megatronus met his gaze, staring intently into his optics. “Then why are you here, Orion Pax?” he asked. “What is it about me that draws you, when mechs of your own station or higher clearly admire you? Any one of them could offer you more than I can as a gladiator, yet you are here with me instead. Why?”
Orion hesitated, considering. What an odd question to ask. Did Megatronus not feel that pull between them, that fierceness of spirit that bound them together? They shared a dream, an ideal. Sometimes it felt as though they shared their very sparks.
But how could he express that properly without sounding foolish?
He felt the weight of his prize within his subspace, clunking to remind him it was there. Should he give it to Megatronus now, as an expression of what words could not say, or wait for a more fortuitous moment? He fidgeted, looming nervously in front of the couch. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. But if not now, when? He wanted Megatronus to have this gift, as an apology or…
Megatronus frowned. “Orion?” he said. “What is your answer? Is this… that is, if you are uncertain...”
“No! No, Primus, I’m not uncertain at all in what I feel,” Orion said, aghast. “I simply… ugh. I don’t have the right words. I can never find the ones I want to explain myself - not even in my own head.” He shifted his weight, twisting his fingers behind his back. Maybe this was the best time to present Megatronus with his gift, after all...
He swallowed and approached, coming to stand directly before the gladiator. “Perhaps this gift will express what I mean better than I can on my own.”
Megatronus’ optics cycled very, very wide, his frame going still. “A - Orion. Wait. A gift? ”
Orion shyly met Megatronus’ gaze. “It’s… I was given an opportunity, and I’ve been wanting to give you something to show how important you are to me anyway, so - ”
There was no point lingering over details. He bounced up on his pedes, withdrew Seeking the Cure from his subspace, and knelt before Megatronus, presenting it like an offering to a god-king.
He’d never heard Megatronus vent like that: an inhale so sharp and sudden it was almost comical. Reverent hands bent and lifted the datapad from his servos. “Orion,” he said, choked with feeling. “How - how -?”
Orion lifted his helm, smiling broadly. “Do you like it?”
Megatronus looked up, optics burning with warmth and affection. He held out his hand for Orion to take; then as soon as Orion had laid his fingers in Megatronus’ palm, the gladiator pulled him forward, yanking the smaller mech into his lap.
“It’s perfect,” he said, closing Orion in a tight embrace. “You are perfect. How did you even get this copy?”
Orion smiled and blushed, burying his face in Megatronus’ intake. Primus, it was so lovely being held: so lovely being close to Megatronus like this, closer than they had ever sat before. “Solarsweep asked what she could do to make amends,” he said. “I thought the datapad you longed for so greatly was a fair exchange.”
Megatronus’ grip upon him tightened, pulling him flush against his frame. “You are perfect ,” he repeated, vocals quiet with awe. “The most extraordinary mech I have ever known…”
Orion shook his helm. “I hardly think so,” he said. “You’re the founder of a revolution, a warrior and scholar and scientist and so many things I can never be. I’m just a simple archivist.”
“I would tear out the spark of any Cybertronian who spoke so modestly of you, Orion Pax,” Megatronus said fiercely. “You are far more than a simple archivist. Never in all my years have I met a mech as intelligent, thoughtful and kind as you. How you came from the pit of corruption that Iacon has become, I cannot begin to fathom; but they do not know what a treasure they have in you.”
Orion clung to him, smiling, his vocalizer cycling. There was something else he wanted to say, a set of words on the tip of his glossa - words he couldn’t quite identify, words that felt impulsive and silly and dangerous.
He let himself choke on them, settling gratefully into Megatronus’ lap instead.
Chapter 4: Epiphany
Summary:
They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It can also cause a revelation.
Notes:
I rewrote this chapter extensively with tons of help and advice from Cyanide-Oreo and AndromedaPrime, who I continue to be profoundly and eternally grateful for. Sorry it's so delayed, but it's another long one, so I hope you enjoy!
EDIT 10/6/19 - Added AMAZING art of the Skype call from Cyanide-Oreo!! I LOVE IT, THANK YOU.
Chapter Text
Two full, lonely months passed between the bookshop incident and Orion’s next visit to Kaon. He’d been sent halfway across the planet to locate a rare record for the Hall: a detailed study of Cybertronian sparks and how the life essence contained within them could be used for the betterment of society, called Sparklight: The Cybertronian Soul. Despite his best efforts, the search dragged on an excruciatingly long time. The record’s owner was some mysterious collector, a mech who preferred to remain nameless among all but his closest associates. There were only rumors regarding who said mech might be, and though Orion diligently followed every one, most led only to dead ends.
Every night, he dragged himself to the rented room he was keeping for the duration of his visit, collapsed into his berth, and wished desperately that he was home.
Home, with Megatronus, in Kaon.
He still talked to Megatronus every day despite his absence. They exchanged messages rapid-fire over internal comms, constant and ever-flowing. Their conversation wandered from the minutiae of their day-to-day, to philosophical debate, to jokes and teasing, to quickly snapped images of their surroundings. Orion liked to send Megatronus pictures of the many cities of Cybertron that he saw, knowing that Megatronus had never previously been permitted to leave Kaon.
And every day, like clockwork, Megatronus asked when Orion would return to him.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Well?::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Well… what?::
::It’s barely dawn.::
::If you expect an answer, my Champion, you must be more specific.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Primus, having you so far from me is irritating.::
::Were you at my side, you would have intuited my meaning already.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Primus himself knows how very much I wish I was at your side.::
::But as I am not… would you care to elaborate for me?::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::As you are ever so charming, even at this ungodly hour, I suppose I can oblige.::
::Any word on when you might be coming home?::
Orion, mid-preparation for the day, paused, hesitating over the answer. It was beginning to become difficult to say the same thing again and again with any sort of kindness. Megatronus was not prone to repeating himself, but this…
He must want Orion back for something, if he was so insistent on the matter.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::I still don’t know for certain.::
He returned to rinsing his face and joints, shining himself up. He had finally located the mech he believed to be the record’s owner in Praxus - a scientist called Hardlight - and he had an important meeting with him today to begin negotiations. He struggled to center himself. He would need his wits about him to convince the high-caste collector that parting with the record was in his best interests.
A ping distracted Orion from his thoughts, drawing him back to his other, equally pressing problem.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Not even a guess?::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::I can’t begin to hazard one.::
::This is at least the sixteenth time you’ve asked in fewer days.::
::You must know I’ll tell you when I’m certain of a date.::
The answering ping, when returned to him, was sullen.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::You have never been gone so long before.::
::I do not approve of this lingering absence.::
::You should be home in Iacon, surrounded by your books - not wandering the planet in search of some undoubtedly useless record.::
::How am I to recharge at night when I do not know you are safe?::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Now you have some notion of how I feel whenever you fight in the Pits.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::It is not the same at all.::
::But very well, if you wish to be obtuse, so be it. There are other reasons your distance pains me.::
::There are so many things I long to discuss with you, and yet you are not here.::
::Comms are not sufficient. They are useless to me when I cannot see your face, hear your voice…::
:: When I cannot touch you.::
::If only I could show you how much my hands ache for yours...::
::You are torturing me, Orion.::
The words burned with a longing so fierce and violent that Orion’s vents hitched. Gentle warmth spread out from his spark through his whole frame: an unspoken fondness for the mech on the other end, the mech who was so desperately lonely without him by his side.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::I miss you too, Mega.::
As he made his final preparations, gathering his credentials and confirming his appointment with a quick ping to Hardlight’s secretary, he considered his previous visit. He had not forgotten that moment in the bookshop when he’d found himself staring, spark pounding, at Megatronus: handsome and perfect and shining in the afternoon light. The image was so regularly drawn up from his memory banks that a copy was stored in his frequent access menu, making it all the easier to reach for whenever Orion missed Megatronus too much.
Just below it was the memory of Megatronus’ kiss to his helm: the soft press of dermas against cool metal, the ghost of a vent passing over his crest. He kept tilting his helm up when he played that file again, as if Megatronus was right there in front of him, waiting for him to look up. Waiting to kiss him properly.
This was beginning to become quite troubling, really.
His emotions were a tangled knot he could not seem to unravel. He knew Megatronus was important to him, but his spark couldn’t seem to decide in what way. Was he simply a friend? A mentor? A protector? A brother? Or was he something far deeper - something Orion was terrified to name aloud?
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::You would not need to miss me if you would but return to Kaon.::
Orion sighed, pressing digits to his aching optics.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::For so fearsome a warrior, you do so often act the petulant sparkling, my Champion.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Petulant?!::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Quite! Having a little temper tantrum when you don’t get your way.::
::You do need to share your toys sometimes, Mega.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Oh, is that what you are? My toy?::
::I never thought of you as such, although I will admit that I would very much like to play with you.::
Orion, a few feet from the hotel’s lifts, tripped over his own feet and stumbled into a wall, catching himself on his just-healed elbow joint. His vents stuttered and skipped, fans leaping up three levels as heat colored his face.
What in the Pit did that mean?
He started and stopped several replies, tanks knotted with excitement and anxiety. That… that had read to him so much like a flirtation. It was a flirtation. It had to be. How else was he meant to interpret that message? He could almost hear it in the rolling purr of Megatronus’ vocals, and Primus if that didn’t send a wave of heat through him.
Megatronus didn’t give him time to pose the question, though, apparently unbothered that his come-on had gone unremarked upon.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Orion. I wish to ask you something.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Oh?::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::It is a personal matter.::
Oh. Perhaps that was why he didn’t seem troubled that Orion had struggled to respond. Maybe he intended to pose the question himself.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Whatever the subject, I am listening intently.::
::You can ask me anything you like.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::I know it, my archivist.::
::One of many things to adore about you.::
Orion smiled to himself. Megatronus would tease him if he could see that silly little grin. He almost wished he could.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::There’s a match I’m to be part of next week.::
::An important one.::
::I’ll be pitted against a fighter from Slaughter City - one I’ve never done battle with before, though his reputation is nearly as fierce as my own.::
::It is being heralded as “the fight of the millennium.” There is even the potential to win enough to all but buy my way out of the Pits.::
::I would very much like you to be there.::
Orion’s spark clenched. Megatronus kept a reserved seat for Orion in case he ever chose to see a match; but he had never outright asked Orion to attend a fight. This battle must mean a great deal to him if he wanted his archivist there.
And the worst part was, Orion was almost certain he wouldn’t be able to come.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Oh, Mega. I want to. Truly, I do.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Then say you’ll be there.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Mega…::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::Orion.::
::I would not ask if it was not important to me.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::I know.::
::It’s my hope that I’ll be back by then. I am fairly certain I’ve finally located this record’s owner, but negotiations with his type have been known to drag.
Now he was anxious for an entirely different reason. He rocked up on his pedes, tapping his fingers against his dermas. Please, by all the Primes, let Hardlight be accommodating. Let him be willing to sell, so I need not struggle too much longer.
From the short, clipped note confirming his appointment, Orion very much doubted his prayer would be answered.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::I wish only to see your face in the crowd. It will give me strength, I think.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::Mine is hardly an inspirational faceplate.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::On the contrary, my archivist.::
::I can think of no mech who inspires me more.::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::You do me honor by saying so, dearest one.::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::So you’ll be there?::
Orion sighed and stepped into the arriving open lift, pressing himself into the back corner. Megatronus wasn’t going to accept anything less than an affirmative answer, it seemed - but Orion wouldn’t lie to him.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
::I will try my utmost. If work concludes as I desire, I will be there cheering for you.::
::Count on it.::
::I just… cannot make promises to you that I cannot keep.::
::Is that enough?::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
::It shall suffice.::
::For now.::
The gladiator moved on to complaining about obnoxious fans stopping him for pictures, thankfully closing the subject for the time being. But Orion couldn’t get that sick, anxious feeling out of his lines.
What if he couldn’t make it back in time? How would Megatronus feel when he realized Orion wasn’t there to cheer for him - and how would Orion feel, trapped in Praxus, knowing he was abandoning his… so-much-more-than-friend to a potentially deadly fate?
It did not bear considering. He would be there, damn it all - and no finicky high-caste negotiations were going to stop him.
At least, that was what he told himself at first. Until he met Hardlight in person.
The mech had been more than happy to show off his precious works with the sort of aloof pride Orion had grown used to from such patrons. But when Orion alluded to his reason for asking to meet, Hardlight had simply laughed.
“Alpha Trion thinks he can simply buy this record out from under me, does he?” he scoffed. “Better mechs than he have been trying for centuries with no success. What makes him think his clerk will be the one to change my mind?”
“The Hall is prepared to offer an extremely generous sum - ” Orion started.
“Oh, please,” Hardlight sneered, waving a hand dismissively. “Alpha Trion wouldn’t know generous if he choked on it. Here, Pax, do you want to see the record you’ve asked after?”
Orion’s spark leaped, excitement flooding his field. “Please. I would be honored.”
“I’m sure you would,” Hardlight said, rolling his optics. He led Orion deep into the shelves of his personal library, approaching an exquisitely displayed case floating on hoverlifts beneath a spotlight. “Here. Sparklight: The Cybertronian Soul, by Starstorm, as requested. An original, hand-illustrated copy, purchased by my Conjunx on the anniversary of our union.”
Orion leaned over the book with a reverent vent, gently gripping the sides of its case. It was open to a beautiful illustration of two mechs with their chest plates open, sparks exposed to one another: the soft curls of their inner light intertwining at the center of the page, emphasized in gold leaf. “It’s exquisite,” Orion murmured. “What is this meant to illustrate?”
“No idea,” Hardlight said with a shrug. “Some old form of interface, I think. My Conjunx proclaimed it quite erotic.” He grinned and winked at Orion, looking him over with a slightly lascivious smirk. “Perhaps you have an interest in testing the theory?”
Orion reset his vocalizer, stepping away from Hardlight. “I can’t say that I do, no,” he said firmly. “You said you wouldn’t consider selling. What use is it to you if you have no concept of its contents?”
Hardlight snorted. “Bragging rights,” he said, gesturing expansively. “Obviously. It brought you here, didn’t it? What is more glorious, more desirable, than owning that which everyone else longs for? Nothing. You and your book-loving friends come here with that bright, pining look in your optics, and it fuels me. It delights me. Unless you can recreate that feeling for me, or offer me a more valuable record in exchange, I see no profit in whatever pitiful sum of shanix the Hall of Records seeks to offer me. I have shanix enough from my own work. But this?” He tapped the floating case, a nasty little grin upon his mouth. “This is irreplaceable.”
Orion glowered, setting his jaw. This was exactly what he had feared might happen when he’d learned what sort of mech possessed the record. But how could he win his way out of these negotiations and get home to his… to Megatronus, when Hardlight was refusing to work with him for his own damnable amusement?
“What would you consider as a fair exchange?” Orion asked. “What sort of work do you long for that could replace Sparklight in your collection?”
Hardlight chuckled. “Nothing that you can afford, little archivist,” he said - and Primus, how it rankled, being called that sweet and lovely nickname so condescendingly, so coldly, from dermas other than Megatronus’. “But if you wish to dash your own hopes, so be it. Should you ever find one of the original tablets containing the tale of the thirteen Primes, I might consider a trade.”
Orion gaped, shock lighting his circuits. “But - should any of those ever be found, they would belong in the Hall! That is the history of our people, the original record that defines our culture - !”
“Precisely.” Hardlight’s smile was cold and cruel. “And, should the Hall be willing to part with such a discovery, well. Then we can talk. And only then.” The scientist turned with a prideful flick of his armor plates. “I trust you can see yourself out, Orion Pax?”
Orion clenched his fists at his sides, glaring at the mech’s retreating back. “I’ll return tomorrow,” he said flatly. “When perhaps you will consider being more reasonable.”
Hardlight chuckled. “I enjoy your determination, clerk,” he said. “But it will fail you as it did all others.”
Orion watched him go, grinding his dentae as the other mech left him alone.
He would find a way to make this happen. He would. No matter what it took.
The first thing he did was call Solarsweep.
Though she had given him Seeking the Cure, she had assured him that she still felt she owed him in response to his awful treatment at the hands of her security detail. She had proven adept in the past at finding some of the rarest documents on Cybertronian history and science; perhaps she could help him win Hardlight over.
When he told her what he was looking for, he thought her spark might have guttered out, she wheezed so hard and loudly in his audial. “Pax,” she said, “You must be joking.”
“It’s what he asked for,” Orion sighed, approaching a street vendor offering mid-grade in portable cubes. “I know the likelihood of ever finding an original is - ”
“Slim to none,” Solarsweep cut in. “It’s slim to none, Orion. Do you think I haven’t been searching for one of those tablets myself? I’ve hunted centuries with no success.”
“I thought you might, perhaps, be able to recommend an alternative,” Orion said quietly. “I don’t expect you to locate the rarest and most precious document in our planet’s history. I just…” He sighed. Pressed a hand to his forehelm. “I’ve been nearly two months on this search, and I’d like to return to Kaon. Preferably by next week.”
“Next week?” Solarsweep repeated, aghast. “What could possibly - ” She paused. Her voice quieted as realization dawned. “Oh. Megatronus’ match against Voltblast. That is the reason, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Orion felt no particular shame admitting it to her. She’d seen them together at her shop, after all, and had made no disparaging remarks about their friendship then. “You can see the urgency, I trust.”
“Oh yes, clear as day.” Orion could hear the frown in her tone, the soft beat of her pedes pacing against the floor. “Tell you what, Pax. I might have something that will convince Hardlight. He’s a son of a glitch, but I’ve dealt with him many times before. I know what he told you he wanted, and he undoubtedly would pay out the nose for one of those tablets if ever they were found - but mostly he wants to discourage you from coming back. He thinks he can outwit you by setting you an impossible task. But if you were to bring him something he actually wanted - like, say, The Anatomy of Ancient Predacons by Bowclaw, you might actually get somewhere.”
Orion blinked, quietly thanking the owner of the mid-grade stand as he took his cube and started back towards his hotel. “You had that title at the ready,” he said. “Is it something he’s spoken to you about before?”
“He’s mentioned it a few times at conventions,” Solarsweep said, a bit absently. He could hear her rummaging through things in the background, possibly seeking the record herself. “Predacons are a special project of his. He’s in competition with some other scientist - Shockstar? Smitewave? I don’t know, I can’t remember. I’ve not met him or heard of him before, and I don’t think he collects rare books like we do. But apparently he’s making progress in researching ancient Predacons, and Hardlight’s quite displeased about the whole thing. He never shuts up about it. If you could get him that book, he’d probably pay you to take Sparklight off his servos.”
“I don’t suppose you know where to find a copy?” Orion said. He hardly dared to hope, given her tone, but maybe…
“I have some leads,” Solarsweep said. “Give me a few days to hunt it down. I’ll get it for you and bring it to Praxus as soon as I can.” She paused, a somewhat severe frown in her voice. “This is a pretty big ask, Pax. I’m still sorry about what happened, but can we call it even after this?”
“Solarsweep, if you can get me to Kaon before the fight next week, I will owe you a favor,” Orion said. It was probably unwise to say so, but Orion would be happy to do something for her if it got him home in time. “Does that suit you?”
“Oh, that more than suits me,” Solarsweep said, an edge of glee in her voice. “Having you owe me a favor is worth ten Sparklights. You’ll have your record, Orion Pax. Count on it.”
Yet the week passed, and the next arrived, and Orion still had heard nothing.
Three days before the match, Orion returned from Hardlight’s library and collapsed onto his berth, miserable and sick with worry. He’d spent every passing day knocking at Hardlight’s door, visiting with him, exploring his collection. He’d learned that Hardlight was indeed quite interested in Predacons, and that the other scientist’s name was Shockwave - a fact he only discovered by encountering a graffitied copy of one of Shockwave’s recent papers set out upon a table. The paper was dispassionate and deftly written, but Hardlight’s remarks were scathing and full of jealous, petty rage: the sort of thing unbefitting of one called to the sciences.
Every day, Orion visited the copy of Sparklight. Every day, he offered a higher price for it, and was turned away with a mocking laugh. And every day, he waited for news, pacing anxiously around Praxus in the hopes that Solarsweep would call him.
The sight of Megatronus’ comm line ID on his HUD was the only thing sparking happiness in him on those dark nights.
{Call from D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]. Accept?}
Orion answered with a little smile, curling up atop his berth. “Hi, Mega,” he said, vocalizer crackling sleepily.
“Did I wake you, sweet one?”
Orion hummed, the hoarse rasp of his dearest friend’s voice as soothing as a lullaby to him. “No, not at all. I was waiting for you.”
“My apologies. Tonight’s match ran a little longer than I anticipated.”
Orion frowned, staring up at some rust in the ceiling of his room. “You weren’t injured, were you?”
“I thank you for your concern, as ever - but no, I was not injured,” Megatronus chuckled. “Simply a more difficult foe than I am used to.”
“Difficult for you must be a nightmare for anyone else,” Orion said, smiling. He pictured Megatronus, proud and glorious and vicious, driving back some huge monster with sword and shield alone. He loathed watching Megatronus fight, loathed the terror that filled him every time he thought his Champion might fall - but Megatronus was a hero in his own fashion in the ring. Without the Pits, he might never have had the chance to share his ideas; and if that had never happened, well. Orion would never have met him.
It went without saying how great a tragedy Orion considered that notion.
“I’m given to understand the thing killed at least four Cybertronians before meeting with me. It did look rather surprised when I found its spark. Heart. Core. Whatever.”
Orion smiled, picturing the gladiator as he undoubtedly appeared now: spread out on his couch or berth, rolling his optics and waving a servo with savage disinterest. “My brave, fearsome warrior,” said Orion, almost crooning the words. Megatronus’ ego hardly needed soothing, but it made Orion happy to praise him, and Megatronus seemed to like being praised.
There was a pause, the only sound Megatronus’ cycling vents. “You’ve not mentioned returning to Iacon, so you must still be in Praxus,” he said. Each word fell from his glossa in staccato rhythm: sharp, short and inquiring. “Am I to assume you won’t be at the match as I requested, then?”
Orion winced. Megatronus’ voice was light, but that deceptively calm tone never boded well with him. The clerk would almost have preferred his anger. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m doing my best to return - just… circumstances are not in my favor this time.”
“So I gather.” Ah, there it was: a note of annoyance rippling beneath the otherwise placid timbre of the gladiator’s vocalizer. “I do not ask things of you very often, Orion. Can you not, this once, leave this ever-so-crucial record behind?”
“I cannot,” Orion said, now equally irritable. “The historical significance and rarity of Sparklight makes it more important than most works I pursue. I have been instructed not to return under any circumstances until I have it.” Orion exhaled sharply, vents echoing in his own audials. “The mech who owns it is just… extremely unreasonable.”
Megatronus huffed on the other end. “Can he not be persuaded? You are quite talented at coaxing jealously guarded, highly prized things from their owners.”
“Am I?” Orion said in surprise. “I wouldn’t think so. Name one such thing I’ve ever claimed.”
“My spark, for a start.”
Orion choked, a startled, wheezing sound escaping his vocalizer. Of all the answers he’d thought he might receive, that… hadn’t been one. Spoken so off-handedly, the casual flirtation hit Orion like a cannon blast. “I - Megatronus -!”
“My book, for another,” the gladiator continued, as if he hadn’t just virtually professed to being in love with Orion. Perhaps… perhaps he didn’t mean…? “You wrested it from your bookshop friend quite gracefully, if I do say so myself.”
“I - thank you, Megatronus, but - ”
“Just put the same skills to use,” Megatronus finished. “I can’t fathom a single mech, high caste or otherwise, who could resist your charmingly sincere self when you truly set to work on them.” He paused again. “Were you saying something?”
Yes. How DARE you so casually tell me your spark is mine. That should have been a moment. That should… that should…
“I. No,” Orion said, quivering over the word. “Just that it isn’t quite so simple as you seem to believe. Whatever… ah… limited charm I possess will not win this mech over, I fear.”
“Ever so demure,” Megatronus said, with what was undoubtedly a fond eye roll. Orion’s spark jumped, flaring with nervous energy. “Then what do you intend to do? Stay in Praxus forever?”
“Primus, no.” Orion reset his vocalizer, trying to calm the racing prickles of electricity in his lines. “But I’m not sure I’ll return having accomplished my goal. The document is rare and costly. Only a few copies are known to exist in the entire sector. I cannot compensate him as he would like in return for the record. He considers only its monetary value and the envy of his peers, not its practical and charitable uses should it be released to the public.”
“A high caste mech, greedy? I’m shocked." The sarcastic drawl drew a laugh out of Orion, finally, drawing him from his fit of discomfort. “How utterly atypical.”
And now they’d returned to talking like two friends. Affectionate friends, yes, of course, always - but friends. Orion was dizzy with confusion and worry and something… something else. Something that felt like hope.
“You understand now why I’m struggling,” he said, swallowing that feeling. “Convincing a mech like him to part with one of his possessions is like attempting to steal a toy from a sparkling.” He huffed, narrowing his optics at the thin crack of rust. Was it his imagination, or had it expanded a bit since he’d arrived? “Trust me, Megatronus - I would far prefer to be with you. The very second I can come to Kaon, be assured I will.”
“The very second, hmm?” Megatronus made a pleased sound, temporarily appeased. “I like the sound of that. I do not like to be kept waiting. Patience is not one of my virtues, I fear - least of all when I am kept from that which I desire.”
“That which you… desire?” Orion repeated faintly, optics cycled to their widest setting. Did he mean…? “I… am not sure what that would be.”
“Playing coy, are we?” A low rumble of laughter sounded in Orion’s audial, heat pooling low in his tanks. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”
Oh Primus. Oh Primus. Oh Primus.
“Mega -!” he choked out, barely able to form the precious syllables of Megatronus’ name. Had this been what he’d felt all along - this endless, fierce adoration for the mech he so deeply admired? Had that been…
Love?
“Well, if I’m not to see you in person, give me leave to at least look at you while we talk,” Megatronus said. If he’d heard Orion stumbling over his designation, he made no sign. “You are far more difficult to read when I cannot see those adorable little finials of yours twitching here and there.”
Orion’s vents hitched. Megatronus thought he was adorable? His processor swam dizzily, vocalizer clamping down on his words. “Video?” he managed at last, pushing himself off the berth and making his way to the small, third-class workstation the hotel had installed in the corner. “I… yes. Yes, of course.” He reset his vocalizer again, more certain this time. Perhaps if he looked Megatronus in the eye, he would have more clarity on things. “The quality may be questionable, but yes, of course we can switch to video.” He paused, wondering if he should dare a little flirtation in return. “Why? Are you beginning to forget what my faceplate looks like?”
“We might be parted four million years and I would not forget one single square inch of your face,” said Megatronus. His voice was so somber that Orion blushed, fingers stumbling over the keys of the workstation.
“Four million years? That’s a long time, even for Cybertronians,” he said, half-teasing. “Suppose I changed my frame type. Made myself bigger and stronger like you. Changed my paint colors, perhaps. Found a new altmode. Would you still recognize me?”
“My spark would know yours anywhere, Orion Pax. Count on it,” said Megatronus, with the sort of certainty only he could convey. “Change your frame, mask your face, do whatever you like; I’d pursue you across galaxies and know you all the same, the very instant that I found you.”
Orion gasped, optics wide and soft and wet. Oh, that was - that was so strong a statement. Megatronus was usually more reserved with his emotions, even with Orion.
He could no longer doubt it: Megatronus was casually confessing an attraction to him. Treating it like an established fact, like something Orion should have known all along.
He should have known all along.
His hand stalled on the keyboard, thumbing the final command on accident; and it was to this image that the video feed loaded, reflecting his profoundly besotted expression to the gladiator at the other end.
“Ah, there you are,” Megatronus purred. The gladiator’s smile was warm and predatory, edged with a specific hunger Orion now recognized as wanting. “Hello, my archivist.”
“Hello,” Orion replied, a little shyly. He hadn’t intended for Megatronus to see him so… fluttery, he supposed. He could just see himself reflected in the corner of his screen, a little image of his face: burning with heat and tilted bashfully away, optics wide, lower derma caught between his teeth.
Megatronus arched a brow, smirking. “Are you blushing?" he asked. “Did I fluster my poor clerk beyond words?”
Orion reset his vocalizer, trying to force some semblance of dignity in his expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t,” Megatronus rumbled, amused. “I do so enjoy disrupting your otherwise composed demeanor. I look forward to upping the stakes when next I see you.”
His processor swam with ideas about just what Megatronus meant by ‘upping the stakes’. Vivid imagery he’d never consciously called to his neural net blossomed: the weight of Megatronus’ frame above him, a hand heavy and searching between his legs...
By the Pit. You have to ask. You can’t just… let this go.
Orion drew in a vent, preparing himself. Yes. He would ask. He would clarify what was happening between them, just -
His optics caught upon a fresh weld across Megatronus’ chest. He frowned, looking up at the gladiator accusingly. “You were injured!”
“Ah ah, Orion,” Megatronus chided, lifting a finger. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Mega,” Orion growled, deep and serious. “You were hurt, and you lied to me about it.”
Megatronus sat back in his seat, rolling his optics. “It’s barely a mesh wound,” he said. He smiled, fangs catching the light, blue optics glowing in the dimness of his quarters. “You wound me far deeper with this endless separation - down to my very spark.”
Orion couldn’t help it; he laughed again, despite his worry, despite his confusion and surprise and the painful ache inside his spark he’d never questioned until now. “It’s not by choice!” he said. “It pains me as much as it does you!”
“Oh, well then.” Megatronus scoffed. “At least I may comfort myself in the knowledge that our suffering is mutual.”
It is. It is… more mutual than I think I ever understood.
Very well; if Megatronus was suffering, let Orion offer him a balm. He’d been aching for months for the gladiator’s touch: his servo warm and protective and wrapped in Orion’s own. The streets felt so much less safe without the monstrous fighter at his side.
Orion lifted a hand and laid it flat against the screen, watching as Megatronus’ gaze darted to his outstretched digits. He looked back with an arched brow ridge. “What’s this?”
Orion beamed, spark shining in his chest. “My hand for you to hold,” he said. “You mentioned missing it last week. It’s not quite the same, but it’s the best I can offer you for now.”
It shouldn’t have been possible for a mech as sharp and cruel in both appearance and nature to soften as much as Megatronus seemed to: every edge blunted, every cold and merciless line of him undone. He gave a genuine, warm smile, laying his own clawed digits against the screen where Orion’s sat.
Though he couldn’t feel him there beneath his palm, Orion swore he felt the Champion’s spark beating somewhere within his own chassis.
“Do you want to see where I went today?” Orion asked, hand staying where he’d laid it. Don’t let go. Not for a second. I need… I need to revel in this.
Megatronus hummed quietly, staring into Orion’s face. “I do not doubt what images you captured to share will be lovely,” he said after a moment. “But I would much prefer to look at you.”
Orion felt that same damnable heat rushing to his faceplate. “You’ll see me soon enough, I hope,” he said, waving his free hand. “You’ve never been to Praxus, and may never see it as it is now. It’s far more exciting than the dull face of a clerk.”
“Which dull clerk is that?” Megatronus asked, tilting his head. “Surely you cannot refer to yourself. You are, without a doubt, one of the most interesting mechs I know.”
Orion opened his mouth to protest, but Megatronus wasn’t finished. “I am sure Praxus is as beautiful as you say,” he said. “But I would rather see the light in your eyes as you tell me of the things you saw there. I would rather watch the curve of your dermas, the gesture of your hand, the tilt and dip of your helm as you speak.” He made a quiet, contemplative noise. “It is not Praxus I crave to see, my archivist. It is you.”
Oh. Oh. Orion swallowed, digits pressing harder against the screen, as if by sheer force of will he could break through to the mech he loved on the other side.
The mech he loved.
The mech he loved.
“You speak so fondly of me,” he said, hesitating over the words. “More so than usual, I mean. More intensely. What did I do to deserve such effusive praise?”
“You were. You are." Megatronus shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “You were you: the witty, kind, forthright, somber archivist I prize above all others. And you are unpleasantly far from me, for longer than we have been parted in months. I have grown to loathe the silence where your shape should be.” He laughed to himself, but it was almost - sad. Melancholy. “I don’t know why it comes as such a surprise to me, but there we are. I did not expect to need you so very much when we first began this journey. I hope it is the same for you.”
“I - yes,” Orion said, nodding fervently. His whole frame burned, a shivery feeling zipping down his spinal strut. He remembered that moment in the bookshop again, their fight, the words he’d almost said: When will you understand how much I - “This distance has thrown many things into sharp relief, not least how deeply I feel for you. How much.” He glanced at their joined hands, pressed palm to palm, and felt his spark ignite, brilliant and shining from beneath his chest plates.
He looked up into Megatronus’ optics, unable to swallow the words any longer. “I love you,” he said, too quiet, too hoarse, too much.
Ah. There it was. The word he’d been searching for all this time.
Beloved. Lover. Mine. My spark. My dearest one. My light.
Panic seized him almost instantly. That was - oh, by the Pit, that was such an intense thing to say, when he’d only just allowed himself to accept it. What if Megatronus did not feel as strongly? What if these… these flirtations were only meant as jokes, or only referenced a lighter attraction?
But Megatronus was smiling, that same impossibly soft smile, blue optics aglow with happiness. “And I, you, my Orion,” he said. He tilted his helm, a crooked, mischievous little grin taking the place of that smile, and Orion’s spark sang. “There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Orion laughed, overwhelmed and teary-eyed and so full he thought his frame might explode from joy. “No,” he said, smiling so much his faceplate hurt. “No, it wasn’t.” He leaned his forehelm against the screen, wishing he could feel Megatronus beneath his servos. “Primus, I need to leave here as soon as possible.”
“Yes - as I have been saying for days now,” Megatronus agreed in an irritable growl. All the same, he, too, leaned his helm forward, pressed to the screen as if he and Orion could touch that way. “But in the meantime, you can tell me about the city, as you were so eager to share a few moments ago.”
Orion laughed, shaking his helm without removing it. He couldn’t bear to pull away, not even for a moment. “I cannot describe Praxus half as well as an image will.”
“You can send me the images later, and I’ll decide whether they compare to your voice describing them,” Megatronus replied. He was the first to break away, setting his chin in his free hand. The other remained pressed to Orion’s on the screen, immovable. “I imagine the city itself will pale in comparison to how you see it. Your view of things is ever more beautiful than any sight you behold deserves.” He paused, optics cycling. “Besides, there’s been talk of late of loosening the travel strictures on gladiators. They can track us, after all, and the more exposure their best gladiators receive, the more shanix they bring in. They’re considering allowing us to travel to Iacon first.”
Orion’s spark flipped. “You could visit me for once!”
“Should the resolution pass through the Guild, that would indeed be my desire,” Megatronus replied with an answering grin. “I am ever-curious about how you live.”
Orion tilted his helm. “How I live?”
“Mm. Yes. All the small things that comprise your life when you are apart from me. What your apartment looks like. Where you work in the Hall of Records. Your favorite oil house.” His optics dimmed a little, half-lidded and coy. “I am greedy for every single detail of you. I intend to know you intimately - every last inch of you as familiar to me as I am to myself. I do hope you’re prepared.”
Orion swallowed, dry-mouthed, fans kicking up audibly. Something in his abdomen tightened and grew hot. “I… prepared?” He reset his vocalizer, pulling a vague aloofness about him like armor. “You could just ask for details, you know. If you wished.”
Megatronus chuckled, a low rumble of his engines that made that same tightness squeeze. “I could,” he agreed. “But where is the fun in that? I like how much you surprise me. Finding something new in you is like winning a match in the Pits - a victory. A triumph.”
“And you intend to triumph over me, is that it?” Orion said dryly.
Megatronus’ smirk burned itself into Orion’s memory. “I intend to be the victor in every engagement we enter, Orion Pax. Am I not, after all, your Champion?”
Was he blushing again? He was. Orion cursed at his systems in several different dialects, tamping down on the sound of his fans kicking up yet another level. “I wasn’t aware that romance was to be treated in the same fashion as a Pit battle,” he said - not quite able to mask the hiss of static lacing the edge of his voice. Romance. We’re in love. We’re together.
Megatronus’ grin was positively feral. “You may not be facing me in the Pits, Orion, but the berth is an arena you will find me equally accomplished in. You are more than welcome to test me during your next visit if you doubt my word.”
Orion’s processor shorted out with a brief shrieking noise, like a kettle boiling over. He said - he asked - he invited me into his -
“Fascinating,” said Megatronus, wearing a broader smirk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mech turn that color before.”
Orion groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I’m turning video off and ending the call before I embarrass myself any further,” he said, without any malice. “Goodnight, Mega.”
“Orion, wait - ” Megatronus laughed. “No, don’t be like that - ”
"Goodnight, Mega," Orion repeated, refusing to look at the screen as he reached to hang up.
“Wait - ” Megatronus said, much more seriously. “Orion, wait!"
Orion glanced up, sulky and suspicious, hand hovering over the controls.
Megatronus was staring directly into his optics, looking at him with an intensity they’d often shared but that Orion had previously assigned only nominal meaning to. Now, though - now it read as the most intense, painful longing Orion had ever beheld. His spark stalled, vents hitching hard as he met that gaze: blue and cold and endless as the sky itself.
Megatronus leaned close, pressing his forehelm against the screen and motioning for Orion to do the same. When he had obeyed, the gladiator gestured, as if tilting Orion’s chin up, and murmured: “I love you.”
Orion’s very struts felt like they were melting. He vented sharply, leaning hard against the screen, a tiny, deep sound stolen from his throat. “I love you,” he repeated, vocalizer trembling over the words. He wanted to shout them over and over, to anyone who would listen. “I love you so slagging much - ”
Megatronus smiled, touched the screen - and cut the call off.
Chapter 5: Anticipation
Summary:
Orion comes home at last.
Notes:
OOPS this chapter is really long and also wildly NSFW. It looks like the fic is going to wind up longer than I anticipated - only by a couple chapters, but still - so hang tight while I figure that out!
More cute art by @Cyanide-Oreo is on the way - I can't WAIT to share!
UPDATE: 10/6/19 - added Oreo's art of the arena kiss, which is my FAVORITE THING EVER, SCREEEEEE. Thank you, @Cyanide-Oreo!
Chapter Text
Orion lay awake long after the call had ended, staring at the ceiling. There was a restless heat wandering his lines, making his very plating itch: an insistent pulse throbbing somewhere deep within his lonely frame.
He’d never doubted his feelings for Megatronus were… well… more than those of a typical friendship. He wasn’t quite that obtuse. He’d just never really thought falling in love could happen so fast, so quietly , like flowers blooming in the spring: barren ground one moment, lush garden the next. Megatronus had taken root in him and flourished in the fertile soil of his spark, and now they were inextricable, bound by ties of emotion Orion already knew he could never sever.
He’d been a fool for not understanding sooner, really. He’d always adored Megatronus, trusted him, admired him, spoken highly of him - but somehow, it had never occurred to him that what he felt might be romantic.
Not until Megatronus had stopped dancing around it himself.
By the Primes, the mech had been in fine form tonight. He’d flirted like they’d done it a thousand times before, like this progression was perfectly natural. Orion supposed he could see why, after their adventure from the previous visit. Though they’d fought with one another, Orion had stood up for him - protected him - made clear his feelings before he even realized what they were. It must have been enough to allow Megatronus to believe his own feelings were reciprocated. Or, more likely: perhaps he simply feared Orion might disappear after so prolonged an absence.
And now, here they were. They’d said I love you, talked of interface, talked of berth and distance and needing each other.
Orion’s lines sang with a happiness unlike anything he’d ever known. Happiness, and something else...
It took him far longer than it should have to realize he was also very revved up.
It was hardly a surprise, really, given how heavy-handed Megatronus’ final implications had been. Orion was fairly certain they would interface on his next visit, and oh Primus what a notion. What would it be like to be with Megatronus like that? Orion had loved being close to him, but this was entirely new: a level of intimacy they’d never reached before. A level of intimacy he’d never actually experienced with anyone else, either: still possessed of his seals, and never having wanted a berthmate prior to this.
Funny how easily he could see it in his mind nonetheless.
Hmm. Orion glanced at his array, then back to the viewscreen, as if Megatronus might somehow still be there watching. When it remained black and silent, he gave in to impulse and slid his servo down his frame. His hand passed over his panel, a slow, curious stroke - and woke in him a needy heat the likes of which he’d never felt before. Orion started, surprised, engines revving softly at the light brush of his digits. He passed his hand over his panel again, shivering as sensation crackled through his frame. His systems heated, engines revving within his chassis, and his HUD flared with alerts about charge and interface protocols and the imminence of overload.
Well then. Apparently he was going to get himself off tonight.
He had self-serviced before, of course - he wasn’t entirely without desire - but he’d never been able to put a face or a frame to what he wanted. As soon as he’d realized how good it felt, he’d made a practice of it, thinking of it as something of a health concern. A health concern that felt incredible.
There was nothing like it, really: the tight build of tension that pulled every strut taut and then left him soft and pliant after, that sweet rush of release. A partner was hardly necessary when he could achieve the same results himself. Why would he want to involve anyone else, anyway? He could think of no one he wanted to be so intimate with.
Megatronus, as usual, had proven an exception to the rule.
Orion made a tiny sound, thinking of the gladiator: wondering what it was he liked, how he behaved in the berth. He’d said he was accomplished--hardly a surprise--but specified nothing beyond that. Orion, though curious by nature, had not thought to ask until it was too late; and now, oh, now. He wanted to know more than anything in the world.
Here, he thought, digits slow and teasing. He’ll want to watch me squirm. Take his time. Fuck me slowly. His back arched up off the berth as his whole frame jolted with a hiss of charge. Oh, oh , that felt good. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his fingers more deliberately against his array, choking on a low moan as the metal heated beneath his touch. His digits pressed hard against his modesty panel, and he bucked up into them, aching for sensation.
He could almost- almost - hear Megatronus purring in his audial, engines humming with all the force of that deadly frame. Ah ah, Orion. Not yet. Not until I say you can.
How could the mere fantasy of someone have so strong an effect? If this was how good a phantom felt… how much more powerful would this be when Megatronus was actually touching him?
Orion could hardly wait to find out.
The swell of relief when his panel snapped back was equal only to the pleasure that tightened his spinal strut when he set his fingers to his anterior node. He’d tried both spike and valve play while self-servicing and found he liked this best. He wondered anxiously what Megatronus’ preference was, and how they would work that out, before the first rub of his digits knocked that worry right out of his processor. He’d never felt his node so swollen and hot before. It pulsed with charge, casting bright blue light on black servos, flickering in a fashion he’d come to expect meant overload. Not yet, not yet, I don’t want to overload yet, I need him, I need more -
Unbidden, his processor dragged out a voice clip, playing it for him.
:: - t he berth is an arena you will find me equally accomplished in. | - I intend to know you intimately - every last inch of you as familiar to me as I am to myself. I do hope you’re prepared… ::
Orion’s optics widened, and before he could think or stop it, he was jolting in overload, gasping as his valve clenched and squeezed around nothing. It was too quick, too small, just enough to make the itch beneath his plating feel that much more insistent. He shuddered, face heating. How - how could I - so soon? Just from hearing his voice…
When it ended, he was still tense with charge and wanting, craving another, more intense overload. His node hurt a little, but he couldn’t stop himself, digits still working the sensor again and again and again until he was panting. Voice. I need - I need Mega’s voice, I need -
:: - greedy - Orion - | - My spark - | - Can - I - coax - another - from - you -? - ::
“Ghh-! ” Orion quivered as charge lit up the room once more. He moaned and rutted into his hand, yearning for Megatronus between his thighs, kissing him, filling him.
:: - I - too - am greedy - | - I - cannot - resist - your frame - ::
The roar of his engines and fans combined nearly drowned out the sound of his own tiny, fluttering cries. He clung to the image of Megatronus, the echo of his vocals, the heady rush of heat and wet between his thighs. What would it feel like to have Megatronus there, looming over him: pressing slow, hot kisses along his abdominal plates while his restless glossa drew patterns over him in oral lubricant, leaving him slick and shivering in their wake?
:: - Did I fluster my poor clerk? - | - my sweet one - I would rather - comfort - you - intimately - ::
“Mega -!” Orion gasped, as if the gladiator was really there with him. Megatronus was so much bigger. He’d use his huge hand to press Orion down, preventing him from squirming any further. Orion touched himself fiercely, harder, demanding more of his overheating frame than he’d ever asked -
:: - I - do hope you’re prepared - | - I intend to - see you - come - the very second - I - triumph - ::
Orion’s hips jerked, his body quivering as he imagined warm vents ghosting over his node. The sensor was slick with lubricant and hot as a smelter, sparking as Orion massaged it again and again: picturing Megatronus’ rough glossa instead, lapping eagerly between his thighs.
Orion wrenched up into that touch, that pleasure, the imagined mouth he longed for: a deep, endless desire coiling upwards through his lines, every strut going taut. Megatronus wouldn’t stop. He’d keep going, never pausing to let me think or catch my vents. He’d want me at his mercy. And I want to be.
“Please,” Orion whispered aloud to the silent, empty hotel room.
:: - I - need you so very much - | - will - you - allow[] - me - to - love - you - as - I - desire - ::
Orion shuddered, arched upwards, cried out. “I want - yes, Mega, please - I want you - !”
:: - I thank you - my archivist - jealously guarded - and - highly prized - | I intend to know you intimately - ::
Orion slapped his free servo over his mouth as heat burst like fireworks all over his frame. Oh, hearing that voice, that hoarse, perfect voice purring in his audials, had him fragging himself at a merciless pace: lubricant dripping all over the berth beneath him in thick, pearly splatters. He was recording again and he couldn’t even bring himself to be ashamed. Maybe Megatronus would enjoy watching. Maybe he would share with him, one day, how desperate and wet he’d made his little archivist that night in Praxus.
“Oh please, please don’t make me wait,” Orion sobbed, not bothering to whisper now. “I need you!”
:: - our suffering is mutual - | - I crave - the curve of your dermas - the gesture of your hand - the tilt - of your helm - your shape - ::
He spread his legs wide, imagining a thick and monstrous spike teasing at his entrance. He brushed two fingers over the opening of his valve, toying with himself. He couldn’t push past his seal on his own, but Megatronus could. No doubt his spike was big enough to stretch Orion to his limits. He could destroy it in one fell thrust, hard and fast and filling Orion up -
:: - my archivist - is - greedy for every - last inch - of - your Champion - far deeper - ::
“Yes,” Orion conceded, no longer entirely aware of his own words. “Yes, please, I want you - ”
Orion added another finger and spread himself open, going as deeply as he could with three digits. He teased against his own seal, feeling how it bent at the pressure of the lubricant trapped behind it: imagining the tip of Megatronus’ spike breaking it apart, shoving past it to house itself deep inside him.
:: - your Champion - is - the victor - after all - in - this - engagement - | - who could resist you - | - so - lovely - so - perfect[] - ::
Orion sobbed as he imagined the base of Megatronus’ spike rubbing insistently against his node: harder, fiercer than his fingers could. He choked, crying out, “Yes, please, deeper, more, oh Primus my Champion -!”
:: - I’d pursue you across galaxies - just - to - have - you - in - my - berth - ::
This was so good, so good, yet not enough. He ached far too much for the real thing. Orion groaned, shuddered, and rolled onto his hands and knees. He buried his face in his pillow and arching his spinal strut, opening himself wide. This… this would be how Megatronus would want it, he thought: Orion, aft up, legs spread, clutching at the berth, while that big frame leveraged all the might it possessed to absolutely pound him. He could feel his beloved like a sparkbeat, a pulse so regular he was certain he would die without it. His vision blitzed out, a halo of white light.
:: - my - love - would - have - me - far deeper - ::
“Please,” Orion gasped, spreading his legs further apart. His movements were sharp and jerky and oh Primus he was on the brink again at last, he was so close -
:: - I would - see - the light in your eyes - as you - come - once - more - ::
When overload hit him the second time, it swept through him so fast he barely felt its climb: rocketing upwards and into bliss so intense he shouted into the silence, the berth beneath him rattling. The sound clips his neural net had built for him kept crooning, filthy and perfect and pouring pure arousal into every inch of his aching frame. He realized he was crying out Megatronus’ name, howling it, wild with pleasure.
He collapsed when it was over, gasping and covered in fluids: flopping onto his side and panting as his systems cycled down. He’d never self-serviced so savagely before. He stared at the dark viewscreen, stunned at his response, his desperate need for the gladiator he’d been unable to say he loved prior to this night.
Whether or not he’d recognized it, though, he’d certainly felt it: a hot-cold shiver that ignited like fire in his tanks whenever Megatronus was near him. Desire. I desired him. And I was too stupid to notice it. To call it what it was.
By the Pits. He really was an idiot.
Orion groaned, smothered his face with a pillow, and got up to wash off, cursing himself in every dialect he knew.
The day of the match, Solarsweep finally called him.
“I got it!” she said triumphantly. “I found it at last, and what’s more, I got a second one--a book on cloning, incredibly rare--a draft copy from a long-dead scientist. I’m literally fifteen minutes from Praxus. Can you meet?”
Orion’s spark sang with joy. If they hurried, he might actually be able to make it to Kaon in time for the match. He’d already prepared Megatronus earlier that morning, telling him he likely wouldn’t be there - but if this worked…
If this worked, he could be with Megatronus tonight.
“Do you know Hardlight’s location?” he asked, briskly starting for the mech’s penthouse. His frame was already thrumming with anticipation, interface protocols making curious bids for attention on his HUD. He dismissed them. Focus. You cannot go home to him if your work is not done.
“I do, been there a few times before for parties and such,” Solarsweep said. “Why, are you there?”
“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Orion said. “Meet me there as swiftly as you can. I’ll propose the trade to him when you arrive. We can only hope he desires this record as badly as you believe he does.” Or Megatronus will not be the only disappointed mech tonight.
“No, let me do it,” Solarsweep said. Orion could almost hear the little smirk she must have been wearing. “I have an idea, and if it works, well… let’s just say you won’t need to worry about getting to Kaon in time.”
Orion frowned, pausing mid-stride. “It’s not illegal, is it?”
Solarsweep laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that,” she said. “Just stay somewhat quiet and look sad, alright? I promise it’ll pay off…”
When Orion arrived with Solarsweep in tow, Hardlight sighed and cast her a dismissive glance, displeased by her presence.
“Back again, Pax?” he said disdainfully. “I see you brought company. I might have guessed you would be friends with so second-rate a collector.”
Solarsweep somehow kept her good cheer about her despite the insult - perhaps because she knew the value of what she’d brought with her. “Nice to see you too, Hardlight,” she said, clapping him upon his shoulder. He cringed and dusted off the space where she’d touched, as if she’d dirtied him with the gesture. “My apologies for dropping in like this. Orion had mentioned wanting to visit you before going about our business.”
“Mm. And what business might that be?” said Hardlight, studying his digits. He was endeavoring to appear uninterested, but Orion felt a curious prickle running through his field.
“I just wanted to see Sparklight one last time before departing,” Orion said. Solarsweep had fed him the line as they approached Hardlight’s door, making him repeat it in his most sorrowful voice.
Think you can manage that, Pax?
Well, I wouldn’t want to overstate my theatrical ability… but yes, that should be within my power, Orion had replied dryly.
Hardlight was smirking, a broad, smug look Orion longed to punch right off his faceplate. “Leaving so soon?” said Hardlight, tsking quietly. “What a pity. Giving up on me at last, are we, Pax?”
Orion fidgeted, offering him a small, polite smile. He hadn’t been given a line for this part. “Not entirely,” he hedged, resetting his vocalizer. It wasn’t completely a lie--he was far from giving up, even if this particular ruse didn’t work.
“We both intend to come back at some point,” Solarsweep interjected, waving a servo. “It’s been too long since I’ve perused your collection, and I imagine you might have a few things up for trade. Besides, I hear Orion’s after something very special.” She sighed, laying a hand over her spark. “But I’m afraid another urgent matter has come up, and I need Orion for an assessment and sale. I located some rare records requested by a colleague of yours, so I’m sweeping Pax off to Crystal City to help me deliver them. He can certify their authenticity to the buyer.”
Hardlight’s finials flicked, smirk fading into a thinly-pressed line. “Which colleague might that be?”
Oh, he was interested. His field stretched outward, grabbing for theirs in a rude, abrasive gesture: no doubt hoping to glean from an unguarded emotion what they might be doing, and who for.
Both mechs stepped backwards, casting him not-at-all feigned looks of affront. “I’m not in the habit of discussing the personal details of my business partners, Hardlight,” Solarsweep said sharply. “And you can stop prying with your field - that won’t tell you anything you wish to know.”
Hardlight’s eyes were hard and cold as his field withdrew, clinging close to his frame once more. Not two seconds later, he put on his best smile - a greasy, false grin that made Orion’s circuits itch. “Oh, come now, Solarsweep! We’re good friends, aren’t we?” he wheedled. “Here, tell you what: I’ll give you a lead on that Cybertronian dialects data you were searching for a few years ago if you’ll give me this... colleague’s designation.”
Solarsweep pretended to consider, hesitating. “Well…”
“I’ll throw in that record you wanted about Vector Sigma,” Hardlight said. “The sparklings’ version, with the illustrations your Conjunx loves.”
“Oh!” Solarsweep straightened, glancing between Orion and Hardlight for a few moments, as if she was considering the deal. She turned to Orion and laid her hand on his shoulder, leaning in to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, Orion, I… I know it’s not really the done thing , but I’ve been searching for this record for a long time. You understand, don’t you? Shockwave doesn’t need to know I’ve outed him.”
An alarm somewhere in Hardlight’s systems began to shriek, his optics snapping to their widest setting. “ Shockwave?!”
Solarsweep winced, servo flying to her mouth. “Oh, slag,” she said - looking for all the world as if she’d made a huge mistake. “Well, I didn’t mean to tell you quite that way, but…”
“What does he want?” Hardlight snapped. His servos clenched at his sides, flexing and clenching, flexing and clenching: the clear approximation of a threat.
Solarsweep shrugged. “He’d asked about finding him some works on Predacons,” she said. “I found two extremely rare records that I expect will fetch a premium from - ”
“What records?” Hardlight demanded, stepping closer to the pair. “ What records, Solarsweep? ”
Solarsweep held up both hands in a display of surrender. “Primus, calm your actuators, Hardlight,” she grumbled. “I have The Anatomy of Ancient Predacons by Bowclaw and a draft paper on cloning by Cindercloud in my subspace. Both all but mint condition, valued unusually high for such dry scientific texts due to their quality and rarity - ”
Hardlight’s vents had gone shaky, the alarm in his systems quieting to a desperate whine. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for T he Anatomy of Ancient Predacons ?” he asked. “Let me see it!”
Solarsweep frowned, shaking her head. “Shockwave was quite insistent that we avoid sharing too much,” she said. “Something to do with his new project, I think. I suppose I can show you the covers, but probably best not to open them…”
She withdrew a sealed transport box from her subspace and clicked it open, revealing the records within. One was a datapad used in years past for scientific notes, contained within a clear case for safekeeping; the other was an ancient copy of a physical book made of leather hide and metal, its title lovingly hand-stamped and a beautiful illustration of one of the early Predacons imprinted into it.
Hardlight was venting rapidly now, heat pouring off of his frame. “How much?” he demanded, optics locked upon the works.
Solarsweep tilted her helm. “I don’t understand.”
“How much to buy them?” Hardlight snapped. “I want them both. How much? Money is no object.”
“Oh,” Solarsweep said, surprise and distress in her vocal inflection. “I… I’m afraid they’re not for sale. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. These are for Shockwave, and he’s already agreed to pay a handsome sum - ”
Hardlight’s gaze flicked to Orion’s face, cold and harsh and determined. “Everything is for sale for a price,” he said. “Orion. How much to convince her?”
Orion hadn’t expected Hardlight to address him. Panic seized him, and he glanced at Solarsweep nervously, trying to think what to say. He managed to maintain his composure somehow, smiling softly and shaking his helm in gentle refusal. “I’m sorry, Hardlight,” he said. “But she can’t break a contract for mere shanix. I’m sure you understand. You yourself know the value of a work goes far beyond its market price.”
“Perhaps you can consult with Shockwave,” Solarsweep interrupted. “Find out what price he would consider for them - ”
“I’ll give you Sparklight, ” Hardlight cut in, sharp and desperate and still staring at Orion. He assumed that of the pair, Orion was the weakest link: the one who would cave and give him what he wished for if the right price was offered. “I’ll give you Sparklight and donate 100,000 in shanix to the Hall of Records.”
Orion paused, brow ridges raised. He’d expected this ruse to work, but perhaps not quite so effectively. “I… Hardlight, are you certain - ”
“Yes, yes, I’m positive, you can have it!” said the scientist, an edge of desperation in his vocals. “Please, Pax. Please. Take it with my blessing. I’ll transfer the funds to the Hall while you watch, too, if you like.”
Orion glanced at Solarsweep, biting his lower derma. “Solarsweep… this text, this copy of Sparklight -it’s the only known one. Can’t we… just this one time…?”
Solarsweep stared at him, optics narrowed. She held the silence for so long a moment that Orion himself began to get uncomfortable, fearing that perhaps he’d overstepped.
Finally, she relented, running a servo over her optics. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll make some arrangements, then. Records get destroyed in transit all the time; he’ll find that excuse logical enough, I’m sure.”
Orion beamed and turned to Hardlight, holding out his hands: delighted to see that Hardlight looked as though he’d swallowed something sour.
“Well?” Orion prompted, gesturing with his digits.
Hardlight muttered something under his vents, turned, and stomped off to fetch the record.
Orion was on a flight home to Iacon as soon as he all but skipped out of Hardlight’s penthouse with Sparklight in his hands. He settled into his seat, triumphant, touching his subspace where the work sat protected. He had reiterated his promise of a favor to Solarsweep and let Alpha Trion know to expect him. Now all he had to do was give Alpha Trion the record… and he would be free.
His gaze kept drifting out the window towards the expanse of planet where Megatronus was preparing for his match. Soon. He would be back with his beloved soon. He could hardly wait to feel the gladiator’s strong grip around his frame. His lines crackled with charge, so intense and heated he feared his fellow passengers might notice it. He bit down on the feeling, swallowing against it.
Not yet. Not yet.
At first he’d intended to tell Megatronus he was coming home. The gladiator would be overjoyed, and it would be good for him to know to expect his archivist in the stands. But Orion was cutting it awfully close in terms of timing; he had a few hours to get the record to the Hall, get on a train, and get to the Pits in Kaon before the match began. He would hate for Megatronus to be disappointed if he missed a single moment.
It occurred to him then that he could surprise Megatronus instead. Megatronus knew where his reserved seat would be, and if he didn’t make it in time for the fight, he had the security code and clearance to enter Megatronus’ quarters. His Champion’s victory would be the sweeter finding Orion waiting for him, whether in the stands or in his quarters.
Orion’s spark flared abruptly. This would be their first time together after saying I love you. Their first time together acknowledging the electric attraction between them. Their first time together as a couple. Orion shivered, excitement and nerves running rampant through his lines.
He could hardly wait.
Within two hours of delivering the record to Alpha Trion, he was on the train to Kaon, smiling to himself as he exchanged internal comms with Megatronus.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Good luck tonight, my spark. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I need no luck, beloved, while your spark is in my keeping. ::
:: Though I would take any good fortune that brought you home to me. ::
:: Any word on that subject? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Uncertain as yet. I may be another week or two. ::
:: I miss you. ::
:: I wish I could be there to see you victorious. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: As do I, my archivist. ::
:: I wanted you here. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I know. I’m sorry, my love. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I imagine that you are. Yet your seat in the arena will stand empty tonight as always. It is hard to feel fortune’s blessing when my best and most important supporter is not present to cheer for me.: :
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Maybe fortune will be kind to us both, and see me safely back to you very soon. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: So I shall hope. But it would not hurt things if you were to nudge her along a little. ::
Orion smiled, closing his optics and leaning his helm against the window. Kaon was only twenty minutes away now, and Megatronus’ match didn’t start for another hour. He would have time.
The second Megatronus’ match began, he would be there.
He made it to his reserved seat under the wire - just barely sliding in as Megatronus’ opponent’s name was announced. His spark leapt to his intake, nervous energy flooding his every circuit. He did not like to watch Megatronus fight, but as Megatronus had indicated this match was especially important to him, Orion was elated to be there.
He leaned against the rail that hung just above the Pits, bouncing eagerly upon his pedes as the first contender stormed in. The mech, designation Voltblast, was very big, though still not quite as big as Megatronus. He was outfitted in showy yellow paint, cracking an electric whip powered by his own internal generator. He grinned and gestured for the crowd to cheer, stomping his huge feet so that the ground shook.
His fans roared all around Orion, and Orion gripped the rail before him, grimacing. He would hold tight for Megatronus. He would.
If the cheering had been loud for Voltblast, it was even louder for Megatronus: an epic roar that shook the stands the second the announcer called his name. Orion clapped his palms together, cheering for his Champion, breathless and aching to behold him.
When Megatronus stepped into the ring, Orion’s spark lurched, hard. He was big and handsome and sweetly familiar at first: a silhouette Orion would have known at any distance. He stepped into the light, silver and crimson flashing as he moved--and Orion stepped back without thinking, startled.
He’d never seen Megatronus look like this. His eyes were hard and pitiless, his jaw set in sneer of disdain--disdain for his opponent, and for the very crowd that called for him, as if they were but insects beneath his pedes. His plating was clamped close to his frame, abdominal vents closed off to prevent stray weaponry from slipping inside to the more vulnerable parts of his form.
He looked every inch a monster: a mech who would slaughter anyone who got in his way.
Orion wasn’t precisely surprised to see him look so vicious, but it was… well, it was jarring, given how Megatronus was when he was with him. The Megatronus Orion knew was gruff and mercurial, sometimes cold, sometimes harsh; but he was intelligent too, brilliant, open to discussion and to new ideas, and capable of such tenderness.
He’d never been like this: like the wrath of the Fallen himself ascended from the Pits, destruction in Cybertronian form.
Megatronus punched the air with one arm, a brutal roar torn from his intake, and the crowd screamed again for him, the very seats shaking with their fervor. Orion shivered as the gladiator turned to face his side of the stands, grim satisfaction upon his face. His optics lingered over the crowd, and for a moment Orion wondered what it was he was looking for. When those cold, cold eyes flicked towards him, Orion’s spark squeezed. He’s looking for the seat he presumes to be empty. For me.
His gaze swept over Orion once, frown darkening; swept over him again, still searching for that empty seat.
Orion swallowed and took a tiny step forward, into the bright light of the arena, wincing as his armor caught the light and flashed blue-red.
Megatronus’ optics snapped to him instantly, catching upon him the second he was visible. His plating shifted and flicked as his optics cycled once or twice, digits flexing at his sides. Suddenly he looked like himself again: not softer, never that, but not a monster, either. Just a warframe in an arena, looking at the mech he loved.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Orion? ::
:: Do my eyes deceive me? ::
:: Tell me that’s you I’m staring at right now. ::
Orion smiled, relief swelling through his frame. He waved, leaning halfway over the rail, as if he could reach Megatronus merely by stretching out a hand. In fairness, he probably could have, if Megatronus was closer.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: You are in luck, my Champion: :
:: You are not deceived. ::
:: I’m here! ::
Orion had never seen Megatronus smile so brightly in the entirety of their friendship. All traces of that cold, brutal fury disappeared, replaced with a jubilant flare of his plating. Grinning, he strode straight to Orion’s part of the stands, ignoring the confusion of the security guards and the audience. When he was close enough, he jumped, grabbed hold of the rail, and casually just - pulled himself up in front of Orion.
Orion’s mouth went very dry, vents shaky and running hot. Megatronus grinned, holding himself aloft without so much as a quiver through his arms. It was an incredible display of strength-a display that was all for him.
“Orion Pax,” Megatronus rumbled, cupping Orion’s helm in one polished palm. His optics glowed so brightly they were nearly blinding. “You sneaky little glitch!”
Orion laughed, teary and elated: leaning into that touch, clutching at the sharp digits so softly curved over his audial. “I managed to get Sparklight this morning,” he said, stumbling over the words. It had been so unforgivably long since he’d seen Megatronus, and now he was right there, looming right in front of him, handsome and perfect and powerful and... “I wasn’t sure I would get here in time, I didn’t want you to be disappointed if - ”
Megatronus smiled, pulled Orion’s helm close, and kissed him.
Orion made a sound-probably a humiliating moan-that was in turn swallowed by the surprised cheers of the audience all around them. Oh. Right. There were other mechs here, thousands of them, all watching this happen-
Odd how Orion couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
He pressed into the kiss, into Megatronus, his field crashing over his beloved in waves: all his pleasure and delight at being so close to him after so long flooding over and through him. Megatronus’ own pleasure fed back to him in the same fashion, mingled so closely that for a moment Orion couldn’t distinguish his thoughts from his beloved’s. Oh my love--my darling--my sweetest one--I missed you, I craved you, I wanted you with me so much…
Megatronus broke the kiss reluctantly, taking in Orion’s dazed expression with a prideful smirk. Orion opened his optics, dermas parted and a soft sigh escaping him. “Oh,” he said hoarsely. “Oh, that was…”
He caught a glimpse of his own lovestruck face emblazoned upon the arena’s massive viewscreens, displayed for the whole crowd to see: flushed and hazy-eyed and shimmering in the wake of that first kiss. Heat rushed to his faceplates, and he lowered his gaze, looking away: mouth snapping shut and silencing what he’d meant to say.
Megatronus caught his chin with one finger and tilted his face back towards him. “Wish me luck?” he murmured. His helm was cocked at the perfect angle for a second kiss, and by the Pit, Orion wanted to take advantage, he wanted to so very much -
“Always,” he replied instead, breathlessly. Then, softer, cupping Megatronus’ helm between both hands: “Whatever happens out there - whatever the outcome - swear that you’ll come back to me.”
The gladiator’s expression softened, and he leaned forward just enough to kiss Orion’s crest. “I will always, always come back to you, Orion Pax,” Megatronus promised. “I stake my life upon it.”
And then he let go, dropping back into the ring with all the grace of a Seeker, rising and turning to his opponent with renewed, smug vigor.
Megatronus won the match, of course. Voltblast fell to him and forfeited within the hour, though he’d put up quite the fight. Orion watched the whole battle with his spark in his throat, terrified that at any moment he might see his beloved struck down; but Megatronus was incredible, pure violence in motion, every inch the mightiest warrior Cybertron had ever known.
Orion could hardly believe he’d so steadfastly ignored the electric attraction that crackled through his circuits as he watched Megatronus move. He was so Pits-damned gorgeous. Every inch of him was ruthless, incredible strength, fine-tuned to make his whole frame into a weapon. He was sharp edges and the sound of a sword cutting the air, the sparks thrown from metal meeting metal. He was beautiful and terrible and Orion loved him so much, more than anything in the entire galaxy, he loved him, he loved him, he loved him -
When Voltblast yielded, falling to his knees, Megatronus spun with his sword raised high, a triumphant grin upon his faceplate as he sought Orion’s in the crowd. Orion leaped to his pedes with a shout, cheering in delight as the stands shook with the roar of the throng around him. He made eye contact with Megatronus, overjoyed when the gladiator strode towards him. Every move of that exquisite frame was full of intent. I am coming back to you, Orion. We will be together at last.
But before he could reach Orion’s seat, a ring of press bots circled around him, flying in circles around his helm; followed seconds later by what appeared to be most of the arena’s security guards, and then hounded by press bots and Guild security. Then there came the fans, a mob of them leaping from their seats to rush him where he stood upon the field.
Trapped.
Megatronus looked over the throng to Orion, a displeased little snarl upon his mouth.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I fear I am to be kept from you yet awhile, my archivist. ::
:: Were it my choice, you would be in my arms already. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: You have no notion of how much I wish I could be. ::
:: Fear not, my love. I have been parted from you for a long time. An hour more will not kill me. ::
Megatronus’ optics were aflame with desire, seeing only Orion. The clamorous horde around him begged for his attention, but the archivist in the stands had its full force instead, and oh, how much Orion ached to have everything else of him, too.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: It might kill me. ::
:: You are within my reach and yet barred from me as surely as if a planet separated us once more. ::
:: Your very nearness burns me. ::
:: I was a fool to think your distance was a torment; this, THIS, is the true meaning of torture. ::
:: To look upon you, to have you so close, and yet have my hands empty of yours… ::
:: This, my beloved, is the most exquisite agony. ::
Orion gripped the rail hard, spark fluttering within its housing. How could Megatronus be both so eloquent and soft, and yet so brutal? It was a contrast that left him dizzy and aching, deeply admiring of the mech he adored.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Soothe yourself by knowing I will be waiting for you at the end of this tiresome circus. ::
:: Shall I remain here, or await you in your quarters? ::
He waited a moment as a security guard leaned in to shout something in Megatronus’ audial. The gladiator growled, but stilled to listen as the rest of the guards formed a perimeter around him, holding back the mob attempting to reach him.
Orion smiled and tapped his digits against the rail. Did he dare…?
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: If the latter… couch, or berth? ::
Megatronus, in the midst of saying something to the guard, snapped his helm back towards Orion with a sound so savage Orion heard it even at a distance.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Primus, how you test my self-control! ::
:: You are enjoying this, aren’t you? ::
Orion grinned over the crowd, a beam filled with pride at so successfully having undone his lover.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I’ve no idea what you mean! ::
:: I merely asked a question. ::
:: A perfectly innocent question. ::
:: Couch… or berth? ::
Megatronus was still staring, devouring him with that gaze: as if by sight alone he could spread Orion open and claim him right there. Orion swallowed again, squirming against an itch he could not sate just yet.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: You might as well have asked me whether I would have you on your knees or on your back. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I would like an answer for that as well, now that you mention it. ::
Megatronus had been in the process of turning back to the guard to finish his thought--but Orion had the great pleasure of confounding him again, the Champion pausing mid-turn to take a slow, steadying vent.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: You know, I thought you quite an angel prior to this moment. ::
:: I take it back: :
:: You are a monster. ::
Orion laughed aloud, drawing a few odd stares from the exiting patrons around him.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: You astonish me, Orion. Just when I think you too demure to express your desire, or too innocent to recognize it, you tease me with such tantalizing promises. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: And yet I note you have not answered my query. ::
:: Too difficult a decision? ::
Orion watched as the security guard stepped aside and allowed a single press bot to come through, the others hurling enraged abuse at him as he shut them out. Megatronus greeted the press bot with a hand over his spark and a small bow, formal as always.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I am debating how far I wish to walk before claiming you at last. ::
Orion made a sound he could only describe as a giggle, which was frankly quite humiliating. He slapped a servo over his mouth, watching as Megatronus proceeded to give a perfectly calm, rational interview despite the flurry of messages he and Orion were exchanging.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Primes forbid you overexert yourself! ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I must use my energy sparingly. I plan a *very* active night for us. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I suppose it’s just as well I had no plans to recharge, then! ::
:: Not that I could. ::
:: You are not the only one eager for his beloved’s touch. ::
Megatronus smirked, a grin so broad the press bot paused what she was saying to see if Megatronus would interrupt. When he did not, she continued, posing some sort of lengthy question.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Good. It pleases me to see you confessing it at last. You certainly took your time about it. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I suppose I do owe you an apology on that score. It has taken me far too long to express what it is I feel for you. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: To your great fortune, you are just darling enough to get away with it. ::
:: You are forgiven, sweet one. ::
Orion waited a little while longer as the first press bot finished and the next zoomed through, zipping eagerly around him for a full-body shot of his frame. Orion quietly seethed, a prickle of jealousy running through him. No one else should see the full glory of that frame but me.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Couch, then? ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: No. Berth. I cannot resist the delicious notion of you spread across it. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: As my Champion commands. ::
:: Your archivist awaits you in your quarters. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: My anticipation grows with every passing second. ::
:: I will see you very, VERY soon, Orion. ::
Orion blushed, overheating already, and all but flew out of his seat, ducking and weaving between exiting fans until he reached the lifts to the lower levels. He punched in the floor number and leaned back against the wall, smiling and closing his optics.
A little while longer, and his fantasy would be reality. All he had to do was wait.
He started out in Megatronus’ berth as promised: relaxed, legs spread, enjoying the strangely intimate feeling of lying in the Champion’s bed. He was surrounded by Megatronus’ scent, all metal and smoke and the sharp tang of laserfire. He buried his face against the pillows, breathing deep. How soothing it was to feel so close to his love, even when the mech in question was not yet beside him.
Eventually he grew restless. More than two hours had passed since he had arrived in Megatronus’ quarters, and yet he’d received no word. He wondered what was taking the gladiator. More fans than he’d anticipated, perhaps? A demand from the Guild bosses that ran his every moment?
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Mega? ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Forgive me, my treasure. I swear to you, I am coming. ::
:: I am going to slaughter the next mech who asks for a picture. ::
Orion laughed aloud, rising from the berth and wandering to the primary living space to pace.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Poor, put-upon Champion! ::
:: The burdens of fame weigh greatly upon your handsome shoulders. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Oh, compliments from my archivist! Only you can soothe my temper from afar. ::
:: Handsome, you think? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: I think all of you handsome, my love. Powerful, brilliant, graceful, mighty... ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Why, Orion, you might draw a girlish blush to my warrior’s face. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: A pity I cannot see it in person! ::
:: I would dearly love to watch you blush, as I so often do when near you. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: You might get your wish if you continue to praise me so. ::
Orion chuckled, leaning against a table. The not-so-subtle request did not go unnoticed. Taking his cues from the gladiator’s own effusive praise, Orion composed a series of messages as sweet and heated as the honeyed things Megatronus had sent to him.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Would you like me to pay you pretty compliments, my Champion? ::
:: Shall I tell you how much the ripple of the plating of your back draws my eye? ::
:: How strong your grip feels upon my waist? ::
:: Sometimes I think of how easily you could crush me if you wished. ::
:: I should be terrified, but the notion makes me weak. ::
:: You could destroy me, yet you do not. You have total mastery over your own strength, as you do over your mind. ::
:: As you do over me. ::
:: Perhaps you would like better to hear how much I want to tease the vents in your abdominal plates. ::
:: How much I long to see them open and expose bright crimson circuitry to my touch. ::
:: Or how much the strong curve of your hips draws me in. ::
:: I think my thighs could fit them like a handhold. ::
For a moment, his audials buzzed with the hum of static: the sound of Megatronus’ vocal communicator clicking online to convey a voice message. They shut off again with a sharp hiss, and instead a text comm came through a moment later.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Orion. Slagging. Pax. ::
:: I am going to frag you so thoroughly you cannot walk for days. ::
:: I will see you screaming my designation beneath the frame you have so lovingly worshipped with your words. ::
:: I will see you so thoroughly and utterly pleasured that your very processor overloads with the intensity of our fragging. ::
:: You will be mine and no other’s, Orion Pax. My archivist. My second. My beloved for eternity. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Only if you can escape the throng that clamors for your attention. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: I will cut my way through if I must. ::
:: Nothing but Unicron himself will keep you from me. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: Just as soon as you are finished with your duties. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]
:: Ugh. Yes. Just as soon as… that. ::
Orion smiled and shook his helm, resuming his anxious pacing. At least he could be in no doubt of how desperately his Champion desired him. That fear at least was soothed.
Still, it was another half-hour before Megatronus’ door finally slid open: parting to reveal the massive silver and red gladiator, plating flicking in vexation as the final barrier between himself and Orion fell away at last.
He caught sight of Orion and gave a fiendish, feral grin, field grasping greedily for him: aggressive and forceful, like the gladiator himself.
“Mega,” Orion whispered, riotous anticipation erupting all through his frame. “You’re here - ”
Megatronus closed the distance between them in the space of a sparkbeat, swept Orion up, and kissed him so fiercely Orion forgot how to function. His processor spun wildly, fans kicking up to their highest setting before he could stop them as his panel heated at an obscene pace. Orion moaned against Megatronus’ mouth, clutching at his shoulders. Oh, my love, I missed you, I missed you-!
Megatronus broke away for a moment, nuzzling against Orion’s faceplate. “I can’t believe you,” he growled - but he was smiling, field pulsing with happiness and relief. “You lied to me, Orion Pax. Telling me you’d be gone another week - ”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Orion repeated, laughing. “It wasn’t a serious lie - ”
“Another week without you - not serious? Orion. Really. Don’t mock the depth of my feelings for you that way.” He was teasing, reassurance brushing over Orion’s field via Megatronus’ - but there was a kernel of truth there that burned so intensely it was nearly an endless flame. I missed you, I needed you, I could not bear to be parted from you so long...
“My absence was so effective in getting you to reveal your feelings,” Orion said, mock-seriously. “I thought perhaps I might get more out of you if you thought I was still gone.”
“Oh, I have all sorts of feelings I’ve been dying to share with you,” Megatronus purred. He bent and bit at Orion’s neck cabling, denting his intake there. “Why don’t I take you to berth and show them to you?”
Orion gasped, hips jerking to rut against Megatronus’ thigh. “ Ah - M-Mega -!”
“Say yes ,” Megatronus said: a low, triumphant rumble deep in his chassis. “I know it was you who began this, but I want - Primus, I want to be inside you. Let me spike you, Orion.”
Orion’s processor spun dizzily, vents hitching. He only just had enough presence of mind to wonder what Megatronus meant by that-- it was you who began this -- before lust overcame him. “Yes,” he panted, pressing clumsy, frenzied kisses to Megatronus’ audial. “Yes, please, I want your spike as deep as it can fit - ”
Megatronus made the most satisfying sound: a combination of a huge engine revving and a deep, painfully aroused snarl. He gripped Orion by the waist and swept him up, half-carrying, half dragging him towards the berthroom. “Such a filthy mouth from such a precious little thing,” he said. “I am ever so curious what other tricks that lovely mouth holds for me.”
Orion laughed, a tiny, drunken sound, and bent to lick suggestively at Megatronus’ intake. “How fortunate that I have a taste for gladiator tonight,” he said. “I would love to have my mouth on you.”
Megatronus all but punched the controls to his berthroom, lust burning through his field. “I can’t believe you,” he said again, vocals filled with incredulity. “How dare you keep this deliciously lewd Orion Pax from me! I never imagined you would be so wanton.”
“What can I say? I am a well of unplumbed depths.” Orion leaned in to kiss him again, gratified when Megatronus stumbled, unwilling to break away.
“There is a very - nnm - specific depth in you I would like to explore,” Megatronus growled between kisses. “Open for me. Mmf. Now, Orion. I need to be in you now .”
Yes, now sounded so good, now was perfect. Orion kissed him, open-mouthed and eager, thrilled when his back met the wall, and prepared to open his panels -
He froze, halting the protocol right as the locks on his panel hissed. Wait - he hadn’t told him - he hadn’t told Megatronus about his -
He tore his dermas from Megatronus’ with a tiny, desperate sound. “Mega. Mega, wait,” he gasped.
Megatronus stopped dead, frowning darkly. He loomed over the archivist’s body, one hand planted upon the wall while the other supported his aft. “One reason, Orion. One. Good. Reason. ”
Orion drew back, startled. “Is my say-so not enough?”
Megatronus’ optics went wide, horror infusing his field. He let Orion go as though burned, stumbling backward and lifting both hands in surrender. Orion hadn’t realized how hot the gladiator was running until he moved away: a sudden chill settling over his frame as they parted. He made a plaintive noise, confused and upset. He hadn’t meant to ruin things; he’d only needed to tell Megatronus about his seals, let him know so he wouldn’t be surprised…
Yet that reaction to being stopped was… well. It made a sick, anxious feeling settle in Orion’s tanks.
Megatronus lowered his hands and went down on one knee, kneeling before Orion like a knight to a lordling. “Forgive me, Orion,” he said quietly. “I… after being separated for so long, and with so many obstacles between us tonight, I was... too eager. And that isn’t an excuse, I know that, I…”
He vented for a moment, pausing long enough to look up. His gaze was piercing and full of remorse for what he had done: for the frightened edge to Orion’s posture, the prickle of mistrust in his field. “Your word is always enough,” he said solemnly. “You will never, never, come to harm like that under my hands, beloved. I swear it.”
Orion relaxed, spark melting at the words. He gave a timid smile and held out his hands for Megatronus’. “It’s alright,” he said. “I understand. I did not intend to startle you, Mega.”
He gestured, and Megatronus got to his feet, approaching at a gentle, easy pace. When he laid his hands against Orion’s frame, his touch was light and cautious: ghosting over the curve of Orion’s spinal strut, resting lightly against his back. He tugged, and Orion allowed himself to be pulled forward, vents hiccupping as he came away from the wall and rested instead against the gladiator’s chest.
“Forgive me,” Megatronus said again. He ran delicate, clawed fingertips over Orion’s audial, drawing a shiver from the archivist in his arms. “What did you wish to tell me, Orion? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to - ”
“No!” Orion cried, aghast. “Primus, no, I don’t - that wasn’t at all what I wanted.” He clung tightly to Megatronus’ frame, drinking him in. “I just… I needed to tell you - that is, I felt you should…” He huffed, laughing to himself. “Ugh. Primus. I still have my seals. That’s all.”
Megatronus straightened, shock flooding his field. “You what?”
Orion went very still. Now what had he done wrong? First he’d startled Megatronus into overreacting, and now… now this. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. “I… still have my seals?” he repeated. His voice bleated nervous static. “Is that… will that be a problem? I can see about having them surgically removed if you-- ”
“No!” Megatronus exclaimed, appalled. “No, absolutely not. What an abhorrent idea. It would not have been an issue if you had other partners, of course, but since you have not, no one will take your seals but me.” His grip tightened, a dark, possessive ripple running through his field. “Orion, my love, I am not upset. I simply did not expect you to be an--an i nnocent . Although upon further reflection, it explains… several things, really.”
“ Innocent is a bit of a strong word,” Orion muttered. “I’ve never taken anyone to berth before, but I am perfectly familiar with my array.”
Megatronus arched a brow ridge, smirking. “That little revelation is one we’ll explore in detail at a later date,” he purred. He frowned, growing serious again. “But regardless, this fact changes things. Had I known sooner, I would not have gone about things so--ah... directly.”
Orion blinked, anxiety pulsing outward from his spark. “But - no, Mega, wait, it needn’t change anything, I still - ”
“Shh. Hush, my spark.” Megatronus leaned down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his helm. “I have no intention of leaving either of us wanting. But I cannot do so as… robustly as I’d intended.” He bumped Orion’s helm, fondness flooding his field, and Orion leaned into the touch, clinging to Megatronus’ armor. “Come to the washracks with me.”
Orion looked up, surprised. “The… washracks?”
Megatronus glanced at his armor. Orion hadn’t noticed in his rush to touch and be touched, but it was still dusty and bloody from the arena. “I did not take the time to remove the grime of battle before coming to you,” he said, chagrined. “It does you a disservice. You deserve better, especially for your first time.”
Orion smiled and shook his helm. “This - this dust and energon and battle-matter - is part of you,” he said. “I would no more remove it from you than I would remove any part of your very essence.”
“By the Pit, I love you,” Megatronus said in awe, a low, desperate longing in his voice. “I love you so much - ”
Orion popped up on his pedes to plant a kiss on the gladiator’s lips. “And I, you,” he replied, nuzzling his faceplate. “More than there are words for in any known language.” He leaned against his beloved, longing to be joined with him in every conceivable way. “Take me to berth,” he breathed. “Please.”
Megatronus’ vents caught in his intake, a tiny, desperate sound escaping him. “Soon. Orion, I swear, soon. But let me pay you the honor you deserve, in return for the honor you have chosen to bestow upon me. Yes?”
Orion smiled, even as his circuits itched and crawled with charge. He could wait. He could wait for this. He was still with Megatronus, after all, regardless of what they were doing.
They were together, as they were always meant to be.
“Very well,” he agreed. “Washracks first.” He paused, casting Megatronus a reproachful look. “And then fragging the living spark out of me. Yes?”
Megatronus laughed, a full-bodied laugh Orion felt through his whole frame. “Yes, dearest. Then fragging the living spark out of you.”
Orion gave a contented hum, catching Megatronus’ servo in his and pulling him to the washracks.
Chapter 6: Sparkbond
Summary:
A union brings with it a shattering revelation.
Notes:
10/14/19 - Updated to add an AMAZING, heartbreaking art from Cyanide-Oreo who literally killed me when creating this. I'm dead now. I'm dead forever. Thank you <3
Chapter Text
Hot solvent poured over Orion in a pale imitation of the molten desire trailing through his lines: lazy and languid and as demanding as the gladiator who held him firmly against his frame. Megatronus kissed slowly, sweetly, bringing the quiet simmer of Orion’s wanting to a boil. Servos wandered and caressed, exploring every curve and seam: plucking at tender wires and teasing sparking circuitry. There was no question of resisting temptation now. He could no more keep his hands off of Megatronus than the gladiator could keep his own off of Orion.
It wasn’t the frantic, furious frag he’d imagined back in Praxus, but this would more than do.
When they’d first stumbled into the washracks, Megatronus had sunk to the floor and settled Orion astride his lap, straddling him. As soon as he was satisfied that Orion was both as close to his array as possible and comfortable, he’d pulled the archivist into a demanding, searing kiss - and then they just… hadn’t stopped kissing since.
At first that had been enough. Mouth to mouth, cupping Megatronus’ helm, Orion had been content to taste him, to let him touch and to touch him in return. But the heat inside him kept building, deeper and heavier with every brush of his lover’s lips; and it wasn’t long before he was grinding his panel against Megatronus’, rolling his hips in search of stimulation. His array throbbed eagerly, valve swollen and wet behind his modesty panels and spike begging to pressurize. It was already half-hard, squeezed inside its housing.
At this rate, I’ll overload before we even begin.
At last, Megatronus growled and eased away from Orion’s mouth with no small amount of reluctance, even as the archivist gave a tiny cry and chased after him.
“Ah ah. No, sweet one,” Megatronus murmured. His vocals were little more than a rasp, his field bleeding maddening restraint. “If we don’t pause for a moment, I’ll never actually finish the task at hand.”
Orion made a low, complaining noise and gripped Megatronus by the helm, trying to tug him back. “Unless my recollection is inaccurate, I am the task at hand,” he said, leaning in. “Come here!”
“Ever so bossy!” Megatronus laughed. “You are the next task on my to-do list - though I hardly consider taking you to berth a chore.” He caught Orion’s grasping servos and extricated himself, holding Orion’s wrists tight when Orion frowned and tried to reach for him yet again. “Stop it. Let me wash. The sooner I am clean, the sooner I may claim you. Yes?”
Orion considered that, wearing a small, serious frown. He wasn’t pouting, per se, but - oh, very well, he was absolutely pouting. All he longed for, all he craved, was to be close to his beloved. Even a few brief moments of not touching seemed like far too much to ask of him just now.
Unless…
When he glanced up at Megatronus, optics alight, the gladiator merely sighed. “What is it now? You are aware you are only delaying us further, aren’t you?”
Orion beamed and reached above Megatronus’ head, groping for a sponge. “It merely occurs to me that I might aid you in your task, if you wish. Then we might both have our way.”
The violent rev of Megatronus’ engines confirmed his opinion on the subject. “Are you asking to wash me?”
Orion blinked. He almost sounded scandalized, as if Orion had tread upon sacred ground - or tripped into something profane. “Is... is that a particular fetish I’m not aware of?”
Megatronus’ wide optics crinkled in laughter, the rumble of mirth louder this time and more deeply amused. “Forgive my surprise, sweet one,” he said, shaking his head. “It is not so much a fetish, as you so humorously phrased it, as it is a service only provided to mechs like me before a match - ever at the behest of our masters, who only wish to ensure their property is appropriately sparkling and intimidating.” He paused, studying Orion intently: fingering the seams of his abdomen in an idle gesture. “It is my understanding that upper-caste mechs can purchase… ah, companions for their baths to both clean and pleasure them. That buymechs, pleasure drones and servants specifically offer that service for them. For gladiators, such mechs make it clear the process is merely a matter of expediency, but...”
Here at last he was finally allowed to witness Megatronus blushing: heat rolling off of his faceplate in waves, optics narrowing and looking away from Orion’s. “I have always presumed I would never have the good fortune to afford such a service on my own,” he said at last, quietly. “And yet here you are, offering it to me without hesitation or motive. For you to ask to - to serve me like that is…”
Ah, now Orion understood. This was a matter of power and control: two things complexly intertwined with interface and berthroom rites. He knew of this in theory if not in practice. It had never occurred to him before how Megatronus’ lack of agency might affect the things he craved in the berthroom.
How fortunate that control was the last thing Orion wanted here.
Orion swallowed, hesitating a moment. He knew how buymechs were meant to act (again, entirely in theory), but he had never deliberately attempted such seductions on his own before. It couldn’t hurt to try it, though, could it? To steal Megatronus’ vents like that again?
He trailed his digits down Megatronus’ chest and murmured in his sultriest baritone, “It would be my very great pleasure to service you, my lord.”
Megatronus’ optics snapped to their widest setting, his field crashing over Orion in a wave of arousal so potent Orion’s panels almost snapped open in reply. “Are - Orion, are you certain…?”
“I am more than certain.” Orion tipped forward and kissed Megatronus’ forehelm reassuringly. “I would please you, my lord - with all of my spark.”
Megatronus hissed, intake tight and spitting static as one hand groped insistently for Orion’s thigh. “Mm. Well then. I do love a servant who is so eager to please,” he said. He leaned back against the tile wall of the washracks, clasping his hands behind his helm. Orion’s vents caught as he took in Megatronus’ frame, wet and shiny and now perfectly displayed for him, awaiting the touch of his hands. “Well? Go on then. Make yourself useful, clerk.”
He spoke with all the regal disdain of a high-caste mech. It was impressive how well he could project that same arrogance, that same confidence.
At this particular moment, it was also unbearably attractive.
Orion bent and gently kissed Megatronus’ intake, listening to the sound of his fans speeding up as Orion set the sponge to the broad expanse of his chest plates. Megatronus arched and purred beneath him, sinking into the touch with a sinful pulse of lust. “Mm,” he murmured, optics fluttering closed. He cracked one open long enough to say, “Best to be thorough, little archivist. I wouldn’t want to punish you for missing a spot.”
“You offend me by daring to suggest that I would ever neglect one single inch of this magnificent frame,” Orion replied, teasing a seam between Megatronus’ chest plate and side. A little shiver and a rev of Megatronus’ engines were his answering retort. “I am an archivist - a researcher, an explorer. Present me with something new and interesting and I will scour every corner of the universe to learn everything about it. There is so much of you for me to learn… and I am quite determined to become the expert.”
Megatronus made an extremely undignified sound - something between a gargle and a moan. “I wasn’t aware servants sassed their masters so freely,” he managed at last. He’d had to reset his vocalizer to get the words out, which Orion took as a sign of his success. “Is such rudeness common where you come from, or are you making a special exception because you think I’ll allow it? I am not like your betters in Iacon, clerk. I do not know mercy or softness, and you should not expect either from me.”
Orion smiled to himself, leaning down to kiss Megatronus’ spark chamber this time. “No sass, my lord,” he said quietly. “Only my solemn promise to do your frame the justice it deserves - and to love no other as I love you.”
"Good.” The bleat of static belied the possessiveness of that snarl: an excruciating, wrathful pulse of jealousy cutting the air. “You are mine, Orion Pax. My archivist. My lover. My mate. Any other mech who so much as thinks to lay servos on you can face me in the Pit before he claims you.”
Orion looked up, arching an optic ridge at the fierceness in Megatronus’ voice. The gladiator’s optics blazed, harsh and cold as he tightened his grip around Orion with that same spark of jealousy. “Are…” Orion hesitated, lifting the sponge from Megatronus’ frame. “... are you still playing, or…?”
Megatronus considered Orion carefully, an arrogant arch of an optic ridge making him look all the more lordly. “Does it matter if I am? I trust you have no intention of sharing, nor of being shared.”
“Of course not!” Orion exclaimed, affronted. “No, I desire no one else. Not now, not ever. I love you.”
Megatronus’ smile was softer this time as he reached up to stroke Orion’s cheek. “My sweetspark,” he murmured. “That is not a simple endearment when it comes to you, you know. You are, in every way, sweet of spark. Kind. My gentle mech.” He curved his palm around Orion’s helm, staring deeply into Orion’s optics. “You would never betray me, would you, Orion? You alone of all mechs would never even think to hurt me.”
The tension in Orion’s shoulders eased, and he turned to kiss the gladiator’s palm. “Never, my love,” he said with feeling. “Of all the sparks on this planet of ours, yours is the most precious to me.” He glanced shyly back to Megatronus, blushing. “If it comforts you, I am and always have been yours, from the very day we first met. I can think of nothing that would ever change that.”
There was some indefinable feeling in Megatronus’ optics then: a warmth, a brilliance Orion had only seen the ghost of before. He bent to kiss Orion, slow and lingering and deeply. “My spark,” he said softly. He shook himself and leaned back again, nodding to his frame. “If you intend to do this, Orion, you had best hurry. You have made it quite difficult to maintain my self-restraint.”
Orion grinned and winked. “As my beloved commands.”
He settled in to work then, losing himself in the curves and seams of Megatronus’ exquisite frame. Megatronus was beautiful and hot beneath Orion’s servos, relaxing into Orion’s touch as he scrubbed each plate to a gleaming cleanness. Orion paused to christen each new part of Megatronus’ frame with kisses once it shone silver and bright, earning a deep rumble from the gladiator each time. It delighted Orion to worship him, and clearly, Megatronus liked being worshipped.
“Very good, my clerk,” he said when Orion had finished. He was completely at ease now, utterly relaxed and open. His field was so expanded it surrounded Orion completely, swaddling him in the gladiator’s contentment. “Truly, you outdo yourself.”
“Mm.” Orion set the sponge aside, wearing an innocent, earnest expression. “There is still a great deal of you that requires my attention, I think.” He let his servo slide downwards, resting tantalizingly above Megatronus’ abdominal vents. “I did tell you how much I wished to play with these, didn’t I?”
“You may have mentioned it,” Megatronus said. His vocals had gone hoarse, eagerness beating like a sparkpulse through his field. “You said a great many lovely things about my frame. Tell me, is it all you hoped for, now that you’ve had your servos on every last inch?”
“Not every inch,” Orion said wryly, casting a significant and reproachful glance to Megatronus’ still-closed panel.
Megatronus laughed. “Patience, little archivist,” he said. “All good things to those who wait.”
Orion pursed his lips. “Well, I suppose I shall have to find something else to occupy myself with in the meantime.” And so saying, he dipped below Megatronus’ chest plates towards his abdominal armor, rubbing the thick metal ridge at the center. Megatronus’ gaze was as hot and heavy as his servos as he watched Orion slide down his frame, his array warming noticeably at Orion’s touch.
“Mind the vents,” he warned. “They’re quite - ”
Orion cast him a coy glance, smirking and teasing one with his digits.
“- sensitive,” Megatronus hissed, optics flaring bright, heated blue. His field lit with pleasure as a shiver rocked his plating, the soft clatter of armor shuddering against protoform echoing.
Orion grinned, pride bursting through his field. He moved back up to kiss the place where Megatronus’ spark rested, nuzzling against it while brushing feather-light touches over the gladiator’s vents. “You are beautiful,” he said, soft and awed.
The most incredible thing happened then. Megatronus’ spark swelled, a tendril of energy unfurling to reach for him, brushing the closed spark housing like a distant kiss. Oh. Mine. This spark is mine.
“Few would ever call me that,” Megatronus replied hoarsely. “Fearsome, brutal, violent - perhaps, if I am lucky, handsome - but beautiful? You are alone in that opinion, I think.”
“If they knew all of you as I do, they would think you beautiful too.” Orion slid himself lower and kissed the shining silver ridge between Megatronus’ abdominal vents: kiss, down. Kiss, down. He paused to tease those glorious vents, kissing them sweetly before tasting them with his glossa. The hitches in Megatronus’ vents were coming faster now, fans jumping a level with every touch. Heat rolled off of his array in waves: the kind of anguished arousal that would not be denied. His vents opened, and a gust of heat washed over Orion’s faceplate, pretty crimson circuitry sparking with charge at his touch.
Orion smiled, laying his servos at Megatronus’ waist, and bent to nibble at the plating of his modesty panel.
Megatronus’ spark seized, fans screaming as they kicked into high gear. Sharp claws caught his shoulder and dug in, a delicious little shiver running through Megatronus’ thighs as Orion tested that same paneling with his glossa.
“Orion,” Megatronus rasped, clutching at his shoulder. “Orion, wait - you don’t need to -”
Orion looked up with practiced naivete. “You made some interesting remarks about my mouth,” he said. “I thought you might wish to know whether your hypotheses held any merit.” He arched an optic ridge, an impish smile on his dermas. “Unless you can think of another use for my mouth… my lord.”
Megatronus made an absolutely unholy sound, locks hissing on his panel. Orion glanced down in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the removal of that final barrier: the chance to taste his Champion, his beloved. To see him squirming and desperate under Orion’s mouth.
Instead, the locks re-engaged, and Megatronus pulled Orion up and off of him with a pained grunt.
Orion balked, surprised, and tried to reach for him, only for Megatronus to flinch away. “No,” he growled, setting Orion down on the floor across from him. He pulled back, setting his own servos firmly upon the ground, digits curling into tensed fists.
Orion held up his hands in surrender, fear and worry bleeding into his field. “Alright,” he said, spark whirling anxiously. “Alright, I’ll stop. What is it? What did I do wrong?”
Megatronus huffed, still hot and shaking a little. “You - Orion, my love, you did nothing wrong. I just - we can’t. Not for your first time. Not for - for this . This is too important to me. You are too important to me. I cannot ask you to play some part in an arrogant, pointless fantasy when this moment holds such weight - ”
“Megatronus.” Orion’s voice was firm, commanding: far more intense than he had intended it to be. “I want to do this for you. I want to be with you, whatever that looks like, whatever pleases you.” He tilted his helm, carefully easing himself back into Megatronus’ lap. “My love. My spark. Please. I do not ask for some - some idealized, cherished fantasy of a first time. I ask only for you. All of you. Arrogant fantasies included.” He smiled reassuringly there, hoping to sway the gladiator he so adored with that touch of humor.
Still Megatronus hesitated. His field opened just a little, enough for Orion to feel the turmoil there: the desire to claim, to frag, to interface as roughly and vigorously as he liked - and the desire to cherish Orion, to be gentle with him. To make this time special.
“I am not as fragile as you think,” Orion said. “You won’t break me.”
Megatronus’ expression darkened. “I might.”
Ugh. He was so stubborn. Orion pursed his dermas, letting his displeasure with Megatronus bleed out into his field. Megatronus flinched when he felt it, but he did not budge, still lightly stroking Orion’s thigh with that same fearsome frown.
Orion tapped his digits against his lips. How to convince Megatronus he wasn’t as delicate as he seemed - that he craved the kind of interface Megatronus had first offered him as much as Megatronus did?
Wait. Wait.
Orion straightened, optics gleaming. “I want to show you something,” he said, the words spilling out in a rush. “Can I - can we hardline, just for a moment?”
Megatronus drew back, lifting both servos off of Orion in shock. “I - you want to - ?”
“To share something,” Orion clarified patiently. Hardlining was a tricky prospect even with someone one knew quite well. Orion was loosely aware of its status as a form of interface only shared by the most intimate of partners, though of course he had never done it before. I suppose it’s fortunate we already agreed we belong to one another first, forever. “I will not pry unnecessarily. You have my word. And there is nothing within me that I fear for you to see. It’s just… I have a memory that is best shared and not spoken of. The visual is important.”
Wary curiosity bloomed in Megatronus’ field, a nervous tendril reaching out to test Orion’s intent. “I… suppose?” he said at last, hesitantly. “What is it you wish to show me?”
Oh, perfect, yes, perfect. “You’ll see,” Orion said, breathless, holding up his hand. He transformed away the plating of his palm, the hidden port and plug there both sparking beneath the solvent’s pour. “May I plug in?”
Megatronus’ frown deepened. “Porting through the hand? Hardly my favorite method of hardline,” he grumbled; but he obediently transformed his own plating away, revealing a matching port and plug.
Hmm. Interesting. That remark meant that Megatronus had hardlined with someone else before. Orion wondered who had been so fortunate as to win the gladiator’s trust that way. Soundwave, probably.
“I’m not asking to overload you like this,” Orion said aloud, pressing their palms together. “I just - want to share something with you. We can try more interesting hardlining later.”
“Can we now?” Megatronus rumbled in amusement. “Promising, my archivist; but - ”
Megatronus paused and jolted as Orion’s plug clicked into place, spinal strut stiffening. There was a sharp crackle of energy as their two systems connected, feeding into each other. There was the sudden sensation of a second consciousness deep in Orion’s neural net: an echo of a mind that wasn’t his , like the sensation of being watched amplified by one hundred.
If they sought to pry, they could dig through memory files and archived images in the other’s neural net; but both simply sat still, buzzing, adjusting to the sensation. Orion kept catching the tail end of Megatronus’ thoughts - just little wisps of words, floating through his consciousness by accident. He caught an image of himself, soft and sweet and innocent in Megatronus’ optics, and blushed, gently pushing back a fond image of Megatronus as a strong, handsome scholar and warrior.
When he was stable, relaxing into the feeling, and when he was certain Megatronus was also calm, he drew in a deep vent. “I… hope you will forgive me this indulgence,” he said. Primus, was he supposed to be this somber when discussing interface? Well, it couldn’t be helped now. “What I did… what I used you for… well. I apologize, and I hope it does not make you uncomfortable.”
Megatronus’ thoughts shuddered with a sickened, anxious feeling. “What did you do?”
Orion nervously reset his vocalizer, vented again, and opened a specific memory file.
A file from Praxus.
A file of himself, post-video call, reaching for his array.
He blushed from helm to heels as the file transferred and opened, exposing Orion’s sordid night alone to Megatronus: beginning with a quick review of the conclusion of their call, a time lapse of Orion excitedly tossing and turning in his rented berth.
Then: pause. Play. Orion’s hand sliding down between his legs.
Megatronus made a choked, desperate sound as the footage paused and rolled for him. “Is that - are you - ”
Did you self-service over me, beloved?
Orion opened his optics, nerves wreaking havoc with his systems as he watched and felt the interplay of emotion in Megatronus: curiosity, shock, desire, delight. “I mentioned some familiarity with my own array,” he said quietly. “This… is a demonstration of that.”
“By the Pit...” A sly grin broke across Megatronus’ faceplate. “You spoke so gravely of forgiveness and using me that I thought - ”
In both their processors, Orion’s panel snapped back, exposing his array. Megatronus paused mid-sentence to make a low purring sound, instantly distracted. “Such a pretty little valve,” he crooned, engine revving. “A pity you did not think to make use of a mirror. I might have seen it better then.” He whetted his dermas, anticipation thrumming through his every circuit and pressing deep into Orion’s systems. “How adorable! Even your node blushes when you are embarrassed.”
"Stop it.” Orion blushed furiously, wishing he could hide his face for a moment. Perhaps this was a bad idea -
It was not a bad idea. Do not even dare to think it was, sweet one. I love this.
“My, you are a lewd little librarian, aren’t you?” Megatronus’ vents caught again as Orion’s node flickered rapidly in the replay, already alight with too much charge. “So quick, my archivist! Shall I have to tease and torment you to lengthen the evening?”
“You have quite the effect on me,” Orion said wryly. “As you can no doubt see.”
“And feel,” Megatronus replied. His servo slid down to cup Orion’s aft, squeezing, and Orion’s engines hiccuped as he pushed into the touch, aching for his lover.
Megatronus was preparing a further reply when his own voice echoed in their audials, repeating particularly salacious lines from their call a few hours prior:
:: - the berth is an arena you will find me equally accomplished in. | - I intend to know you intimately - every last inch of you as familiar to me as I am to myself. I do hope you’re prepared… ::
A flare of arousal so hot it singed Orion’s circuits burst over their connection as the image of Orion’s fierce, intense overload, to the tune of his lover’s voice, played out for Megatronus in full color: the flash of charge, the momentary blackout, the overwhelming crash of overload’s crest as Orion came.
His voice - your voice - I need it -
“Orion,” Megatronus gasped, his designation strangled. “You - is this what you meant by using me?”
Orion shuttered his optics, wincing. “It was crude of me, I know, and I swear I didn’t intend you any disrespect, I - ”
"Disrespect? You are absurd. This is… Primus, this is far more delicious than I ever dared imagine.” The words were spoken with such fondness - and laced with such heady arousal - that Orion could only smile, opening his optics. Megatronus caught and held his gaze, engines purring in a steady rumble of need and want. “If only I had known how my voice affects you, beloved,” he said. “We might have had many far more interesting calls these past few months.”
Orion squirmed as his array flared with heat. “We still could,” he said. “I would very much enjoy that.”
Megatronus wore a smug little smirk, eyeing Orion speculatively. “Still, as tasty as this lovely display is, I’m not convinced that - ”
He paused as the crisp sound of another recorded moan echoed in his audials. Arched an optic ridge. Stiffened and grew even hotter beneath Orion’s touch.
“... you didn’t stop,” he said breathlessly as the memory file continued to play.
Orion blushed even deeper, half-surprised his own faceplate hadn’t melted at this point. “No,” he said. “I did not stop. I… couldn’t. I wanted you so much, I burned for you, and I couldn’t - it wasn’t enough the first time, so I... ”
And then, there it was: the first poorly-spliced clip of Megatronus’ voice purring filth and debauchery into Orion’s audial. Not the one that had tipped him into overload at first, merely playing back clips of what Megatronus had said: no, now he was playing for Megatronus all the things he himself had rapidly demanded his processor create. That first line, hastily cut together to the best of Orion’s ability:
:: - greedy - Orion - | - My spark - | - Can - I - coax - another - from - you -? - ::
Megatronus made a dark, feral sound, engines revving so violently that Orion’s whole frame shook. “Do you crave such filth from my glossa as much as you do my lofty speeches?” he asked.
Orion bit his lower derma. Looked down. “Would it anger you if I said I craved it more?”
“I believe I can find it in my spark to indulge you,” Megatronus breathed, leaning closer. He paused, listening to his own voice rolling awkwardly over his spliced dialogue, and frowned.
“What?” Orion asked, spark jumping nervously. “Is it - does this make you uncomfortable?”
“No! No, of course not,” said Megatronus, waving that worry away. “No, I am only displeased that I left you such paltry material to work with.” He grinned, squeezing Orion’s hand, and leaned in close, pressing his mouth to Orion’s audial. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to simply… I don’t know... call me? I would gladly have whispered whatever filth you longed for right into your precious processor.”
Orion tried to swallow a low, aching moan. Failed. “I didn’t - no, that would have been inappropriate.”
“Ah, of course,” Megatronus drawled, amused. “Inappropriate. Perhaps approximately as inappropriate as creating obscene voice clips with a mech’s voice without his knowledge?”
Orion opened his mouth to protest - but this was, of course, the moment that the Orion of his memories flipped onto his knees: aft in the air, both hands working his array.
Megatronus made another strangled noise, like a jet with an engine on fire. “Oh, aren’t you a wicked little thing,” he hissed, nipping at Orion’s intake cabling. He stiffened and shot straight up at the sound of Orion crying out for him: Yes, please, deeper, more, oh Primus my Champion -!
There was a soft hum as a series of locks disengaged, and seconds later Orion felt the thick, heavy weight of Megatronus’ pressurized spike against his abdomen.
Well, there could be no question: Megatronus had definitely liked that.
“Ooh.” Orion’s instant response was to look down, leaning back to get a better view. His lover’s spike was every inch what Orion might have imagined: a brutal, monstrous-looking thing crowned in deep crimson biolights and lined with bumps and ridges in strategic locations. This was a spike that gave no quarter. This was the spike of a Champion, undefeated, a mech who meant to be the victor over both lover and enemy.
Orion moaned sharply, parting his legs and reaching to maneuver it to his valve.
Megatronus slapped his hand away with a growl. “Not yet,” he chided, still restrained, still holding back - though barely. “Not yet, sweet one, give it time - ”
The sound of past-Orion’ frenzied, screaming overload cut him off. Megatronus’ frame wrenched at the sound, optics wide: rutting against Orion’s abdomen despite what he’d said about restraint and time . “By the Pit,” he hissed, squeezing Orion’s hand hard. “To hear you crying out like that beneath me…”
Orion blushed and shivered as the memory at last came to an end. Darkness flooded the mental space they shared, though their minds were still bound together, flowing into one another. Orion gently released Megatronus’ hand and carefully disconnecting them; but despite his caution, the shock of their separation was profound. The shattering of the thin thread that had bound them sent them both gasping. There was a sense of desolation, emptiness, like a piece of him was missing, and Orion ached to be full of his love again, to have him there inside his every thought and whim…
Megatronus lowered his helm for a moment as he processed what Orion had shared with him and why. When he lifted his face again, he was smiling: a dark, hungry grin that made Orion’s tanks flip, heat pooling between his legs. “You are far more than ‘familiar’ with your own array, Orion,” he said. “You spilled so many fluids over me, and put my voice to such indecent use.”
Orion blushed. “It was indecent and unfair of me,” he said. “I know it was, regardless of whether you enjoyed watching it. Please understand that I had no intention of ever confessing this to you, but I could think of nothing else to convince you that I want you as fiercely and as desperately as you desire me - ”
Megatronus bared his teeth in an impish, triumphant grin. Orion had barely stuttered for words before Megatronus seized him about the waist, pulling him flush against his frame: leaning in close to his audial to breathe into it, “Greedy Orion, my spark, my sweet one… can I coax another overload from you?”
Orion’s finials shot straight up, erect and quivering: his whole frame trembling violently as his circuits burned with desire. His struts went soft and pliable as jelly as the very words he’d forced his Champion to say came pouring from his glossa in sinful, perfect tones. “M-Mega -!” he whispered, clutching at Megatronus’ arms. “Oh Megatronus please - !”
“Mm.” A low, vicious growl dragged from Megatronus’ intake as he pressed clawed fingers to Orion’s hip, pushing his array down and scraping it over his twitching spike. “I, too, am greedy,” he said, the words a thousand times more intense when spoken with such intent, whispered so intimately into Orion’s ear. “I cannot resist your incomparable frame…”
Orion choked upon a cry, quaking beneath the gladiator’s hand. He rocked against Megatronus’ spike, hard, harder, impatient and wanting. He was aching and empty and oh Primus he needed him, he needed to be fragged within an inch of his very spark, he needed -
“I need you,” Megatronus bit out, nipping his finial. Sparks of pleasure and pain intermingled, and Orion did cry out this time, loudly, a gush of wetness escaping his squeezing channel -
Only for his panel to snap back, exposing his now-sopping valve.
Megatronus purred, digits tracing downward: drawn inevitably to the pulsing wet warmth calling to him. “Good boy,” he crooned, licking the shivering finial beneath his mouth. “Such a good little archivist, opening up so willingly for his lord and master.”
Orion cried out, aloud this time, as Megatronus’ fingertip brushed teasingly over the hard little knot of his anterior node: slick and soaked with lubricant, pulsing under his touch. Oh, lord and master, it sounded so filthy and so wrong and he wanted it - “Megatronus, please!” he cried, rutting against the gladiator’s hand.
Megatronus’ fans roared in Orion’s audials. “Will you allow me to fuck you as I desire?” he asked, the words little more than a growl. “To have you at my mercy, begging for me and me alone?”
“Yes!” Orion squirmed, writhing against Megatronus’ fingers, against his spike, engines revving loudly and fiercely enough to shake the floor. “Yes, Primus, yes, please -!”
Megatronus stood abruptly, scooping Orion up. He flicked the solvent stream off with one hand before exiting, still damp, back to the berthroom, throwing Orion onto his berth. Orion’s processor spun dizzily, excitement making his spark pound against its housing. Soon, soon, he would have his lover at last, he would feel Megatronus filling him -
The gladiator was on top of him before he’d regained his senses, spreading his thighs with one thick knee. He hardly needed to force them: Orion felt the press of his leg and gladly opened his own, spreading himself wide and pushing his hips upwards eagerly. “Huhh - Mega!”
“Thank you, my archivist,” Megatronus purred. His optics shone the clearest, brightest blue Orion had ever seen, terrifying in their intensity. “Jealously guarded and highly prized - my most cherished one. Now at last I can know you intimately. I do hope you’re prepared. I intend to make you overload the very second I unite with you.”
“Yes!” Orion cried dizzily, half-wondering if there was any other words in his vocabulary any longer; if any other words had ever mattered. He scrambled to press himself against his lover, wrapping slim silver legs around Megatronus’ hips. He’d been right; they did fit like a handhold, held steady by the strong curve of his hips and thighs and the sharp indent of that perfect, wonderful little waist.
“Mm. I should take you on your knees, were I to do this properly,” Megatronus mused. Orion felt the swell of his spike against his valve once more: huge and thrumming with charge, every glorious, rough ridge stimulating him already, overwhelming him. “You’d like that, if your fantasy is anything to go by. Perhaps next time.” He tilted his helm, wearing a wicked smirk. “You’ve shown me already you can handle multiple overloads, which is a delightful tidbit. I’m glad of it, my beloved - for I have every intention of driving you over the edge until your spent little frame gives out.”
“Do it,” Orion commanded, drunk on pleasure and yearning to be full of him. “Do it, I want it, I want you, please - ”
Megatronus lifted him by the small of his back, pulling him close: holding his frame steady with one hand. “With pleasure, my love,” he murmured. He bent and kissed Orion deeply, open-mouthed and searing like flame. Orion returned the kiss with equal fervor, a vicious sound escaping him as he tongued Megatronus’ mouth, wriggling in an attempt to spear himself on the spike now rubbing tantalizingly against his node.
Megatronus broke off with a soft sound, tilting Orion to prepare for him. “If you hurt,” he said, staring hard into Orion’s eyes, “Stop me. Promise me that you’ll stop me if it hurts.”
Orion nodded his agreement, opening himself wider. “I promise, please -!”
“Yes, in a moment,” Megatronus soothed, pressing soft, sweet kisses to his faceplate. “In a moment, sweet one. I need to make certain you’re ready for me.”
“I am, I’m ready, I swear -!”
Megatronus chuckled quietly, mouthing Orion’s intake cabling. “My Orion is eager for every last inch of his Champion’s spike as deep as he can fit it…”
“Yes!” Orion writhed and bucked beneath him, rubbing along Megatronus’ length: smearing the throbbing unit with fluids as he went, a trail of lubricant dampening the ridges. “Please, Mega, I’m ready, I swear it -!”
Megatronus snarled, tilted Orion’s hips to a slightly steeper angle - and then oh, there it was, the tip of his spike nudging Orion open, spreading his valve lips apart and slowly, so slowly, stretching the interior…
“Hhh - ah!" Orion cried out, optics fritzing as that glorious spike pushed into his entrance. “Oh, Primus -!”
“Am I hurting you?” Megatronus’ voice was tight with want, but he was worried too, soft and tender even when he no doubt wished to bury himself so far inside Orion the archivist saw stars. I love you. I love you. Megatronus -
“I love you,” Orion said drunkenly, pushing forward: whining when his valve cycled and clenched, calipers struggling to take the girth inside him. “Primus, I love you, frag me, please - ”
“Relax,” Megatronus soothed, kissing his audial. “Relax, sweet one. I need your calipers to ease a bit. Push out for me.”
Orion obeyed, dizzy and wet and longing for more. “Like - like that?”
“Good. Perfect.” The head slipped past the entrance and found its way into the shallow depth of Orion’s valve, bumping against his seal a second later. “Ah. This might hurt, beloved. Hold onto me.”
Orion clung, grateful, exhaling slowly: continuing that steady push of wet mesh, relaxing every strut in his frame to ease Megatronus’ way into him.
A bright, sharp pain a moment later, and lubricant suddenly gushed out of him as Megatronus went deep.
Orion emitted a shattering scream, helm canting back and optics flaring with light so intense the entire berthroom glowed for a moment. Megatronus was sheathed inside him as deep as he could go: buried in the stretched, straining mesh of Orion’s valve. His calipers tried to squeeze, but they couldn’t. He was too big, too much, so much. It hurt. It hurt, and yet it felt incredible: nodes he’d never known of before flaring with their first taste of stimulation, lubricant flooding him to ease his lover’s path.
“Are you alright?” Megatronus asked. He was shaking, his field pulsing with the desperation to thrust: to fill the tight archivist with every last drop of transfluid in his frame. Even still, he was so gentle, so careful, not wanting to hurt his beloved. He was so good, too good, too wonderful -
“Hurts a tiny bit,” Orion admitted, because he’d promised, after all, and he had no intention of breaking promises to Megatronus, not ever.
“Yes, I imagine that it does.” Megatronus sounded faintly amused, perhaps because he knew Orion was downplaying the sting. “Sweet one, look at me.”
Orion lifted his helm, shuddering as his hips shifted along Megatronus’ spike. Megatronus’ expression was soft as he settled Orion’s shoulders against the berth, helm resting on cushions. He leaned over Orion and kissed him with the same tenderness, rocking into Orion slowly. The movement was enough to light up the sensor clusters in his valve walls, but not enough to be a full thrust: helping his frame adjust to the girth inside of him, letting the pain ease into pleasure.
He continued like this, gentle and sweet, until Orion’s whole frame hissed with static, little mewling sounds torn from Orion’s intake with each movement of his hips. Megatronus broke the kiss, lifting his face and studying Orion’s dazed, debauched expression with a satisfied grin.
“Are you ready for more?” he asked quietly.
Orion nodded, fierce and frantic, rocking his own hips to spear himself on the incredible length within him. “I’m fine,” he said, almost babbling. “I’m fine, Mega, please, frag me, I want it, I want - !”
Megatronus growled and gave in, finally, pulling out and thrusting home again a second later. Orion made a broken sound, vocalizer fritzing with static. Oh, that was so good, there were so many new nodes back there and it was so much, his frame was aflame, his circuits fritzed and glowed with light and it was so strong oh Primus -!
Their feverish pace had both mechs shouting in pleasure. The room grew hot and wet and heavy with static, charge flickering over their frames as it prepared to release. Orion’s whole universe narrowed to Megatronus, to each thrust within him: to the exquisite feeling of his tanks going taut, spinal strut tight and tensed, as wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed him. He’d never felt anything so intense before, so impossible to fight. He could no more have resisted the overload cresting within him than he could have fought a black hole.
“Mega -!” he sobbed, clinging to his lover’s intake. “Mega I’m - oh Primus I’m going to -!”
“Good,” Megatronus hissed, kissing his audial. “Good, sweet one, overload for me, overload for your mate - ”
That command, issued with such authority and delight, sent him spiraling up into bliss. He was tugged in inexorably, swallowed by pleasure, shaking violently as at last the tension inside him snapped -
He hit overload with a quavering scream, valve clutching at the spike inside him for all it was worth. His digits scrambled to cling to Megatronus’ back, burying themselves in transformation seams to hold him steady. Megatronus groaned, still rocking into him, murmuring heated promises and encouragements into his audial. “Good, sweet one, you are glorious, don’t you dare stop - ”
Orion shuddered and went limp a few moments later, the last flares of charge escaping him. Megatronus stilled, bending to kiss Orion’s frame. Sweet, tender kisses. A lover’s affectionate touch.
When Orion onlined his optics, Megatronus was smiling at him, soft a and full of adoration. “You are beautiful,” he said quietly. “My Orion. My spark. My mate.”
Mmm. Mate. What a pretty word. Orion pulsed happiness into his field, gripping Megatronus around the intake: pushing his still-recovering frame upwards and slowly beginning to move his hips.
“Orion, wait, give it a moment - ” Megatronus laughed.
“No,” Orion said, a little sulkily. “Want you. Want more - ”
Megatronus made a desperate, agonized sound, responding to the movement of Orion’s hips: sinking himself deep into Orion’s valve with a contented little sigh. “Slow this time, yes, my mate?”
“Uh-huh,” Orion agreed, dazed and slurring and drunk on ecstasy. “Love me slowly, I want - ”
“Shh,” Megatronus murmured, pressing little kisses to Orion’s helm. “Hush, beloved. Let me pleasure you.”
“No, wait, you haven’t - ” But Orion’s vocalizer shorted out again as Megatronus began to move within him. He was slow and careful this time, shuddering with every clench of Orion’s calipers around him: setting his digits to Orion’s node and teasing it with light little touches.
“I meant to taste you,” he breathed in Orion’s audial. “But you proved far too eager for my spike to delay. Another thing to save for the next time.”
“The night is still young,” Orion replied with a grin. His nodes flared bright with pleasure as the ridges of Megatronus’ spike eased over them, stealing his vents. “Oh Megatronus, my Champion, you feel so good - ”
That earned him a far rougher thrust, penetrating deep. His engines hiccuped as lubricant spilled out of his valve, splattering lewdly across the berth. “Touch yourself for me,” Megatronus ordered. His arm tightened around Orion’s spinal strut, lifting him firmly off the berth til he was arched against the gladiator’s frame. It was incredible how easily he held Orion aloft, how carefully he balanced on one hand and his knees. Orion clenched his thighs tighter around Megatronus’ hips, feeling the bite of his plating digging into his thighs.
Orion tried to reach for his node, but something was already rubbing it quite fiercely: a bump towards the base of Megatronus’ spike, a nub that seemed almost designed for the purpose. Orion squirmed and rubbed against it, making a fluttery little noise in his intake as charge licked his frame.
“Or that. That is also acceptable,” Megatronus said, laughing. He huffed, thrusting at a firmer pace: quick to enter, slower to slide out, establishing a glorious rhythm that left Orion’s thighs quivering against his lover’s hips. Orion shuddered and clenched his calipers: released; clenched again. Megatronus’ engines stalled out, then roared, a gasp of pleasure torn from his intake. "Again,” he ordered, hips stuttering when Orion obeyed. “Primus, more, again-!”
Oh, finally, he had found a rhythm his beloved liked. Orion swallowed a triumphant sound and began to rock in time with the ripple of his calipers, rotating his hips a little to light up every single sensor on that spike. Charge leapt from between Megatronus’ plates, licking Orion’s armor: flickering and wild and smothering them both as Megatronus gasped out Orion’s designation again and again.
Orion was on the brink of a second overload when Megatronus hit his, an artless stutter of his hips leading into a single, deep thrust, and then a spill of fluid, hot and bright against his ceiling node. Orion’s spinal strut went taut, and then he was overloading too: riding his spike as long as he could stand to, until his own processing glitched offline for a moment or two.
When he onlined a minute later, Megatronus was laying him onto the berth, content and sated and affectionate. He was still buried inside Orion, still warm and thrumming with energy; and when he saw Orion’s optics open, he smiled and bent to capture his lips, kissing him softly. He nuzzled into Orion’s intake, lifting a hand to tap the plating above his spark chamber. “Open this for me, sweet one.”
Orion’s optics snapped open in surprise. He remembered the image displayed in Sparklight: two mechs with their spark chambers open, feeding light into one another. What was it Hardlight had said? Some old form of interface? Orion shivered, overwhelmed and shaking with pleasure still. He’d never heard of this particular form of interface prior to Sparklight , but very well; if Megatronus wanted it, it couldn’t be wrong, could it?
He let his armor slide away, spark casing opening wide. His spark throbbed and burst, gorgeous blue-white light reaching for purple-white above it as Megatronus’ chest also opened. Their lights tangled, touched, entwined themselves together…
And then they were one again, like hardlining but stronger: not two consciousnesses observing one another, but one. Two halves of a whole, united.
For a moment, there was an intensity of sensation so strong it was almost painful. He could feel Megatronus as a potent force inside him: his lust and his worry and the enormity of his feelings for Orion all as real and physical as the sensation of his touch. Orion was falling, like tripping into empty sky: spinning through the expanse that was his lover, that was himself, while trying to find his feet. They were pushing against each other, attempting to fight the sweeping tide of the other as they crashed through each other -
No. That wasn’t right, that wasn’t what this was meant to feel like. Orion was certain of that, even if he’d never known interface like this was possible. They weren’t supposed to free-fall like this, panicked and wild and pulling back from one another.
Orion reached out for Megatronus instead. Caught hold of everything he was and held it, letting the warrior fill him up.
He stabilized, steady and aware of himself again, Megatronus beating a steady pulse in time with his spark.
“Primus,” Megatronus whispered. He was clutching Orion’s frame, hard, as if letting go would send him hurtling back into the directionless abyss again. “That was - far more intense than I expected.”
Orion smiled, gently reaching for Megatronus’ hand. “I’m right here with you,” he said, leaning his helm against Megatronus. “Always.”
“I know.” Megatronus’ voice was full of wonder and love: love Orion could feel twining tight around his spark. “I can feel you everywhere. It’s…”
He paused. For a moment, Orion’s trepidation zinged over their connection, sending a questioning ripple through Megatronus - only for Megatronus to return a hushed, awed, reassuring answer:
I never want to lose this feeling. I want you to be part of me, entwined with me, forever: my second spark, my second mind, my soul’s mate. My home.
Orion choked on a tiny cry, clinging tightly to his beloved.
Then there was a soft click as their spark chambers pressed together, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. There was a flash, a rush, and suddenly every single one of Megatronus’ memories, every feeling, every idea and thought and vague emotion was laid bare to Orion. A torrent of his beloved overwhelmed him: an awareness of the gladiator so intimate and deep he might as well have lived inside Megatronus’ head since the very day of his forging.
Orion could see the mines. That one glimpse of the sun before the mine’s bosses dragged Megatronus underground. He could feel dirt and grime and the screaming of Megatronus’ tanks as he starved there, the way his struts weakened, the way his frame shook and trembled in agony as parts of him broke and broke and broke again. He could see the sun the first time Megatronus emerged to join the gladiators, the way he’d stood and just… stared, awed. The triumph of his first victory. The thrill of learning the power of his frame. The sense of calm and safety that came from learning he was fearsome and terrifying: that he could protect himself. That so long as he was armed and dangerous, he had power.
He saw stolen hours searching for philosophical texts; late nights with recharge put off too long, talking through ideas and concepts too big for the mechs around him. Then, slowly, they heeded him. They followed him. They joined him. They swelled and grew into the makings of a movement, an army that could overwhelm.
Ambition made a home in him and grew. He could take down the unjust. He could imprison them, destroy them, slaughter them. He could take Cybertron to new heights. He was forged for this, given life to alter the fabric of Cybertron forever. He could change the very foundations of society itself if he wished - and he did. Oh, he did.
And then Orion saw himself: aglow in a halo of soft white, perfect and pure and cherished beyond words. The dizzying depth of feeling made Orion’s spark swell as he saw himself as Megatronus did. Small. Somber. Smart. Kind. Handsome.
The terror Megatronus had felt at realizing how much, how deeply he loved this little Iaconian. How hard and quickly he had fallen for him. The cold front he’d tried to put between them for a time, a distance he could never quite maintain. I need him. I need him. I love him.
The instant where Orion had taken Megatronus’ hand in the square.
There was such weight hanging upon that image: Orion’s fingers laced through Megatronus’, expression serious and concerned, promising him choice and certainty. A disconcerted ripple echoed through Orion’s consciousness as their two versions of events suddenly ceased to sync. Something was off, something was wrong -
Orion was aware of a deep, painful dissonance between them, shaking him to his very core. A barrage of images and thoughts and feelings flew at him, too fast, too fast to process.
The instant where Orion had taken Megatronus’ hand in the square played again. The instant where Orion had claimed Megatronus for a mate. Where Orion had promised a permanent bond to him. Where Orion had betrothed him.
“What?!”
Sparkmate protocol. Affection shown in a busy public place, the square, as sign of claim. Confession of feelings expressed in private and accepted by recipient. A bonding gift given. Sparkbond initiated. Final step nearly achieved.
Designation:Conjunx/Sparkmate/Bonded/Spouse -
Orion was thrown into darkness as the bond suddenly cut off. The echoes of the space where Megatronus should have been sparked in agony, reverberating through his frame. Orion reached out for him, a tiny, mournful sound ripped from his intake. “W-wait - Mega, wait - ”
When his optics onlined and his systems reset, Megatronus was no longer in the berth with him. He was all the way across the room, panels closed, venting raggedly: one servo pressed over his spark and horror in his optics.
“You didn’t know,” he rasped, staring at Orion. “You - you didn’t - ”
Orion opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His spark whirled sickly in his chest, still open wide and thrumming with a feeling he couldn’t identify. Code he didn’t recognize blurred in his vision as he trembled atop Megatronus’ berth, clutching at the sheets.
He stared into nothing, memory replaying for him, tanks roiling as clarity finally hit him.
The open spark - the press of feeling and memory and thought - that was called a sparkbond. Not an old form of interface, not the way Orion and Hardlight had understood it to be.
No. It was a marriage rite.
Orion pressed a servo to his dermas, optics wide and wet. Panic flooded his every line. Oh, no, oh no, the hand-holding - that had been a claim-mark, he’d claimed Megatronus for himself where everyone could see, and that was why Megatronus had looked so serious and surprised and honored at the gesture, when Orion had only meant to… to…
Oh, no.
Oh, what could he say, what could he do? He hadn’t known what he was doing, he’d never understood what all his little gestures meant to his beloved, and now…
Megatronus was staring at him, betrayal written on every inch of his face: a pain Orion had never meant to cause burning so fiercely through him that Orion’s own spark cracked.
“I - Megatronus, please, I never meant - ” he started, vocals choked and aching.
A wave of fury rushed through him - not his own, but Megatronus’. Orion clutched at his chest, startled. His HUD flared with a readout, alerting him to the presence of a sparkbond, immutable and eternal: sealing them together more intimately than the Rites of Iaconian courtship ever could. They fed into one another now, constantly: a persistent stream of thought and emotion meant to be shared between bonded pairs flowing between them.
He was… he was married. Vague knowledge settled into hard certainty, a surprised exclamation escaping his intake. It was true that he wasn’t wedded by any standards Iacon would recognize, but to him it was as solid as the contract of the Ritus, as permanent and deeply felt as any courtship ritual he knew of. He blinked, laying a hand over his spark, too shocked and confused to really parse how he felt.
Megatronus was another matter.
“How could you not know?” Megatronus snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. “Orion, how? You performed every step of the courtship rites, you touched me like you cared for me, you - ”
Orion set his jaw, angry now himself. “I do care for you,” he replied. “Deeply so. And you can feel that, can’t you - how much I - ”
“Don’t,” Megatronus hissed. “Don’t you dare say it.”
Orion stood on shaking legs, closing his panels with a wince. How could they have gone from debauched ecstasy to - to this? He was still thrumming with the remnants of his overloads, thighs slick with both his fluids and his Champion’s, hot and sticky and drying on his plating. The sensation had been erotic a few moments ago, but now it only made him cringe. “Mega, please,” he said. “What I feel for you is not a misunderstanding. And I don’t - I’m not - I want you!”
“But not like this,” Megatronus said coldly. “Not forever.”
“I promised you forever already,” Orion fired back. “And I meant that when I said it.”
“That does not equate a sparkbond.”
“I haven’t even had time to consider that!” Orion shouted. Tears burned in his optics, a sick, acid feeling in his tanks. “I didn’t even know what a sparkbond was until a moment ago!”
Megatronus’ confusion and surprise echoed in the back of Orion’s neural net. How could you not know? What other rite is there? This is old, sacred, special - how could you not know ?
Orion hugged himself, looking pleadingly into Megatronus’ face. “Mega. Please. Sit with me. We can talk this through, we can - ”
“Talk this through?” Megatronus repeated incredulously, anger resurfacing with renewed vigor. His eyes were cold and hard, as dark and monstrous as they had been in the arena. “What is there left to say, Orion? This isn’t something to discuss politely, as if it’s some simple political theory over which we disagree. This is… this is my life. My spark. I gave everything to you and you - you - ”
Orion burned all over, a pain he couldn’t express. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking a step towards Megatronus. “I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t - I never wanted that, please - ”
Megatronus snarled - and aimed his cannon right at Orion’s face.
Orion froze. Betrayal and shock pulsed from him to Megatronus, his spark shrinking in his chest. Surely Megatronus wouldn’t - surely he could never do such a thing? He was a gladiator and a fighter, but he would never hurt Orion… would he?
The cannon hummed, cold red blurring Orion’s vision.
Perhaps Megatronus wouldn’t, but the Champion of Kaon could. And, if he was angry enough, he would .
Orion stumbled away from Megatronus until his back smashed against the opposite wall. He sank to the floor on shaking legs, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring at the mech he loved - the mech who was a monster - as if he’d never truly seen him before. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe the mech he’d loved had never truly existed. Maybe this was all there was: brutality and violence in a sharp, cold frame.
An icy pulse of horror swallowed him, horror that was not his own. A thousand images rushed him all at once: his own face glowing in the lantern light of Kaon’s square; the way he’d stood before Megatronus with his arm out to protect him; the sincerity of his promise to respect Megatronus’ boundaries, always, no matter what. He saw himself as Megatronus had seen him, felt what Megatronus had felt for him: trust, love, admiration. A connection so deep he couldn’t quite put a name to it.
Please. I’m not a monster. I’m not.
Megatronus let his arm drop. His face… Orion had never seen him look so stricken. He vented shakily, and his cannon clicked and fell from his arm with a loud thud.
I dropped my weapon for you. My only protection. The thing that gives me power. I’m leaving it behind… for you.
“Orion,” he said, voice trembling. “Orion, my spark, I - I never intended - ”
Orion closed his optics. His faceplate was wet. Odd how he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. His spark hurt, a sharp, bitter pain Orion couldn’t ease.
“I should go,” he said.
Panic exploded through him, leaving him disconcerted and dizzy. Belatedly, he realized the sensation belonged to Megatronus and not to him. It was… Primus, it was unbearable having to sort his feelings from his beloved’s right now.
His conjunx’s.
His mate’s .
“No,” Megatronus said fiercely, his voice strangled. “Orion, beloved, no - you don’t have to - you can’t - !”
Don’t leave me. Please. Please, don’t leave me. I love you, I’m sorry, I love you -
Orion opened his optics. They were sad and quiet and flooded with tears, but there was nothing weak about the way he set his jaw or the cold determination in his field. “I love you,” he said softly. “But if you think a cannon will resolve this, then you were right. There’s nothing more to be said, is there?”
Megatronus clenched his fists, optics glitching wildly. There it was again, that crystalline panic, cutting through Orion like shards of glass. “I - what I do in anger is not reflective of how I feel for you - ”
“Of course it is,” Orion snapped. “Of course it is! If you can threaten my life that way without thinking twice, what will stop you the next time you are angry?”
Megatronus’ spark seized, flaring and fading in brilliant arcs of purple-white. He looked… Primus, he looked so lost. So broken. Orion ached to hold him. “I can’t - Orion, please, I could never hurt you,” he said, taking a step towards him: freezing when Orion flinched away from him. “Orion…!”
Orion pushed himself to his pedes, shuddering. There was a hard lump in his throat he couldn’t quite swallow, an ache so dull and endless he could feel it in every circuit: beating in time to the throbbing of his spark. “I need to think,” he said. His vocals sounded lifeless, empty of feeling. Cold. “I… need some time.”
There was a shriek of metal as Megatronus dug clawed fingertips into his own palms, puncturing them. “What does that mean?” he asked. There it was again, that anger, that presumption: jumping to the worst conclusion, even for the mech he claimed to love. “That you could bear the notion of fragging a gladiator, but not binding yourself to one?”
Orion looked at him with tired optics. “I did not claim to love you idly, Megatronus,” he said. “I would have followed you to the ends of the universe. I would have bound myself to you a thousand times over if you had given me the time.”
Megatronus blinked. Shuddered. “And now?”
Orion shut his optics, hurting all over. “Now… I don’t know. I need to think.”
For a moment, he thought Megatronus would stop him: that he would stand in front of the doors and block his exit with all the ferocity and power his frame afforded him. But the instant the notion occurred to him, he realized that if he did so - if he blocked Orion by force - Orion would be lost to him forever.
Megatronus sagged and stepped aside, a broken sound echoing from his vocalizer. “Go, then,” he rasped, gesturing with one arm.
Go, before I can’t bear to let you.
Orion lingered a moment longer, staring at the mech he loved. He was the same as before and yet not so: a murderer superimposed over a scholar over a miner over a Champion. Was he one of these things, or all of them - and did it change how Orion felt about him?
Orion didn’t know anymore.
He gathered himself, lowered his helm, and fled. Kept running.
Megatronus’ agonized howl followed after him: echoing in his audials and his spark, even from behind the Champion’s closed door.
(Updated to add this gorgeous art by Cyanide-Oreos/ShapeofMetal <3)
Chapter 7: Separation
Summary:
All Orion wants is an apology. Megatronus doesn't seem to believe he owes one.
Notes:
No major notes here, except that I am in fact expanding the fic a bit! I'd thought I'd be able to get everything into the original 8 chapters as planned, but I'm thinking it's going to take 10 chapters to actually wrap things up satisfactorily. So, more to come!
Chapter Text
When morning came, Orion woke slowly. A vague, prickling sense of wrongness kept his optics shuttered long past his usual rising hour, burrowing deeper into the blankets despite his chronometer’s insistent beeping. Recharge - even the fitful, nightmarish recharge he was currently experiencing - was better than facing reality.
His dreams were haunted by a deep red glow, a mech he loved transformed into a monster, sharp-fanged and snarling about slaughter and vengeance. Energon-splattered corpses were piled high at his pedes, and when he loomed over Orion, his optics gleamed crimson. You betrayed me, my archivist, he said. You promised me forever… but you didn’t mean it, did you?
A flash, a boom, and Orion was awake at last, sitting bolt-right up in his berth.
He was deeply disoriented at first. He wasn’t where he’d expected to be. The walls of his own apartment gleamed pristine and white where he’d expected purple. He reached out, frantic, for the big form he believed was lying beside him, but his servo fell onto cool, empty sheets, sinking into the berth.
Only then did the events of the previous night come rushing back to him: the beautiful, blissful lovemaking that had become something so much worse.
Orion pressed the back of his servo to his trembling lips, a sob torn from his intake. How could something so wonderful have gone so - so foul? They had been happy. He had never seen Megatronus smile so much. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled that much, either... the last time he’d felt so comfortable in his own plating.
He’d been made whole last night. The linking of their souls, forever intertwined, had felt so overwhelming and terrifying at first, until he’d opened himself and let Megatronus fill him up, accepting the gladiator exactly as he was. Complete, eternal union.
There had been so many things he hadn’t been prepared for. It galled him to admit that perhaps he’d been naive about who Megatronus was, but… well. He had been naive about who Megatronus was. There was something shadowy and broken in him that Orion had never allowed himself to see: a tendency towards brutality and cruelty, towards slaughter first and questions after. Sometime during his career as a Pit fighter, Megatronus had grown used to the savagery he inflicted on beast and mech alike. Perhaps he had even come to like it. To rely on it.
Orion might have helped to free him of that impulse, if he hadn’t been so - so -
So stupid.
Orion flinched away from the thought at first, but he couldn’t avoid it long. The reality of his own fault in this struck him painfully, like the sharp edge of a laser scalpel. He should have seen all the signs. Megatronus hadn’t been subtle. It was true that he had never outright stated that they were betrothed, but he had posed hesitant, fearful questions - questions Orion had answered with all the confidence of a child reciting a misremembered fact. He’d thought he’d known what Megatronus meant by Are you sure? Is that a confession? What is it about me that draws you, when mechs of your own station or higher clearly admire you? Any one of them could offer you more than I can as a gladiator, yet you are here with me instead. Why?
But he’d had no idea.
He hadn’t even realized he was in love .
Orion hugged himself and leaned against his cushions, shuddering. He was so cold , so empty . His spark felt weak, smaller than it normally did. Odd. Orion frowned and opened the chamber, peering into it and finding it dulled and quiet. Something was wrong with it, something was missing -
Oh. The sparkbond. It was… silent. There was a space inside of him where Megatronus should have been, where his every thought and feeling should have whispered to Orion like the soft kiss of the wind. But that space was cold and empty, thrumming with an absence Orion couldn’t bear.
Megatronus had shut him out.
Panic made his already-hurting spark flicker wildly. He knew so little of sparkbonds; was this normal when bonded couples fought? Or did this mean that Megatronus had cut him off permanently? If it was permanent… did that mean their union was already broken before Orion could even decide if that was what he wanted?
Reluctantly, Orion buried his face in his hands and commed Megatronus.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: The bond - what’s happening? ::
:: It’s dark and cold and I can’t feel you ::
:: Is it… ::
He couldn’t quite bear to finish the thought.
There was a lengthy pause - enough of one that Orion wondered if his comms were being blocked too. He wouldn’t put it past Megatronus to do such a thing in a fit of petty anger. Orion let his hands drop, staring down at his thighs. He vented sharply when he saw them: dried fluids and paint transfers and scrapes all over them, clearly marking him as having recently interfaced. Primus, he’d come home like that, so dazed and upset he hadn’t even noticed.
Well, that explained all the furtive glances he kept receiving on the train to Iacon. His tanks roiled at the realization, humiliated and sickened. Thank the Primes no one he’d known had seen him like this.
A ping, and Megatronus’ name appeared on his HUD, now marked Priority 1 and appended with new code.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: No, it is not broken. ::
:: There is a process by which we could remove the link, but it is complex and painful. :
:: If, however, that is your wish… ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: No! No, it isn’t. ::
::I just… noticed you were gone from me. That I was… ::
:: That I was empty. Incomplete. ::
:: It… worried me. ::
It felt stupid to say it, especially since Megatronus had certainly not offered an apology. His response had been factual. To the point. Distant. Orion hated how much that coldness hurt him.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: I set a firewall between us last night. ::
:: That’s all. ::
:: You were dreaming. I could - ::
:: I could see it. Your dreams. They echoed back to me. ::
:: What you saw, what you heard. Your fear. ::
:: It... ::
Orion remembered the dream that had woken him: the light of Megatronus’ cannon turning him into a monstrous shape, into a stranger he didn’t know. Megatronus had seen that?
Orion set his jaw, glowering at the wall. Good. Maybe it would help him understand how grave a mistake he had made.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: It kept me from rest. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Oh. I see. ::
Orion stood, shaking with anger, and stormed to the washracks, slamming open the door and turning the stream up to scalding. Solvent poured over him, its heat seeping into his plating - and for a moment, he was back in Megatronus’ lap again, kissing him slowly, elated and happy and so eager to be joined with him -
Orion sobbed and sank to the washracks floor, shuddering. The weight of his grief crashed over him fully, and he let it go in great, heaving gasps, rocking back and forth, back and forth. How could he not have seen all the violence in Megatronus - that capacity for hurt and harm? It should have been obvious to him in how prickly Megatronus was, how wary; how quick he was to ascribe cruel thoughts and intentions to Orion, to everyone he encountered. Whether or not it was innate in him, he had experienced brutality so often that he had adapted to it, that he had incorporated it into the very fabric of who he was.
That was the cost of surviving Kaon, it seemed: all kindness, trust, and hope lost, replaced only with bitterness and wrath.
You are so soft - tender even to things with claws and teeth. Is that wise, my sweet one? Don’t you fear what you risk, being close to me like this?
Orion shivered harder at the memory of those words. They rang now with a mocking edge, like a warning. Like a death knell.
I could never fear you, Megatronus, he’d said then - but that had been before the mech had raised his cannon to him. Now…
Now, he didn’t know what he felt.
In a fit of rage, he groped for a wiry brush and scrubbed violently at his thighs. Fluid and paint came away, both his own and Megatronus’, trailing down with the rest of the solvent and circling the drain. Orion scrubbed himself raw, trying not to think. Trying not to remember how - how soft Megatronus had been with him. How careful. He’d been possessive and filthy and dictatorial, yes, that too - but so, so tender in the end.
We can’t. Not for your first time. This is too important to me. You are too important to me. If you hurt, stop me. Are you alright? Sweet one, look at me. Are you ready?
Orion rubbed at his optics with a closed fist, wishing desperately that Megatronus was there with him. That they could sit and talk, face to face. That they could work this through, together.
But Megatronus was miles away just now, and clearly not in the mood for talking. Orion could only hope and wait, and give them both time and space to figure this out.
If Megatronus would not give him answers, then Orion would have to find them himself.
Though he was not scheduled for shifts for several days as yet, Orion went straight to the Hall of Records. Work had always helped to soothe him, and in this matter he did not dare seek the counsel of his friends. Few of them approved of his friendship with Megatronus; he had to imagine that even fewer would approve of his union with him.
In light of Megatronus’ violent response to Orion’s perceived rejection, perhaps they were right to disapprove.
Orion shrugged the thought off, frowning as he pushed his way through the doors of the Hall. He wove through study tables, towering shelf units, and floating library page drones returning datapads to their appropriate locations, moving at a rapid pace he would usually have frowned upon in a place as sedate as the Hall. He rushed so quickly through the main level that he began to draw the stares of curious students and scholars as he hurried past their workstations. He ignored them all, focused on his destination: the lift that would take him to the Archives.
The guards who stood watch by the employees-only lifts looked surprised to see him as he hurtled towards the doors. “Oh! Archivist Pax!” one said, offering him a bow. “We weren’t expecting you back for several days yet. Alpha Trion anticipated you would remain in Kaon awhile, and after last night’s fight in the Pits we all assumed…”
Oh. So the kiss in the arena had been broadcasted, too: not just to the arena’s audience, but to fans watching all across Cybertron as well. Orion wanted to cry. “Things… didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped,” he managed. “Please call a lift for me. I have some work to do.”
The guards exchanged nervous looks, avoiding Orion’s face. “Oh. Sorry to hear that, sir,” the one who had spoken said. “Uh. Is the Champion alright?”
Primus. Orion closed his optics, clenching his fists behind his back. “He is fine, thank you,” he said curtly. “Lift?”
“Right. Of course.” The guard moved to enter a code, summoning a lift for Orion.
For a moment, they stood in awkward silence, waiting. The lingering quiet must have made the second guard uncomfortable, as a few minutes later he decided to pipe up. “I’m quite a fan of Megatronus, you know,” he said. “Finest fighter to ever grace the Pits, if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask you, Orion thought, gritting his teeth. “I’m sure he would be pleased to hear it.”
“You think so?” The guard puffed up, all pride and smiles, sidling a little closer. “I was - honestly, I was hoping you might be able to get an autograph for me.”
Orion shut his optics tight, flinching despite himself. Oh, certainly! If I ever see him again, I will be glad to indulge you. Actually, let me just call him now. Yes, Megatronus? My sparkmate? This mech wishes for your signature. Perhaps you can bring it over and we can finish our fight in person. How does that sound?
“Just, you know… if the subject ever comes up,” the second guard added hastily. “Sorry, ha, you must get requests like this all the time - ”
A ding, and the lift arrived at last, doors opening wide to welcome Orion to an empty, clean space. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said curtly, striding through the door. “Thank you, gentlemechs. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
The lift’s doors slid closed, and Orion turned his back to them, slamming a fist into the lift wall and hiding his face against the cool metal as it began to descend.
When the door finally opened on the Archives’ level, Orion was grateful to find himself alone. Blue light spilled over the slate gray metal of the walls and shelves as he approached his workstation: an elaborate circle of screens perched atop a hovering platform that could scale the walls of the Archives as needed. As soon as his pede touched the platform, the screens all came to life, displaying his name in dark text.
WELCOME, ARCHIVIST PAX. ENTER A SEARCH TERM BELOW.
He approached the central set of screens, jaw set, the fierce sound of his typing the only echo in the still chamber.
QUERY: COURTSHIP RITES
NARROW QUERY?
NARROW TO:
PLANET: CYBERTRON
CITY: KAON
CASTE: LOW
RESULTS: 19
Orion huffed a frustrated vent, scanning the results with burning optics. Most of these records he’d already read. Courtship was but a footnote within them, a casual mention that it was primarily sexual/attraction-based and that it was not sanctioned by any Guild on the planet. But there was one resource he had not read before: The Primitiva: A Catalogue of the Lowest Castes, by a mech called Goldglide. Orion pursed his lips. He loathed Goldglide’s work. It was all arrogant presumption and elaborate conjecture, with few hard facts to support his claims. He sought only to prove that the high castes were superior by birth while the low were intellectually inferior in every way, and if facts happened to get in his way, well, such inconvenient truths were left out of his work entirely.
It was hardly the comprehensive resource Orion had hoped for. Still, it was the only lead he had just now; so, sighing, he selected the work and opened the related passage.
The savage castes of Kaon are known to practice a simplistic form of courtship common of lower-intelligence beings, focused on frivolous, impermanent sexual attraction rather than unions of merit and power. (It is worth noting that Kaonites have no notion of political advancement and do not seek such betterment in their consorts). At first, scholars were dubious that Kaonites and their ilk practiced any sort of courtship at all.
With careful observation, however, their methods were eventually discovered and are documented for the first time here.
Kaonite courtship is designed to be so subtle as to be undetectable by the Guilds that otherwise would put a stop to such nonsense: virtually invisible if one does not know what one is looking for (and hard enough to spot even if one *is* in the know). While the actual presentation of the ritual varies by couple, the steps remain loosely the same:
- A claim is made, either verbally or through a gesture of affection in a public place. The latter is usually the preferred method, although the gesture itself ranges from a handhold to a kiss. In more vulgar corners of the city, it may even include public interface, either furtively performed in dark alleys out of eyesight (but not earshot) of an audience, or before a jeering crowd. This claim is meant to signify a desire to court, and to ward off other mechs who might be considering the claimed one as a mate (their barbarous term for their Conjunxes - the shortened form of ‘berthmate’, one presumes, or perhaps derived from their crass terminology for interface itself).
- A private, verbal ‘confession’ is presented to the claimed one. This confession must be accepted in order to proceed with the courtship. There are no known examples of such confessions, as they are kept close to the spark and are generally given in the claimed one’s private quarters. Researchers have attempted to ask for volunteers to share their archived memories of confessions they received, but to no avail. It is considered uncouth to share such personal matters with the populace at large, and any line of inquiry into the subject is firmly redirected elsewhere.
- A mate-gift is given and judged. There are relatively few known examples of mate-gifts, but those we have managed to collect range in crudeness from a simple knife to a necklace cut from the slit throat of an enemy. These trophies are almost always gifts of violence, intended to prove the courting mech’s ability to care for their claimed one.
- A ‘mating’ occurs, usually (though not always) in private. The precise nature of the ‘mating’ is unknown, but it is believed to be a simple act of interface. It is worth noting that interfacing with a Kaonite without the previous three steps does not a mate make; all steps of the courtship ritual must be completed first for interface to become a ‘mating.’
Once the courtship cycle is complete, two mechs are considered ‘mates’ and wear each other’s marks - both their paint transfers, as one might expect of such a heathen populace, and painted markings upon the pauldrons to indicate that they have been mated and are no longer available as claims.
No records are kept of Kaonite unions. When asked why they would not see fit to record such crucial details, one mech replied: “If there was a written record, your lot would destroy our bonds without question or care.”
Orion stared at the text for a long time afterward, tapping his fingers against the cool metal of his workstation. Being that this text came from Goldglide, Orion could only assume the mech cared little for capturing the process accurately, and as such, he doubted the veracity of some of his statements, including those regarding public interfacing. Orion had never once seen such licentious displays in the streets. The only place in Kaon where such exhibitionism might be considered common was the Pits themselves. He’d learned long ago of sanctioned battles where the winner was to frag the loser in whatever fashion they chose. These were part of a more salacious evening of entertainment, usually to cater to high caste mechs expecting such brutality from the savage city of Kaon.
Orion could identify far more high caste parties where public interface was all but expected: a kind of debauchery that only the truly bored and wealthy could invent.
It was also clear from this small snippet that those few mechs who had studied Kaon’s courtship rituals had no idea about sparkbonding, which was far more puzzling. Come to think of it, Hardlight hadn’t known what it was, either, despite possessing the only work Orion had ever seen with a depiction of sparkbonding contained within it.
QUERY: COURTSHIP RITES
NARROW QUERY?
SEARCH TERM: SPARKBOND
RESULTS RETURNED: 0.
Orion frowned. He had never before searched something only to return no results whatsoever. Surely there was a mention of the process somewhere . Perhaps he wasn’t searching correctly.
QUERY: COURTSHIP RITES
NARROW QUERY?
SEARCH TERM: SPARK BOND
CITY: KAON
RESULTS RETURNED: 0.
Orion’s frown deepened, his digits tapping nervously against the workstation’s rim. No articles, no research, no anatomical notes - nothing. It was as if the process had been collectively forgotten, or -
Or as if someone had systematically scrubbed all references of it from every single record.
Orion scowled. Why in the Pit would someone go to so much trouble to hide such a personal, intimate act from view? There were all kinds of methods of interface, and hundreds of detailed records about them that Orion could access with the click of a button if he so wished. What made this one different?
He read the passage from Goldglide again, comparing the process as he read to Iacon’s own courtship rites. Iaconian marriages were typically political: more about allegiance and status than love, although Orion knew a few mechs who had cojunxed partners they adored. He would hardly consider love arrangements typical regardless. Marriages had to be approved by both mechs’ Guilds and Iacon’s own Conjunx Council, and as such, it was difficult to pursue a Conjunx bond with someone either too far above or too far below one’s own Guild status without arguing for some sort of political advantage. That wasn’t even a consideration in Kaon, where almost every mech was low-caste, where status was determined by vastly different means...
Oh. Oh. Understanding washed over him like acid raindrops, sizzling against his spark.
If sparkbonding was the norm for marriages, the Guilds couldn’t control who married whom.
The knowledge sat like lead in his tanks, heavy and roiling. Of course the highest castes would seek to destroy all knowledge of systems they had no power over. They were intimately involved in virtually every step of Iaconian courtship, after all. Did the Kaonites know of sparkbonding only because the high castes had assumed that laborers were both too stupid to read and too ignorant to bother with marriage as a practice? Even if they hadn’t made such horrible assumptions, what did it matter to them if a few laborers privately bound themselves to each other every now and again? Their sparkbonds hardly had the world-shattering consequences such a bonding might take on if it were between mechs of vastly differing castes.
Say, for instance, a data clerk and a gladiator.
Orion’s spark seized, worry gripping him. While their courtship had been so furtive as to be virtually unseen, even by Orion himself, that kiss in the arena… everyone had seen that, including Megatronus’ Guild leaders and Orion’s own coworkers. What if the Pit bosses came to question Megatronus? What if they hurt him for daring to pursue a mech above his station? What if they broke the bond by force?
For a moment, Orion was so seized by terror that he forgot to be angry, circuits hissing with electric panic as he formulated a comm message:
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Mega. The kiss in the arena - our bond... ::
:: Are you in any danger? ::
:: From the guilds, I mean. ::
:: If they knew… ::
Orion waited for a moment, clutching his workstation so tight it buzzed a warning as its screen threatened to crack. Orion let go with a startled sound, leaping away from it as though burned. The walls, so familiar and friendly most days, seemed to loom around him, growing narrower and narrower as his stare followed them up and up into darkness - a darkness that dove quite suddenly towards him, as if to consume him.
Orion cried out and ducked, cover his helm, sinking to the floor; but nothing hit him. When he lifted his helm a few moments later, everything was shaking, familiar but foreign, trying to resolve itself into a shape he knew.
[WARNING: PANIC LEVELS HIGH
PROCESSOR OVERLOAD THREATENED
REMOVE SELF FROM SITUATION IMMEDIATELY.
WARNING.
WARNING.
WARNING.]
Oh. It wasn’t the walls that were the problem. It was him. His panic had turned even this safe sanctum into an unfamiliar threat.
This was no good. He couldn’t stay here, not while he was like this; not while worry and anxiety made him stupid and wild. Orion hurriedly shut down his workstation and gathered himself, starting for the lift doors on shaking legs.
[Recommended: Vent in NOW.
Vent out NOW.
Vent in NOW.
Vent out NOW.
Please repeat cycle until adrenal code levels have returned to normal.]
Orion barely remembered the lift arriving, so focused was he on trying to calm his panicked spark. He all but crawled his way out of the lift when it arrived at the ground floor, leaning heavily against the wall. The guards there gave startled cries at his fumbling appearance, and Orion winced at the sound. Everything was too loud, too much too crowded. He stumbled, barely managing to pull himself to his feet as he walked too quickly, too unsteadily through the obstacle course the main floor had become.
Vent in. Vent out.
Vent in. Vent out.
The silence had gone on far too long. Someone had gotten to Megatronus, someone had taken him, Orion was alone and helpless and maybe Megatronus was hurting somewhere and -
He was exiting the Hall into fresh air and sunlight when a reply finally returned to him.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: How good of you to concern yourself with my safety and my feelings, Orion! ::
:: That is indeed a first. ::
:: Or perhaps it is your own reputation you fear to soil? ::
:: Regardless, I will be fine. The assumption appears to be that I am being kept by an upper-caste mech. ::
:: Not as far from the truth as I thought yesterday. ::
A brief burst of relief and joy faded almost instantly into anger. Orion clenched his fists, drawing to a halt just outside the doors to the Hall of Records. His intake squeezed painfully around the hateful words he wished to say, his frame shaking with fury.
How dare he.
Orion had panicked over him. Orion had lost every semblance of calm over the thought of Megatronus hurt, and this was how he replied? His callous, bitter cruelty, barbed and poisonous, hurt almost as much as the memory of that cannon in his face. How many times did Orion need to prove how deeply he cared for Megatronus? How many honest, forthright conversations must he have before Megatronus would simply believe him, and trust that Orion had never once in his functioning meant to do him harm?
They couldn’t keep doing this. Not as sparkmates. Not as lovers. Not even as friends.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Stop it. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Oh, I’m sorry! ::
:: Am I inflicting pain by stating the truth? ::
:: Do forgive me, Archivist Pax. ::
:: Or would you prefer sir? ::
Orion stumbled against a rail, leaning heavily upon it: giving up and sinking down with his back to the sun-warmed metal, pulling his knees up to his chest. He stared into nothing as the message glared from his HUD, distantly aware that he was rocking back and forth, that his vision was blurred and glassy with tears of helpless rage.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: You can lie to yourself if you like, but not to me. ::
:: You are not stating anything that remotely resembles the truth. ::
:: You are lashing out because you are angry, and believe me, you have struck your target. ::
:: I hope that makes you happy. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Happy?! ::
:: Happy, Orion Pax?! ::
:: I was happy yesterday when I believed your intentions bore some semblance of sincerity! ::
:: Now I question if I was ever right to feel that happiness, and if I will ever have cause to feel it again. ::
:: I seriously doubt it if this is your reply. ::
:: You should be groveling at my pedes asking forgiveness, not sneering from the heights of Iacon like some high-caste lordling at his slave! ::
“Sir?”
Orion leapt to his pedes, scrambling away, instinctively lifting a fist to swing at the intruder. “What?” he snapped.
His gaze caught upon the startled face of the guard he’d spoken to before, open-mouthed and lifting both hands in surrender. Orion flinched, recognizing that surprise, that hurt. He lowered his fist slowly, infused with shame. He was no better than Megatronus if this was his response to being startled. This guard had no part in his quarrel with his - friend/lover/partner/ex?. Primus, he didn’t know what to call Megatronus any longer. His spark throbbed, and he made a choked sound, pressing his tightly-clenched fist to his mouth instead.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly, his vocals trembling as they escaped his glossa. “I - I’m sorry. Forgive me. Can I help you with something?”
The guard was looking at him with a worried frown. “Should I call you a taxi, Archivist Pax?” he asked, gently putting a hand on Orion’s arm. “Or can I summon someone for you? You… uh… you look like you could use some assistance. And you mentioned it was a rough night, and… well. I just want to help.”
Orion knew he was shaking; he could hear the sound of his armor clattering, a distant ting of quivering metal sounding in his audials. “I’m fine,” he lied, even though it must have been incredibly obvious how very not-fine he was. “Thank you for your concern. I will walk home as always.”
“Are you sure, sir?” The guard glanced over his shoulder to his compatriot, who shrugged. “Alright. Well. If you should change your mind…”
“Thank you. I appreciate your concern, really.” Orion extricated himself from the guard’s grip and hurried away, ducking his helm and keeping his hand pressed over his mouth.
When he was sufficiently distant from the Hall, he slowed, gathering himself to reply.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Don’t you dare. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Ah, I see how it is. You don’t think you owe me anything. You think toying with my spark was perfectly acceptable. You’ll claim some innocent excuse, I imagine - I ’m just a humble clerk, I didn’t know - and expect me to forgive you everything, as usual. ::
Orion wanted to shout in frustration. Ducking into a quiet public garden, he found an elegant gazebo shaded by beautiful sculpted statues and ducked into it, curling up atop a bench and finally letting loose everything he wanted to say.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: That is not what I expect, nor what I intended. ::
:: You know that, somewhere in your spark - but as always, you have chosen to see only the worst in me. ::
:: How dare you think I am not perfectly aware of my own fault in this! ::
:: I am furious at myself for how stupid I have been. ::
:: You were right. I should have known. I should have known something much bigger was happening than I realized. There are a million moments where I would go back and clarify if I could. ::
:: But I can’t. What happened, happened, and I regret it more than I can possibly say. I regret what I did not know, I regret hurting you, I regret that I was not intentional about what I was doing. ::
:: But what I said to you - Primus, Megatronus, what I said was not a lie. ::
:: I love you. ::
:: Had you but given me a moment, explained the courtship protocols in Kaon, I would have been alright. ::
:: I would have been happy to be yours. ::
:: As a Champion once told me, This is always what I would have chosen. Be assured of that. ::
:: Whether you or I performed the rituals, we would have found ourselves bonded eventually. ::
:: I did not run from you because of that. ::
:: I ran from you because of the cannon. Because you threatened my life. ::
There was another lengthy pause. Orion clutched his knees tight to his chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Vents. He needed to keep venting slowly, even as wave after wave of nausea set his tanks roiling; even as terror made his circuits prickle hot and angry within his shivering frame.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Fine. ::
:: Fine, you were ignorant of what your gestures meant, and you meant no harm by them. ::
:: I will grant you that, at least. ::
:: But can you then blame me in turn for my actions when I learned you did not understand what you had done? ::
Orion stared in disbelief at the message. How could he even think of defending such violence, ever? Especially against a mech he claimed to love?
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Megatronus. You could have killed me. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: I know that. ::
:: Do you think I am not agonizingly aware of my actions? ::
:: The images from your nightmares have tortured me for hours. ::
:: I could not, would never have taken the shot, Orion. ::
:: I was angry. ::
:: My life has not afforded me the opportunity to stop and think in moments of rage. ::
:: The response is almost conditioned in me by now. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Is that meant to comfort me? ::
:: It doesn’t. ::
:: I know you to be possessed of a brilliant intellect - arguably the most brilliant mind on Cybertron. ::
:: You have the capacity to choose who you hurt, and when, and why. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: So you expect me to - what? Simply smile and forgive you for toying with my affections for months? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I expect you to apologize, as I am trying to do. ::
:: I expect you to acknowledge your actions were unacceptable. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: To what end? ::
:: To ease your guilty spark? ::
:: To make you feel better about your own ignorance, the part you played in this fiasco? ::
Orion had stopped venting sometime during the conversation. He was shaking even harder than before, sickened and desperate, prodding the bond in desperation. If he could only see Megatronus, touch him, feel him… perhaps he could intuit what his words weren’t saying. But as it was, Megatronus was lashing out too fiercely. There was no rational conversation to be had here, no apologies, no agreements. The wound was still too fresh.
This conversation had to wait.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I’m sorry, Megatronus. ::
:: I can’t do this. ::
:: Not over comms. ::
:: Not when you are angry, and when I am angry, and when I can’t look you in the eye when I say my piece. ::
:: Now when I can’t properly feel your intentions. ::
:: I want, desperately, to talk to you - and you know that. You can feel that, even through the block, I imagine. ::
:: But I won’t talk while you’re like this. I deserve better, and so do you. ::
:: If you take this as seriously as I do, we will speak again when we are calmer. When neither of us are saying things just to hurt the other. Yes? ::
He waited a moment to see if Megatronus would respond; but stony silence was his only reply. Of course. Why should he have expected more? Megatronus acted the part of a spoiled, petulant sparkling very well when he didn’t get his way, didn’t he?
A spoiled, petulant sparkling with a cannon.
Orion forced himself to vent deeply, easing the quivering of his frame. No. That was a deeply uncharitable thought, even if it was deserved. Megatronus was angry and hurting. It did not excuse his violence nor his cruelty, but it did not make him something other than the mech Orion knew, either. Looking back at their years of friendship, he could see all the signs he’d willfully ignored - the most blatant being that which had led to the fight at Solarsweep’s shop. Megatronus was angry all the time, expecting the worst from everyone, even Orion. Even Orion, whom he loved more than anything on the face of the planet.
Orion knew the truth of that sentiment. He’d felt it last night when they’d joined: the depth of affection and belonging he felt reflected in Megatronus a hundredfold.
Megatronus loved him.
If only that was enough.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Fine. ::
:: If that is your wish. ::
Orion exhaled, tension he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding exiting his frame.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Good. Thank you. ::
He hesitated. Did he dare confess to the things he felt - the aching need and desire he felt for his beloved? The sorrow he felt at his own mistakes?
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]
:: One thing before I let you be. ::
:: Well, several things, I suppose. ::
:: I love you. ::
:: I’m furious, and I’m upset, and I’m frightened - but I love you. ::
:: I know I have made a mess of things. ::
:: That my lack of intent was hurtful to you. ::
:: That I was stupid and blind and naive and whatever else you wish to say of me in regards to our courtship. ::
:: I will allow that, because you’re not wrong to be angry there. ::
:: But, Megatronus, what I feel is real. ::
:: Everything I said to you was real. ::
:: I love you. And whatever else I did not intend - that is irrefutable and true. ::
He waited, fidgeting, for a response: but none was forthcoming. Either Megatronus was formulating a reply, or he was too angry to respond appropriately. Orion wasn’t certain he liked either option.
He made his way home in silence, seeing little. The sky was crystal-clear and gorgeous, sun shining bright and cheerful. It felt… wrong. Like acid rain should be falling. Like everything should be shrouded in mist, as much as Orion’s spark was.
He finally received an answering comm right as he approached his apartment door: a single word, flat and void of emotion.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Acknowledged. ::
The next few weeks were torment.
Time meant to be spent in Kaon came and went, a cheery notification on Orion’s calendar alerting him to the days he was meant to be spending at his sparkmate’s side. He buried himself in work instead, dismissing each notification with a savage sound.
He knew he shouldn’t be avoiding home like this, but working was better than being trapped in his habsuite. Alone in the quiet of his own rooms, he could feel Megatronus somewhere far away from him, even through the block Megatronus had instituted. He was aching and angry and bitter, responding to his own alerts about Orion’s scheduled visits as if they were gunshots, flinching back from them.
They wanted one another. It was obvious just how much they craved each other even at this distance. Orion woke most mornings reaching for his bondmate, half-believing he would find him there beside him in his berth. He’d grown used to the way his tanks dropped when he found only cool sheets and empty air.
His only comfort was feeling Megatronus experience the same thing a few moments after him.
Slowly, Orion’s frame began to burn . It missed Megatronus so desperately: the strength of his grip, the tightness of his embrace, the fierce affection that beat within his field for the littler mech. He itched to be close to him, whatever that meant - sitting on the floor by his pedes, or tentatively brushing him with his field. Something. Anything. He was starving, desperate for contact, yearning to touch him: begging to feel the mech he loved beneath his servos.
Because he did still love him. He knew that much, at least. He could no more stop loving Megatronus than he could stop consuming energon. To cease to love him would be to perish.
Even so, the memory of the cannon’s red light haunted him: the fierce certainty with which Megatronus had aimed right at him, the cold, brutal ripple of fury that had precipitated the almost-shot. There was something dark in Megatronus that Orion had never really seen before, and it terrified him.
He wanted so many things, Megatronus above most of them. But what he wanted most of all was an apology.
Megatronus wasn’t given to admitting his mistakes. Orion could count on one servo the number of times he had heard Megatronus ask for forgiveness for something he had said: stubborn pride preventing him from admitting when he was wrong. He’d let it go in the past, certain that Megatronus knew his flaws and accepting the soft gestures given in lieu of an apology instead.
But not this time.
This time, he needed to hear it. He needed to know Megatronus meant it. After all, it hadn’t been his fault that he hadn’t realized what he’d been doing - though, in retrospect, it was almost absurd how well he’d followed the traditional Kaonite courtship ritual without even intending to do so.
He thought of comming Megatronus again often, but, truth be told, he wanted Megatronus to admit his own fault in this first. He wanted to know Megatronus regretted aiming a cannon at him. He wanted to believe Megatronus could understand why that had been so horrifying, and why he could never, ever do it again.
Orion expected a comm, or perhaps an invitation to Kaon to talk, whenever Megatronus was finally ready to break his silence. But Megatronus had never been one for subtle gestures, least of all when it came to Orion.
This was how Orion found himself answering a call from a worried reference clerk stationed near the doors of the Hall of Records.
“Archivist Pax, sir?” said the clerk, stuttering over the words. “There’s… uh… a mech here to see you.”
Orion frowned, busily tapping away at his workstation. “I have no appointments booked today. What is the mech’s designation?”
“He… hasn’t given us one. I rather doubt he has one,” the clerk added unhelpfully.
Orion sighed, bowing his helm. He truly did not wish to entertain any visitors, least of all some condescending scholar seeking information he felt only Alpha Trion’s apprentice could access. “Well, get his designation from him, and ask that he return when my hours are more open - ”
“... You can come to the doors and tell him that yourself, Archivist Pax,” the clerk said flatly. “I’m not refusing a gladiator to its face.”
Orion froze, finials rocketing straight up. "Gladiator?"
“Yes! I was confused too,” the clerk said, sounding relieved. “I don’t even know how this thing knows you, or what it could possibly want - ”
Orion’s lines went cold, vocals icy when next he spoke. “If you refer to him as a thing ever again, I will see to it that you are relegated to disposal duty for the remainder of your functioning. Is that understood?”
The clerk swallowed a cry of shock. “O-oh,” he stuttered. “M-my apologies, Archivist. Only I thought, given your tone…”
“What you thought was wrong,” Orion growled, shutting down his workstation and striding to the lift: all but running there as he punched in the code to summon one. “His designation is Megatronus, and I am very well acquainted with him. Had you given me his name, I would not have hesitated to see him. Please tell him I’m on my way. And don’t let the security guards touch him!”
The clerk cleared his intake. “It… may be a bit late for that, sir.”
“Get your servos off me,” Megatronus snarled, somewhere in the background. “I have no intention of doing harm - I am only here to see Orion Pax. If you’ll just let me speak to him - ”
Orion’s spark leapt and then sank, panic flooding his lines. Oh no, oh no, Megatronus had come to see him and now these guards would hurt him, they’d toss him out before he even had the chance to speak with him -
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Mega, my love, stay calm. I’m on my way. ::
Megatronus’ relief was so palpable Orion felt it over the still-closed wall between their bonded sparks: flooding him in a wave of happiness and anxiety.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Thank you, Orion. ::
:: I did not think they would alert you to my presence. ::
:: … Perhaps you could ask these imbeciles to unhand me, as long as you’re issuing orders. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I already did. Have they not released you? ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: They have not. ::
:: I would appreciate your intervention. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I’m on the lifts now. ::
:: They are a bit slow, but I am only a few levels away from the main floor. ::
:: Two kliks and I’ll be there, I swear. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Thank you. ::
:: It… ::
:: It has been a long time. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I’m happy to see you too, Mega. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Ever the dry humorist! ::
:: Yes, that. As you said. I am very, very happy to see you. ::
:: Better? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: 'Very happy' is clumsy wording. ::
:: You could try ecstatic. ::
:: Delighted. ::
:: Thrilled? ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: I am all of those and more, my archivist. ::
:: Or I will be, whenever your lovely faceplate finally graces my presence. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Walking off the lift. Under a klik, and you will see it. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Good. I am glad of it. ::
:: I have missed you, Orion ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I missed you too, Mega. ::
Orion burst from the lifts as if they were aflame, diving through the tables and patrons of the Hall at top speed for the third time that month. He was going to get a reputation for reckless behavior at this rate, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He flung himself full speed towards the doors, spark pounding as at least they came in sight.
There he was: Megatronus, gleaming and brilliant and towering over the guards surrounding him, glaring fiercely at them as they attempted to hold him back. His silhouette was fearsome and monstrous against the bright light of the outdoors, and patrons of the Hall stood nearby gawking at him, whispering behind their hands.
Orion’s spark leapt at the sight of him: so familiar, so beloved, so long absent from his side.
“And why do you think Orion Pax would wish to see you?” one guard sneered as Orion came within earshot. “How do you even know him?”
“How do you not know how he knows Pax?” another guard said. Orion recognized him as the guard who had asked for Megatronus’ autograph a month prior. “Do you not watch the matches in the Pits? They were literally all over each other onscreen a month ago.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the first guard retorted, while the rest shifted awkwardly. None of them had noticed Orion’s approach, and now they were too busy looking between the gladiator and the two arguing guards nearby to see him. Megatronus had quite the security detail surrounding him: every available guard swarming to prevent him from stepping over the threshold. It would take all of them to hold him back, especially with the cannon on his -
Orion balked. The cannon. The cannon was gone. Megatronus had left it off when he’d come to see Orion.
Orion choked on a swell of feeling too complicated to name, moving to a run.
Megatronus looked up and caught sight of him, expression changing entirely: from irritated anger to terror and hope in one. He made to circle around the ring of guards, determined to reach Orion - but every single guard was on him at once, leaping on him to pin him down. One punched at his abdominal vents, hard, and Orion felt his tanks roil as his processor reminded him: Mind the vents - they’re quite sensitive…
“Stop!” he shouted, charging across the remaining distance. “Stop that at once!”
The guards froze in surprise, glancing at each other as Orion skidded to a halt in front of them, shaking with fury. Megatronus’ vents emitted pained gusts of air, dented and bruised; but when he lifted his helm he offered Orion the tiniest of smiles, as if to assure him that he was alright.
Oh, my love. My mate. I’m so sorry.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Orion snapped, glaring at the guards. “This is the Hall of Records, not some seedy oilhouse where unruly patrons are tossed into the streets! He did nothing to you. You have no right to lay hands on him!”
“Sir,” said the tallest guard, frowning. “This mech is a gladiator. The lowest caste. He shouldn’t even be here.”
And now Orion was reminded of the bookshop in Kaon, the snotty little clerk that had looked at Megatronus as if he was an insect. We can have that removed for you, if you like…
“That mech,” Orion said frostily, “Is my conjunx. Unhand him. Now.”
Megatronus’ helm snapped up, optics wide and bright. Conjunx? You said - does that mean - Orion does that mean - ?
“Your conjunx?” the first guard repeated incredulously. “Is… is that even legal…?”
Orion had never been so angry. He rumbled darkly and took hold of one of their wrists, pulling it from Megatronus’ plating. Didn’t they know how vulnerable he was, how much he must have sacrificed just to get here, unarmed?
No. No, of course they didn’t. But Orion did.
“Let him go,” he said, fierce and furious. “Or so help me - !”
The guard who had asked for an autograph was the first to step back, not having been particularly invested in holding Megatronus back in the first place. The rest hovered nervously, uncertain what the protocol was here. Should they listen to their superior, or follow what they understood to be the laws of Iacon?
One glanced at Orion, saw the glint of wrath in his optics, and followed the other’s lead. Once he’d stepped back, it was only a matter of moments before the rest had, too: all but fleeing when Megatronus rose to his full height, optics glinting with rage. Whether they fled in terror of the archivist or the gladiator, Orion could not guess.
Megatronus turned back to him, expression softening: still broken and wary, but softer. “Orion,” he said.
“Megatronus.” Orion hesitated, staring up into Megatronus’ face. They were both on edge, fields nervously brushing against each other, testing the other for how upset they were. If affection was still there. If the other had ached just as much for their partner as they had over the weeks that had passed - weeks that had felt like centuries. “You came a long way just to see me,” he said quietly. “And at great personal risk. Is the Guild aware that their Champion has come to Iacon?”
“The Guild no longer controls my movements.” Megatronus worked his jaw. He was… oh, he was nervous. His spark spun anxiously behind its covering, his field conveying all his worry to Orion’s as they brushed against each other. “I bought out my contract after winning against Voltblast. I have promised one final match, and then it’s done. Forever.”
Forever. Megatronus was soon to be a free mech. He would no longer be a slave to the Pits. He could move freely about the planet, he could come to Iacon, he could -
He could live in Iacon.
Orion’s spark swelled, a smile lighting his face before he could swallow it. “That’s - that’s wonderful news!” he said, almost reaching for Megatronus’ hand. He barely managed to stop himself, servo twitching at his side. Megatronus tracked the movement, almost disappointed when Orion didn’t touch him after all. “I’m happy for you, Megatronus.”
“Thank you.” Megatronus tilted his helm, staring intently into Orion’s eyes. “That is part of what brings me here, actually. My final match is three days from now.”
Orion’s expression softened. “You want me to be there.”
Megatronus hesitated. “It… would be nice to have you there, yes.” He closed his optics, clenching and unclenching his hands. “It would bring me some sense of comfort to have you there,” he clarified. “This is the first time a gladiator has ever bought his way out of a contract. The guild is… less than pleased, to say the least. I do not know what they have planned for me, but I suspect they would rather have me dead than watch me leave the arena as a free mech. I…” He ground his teeth, hard, exhaling sharply. “I am afraid.”
Orion’s spark burned. He knew how much that confession must have cost Megatronus: the pride he’d had to swallow to say ever word. First he had come here unarmed, and then he had willingly admitted to fear, to worry. That Orion’s presence would be a comfort to him.
Orion traced back over the words, his spark squeezing tight inside his chest. I suspect they would rather have me dead than watch me leave the arena as a free mech…
“Do you have to perform in a final fight?” Orion asked, twisting his servos behind his back.
“Yes. A provision of the contract, it would seem.” Megatronus looked up, searching Orion’s faceplate. “Orion. I’m aware you have no reason to attend. That a month has passed since… well. But I would like… no, I need you there.”
Orion wrapped his arms around himself, feeling a hard lump in his intake. It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was a start. “Don’t go back,” he said.
“What?”
“Don’t go back.” Orion looked up at him, pleading, wide-opticed. “You said yourself that it may be their intent to kill you. If you return…”
“Orion.” Megatronus finally closed the distance between them, laying his servo against Orion’s cheek. “My archivist. Do you really think they would not find a way to reach me here if they so wished?”
Orion shivered, hating the desperate, angry tears he could feel in his optics. “You are asking me to watch you die.”
“I am asking you to be there, fully knowing that you may have to watch me die,” Megatronus corrected gently. “I want to know my sparkmate is with me, whatever the outcome.”
My sparkmate. “Do you still want me as your mate?” Orion asked. “Despite everything?”
Megatronus went very still, staring hard into Orion’s optics. “Do you want me as yours?” he replied. “It was never fully clear to me if that was your wish. I had hoped you were taking time to consider it, but…” He gestured, a dark, petulant frown crossing his mouth. “It has been over a month, and yet I have heard nothing from you. My processor, my frame, my very spark is starving for you. Months we were parted before the last visit, and now again I am left with the silence of my quarters and the space where you belong.”
Oh, those were pretty words, beautiful, bitter words - but an apology they were not. Orion lifted his chin, staring the soon-to-be-former gladiator in the optics. “That is not without reason.”
Those cold blue eyes went even colder, his vocals laced with frost when next he spoke. “So you have chosen to release your claim.”
Orion’s spark seized and stuttered. “No!” he gasped, gripping Megatronus’ hip before he could think better of it. “Primus, no, I have decided no such thing.”
The fierceness of his voice took Megatronus aback, a blink clearing that icy glare from his face. “Then… what, Orion? Why sequester yourself among your hallowed records if you would have me still?”
Orion vented heavily, suddenly aware of all the optics clapped upon them: the audience that had come to watch a gladiator be tossed from the Hall, only to find him rescued by one of the Hall’s more prominent archivists. Their curious gazes prickled against his back, reminding him that they were under observation, and that this was no place to have so personal a discussion.
“Walk with me,” he said, holding out his hand. Megatronus arched an optic ridge at the gesture, servo hovering mid-air - hesitating to take the proffered digit without confirmation of what Orion meant by it.
Ah. Right. The gesture of affection. Megatronus was no longer sure that was Orion’s intention.
Well, that was easy enough to clarify. Orion opened and closed his digits in imitation of grabbing for something. “Mega. Give it here,” he ordered, in the same bossy tone Megatronus had once been fond of using with him.
That finally earned him a smile: a real one this time, bright and brilliant and accompanied by a little chuckle. “Ask me nicely, and I will,” Megatronus replied.
Orion’s smile widened in reply. “Please?”
Megatronus made a little sound and linked his digits through Orion’s. Something felt as though it had clicked into place, the contact of their palms dragging sparks of sensation and happiness from Orion’s systems. Finally. I have hungered for you so deeply. It has been so long...
Megatronus did not protest when Orion led him out into the city, down into the streets and further in, somewhat in the direction of his apartments. For awhile, they walked in silence: Megatronus looking around in wonder at the gleaming buildings and their flashing golden roofs, the busy streets filled with mechs smaller than any he’d likely ever seen before, the flowers and ornamental sculptures and gorgeous gardens littering every corner.
Orion was content to be near him for the moment, feeling the warmth of his field and the hum of his spark. Touching him after so long felt so good. He leaned into Megatronus’ arm, nuzzling against thick silver metal, engine making a happy purring sound at the touch.
Megatronus glanced at him sharply, and Orion remembered they were still working things out. He blushed and stepped away, lowering his helm.
“Orion.”
Orion glanced at Megatronus, a flare of hope escaping him before he could take control of it.
Megatronus reset his vocalizer, swallowing. “You told me once you believed me to be more than a thing with claws and teeth. Do you still believe that?”
Orion hummed to himself, considering the question. He thought of what he knew of Megatronus, of the dreams that haunted him every few nights: the flash of red, the icy glare, the splattered energon of the masses all over Megatronus’ frame. “I still believe that you are more than the violence you propagate in the Pits,” he said at last. “But I also believe you have incorporated violence into the very core of who you are, and I cannot pretend that does not frighten me.”
Megatronus’ optics shuttered, a harsh vent escaping him. “I - ”
“Let me finish,” Orion said, but gently, squeezing Megatronus’ servo. “That night, when you raised your cannon to me, you terrified me. It was like, for a moment, I had no idea who you were. Like another mech entirely stood before me.”
Megatronus worked his jaw, holding tight to Orion’s hand. “You have always chosen to see the best in me,” he said. “Even when I did not deserve it. Perhaps especially when I did not deserve it.”
Orion tilted his helm. “You have only ever shown me the best of you.”
“No. I haven’t,” Megatronus said, laughing bitterly. “There have been so many times - more than I dare count - that you have forgiven me things no one else would have let go. That you have taken an idea I’ve had and made it something good and kind when that was never my intention.” He looked up, meeting Orion’s gaze. “If all you have seen is the best of me, it is because that is what you draw from me. From everyone who has ever met you. No mech can know you and not aspire to better themselves for your sake.”
Orion bit back a tiny cry, quivering under Megatronus’ shadow. “Mega - ”
“I asked why you would sequester yourself away here when I know you ache for me as desperately as I do for you,” Megatronus said, cutting Orion off. “But I know the answer. You told me a month ago when we were angry. You wish for me to admit that I am sorry for frightening you. For threatening you.”
Orion stared into his optics, drawing in a sharp, pained vent. “It… would not go amiss, no,” he said finally.
Megatronus shuttered his optics again. Nodded. “You know what that feels like to me, I trust.”
Orion’s spark sank like a stone. “You are so damnably proud,” he said, choking on the words. “I know. I know you think I am casting blame on you for reacting to my - my perceived rejection. But I’m not. I do not blame you for your anger or your hurt. You have your right to those. But how you express that anger - how we resolve these issues as a couple - affects everything.”
Megatronus looked up, sharp-eyed and wary. “Everything?”
Orion finally released Megatronus’ hand. There was a bench nearby among a carefully cultivated collection of crystal flora, shining in gold and red and white. Orion moved to it and sat, folding his hands in his lap. “No matter how desperately I want this bond with you - and be assured, Megatronus, I do want it...” Orion began. “... I cannot stay with a mech who threatens my life when he is angry with me. I will not tolerate that. You will be angry with me sometimes, and I with you. We will frustrate each other and make mistakes and we will fight, I’m sure, as all couples do. But we cannot use violence to resolve our problems. Not ever. I cannot bind myself to a mech who terrifies me into compliance.”
“That was never my intention,” Megatronus said. He came to Orion and knelt before him upon the ground, reaching out to lay a servo on Orion’s arm, and oh Primus how that made his spark ache, that sight, that softness.
“I know it wasn’t,” Orion said, lifting his helm. “I know it was instinct. And I know - I understand - the significance in the removal of your cannon. That gesture does not mean nothing to me. I saw it, I took it in, it mattered. It matters now, more than I can possibly say. I know what you sacrificed to get here unarmed, and I am profoundly grateful for the gesture.”
That acknowledgement seemed to soothe a little of the turmoil in Megatronus’ field. His pauldrons eased by an inch or two, something quiet and deep and calm reflected in his eyes.
“I know this is a vulnerable place for you to be in,” Orion pressed on. “And that you do not ever wish to be made vulnerable. But I cannot let this go without an assurance from you that you will never raise a hand to me again.”
Megatronus swallowed, nodding slowly. “What action do you require from me, along with my assurances?”
Orion vented deeply, knowing how difficult this next part would be. “I do not want you to wear your cannon when we are alone together,” he said. He glanced to the empty space where the cannon should be, gently reaching out to stroke it. “Not ever. I understand the necessity in Kaon and in the Pits, but when we are in your habsuite or mine, I don’t want to see it.”
“Mm. I thought you might say that,” Megatronus sighed. He laid his hand over Orion’s, gently lifting it to his lips. “Only for you would I do this.”
Orion’s vents caught and hitched. “Is… is that an agreement?”
“You will never see it on my arm in my quarters again,” Megatronus said solemnly. “I swear upon my very spark.” He hesitated a moment, finally meeting Orion’s eyes. “Orion. I have not, for one second, forgotten your face that day. Your eyes… that hurt... will haunt me until my dying day. Beloved, I am not sorry; sorry is not an adequate word for what I am. There is no amount of contrition I can express that can ever deserve your forgiveness. I threatened my very spark that day, and I will never, ever forgive myself for it. Yet still I must ask you - no, I must beg you to forgive me. To have no absolution from you - to lose you - that is a death sentence, more surely than whatever fate awaits me in the Pits in three days’ time.”
Orion choked on a sob. Seconds later he threw himself into Megatronus’ arms, shaking with happiness and sorrow. “Thank you,” he said, burying his face in Megatronus’ intake. “Thank you. I forgive you a thousand times over, my love. But I will never forgive you if you die out there in the Pits, do you understand me?”
Megatronus bumped Orion’s audial with his faceplate. “I understand. I will come back to you, always. I swear that on my spark as well.”
Orion smiled, shaking even harder: whether from fear or joy he could not say. “I love you, Mega,” he whispered. “That I did not know that was what I felt was my own fault. I should have looked closer at my feelings. I should have expressed them more clearly - but I didn’t. I can only beg your forgiveness for the grievous harm I’ve done. Despite my surprise and my confusion that night, I… I want this. I want you. This bond feels right. It is what my spark has wanted, whether I was aware of it or not. I am only sorry I was not intentional in getting us here.”
Megatronus extricated himself from Orion’s grip, cupping his face in his servos. “Are you certain? ” he said, staring intently into Orion’s optics. “Orion. Be sure this is what you want. That you mean it. I am no longer certain I will be able to let you go if you should change your mind.”
Orion laughed, laying his hands over Megatronus’. “I am certain, Megatronus,” he said. “I want to be your sparkmate. Your conjunx. I want you to be mine, always, until my spark gutters out and my frame turns gray.”
Megatronus’ smile was so bright it could have blotted out the sun. “You have had me from the start, Orion Pax, and will until the end,” he replied.
For a long time, they sat there just holding each other: clinging to the other’s frame as tightly as possible. Pure contentment flooded Orion when the bond opened at last and Megatronus filled him up: his joy, the fear he had carried, the genuine sorrow he had felt at how badly he had terrified Orion. His intention to do better by Orion. He was warm and wonderful and Primus Orion loved him so much, loved him more than he had words to say…
“Mega.” He pulled back a little, tilting the gladiator’s chin up. “Since you needn’t return to Kaon…”
Megatronus arched both optic ridges, waiting.
Orion bit his lower derma, squirming nervously. “Would… would you like to stay with me tonight? In Iacon?” He paused, swallowing. “Actually… after the match three days from now - because there will be an ‘after,’ there has to be, I won’t allow anything else - would you like to just… stay here? With me?”
Megatronus’ engines rumbled, a smile curving his mouth. Then he was gripping Orion tight and pulling him into a kiss: fierce and overjoyed and flooded with his happiness.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” Orion panted when Megatronus finally broke away.
Megatronus laughed, nuzzling Orion’s crest. “It is indeed an emphatic yes, my sweet one.” He grinned, leaning close to Orion’s audial and murmuring, “I am greedy for every single detail of you. I intend to know you intimately - every last inch of you as familiar to me as I am to myself. I do hope you’re prepared.”
Orion was on his pedes and dragging Megatronus after him in the space of a spark rotation, already burning and eager. “I believe I have a few things to show you in my apartments that you’ll find fascinating, ” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a coy little grin. “Perhaps that will sate your curiosity.”
“I doubt my thirst for you will ever be sated,” Megatronus replied in a low purr. “I look forward to seeing your quarters at long last.”
Orion beamed and led Megatronus onward, finally feeling as though all was right with the world.
Chapter 8: Interlude
Summary:
Orion welcomes Megatronus home.
Notes:
GOD I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to get out to you - it took awhile to perfect, and it's also SUPER DUPER LONG. But it's full of porn, so hopefully that helps?
CW: some breeding kink talk and one unhealthily possessive warlord. Also featuring robot lingerie and an oil bath.
A L S O I will reply to everyone's reviews on Chapter 7 tomorrow - I'm sorry you've waited so long for a response! My energy has been super low lately, but it's slowly coming back, so fingers crossed it'll stay that way for a bit. Any wonky formatting due to AO3's UI will be fixed tomorrow also.
Chapter Text
They might have reached Orion’s quarters sooner if the wonders of Iacon hadn’t slowed them down.
There were many things Orion had always admired and loved about Iacon: its pretty architecture, the multitude of shops, the variety of oilhouses and cafes and confectioneries that littered the business districts. The museums. The artwork. The public gardens that sprawled across every city square. It was a beautiful place with much to offer, and Orion was grateful he was permitted by dint of being Data Class to live there.
He had not considered how Megatronus might feel about it until they were already striding down the street, Megatronus’ arm a familiar, beloved weight upon his shoulders. Gripping the gladiator about the waist, Orion was content to move at his pace, gently tugging him down the appropriate thoroughfares to reach home. But each turn was met with increasing resistance: the slowing of Megatronus’ steps, his much larger frame straining against Orion’s hands as if it would go elsewhere.
When at last Orion paused long enough to question him, Megatronus’ helm was craned back to stare at a massive statue of the Thirteen Primes surrounded by gemstone blossoms. Pretty fountains lit from within graced hovering platforms that orbited the statue in a stately dance, the spray of bright crystal blue timed to create perfect, stair-stepping arcs between each fountain. It was truly a marvel of both engineering and artistry, and Orion realized Megatronus had likely never seen anything like it in all his functioning. By comparison, Kaon was all cold angles and dilapidated buildings: smoggy, layered in ash, and deeply utilitarian.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Orion said, smiling up at his distracted conjunx.
“It is extraordinary, ” Megatronus replied, vocals hushed. He glanced back at Orion with a small, fond smile, digits lightly brushing his shoulder. “I cannot guess at its function, however.”
Orion tilted his helm, blinking in surprise. “Its function?”
“Yes,” said Megatronus patiently. “What does it do? ”
What a strange question to ask about artwork. Orion wondered if this was perhaps a philosophical test of some kind. Megatronus was fond of those, and most of their early conversations had comprised of such questions: almost like a test to determine if Orion was worthy of Megatronus’ friendship. “I… suppose its function is to beautify the city.”
Megatronus matched Orion’s puzzled frown with a darker one of his own. “Surely there is more to it than that,” he said. “Otherwise, no matter its loveliness, it would be an incredible waste of resources. Inefficient, too. Iacon, as the golden city of our illustrious planet, cannot devote our precious energon and mineral deposits to building something that is merely pretty. ”
Orion hesitated. Why was Megatronus being so defensive over a mere sculpture? Was this his way of picking a fight indirectly? Orion hated to feel so suspicious of him, but he was no longer as certain of Megatronus’ intentions as he once had been. So many things were the same between them, and yet so many things were now different: irreparably changed by their status as a wedded couple, scarred by the damage their fight had left behind. “It was dedicated to the city by the great sculptor Broadsight several centuries ago,” he said at last. “I believe her stated intention was to honor Primus and the Thirteen, without whom we would not exist, and to offer a quiet place of contemplation where we might express our gratitude to them. But as with all art, its interpretation - and its function, I suppose - is left to the viewer to determine.”
Megatronus’ optics narrowed. “So it is not merely wasteful, but also pretentious, ” he growled. “This is the very pinnacle of excess. Who is granted the luxury of time enough to pause and contemplate in the midst of a busy day?”
Orion blinked, taken aback by the combative ripple that rushed through their bond. There was such bitterness there, such hurt. Beneath the self-righteous fury of his words, there lay a rancorous envy of the splendor his betters lived among: the casual way their resources could be directed into such projects. Megatronus had fought and scraped for everything he had, while here in Iacon artisans built fountains full of the very energon he’d had to slaughter mechs to earn. It was an untenable sin to him.
Actually, now that Orion had glimpsed his mate’s thinking, he couldn’t say he particularly disagreed with him.
“I understand how it might seem that way at first blush,” Orion admitted. “Knowing what I know of Kaon, a statue such as this would never grace its streets. Yet that does not mean it is without value. It exists to create an image of beauty and inspiration where only bare, cold function might once have stood.” He paused, thinking of how to phrase his next point. “Consider this: when you walk through Kaon, what do you feel? Anger? Sadness? Wariness?”
“And more besides, all in that vein.” Megatronus studied Orion’s face, his frown turning thoughtful. “Why?”
Orion gestured to the fountain. “When you saw this fountain, what did you feel?”
Comprehension dawned at once, and Orion smiled a little. My mate, clever and brilliant; my beloved who misses nothing. Even so, Orion felt Megatronus’ resistance to his argument. He did not want to acknowledge that Orion might also have a point. He had never enjoyed losing a debate, though he had lost many to Orion; he far preferred to call them draws , and Orion was content to allow him that.
At last, Megatronus gave in and grumbled, “Awe. Reverence. Wonder. It seemed… magical, almost.”
Orion beamed. “There, you see? Beauty brings peace and happiness to passerby. When one creates an environment that is beautiful, one creates joy within the citizens who live in that environment. Moments of wonder are rare and precious things. Don’t you think that beautiful art might ease some of the drudgery of a Kaonite’s day, even if only for a split second? Is that function not just as important as a more rationally-driven one?”
Megatronus was staring at him more intently than before, helm tilted, a half-smile curving his dermas. Orion’s gaze caught upon the scar he’d noticed months ago at the bookshop, metal still nicked from battle. A few other marks had joined it upon the warrior’s face, and Orion felt his spark ache for his beloved. I lose more and more of you every day.
“I will, with great reluctance, grant you that there is value in what you describe,” Megatronus said, sighing irritably. “But one need not squander time nor resources nor shanix on such imprudent endeavors to find such wonder. I feel the same things, only far more intensely, when I look upon you.”
Orion made a choked sound, spark skipping several rotations inside his chassis as heat burned through his frame. “Megatronus-!”
The gladiator chuckled, fondly cupping Orion’s helm in his palm. “My archivist ever grants me fresh eyes with which to see the world,” he said. “And there is more wonder to be found in that than in any pointless statue.”
Orion’s blush deepened, and he buried his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to hide the shimmer of heat around his helm. “Not fair!” he said, peeking out from between his digits. “You cannot evade debate simply by making compliments your weapon!”
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” said Megatronus innocently. “I spoke only with the utmost sincerity. Do you doubt my word, Orion Pax? I must warn you, I will be forced to challenge you to a duel for my very honor if you do.”
Orion cast him an exasperated look. “You are ridiculous,” he said. “And you must know I would sooner die than fight you, my mate.”
Megatronus’ expression softened, his digits sweet against Orion’s finials. “As I would sooner die than strike you down,” he replied. Shaking his helm, he looked away, flicking his pauldrons in annoyance at the concession he was now forced to make. “Very well. I suppose I take your meaning. Yet Kaon might do better to have this energon to feed its denizens, this stone and metal to patch collapsing tenement housing. Displays like this only remind me of the disparity between castes. Such splendor, so openly exhibited, is foreign to me.”
Orion ought to have been preparing his next point for debate. If he was at all invested in rigorous intellectual conversation at the moment, that’s precisely what he would have been doing - but he was far more interested in winning back a bit of his dignity. Orion pounced on the opening granted to him with a gleeful little smile. “Now that I know must be false,” he said, mock-somber. “Such open splendor greets you every day, unless you have not recently looked into a mirror?”
There was a glorious moment where Megatronus’ entire frame froze, a flustered, shocked sensation shuddering through their bond. Orion basked in that instant of surprise, beaming up into his beloved’s face.
A grin broke across the gladiator’s lips, and he laughed aloud, pressing clawed digits to his spark. “Why, Orion Pax, I had not thought you capable of such flirtations.”
“Did you not?” said Orion. “I seem to recall a deeply flirtatious flurry of comms after your last fight. I would hate to think my flattery was so easily forgotten. I crafted every phrase with the greatest of care, you know. I wished to pay justice to every brilliant, beloved inch of you.”
“I have not forgotten one word of those comms.” Megatronus caught Orion’s chin and tilted his face up, staring unblinking into his eyes. Orion’s engines stuttered, spark leaping at the brush of his beloved’s field against his: overwhelming him with a bittersweet fondness that made his spark burn brighter. “In the moments where I missed you most, I read them again and again. I have opened them so often they sit still in my frequent access memory, and there shall no doubt remain.”
“Until I replace them with other, finer compliments,” Orion replied. He paused, dermas parting, taking Megatronus in: content just to stand still and stare at his conjunx. He was real. He was here. He’d apologized, he’d taken Orion seriously and agreed to compromise, he -
He was Orion’s mate. His spouse. Beautiful and dangerous, containing all the wrath of the Fallen and all the love of Primus himself: so much more than Orion had ever imagined him to be.
Megatronus tenderly traced the rounded curve of Orion’s audial, the bright, warm pulse of his spark beating in rhythm with Orion’s own. “You are so soft ,” he murmured. “A day does not pass where you do not amaze me, my treasure.”
Orion shivered and leaned into Megatronus’ touch, aching to be held. “My mate,” he said, delighting in the flare of pleasure in Megatronus’ field when he said it. “We were going home, were we not?”
“So impatient! Tell me, sweet one: what is it that makes you so anxious to return home? Is there something in particular you wish to show me in your quarters?”
Orion cast him a glance that was both significant and thoroughly annoyed, huffing to himself. I have not forgotten the sweet things you murmured to me in the gardens. We have been parted too long, my love. I yearn to be united with you in every possible fashion.
Megatronus smiled, brushing a thumb over Orion’s cheek. “One last look, and then we may go.” He glanced back towards the fountain, taking it in a final time - then paused, gaze catching upon something across the square. Orion tried to follow his cycling optics, stretching up on the tips of his pedes; but there was nothing he could see so extraordinary as to attract Megatronus’ attention this way.
“What is it?” Orion asked, worry flooding his circuits. “Is something the matter?”
“No, just - is that a garment shop ?” Megatronus’ field echoed with incredulity, pauldrons flicking.
Oh! Orion sagged in relief, leaning against his beloved’s side. Odd how ordinary things could become extraordinary through the eyes of someone who had never beheld them before. “Ah. Yes, those are surprisingly common here,” he said. “Some mechs enjoy sweeping about in capes, or adorning their frames in… well. Other fabric things.”
He did not particularly wish to go into details regarding what said things were. He had perused the wares of a few garment shops before, and every last one had contained a curtained-off section of lacy, frilly things worn almost exclusively for interface, unless one was an especially bold mech. That was not a conversation to be had in public.
He thought of a small, hidden drawer at his apartment where several such garments were tucked away and struggled not to blush.
“ Really. ” Orion had expected more disapproval from Megatronus given the impracticality of garments upon a metal frame, but the gladiator almost sounded excited by the prospect. “Has my mate been hiding a secret wardrobe from me? A closet of capes, perhaps?”
“Hardly!” Orion shook his helm, amused. “The cloaks are the least interesting items within such shops anyway.” Megatronus wouldn’t know about those little curtained-off areas and their contents, would he? Lingerie was a wasteful luxury only upper caste mechs had the means to afford. Surely Kaonites would never have even seen such garments. No, that particular sin of Orion’s was safe from Megatronus for the moment.
At least, he hoped it was.
“The least interesting, hmm? Fascinating.” A knowing little grin upon the gladiator’s mouth made Orion second-guess himself; but thankfully, Megatronus let the notion lie. “Why did you ever trouble yourself to visit Kaon when such grandeur surrounded you here?”
Orion smiled and bunted his crest against Megatronus’ chassis. “There are many wonderful things in Iacon, it’s true,” he said. “But my Champion was not here to share in any of it with me. It lost much of its luster without him at my side.”
Megatronus’ frame heated so fiercely that for a moment Orion feared he had malfunctioned. He looked up, about to voice his worry - only to realize that Megatronus was pointedly staring anywhere but at him, faceplate burning with heat.
“Why, Megatronus, are you blushing? ” Orion teased.
“Of course not!” Megatronus snapped, voice gruff and low and hissing with static. “Don’t be absurd.”
Orion laughed, tightening his grip around the gladiator’s waist. “This is an unexpected turn,” he said. “Usually it’s you winning a blush from me. I shall count this as a victory.”
Megatronus’ eyes lit up as he flicked his shoulder pauldrons, shedding his embarrassment as easily as he might have removed one of the aforementioned cloaks. “Oh, are we to make this a competition ?” he said. “Deeply unwise, my mate. There is no challenge you can set before me I will not rise to meet. I am, after all, the Champion - both yours and all of Cybertron’s.”
Orion gave a minute shiver, plating trembling at the words. “This is not a battle of physical might, but of wit and word and softness,” he replied. “Rather more my area of expertise than yours.”
“Softness, you think?” Megatronus replied thoughtfully. “Interesting. If the challenge is merely to make the other blush, I can think of innumerable ways to do so without being soft.” The corner of his lips drew up into a wicked smirk, making Orion’s knee struts go weak. Oh no. Oh Primus. Oh dear. How grievously have I miscalculated?
“You know, the concept of garment shops never crossed my neural circuits until just now,” he continued, switching back to their original topic. Orion almost sagged in relief. It had been a month since he had first interfaced, and his frame was begging for it: pulsing eagerly for the gorgeous mech he now called his mate, aching to be taken by him. The glint in Megatronus’ optics had done terribly unfair things to Orion’s spark, and Orion was already certain if they truly made a competition of stealing blushes from one another, he would be the loser by a mile.
“Oh?” said Orion aloud, faint and absent. “But you’ve seen cloaks and such before on Guild mechs.”
“I assumed they were custom-made for their use,” Megatronus said, shrugging. “That they might come from a shop, straight off a rack, never crossed my mind. Running such a business hardly seems a sensible exercise, as fabric is so delicate and our frames so sharp… but I suppose that’s not the point, is it? The point is the very uselessness of the garment. The indulgence and absurdity of fabric over armor.” His grin widened, dark and hungry: voice dropping so low that only Orion could hear him. “You mentioned more interesting garments within those shops. Forgive a poor, woefully unlearned miner like myself for wondering… but what are the most interesting garments said shops contain? Won’t you educate me, dearest Orion?”
Oh, scrap. He knew. He had to know. He wouldn’t be asking otherwise. Orion cleared his intake, resetting his vocalizer a few times. “I… that is…”
“I should warn you that if instead of capes you have been keeping a wardrobe of small, frilly things from me, I will be far more put out,” Megatronus said. He was teasing, that same knowing glint in his eyes: determined to win a blush from Orion’s frame.
And win a blush he did - albeit not for the reasons he might have at first assumed. Orion’s helm snapped up, heat burning through his faceplates before he could quell it. A guilty flare slipped from his grasp to dance over their bond, sliding from him to Megatronus. “I - Mega, I didn’t think you would be interested - ”
Megatronus’ mischievous grin evaporated like smoke, something dark and ravenous flooding his face instead. His engines gave a fearsome, violent rumble, revving so hard Orion’s frame trembled with their force. “ Orion. Do you mean to tell me you’ve kept an illicit stash of expensive lingerie in Iacon and never thought to show me? ”
Orion made a tiny, helpless noise, his fans kicking on in a weak attempt to cool the heat of his frame. “I - I didn’t have time to think about it!” he managed. “Everything happened so fast, by the time I could have thought of it we were…” Not speaking. Arguing. Inches from separation. “Besides, as hobbies go, it’s the very definition of foolish and wasteful and - ”
“This is a hobby for you?” Megatronus repeated incredulously.
Wonderful. Now he’d revealed far too much - far more than he’d ever intended. Orion’s burning cheeks could have melted a lesser metal. “I - may, perhaps, have a completely reasonably-sized collection of… um… garments… ”
Megatronus’ engines revved again, loud enough that this time passerby cast them curious glances. His field was open and wild with lust, excitement burning through his frame as a feral grin curved his lips. “By the Pit ,” he breathed, leaning in close. Thank Primus he had enough self control to lower his vocals further, especially now that other mechs were staring. “How exquisite you must look like draped in fine-woven lacemesh - or do you prefer fibresilk? I never imagined you of all mechs would indulge such fancies.”
His engines purred behind his armor plates, vents flaring open to allow a gust of heat to escape. Orion drowned in the blue of his optics, whetting dry dermas and attempting not to pant.
“I wonder how it will feel to touch you with so flimsy a barrier between us,” Megatronus murmured, laying a thumb to Orion’s lower lip. “Perhaps with your spike out, hmm? Would you like that? Caught behind a panel of fabric, straining against the mesh, aching for the fullness of my touch and yet blocked from it by that very teasing prison that holds it against your frame…”
Orion’s vents hitched, hard, a furious, fiery blush blooming anew over his whole frame. “Not fair -! ”
“Or we could try with all your panels open,” Megatronus continued, as if Orion hadn’t spoken. His thumb teased over the interior of Orion’s lower lip, dragging over the wet protoform in much the same fashion he might use to touch Orion’s valve, and oh Pits what a thought that was. “What do you think, my archivist? Would you enjoy the torment of pressure against your valve, with only a thin, tearable bit of cloth preventing me from filling you? It would be so easy to break it, but I wouldn’t, of course. I would treat it as though it were metal alloy, as firm and indestructible as your own panels. I wonder what sounds you might make as I tease you... if you could be induced to beg for it…”
Orion made a deep, rumbling sound, still burning from helm to heels, and grabbed Megatronus’ servo in his, dragging him with all the force of his smaller frame towards his apartment. “Quarters. Now,” he managed, yanking at Megatronus’ arm.
The gladiator laughed, triumph blossoming all over his field. “Does this make me the victor of your little challenge?”
“Of this match? Perhaps. Don’t be so certain you’ll win the next. Come on. ” He tugged impatiently, his frame aching: desperate to be united with his mate again, wholly and without unpleasant interruption or misunderstanding this time.
He could feel Megatronus’ proud grin all the way to his spark as he pulled him along the streets of Iacon, Orion’s own desire reflected back tenfold from his conjunx.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk to Orion’s habsuite, and yet the buildings grew noticeably shabbier they closer they came to his apartment. Gleaming white and polished silver faded to sturdy gunmetal gray, and roofs turned from bright gold to dull bronze. Lavishly decorated doors became serviceable and ordinary. Windows grew fewer. The streets narrowed, and mechs began to look less polished, less flashy in their paint. The architecture was still Iacon’s, but lesser: made austere and bland for the middle castes who occupied the habitation towers lining this district.
They were elegant and high-class compared to Kaon’s living quarters, of course, so Orion made no comment on the subject, simply leaning into Megatronus’ grip instead. He was still burning with heat, moving at a rapid pace so as to reach his quarters faster, and Megatronus seemed more than pleased to keep up with him. He was as eager as Orion to be taken to berth again.
Make up fragging. It’s the greatest, his friend Jazz had once told him. Best way to offer an apology.
Orion smiled to himself, ducking his helm so Megatronus wouldn’t see. I suppose I’m about to find out if he was right.
Orion’s building, Tower Aristophanes, had been built for Data Class mechs. Its name was displayed on a sign in elegant script, as well as the caste the building was meant to house. Newbuilds, see security for clearance and housing assignment, smaller text clarified - chipping away now and faded by the sun. Megatronus arched an optic ridge at the words, but made no comment.
A doorman was seated at the front of the building to greet residents and screen guests before entering the tower. Hatch was as familiar to Orion as the door of his own habsuite, having worked this position as long as Orion could remember.
“Hello, Hatch,” Orion said politely, pausing before the small security office in which he sat.
Hatch glanced up to offer Orion a smile - and froze, taking in the massive mech looming behind him. “Archivist Pax,” he said stiffly. “You alright? Need me to call someone?”
Ah. Right. Orion probably should have anticipated this problem. “No, thank you, Hatch - I am very well.” He lifted his hand, still twined with Megatronus’, to reassure the doorman that he was fine. “This is Megatronus. He’ll be staying with me for awhile. If you could note that in your records, I would appreciate it. He should be free to come and go as he pleases.”
Hatch pursed cracking dermas, sizing Megatronus up. “It’s really only supposed to be Data Class mechs in this building, sir,” he said, hesitating over the words. It was clear he didn’t enjoy enforcing that particular edict - but what choice did he have? It was his job, after all, wasn’t it - to guard the doors and keep unsavory characters out?
Orion’s grip tightened on Megatronus’ servo. He understood Hatch’s fear to disobey - and yet. Were they to be thwarted at every single turn? First the bookshop, then their fight, and now this. Orion was so tired of battling for every scrap of respect he and his conjunx could possibly earn.
He started when Megatronus laid both hands upon his shoulders, gently massaging the metal. “Do you often deny entry to your occupants’ escorts, or is Archivist Pax merely an exception to the rule?” he asked. His voice had a specific lilt to it that Orion had only ever heard him use in berth: the same sort of purr he’d spoken of garments and lace and Orion’s trembling frame in perhaps ten kliks ago. Orion’s very core felt as though it was aflame, heat rushing through him as Megatronus pressed up against his back, holding him close.
Escort, he’d said. Escort? Orion frowned up at Megatronus, puzzled. He was hardly pretending that Megatronus was his bodyguard or chaperone; Hatch would certainly never fall for such a ruse, and anyway, bodyguards would be ever at his side. He did not intend for Megatronus to follow at his heels wherever he went. What was Megatronus attempting to do here?
Understanding dawned on Hatch’s face. “Oh. Oh!” he said, flustered and surprised. “ Oh. I - sorry, I never expected Archivist Pax to hire a - well. I mean, he never brings anyone back, so I just assumed…” Hatch paused, flushed and embarrassed. “Well! It’s not my business anyway.” He paused, casting Orion a speculative look. “Good for you, sir,” he said - and winked. “I’ll make a note - off the books, of course.”
“How kind of you. I would be much obliged.” Megatronus reached into his subspace and casually dropped a few shiny shanix into Hatch’s outstretched palm. “Here. A token of our gratitude for your… discretion .”
“Not a word shall cross my dermas,” said Hatch, tucking the shanix away. “Appreciate doing business with you, sir.” He paused, smiling broadly at Orion. “Enjoy your evening, Archivist Pax.”
“I’ll be certain he does,” Megatronus replied. He gestured, pulling Orion against his side, and Hatch let the door open, allowing them to enter.
Orion glanced over his shoulder as the door closed behind them, frowning. “What was that about?”
Megatronus’ smile was thin but amused. “Occasionally being used as a fragtoy has some utility, it turns out. He believes you have hired me to service you.”
Orion made a choked, wheezing sound, earning a laugh from Megatronus. “It’s only half a lie,” he said. “I do fully intend to service you in every imaginable fashion before facing the Allspark.”
Orion’s spark plummeted at the reminder of Megatronus’ upcoming battle in the Pits. He cast Megatronus a sullen look, clinging tightly to his waist. “Don’t say things like that,” he grumbled.
“What? About interface?”
“About death. ” Primus, that was dark. Weren’t they supposed to be happy again? Orion glanced up, keeping his expression somber. “You can speak of fragging me mercilessly whenever the mood strikes you.”
Megatronus laughed aloud, a sharp, humored bark that echoed in the lift. “I shall save it for your quarters, when we are away from prying audials,” he replied, fondly teasing a finial. Orion’s struts turned to jelly, his whole frame melting into Megatronus’ grip at that touch.
Oh. This, this he could get used to. He let heat rush and fill him, feeling the first hint of wetness gathering behind his panel. That flare of desire passed directly to Megatronus over their bond and was returned in equal measure, the rumble of Megatronus’ engines sounding against Orion’s helm.
“Mm. I see you missed me,” said Megatronus, wearing an arrogant smirk. “It will please you to know that I missed you just as much.”
Orion attempted to rally his dignity, adopting a prim expression. “I’ve no idea what you mean,” he replied. The lift hummed and dinged, door sliding open to reveal his floor. “Ah. Here we are.” He disentangled himself from Megatronus’ frame and led him from the lift, spark leaping in anticipation.
Orion’s apartment sat on Floor 86 of Tower Aristophanes: Apartment 86-73144. It looked into the slightly grubby windows of a late night cafe in a tower across the street, and while it was hardly a luxurious view, it comforted Orion to see the night life passing by sometimes. Megatronus’ quarters had no windows at all. Orion wondered for a moment how he would feel about having one to look out of now.
Orion tapped his code into the keypad by the door and let it slide open, smiling and gesturing Megatronus inside. “Welcome home,” he said.
Megatronus’ field pulsed with warmth at the words. “Home is wherever you are, beloved.”
That softness, that sweetness, felt so good after nearly a month of silence. Orion’s spark swelled, flaring brightly behind his chest plates in response to his mate. He smiled and kissed the gladiator’s knuckles, sending a wave of gratitude and warmth through their bond before finally nudging him through the door. “Well, go on! You’ve waited years to see where I live, haven’t you? I was under the impression you wished to absorb every single detail. You can hardly do so standing in the entryway!”
Megatronus stayed where he was for a moment, something impossibly tender in his expression. He reached up to touch Orion’s lips with his digits, as soft as a first kiss, and then at last he tore himself from Orion’s side, stepping inside the open door to Orion’s habsuite.
Orion twisted his hands before him as he watched that big, handsome frame come to a halt in the center of his living space. What if Megatronus hated it? What if he was miserable surrounded by all of Orion’s things, reminded of all that he as a miner and gladiator was not allowed to have? Would it smack too much of luxury in the same way that the fountain had?
Orion stepped into the room behind Megatronus, closing the door and cautiously joining him.
“All apartments have standard sizes here,” said Orion, aware that he was rambling: aware that his words were spilling out of him in incessant, annoying chatter. He was so nervous. It mattered so much to him that Megatronus be happy here - more than he’d ever guessed it would. “And they come with regulation furnishings as well. I was upgraded to a larger suite when I was apprenticed to Alpha Trion, to my great fortune. It’s a spacious apartment, comparatively speaking, but the standard furnishings are a bit… cold, I suppose.” He gestured to the aforementioned furniture: austere gray chairs that he had decorated with plush blue and gold cushions; a table he had placed a vase of crystal flowers upon; a window seat he had constructed himself, covered in red blankets and blue cushions, pressed against the large window that stared right into the late night cafe across the street.
“I had to purchase all the shelving, of course,” Orion continued when Megatronus remained silent: helm turning this way and that, taking everything in. In fairness, there was quite a lot to see. Orion realized with chagrin that his collection of datapads, old books, and artwork was quite out of hand. “I did my best to make the space feel cozy. It was a bit dark, so I purchased all the strands of lights about a century ago.” Megatronus’ quarters had always been dark, not the least due to their color. In comparison, Orion’s white and blue shelves were lit with cheerful strands of fairy lights, hung in a particular sort of disarray that was decidedly practiced and artistic rather than messy.
“Oh! Did you see my favorite part?” Orion gestured upward, and Megatronus tilted his helm back to look at the ceiling. “I painted a map of the cosmos there when I first moved in. I had to install all the lights that make up the stars. All of those constellations are exact, by the by. I’ve kept my works cited stored on a drive in case I happen to be moved in the future.”
Megatronus made a soft sound that might have been a chuckle. “Only you would have a works cited for the star chart you painted upon your own ceiling,” he said fondly.
Orion felt the faint pulse of a blush and fought against it, remembering their little game. “Yes, well. Berthroom is over there, with a workstation and washracks. There is the usual shower within, but I was lucky enough to obtain access to an oil bath with the upgraded suite. So there’s that as well.” He shifted on his pedes. Megatronus was uncharacteristically silent, still looking all around him: optics bright and sharp and searching out every last detail in Orion’s suite. “It’s rather different from what you’re used to, I know. I hope it will still be comfortable despite that. We have divergent decor styles, but - ”
Megatronus glanced at him, and Orion realized that he was smiling: that the soft, tender look he had given him just outside the door had only deepened. “I love it,” he murmured, laying a warm servo on Orion’s shoulder.
“Oh!” Orion brightened at once, beaming up at his mate. Relief swelled through him, his spark flaring again, damn him. He had never been particularly good at hiding what it was he felt; with Megatronus, any subterfuge at all was a hopeless cause. “Oh, I’m so pleased. I was worried. The colors and all the shelves and lights can feel a bit claustrophobic - ”
“To whom?” said Megatronus. His gaze was tracing the map of the cosmos on the ceiling again, something so adoring in his face that Orion’s spark skipped a pulse or two. “It is a flawless reflection of you: a shrine to knowledge and warmth and comfort. I could not have imagined this when I pictured where you lived, but now that I see it, I can hardly fathom the notion of you living anywhere else. It is, in every respect, perfectly Orion Pax.”
His optics moved once more to Orion’s face, a gentle smile upon his lips. Orion’s vents caught and tripped at the sight, the most acute happiness he had ever felt filling his every circuit and strut.
“I missed you,” Megatronus said quietly. He hesitated, working his jaw, digits flexing at his sides. “I - Orion, that month of silence… your absence... I have never been so tormented. I fought myself so savagely I thought I might tear my own spark in two. What was it you said in the garden - my damnable pride? - despised even the notion of yearning for you; it would have had me spurn you forever, demanding that I cast you as my enemy. But my spark - the deepest part of my soul - could not bear it. I thought I would go mad at times, tugged so violently in two directions.”
Orion listened, teary-opticed and burning with pain for his beloved; pain for himself, that Megatronus had been so near to rejecting him entirely. How could two such disparate emotions exist within the same frame, for the same person?
It stung to know how close he’d come to never getting another chance.
“I never wanted your suffering,” Orion said. “I longed for you, even through my silence. I woke every morning reaching for you in my berth, only to find you missing. I thought my spark would gutter out each time I touched that empty space.” He tilted his helm, the burning taste of acid at the back of his throat. “Mega. I could not and never did hate you - not for a moment, not even when I dreamed of that cannon upon your arm. I only wish you had felt the same.”
Megatronus flinched. “Well, between us, sweet one, you have always been the better mech,” he said. “My archivist, ever soft and kind and stubbornly good, despite all the forces in the world that try to tear the flame of hope from you.”
Orion trembled, lips parting, holding out his servos for his lover’s. “I need not be alone in that. You can share in that hope with me. Perhaps together we can build a new world in that very image.”
“That is all I have ever desired.” Megatronus caught Orion’s proffered hands and pulled him in close, tilting his beloved’s chin up to kiss him: pausing a breath away from his dermas to allow Orion to close that final distance. “Hold me to my purpose, Orion Pax, and I will be the steel to your will.”
Orion hesitated, optics locked on Megatronus’ mouth. That sounded both sweetly poetic and, knowing what he knew now, dangerous and worrisome. Orion’s will was strong enough on its own, without a gladiator’s brutal violence to hold it in check.
Not strong enough to resist temptation when it was so lovingly presented to him, however. He popped up on the tips of his pedes to close that final distance, pulling Megatronus’ helm down to him. The kiss was gentle, more tender than Orion remembered Megatronus being: a light brush of dermas over dermas, as if Megatronus feared Orion might shatter beneath his touch. He was cautious when he laid his hands on Orion’s hips, pulling Orion to him slowly.
Orion sank against him with a sigh, leaning upon his frame. A familiar sense of comfort and safety surrounded him. Being with Megatronus felt right. The union of their sparks felt like a promise: a promise that they were devoted to each other. That in the end, they would be alright. That they belonged, wholly and utterly, to one another.
Orion made a low, aching sound and deepened the kiss, an impatient growl escaping his intake.
“ Oh. ” Megatronus smirked against his mouth, pulling back with an arched optic ridge. “Is that how it is, my mate?”
Primus, that dark rasp had the most incredible effect on Orion’s frame. Scratch that: specifically on his array. He was all but attempting to climb Megatronus in seconds, scrambling to clutch at every handhold he could find in his beloved’s glorious armor.
Megatronus grinned and gripped Orion tightly against his frame. “Easy, Orion,” he laughed. “You do know how to make a mech feel wanted.”
“I am merely honest in my feelings, always,” Orion replied breathlessly, chasing after Megatronus’ dermas, desperate for another kiss. “Wait - ”
“Wait? And here I thought you were so eager to open for me,” Megatronus laughed. Orion’s vents made an undignified squeal, his faceplate burning with all the fire in his frame. “Ah, there it is. May I?”
Orion nodded eagerly, smiling as Megatronus carried him into the berthroom and laid him reverently in his berth. The gladiator paused for a moment, smiling up at the merrily twinkling lights Orion had hung all around. The berth was inset into the wall and surrounded by yet more bookshelves, making it a cave of sorts: turning his berth into a place for both reading and recharge.
It was also to be a place for interface now, though that would certainly be a first.
“Precious,” Megatronus murmured, more to himself than to Orion. Keen optics snapped back to him, studying him not with the ravenous desire Orion remembered, but with a deep fondness that was almost worshipful.
Orion held out his arms for Megatronus. “Mega, come to berth.”
“I will,” he replied softly. “I wish to admire you for a moment.”
Orion squirmed, an incessant heat crawling through his circuits. The intensity of Megatronus’ gaze was both disconcerting and wonderful: the fullness of his attention completely focused on Orion, indomitable and unwavering. “I have not changed so much since last you saw me.”
“Yet your absence has changed much in me.” Megatronus locked eyes with Orion, holding the archivist’s gaze. The depth of that blue was so profound Orion almost believed he could drown in it. A wave of pain flowed through to him over their bond: a vision of his lover pacing his quarters, lying on the couch where Orion once slept, playing the sound of his voice over and over again to fill the quiet. Orion’s spark throbbed, replying with the image of his servo reaching across his empty berth for a frame that wasn’t there; the sound of despair he made every time his HUD alerted him to yet another visit he was missing.
“I was in agony without you,” Orion said, vocals choked. His spark flickered behind his chest plates, so brightly it could be seen even through his armor. “Fearing I might never see you again… fearing I only understood how much I loved you when your own affections for me were forever revoked…”
Finally Megatronus ducked down into the berth. He loomed above Orion, servos coming to rest on either side of his shoulders while his legs caged Orion’s in: the intensity of his field smothering Orion’s own. “What I feel for you is not something that can be killed so easily,” he breathed, bending to kiss Orion’s intake. “You are part of me. Your essence sings in my very circuits. We belong to each other, now and forever, no matter the path laid out before us. I will tear apart the very fabric of the universe before I allow fate to split us asunder again.”
Orion started, a ripple of alarm sounding over his field - but Megatronus moved swiftly to kiss him, choking Orion’s fearful protests and driving the very notion of terror straight from his processor as an equally primal, yet far more pleasant sensation overtook him.
Orion had only just begun to open himself to his lover when he abruptly remembered something. “Oh!” he exclaimed, breaking the kiss with a startled noise. The gladiator arched both optic ridges, servo hovering over Orion’s thigh. “I just remembered! Someone requested your autograph.”
Megatronus paused. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Cast Orion a quizzical, amused look. “Orion. Was this request truly so critical that you believed it necessary to pause our interface for it?”
Ah. Right. That was actually quite a fair point. “It was… a memorable request,” he said, thinking ruefully of the painful day of their near-breakup. “One of the guards at the Hall of Records asked me for it the morning after our fight and sparkbond. I… don’t know why I thought of it just now, but there we are.”
Megatronus winced. “ Primus, Orion. Did you punch him?”
“Despite what past incidents might suggest, I didn’t feel the urge to do so,” Orion drawled. “I did only just manage to stop myself from crying.”
Any amusement in Megatronus’ field faded at the words. “My poor, darling archivist,” he said, vocals pained. “Come here, little one.”
Orion gladly gripped Megatronus around the intake, grateful to be cradled close to him: more grateful still when Megatronus bent to kiss him, soft and sweet and affectionate. Orion made a low sound of wanting when the gladiator lifted him aloft with one hand, holding him by the small of his back.
“I am not particularly inclined to fulfill such a request,” Megatronus murmured against Orion’s mouth. “Not when it was so cruelly presented.”
“It was an accident of poor timing,” Orion replied, chasing Megatronus’ dermas. “Come back here!”
Megatronus chuckled, playing keep-away with his own lips: dodging Orion’s attempts to kiss him again with a teasing smirk. “Regardless, you were hurt by his actions, and that I cannot abide. I have hurt you enough for a lifetime, I think. No one on this world or any other shall ever again be permitted to inflict pain upon you, beloved.”
“You are ridiculous,” Orion shot back, finally capturing his helm. “You know very well how much more you have suffered than I. If anyone deserves that protection, Mega, it is you.”
“How fortunate, then, that I am soon to be naught but a pampered husband to a darling little archivist,” Megatronus replied, grinning.
“ Pampered, you think?” Orion pursed his lips, shaking his helm. “I am afraid I must crush all such dreams of respite, my love. I fully intend to put you to work.” Despite the somberness of his tone, Orion smiled, optics twinkling with good humor. “ Someone has to help me retrieve records from the tall shelves.”
“Oh, the horror ,” Megatronus drawled. “The cruelty! Have you no mercy, Archivist Pax? However shall my poor servos recover under such grueling conditions?”
“I am indeed a cruel husband, I know,” Orion said, endeavoring to wear his gravest expression. “Little did you know the monster you married when you claimed me.”
“You are truly a terror, Orion,” said Megatronus, shaking his helm. “Worse than any guild leader in the Pits! A nightmare.” He bent and claimed Orion’s mouth again, pulling the archivist up against his frame. “I suppose you’ll want me to satisfy you, too,” he breathed, teasing Orion’s audial with a wet kiss. “Stretch this precious little valve of yours to its very limits with my spike… fill your belly with my transfluid til your plating bows outward. Give you overloads until your vocalizer is in ruins and your frame too weary to continue…”
“ Hh - ” Orion choked, gripping tightly to Megatronus’ back. “Yes please, I would very much like that - ”
Megatronus laughed, nipping Orion’s jaw. “Have I told you recently how adorable you are?”
“Recently? No,” Orion sighed, humming with delight as Megatronus carefully parted his thighs. “I could stand to hear a few more compliments.”
“Compliments? Orion, I could worship you for hours,” he said. “Physically and verbally. Preferably at the same time.”
“ Preferably, ” Orion agreed as his fans kicked up a level. “ Very extremely preferably -! ”
Megatronus smiled and bent to kiss him. His dermas were mere millimeters away when he paused, hand hovering over Orion’s panel. “Do you know, beloved… I’ve just realized we’ve forgotten something.”
Orion stiffened, worry pressing into his field. “What?” he asked. “What did we forget?”
Megatronus met his gaze, blue eyes aglow with a fearsome light. His field rippled with anticipation, eager and sly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn this fragging, my mate,” he purred. “There is a little secret of yours that I must see before I allow you to take my spike.”
Orion blinked, desperately aroused and deeply confused. “I don’t… what do you mean - ?”
Megatronus chuckled, kissing Orion’s audial. “You mentioned a secret collection of lacy little garments,” he said. “I want to see them.”
“ Oh. ” Orion felt another damnable blush burning through his cheeks, wincing as Megatronus laughed at the sensation. “But Mega, I want - ”
“Good things come to those who wait,” Megatronus said firmly. He sat back on his heels, gesturing. “Go on, my mate. Show me this sordid little collection of yours.”
Oh, Primus. Orion squirmed, burning with heat, as he obediently climbed out of berth and made his way to a bookshelf. He counted the thick datapads therein, tapping one wrapped in a red cover. It echoed with a hollow noise before he removed it, flipping it open to reveal that it was, in fact, a box.
Orion, warmer than ever, turned back to berth and brought the box to Megatronus, uncertain whether he overheating from arousal or dying of humiliation. “H-here,” he said quietly, handing the box off. “It - I swear it isn’t as large as you think - ”
“Words I often find myself having to say,” Megatronus murmured. Orion’s cheeks burned as he laughed, shaking his helm as Megatronus carefully removed the first of Orion’s garments: a translucent black robe that draped over a lacy black bodysuit cut out at the sides. “Well, so far, my archivist, you do not disappoint,” he purred, running delicate digits over the material. “Primus, to see you in this…”
He paused. Looked at Orion and caught his gaze, holding it. Lifted the garment to his olfactory - and breathed in.
Orion’s fans kicked up three notches, screaming in arousal as Megatronus paused to lick the fabric, as if Orion’s own panel lay beneath it already. Orion shivered and pressed his thighs together, aching for stimulation. “Mega, please - !”
“In a moment, sweetest.” He laid the black set out upon the berth and withdrew a second bodysuit: this one with a deep V at its center and the barest semblance of ribbons at the sides that tied over Orion’s hips. It was flaming red, and while it barely showed against Orion’s red plating, it glowed like laserlight against his panel. “ Mm. Also very good,” Megatronus said, examining it as a jeweler might study a precious gemstone. “Do you have a favorite, my mate?”
Orion trembled, hardly daring to believe Megatronus was indulging him like this. “I do,” he said quietly. “It’s - ” He paused. Reached out his hand for the box. “Why don’t I show it to you?”
Megatronus’ engine revved, hard enough to shake the floor. “Will you try them on for me?”
“Just the one for now.” Orion retrieved the box and held it close to his spark, watching his mate’s eager gaze. “But it should be a surprise. I’m given to understand it’s far less enjoyable to watch them go on than it is to take them off.”
Megatronus made a low, aching sound, a predatory grin upon his mouth. “Far be it for me to question your wisdom in this regard,” he said, offering Orion a teasing bow. “Would you, perchance, wish me to exit the room - or would you prefer to blindfold me?” The son of a glitch had the gall to look up and wink at him, which was perhaps the most charming thing he’d ever done. “I’d offer to let you bind my wrists as well, but I’m afraid I might damage your very expensive wall in an attempt to get my hands on you.”
Primus, the entire concept of a bound Megatronus made Orion shudder with desire. He could see it as if it was actually happening: Megatronus chasing blindly after Orion’s lips, jerking against his bonds in a desperate attempt to hold Orion close. To make him go faster, or slow down. Orion swallowed hard, grateful for the ability to manually override his panel’s attempt to open. “Perhaps an oil bath might suit you while you wait?”
Megatronus brightened. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, my mate?” he said. “Yes, actually, that sounds like perfection.” He rose and approached, tilting Orion’s chin up. “I will see you very, very soon,” he murmured. “Do try not to keep me waiting too long.”
Orion smiled and popped up on his pedes, kissing Megatronus deeply before tearing himself away and shoving the gladiator towards the washracks door.
Orion dug within the little box until he found what he was looking for: a sheer bodysuit of pale gold lacemesh. It was a tiny garment that skimmed across his torso, shimmering against his bright armor in delicate golden lines. Atop his paint, they almost looked like thin, fine cracks of light - like his spark exposed through every part of him. The center of the garment was cut out to perfectly expose his middle, resting upon his shoulders and clinging to his sides, his little waist, barely kissing his hips.
There were little metal garters to match, making him look more akin to a pleasure mech than an archivist. The material was made from a substance similar to that which some Insecticons were known to produce, thin and flexible but unbelievably strong. Gold alloy had been mixed with the strands before creating the garment, and then it had been woven into an elaborate pattern of gossamer blossoms so dainty they would be hard to spot at a distance.
Orion shivered and shimmied into the tiny suit, pausing to look at himself in the mirror.
It had always revved his engines to see himself like this: turned instantly from somber archivist to a tantalizing tease. The gold mesh clung to him, putting pressure upon his intake where it formed a choker-like image against his plating. He paused, wondering if he should open his panels yet or if he should wait. No, he should wait. He should allow Megatronus the honor of commanding him to open.
It absolutely wasn’t that he wanted to hear Megatronus say it in that dark, hoarse voice. No. Certainly not that.
Shivering with excitement, he turned and strode back to the washracks, opening the door and peeking inside.
His spark sang at the sight that awaited him. Megatronus was almost fully immersed in the tub, looking so blissfully content that Orion could have wept with happiness. His optics were closed, helm lolling back on the edge of the tub as hot oil washed over him, leaving him slick and gleaming. Orion felt through their bond how the heat washed away the aches and pains of battle: how fully the oil eased every complaining injury in the gladiator’s frame.
Orion wondered if Megatronus had ever had a moment to relax like this without fear, without needing to rush, without needing to do anything at all.
“Do you intend to stand there gawking all night, Orion Pax, or are you going to join me?” Megatronus rumbled.
Of course he had sensed Orion there in the door. Of course he had. “You do make quite a lovely tableau there, with the lights dimmed and oil all over your glorious frame,” Orion replied, smiling. “Are you ready?”
“Would I have asked if I was not?” Megatronus turned his helm in Orion’s direction, opening his optics: dim and hazy with pleasure. “Come here , little one. You have something to show me, I believe.” Orion blushed, earning a laugh from his mate. “Would it be easier if I closed my eyes?”
“... yes,” Orion admitted. “I am not used to performing for a partner. I would not wish to ruin the image with an awkward walk.”
Megatronus chuckled. “I have no doubt you will look as glorious in motion as you will when standing still,” he said. “But I would prefer that you were comfortable.” He folded his arms on the edge of the tub and rested his chin atop his hands, closing his optics and waiting.
Cautiously, Orion stepped out from behind the door, shivering as the thin mesh pressed against his sensitive panel. Each step reminded him that the fabric was there, teasing him: rubbing like the gentlest press of digits against his plating.
He made his way across the room, carefully perching on the tub’s edge, trying to arrange himself in the semblance of a seductive pose before finally giving up and simply parting his legs, leaning back against the tile ledge where he kept scented oils and other fripperies for bathing.
“You can open them now,” he said, hating how his vocals shook.
Megatronus opened his eyes, turning eagerly to Orion - and suddenly went completely still, back strut stiffening, engines revving furiously in his chassis as his eyes traced the lines of golden lace hugging Orion’s body.
“ Oh, ” Megatronus rasped, optics wide and bright and stunned.
Silence hung in the air between them for a long, long time. Orion felt hot all over, embarrassment flooding his circuits. He drew his thighs together nervously, pressing the back of his servo to his mouth. “I shouldn’t - it was stupid, I should remove it - ”
“ No!” The shout was so vicious that Orion actually jumped. When he looked up, Megatronus was still staring, devouring him with his gaze. “ Don’t you dare, ” Megatronus growled. “Don’t - you are - Primus, I can’t - !”
Orion had never seen Megatronus so thoroughly flustered in the entirety of their relationship. Oh. Oh! He likes this. He is simply too aroused to say so properly. Orion beamed, pleased and proud. I’m glad. This could have been very uncomfortable otherwise.
Smiling, Orion cautiously spread his legs wider… and snapped his panel back.
Megatronus made a desperate, ravenous sound as his gaze caught upon the beading dampness of Orion’s valve, his pulsing node entrapped by soft gold lace. In the space of a vent he was halfway across the bath, hands closing tight over Orion’s thighs and spreading them wider. He lowered his helm and breathed in, just inhaling the scent of Orion’s fluids at first; then, without warning, he dipped even further down and pressed a slow, reverent lick to Orion’s node through the teasing press of gold lace.
“O- oh, ” Orion gasped, spinal strut arching. “Megatron-!”
He choked on his mate’s designation as Megatronus laid his palm over Orion’s spike housing, teasing it through the lace. “Spike, too,” he ordered, pausing to menace Orion with a severe glare. “I will have all of you, my archivist. Every inch of you shall be marked as mine this night.”
Panting, Orion obeyed, opening his spike housing and allowing it to release. It swelled to its full girth and proudly jutted upward, straining the golden mesh around his abdominal plates and between his legs as it pressurized. Orion had initially had his spike painted in flirty colors, anticipating far more use with it: blue and silver with a series of red arrows trailing from the tip to the base. Blue biolights gleamed wherever sensors were housed within his spike, twinkling like little stars in a navy sky. Trapped in fine gold lace, it looked enticing even to Orion’s eyes.
Megatronus must have agreed. His vents tripped when he saw it, an excited little glint in his eyes as it stiffened before his eager gaze. “Primus,” he managed. “You are glorious .” He closed his palm over the throbbing spike, rubbing firmly but sweetly against it. Oh, by the Pit, that felt good. Orion’s thighs quivered as he let his optics shutter, enjoying the slow, tender tease of Megatronus’ servo.
Megatronus was watching him intently. Orion could feel the gladiator’s gaze crawling over his plating, devouring every sign of his arousal. When he began to jerk his hips, whimpering for more, Megatronus made a satisfied sound and ghosted his vents over Orion’s valve.
“Hmm. Where to taste you first?” he murmured.
Orion’s spinal strut arched, a ragged moan tearing itself from his vocalizer at the hot whisper of those words. “Valve,” he ordered. “Mega, please, my - my node - your glossa - I need - ! ”
Megatronus chuckled quietly - and closed his digits as much as he could around Orion’s length, touches rougher and stronger now. Orion arched against the touch, crying out as Megatronus stroked every inch of his shaft, lighting up every node cluster with each stroke.
Orion jolted, gasping, a tiny spurt of transfluid squeezing from the tip and dampening his belly, Megatronus’ hand. “ Primus, ” he whispered, panting as Megatronus squeezed again, stroking him slowly. “Mega wait, I want - ”
Megatronus purred against his valve, closed his mouth over Orion’s node, and sucked.
Orion wrenched beneath Megatronus’ mouth, a static howl of ecstasy torn from his throat. Oh no, oh no, the deep wetness of his lover’s mouth, the slow drag of his glossa, was too good, too perfect, too much. Orion sobbed, manually slapping down the overload protocols demanding the rights to proceed, his entire frame flickering with charge. Bolts of white light licked his entire frame as Megatronus peeked up at him with a smug little expression. “Mega please - ! ” Orion begged, helpless under his hands, his tongue. “I want - I want you inside me, I can’t, not yet, not so quickly, please -! ”
Megatronus snarled and pulled away with a slick pop of dermas releasing. When Orion looked at him, Megatronus’ optics were locked on the straining, damp mesh around his spike, shining digits still gripping the aching shaft. “I intended to tease you,” he rasped. “I intended to make you wait. But I can’t - I can’t , I need you - ”
Orion made a pleading little noise, tilting his hips up and pushing the thin gold strands of lace aside, exposing his valve completely. It was an impossibly lewd gesture, and if he’d been more clear-minded he would have been embarrassed that he’d had the impulse at all. “Please…”
Orion barely had a moment to vent before Megatronus had hold of him, seizing him about the waist and turning him around. He bent Orion over the large tile ledge that stretched to fill the space between the tub and wall, raising his aft in the same fashion as Orion had when he’d self-serviced on his hands knees over the thought of Megatronus. Orion wondered dizzily why the notion of being fragged here in the bath had never occurred to him as Megatronus pinned him down, cold tile meeting his belly and putting pressure on his spike.
A shudder that was not entirely due to the cool surface ran through his spinal struts as Megatronus took hold of him by the throat. His digits were both firm and loving, squeezing slightly against Orion’s intake cabling and cutting off the air he’d been drawing in to cool down his systems, sending his processor spinning wildly.
“M-mega-!” he gasped, barely able to spit out the designation. “My mate -!”
“Shh,” Megatronus whispered, teasing his audial with teeth and tongue. “Hush, my sweet one. Let me mate you properly this time.”
Orion shivered again, harder, as Megatronus teased the now-soaked lacemesh aside, rubbing the tips of two fingers against Orion’s valve. “Please - !”
“You are so lovely, my spark,” Megatronus breathed. He pressed fervent, worshipful kisses to Orion’s helm, the soft whir of his spike housing transforming aside brushing Orion’s audials as sweetly as his lover’s lips. “I always loved the image of you writhing beneath me, begging to hilt me to your very core.” He kissed Orion’s cheek and murmured, “You are not the only one of us to spill fluids over fevered imaginings of our union, you know.”
A moan tore itself from Orion’s throat. Primus, what had that looked like? He imagined Megatronus with one hand splayed against the wall, the other squeezing his glorious spike: thighs shaking as he hissed Orion’s name between tightly clenched teeth…
“I liked to bury my olfactory in the blankets you used after your visits,” he said. His voice was dark and slow and throaty, like a knife dragged over stone, full of wicked intent. “I could still smell you on them, long after you were gone… by the Primes, Orion, if you knew how desperate I was to know the scent of this pretty valve! I imagined, sometimes, that I caught hints of your enchanting essence there upon that couch. I would lie there for hours imagining you beneath me: choking upon my designation as I drove you over the edge again… and again… and again… ”
Orion jolted as Megatronus’ fingers finally breached his entrance, spreading his calipers open with slow, teasing, intense pressure. Orion’s frame trembled wildly as Megatronus slipped deeper, curling his digits to set fire to hidden nodes within the lining of Orion’s mesh. He was lubricating in the space of a breath, feeling liquid dribble down his thighs as Megatronus moved with deliberate slowness to pull out of him. “O-oh Mega I can’t - I can’t last like this, please -!”
“I do not wish for you to last, ” Megatronus growled. “I want to see you helpless and sobbing my designation as I fill you with my very essence. I want every last mech in this tower to know who you belong to.” With every word his thrusts grew rougher, jerking Orion’s smaller frame across the tiles. Orion scrambled for a handhold, hiccuping cries torn from his vocalizer as a powerful wave of charge began to build: calipers clenching and releasing around the digits buried within him, driving him towards his undoing.
“Go on,” Megatronus crooned, grinning against Orion’s cheek. “I can feel it just there, right on the edge of your circuits: how your lovely little spinal struts keep tightening, the way your belly clenches in anticipation of your release. Give in, Orion. Overload. ”
The word was whispered right against his audial, so sharp and direct that Orion’s frame startled and bent to his command at once. Orion’s helm canted back, his hips bucking into the rhythm of his thrusts, frame taut and arching with the overload that threatened to erupt in him -
And then there it was: light and lightning and the scent of ozone, an explosion of sensation that started in his core and burst all over him in waves of release. His overload was driven onward by thrusting digits that granted no quarter, tearing a shout of ecstasy from Orion’s vocalizer as he rode out the tidal wave of charge erupting all over his frame.
He collapsed against the tile when it was over, fans working overtime. Hot gusts of air expelled from his vents, creating slick condensation atop the ledge on which he laid. He scratched at it weakly, processor spinning as he attempted to recover.
He was only just coming down when his belly tightened and his valve clenched around a far, far thicker intrusion. An insensate moan tore itself from his vocalizer as Megatronus pressed fully inside him, spike easing his calipers wider and wider as it pressed into his thoroughly slicked depths. “Good,” he rasped, rocking forward slowly; back out again; in. “Good, my mate. You will tell me if you are in any pain, do you understand?”
“ Uh… huhh… ” Orion’s jaw hung slack as his calipers eased just that little bit more, another thick ridge sliding inside him: brushing against a sensor cluster that sparked with sensation as his spike rubbed against it. “O-oh that feels good - ”
“This?” Megatronus paused and teased backward and forward: gentle and slow, taking his time. “Right there?”
“Yes, yes, right - there - oh -!” Orion clawed at the tile beneath him, pressing his faceplate to the cool ceramic. He was wild and feral and begging for it, arching his back, aft high. “Primus, please, harder! ”
“Such a greedy little thing,” Megatronus purred. The reproach in his voice was merely teasing as he pushed deeper inside Orion’s heat. “Such an eager mate! I might almost mistake you for going through your heat cycle.”
Orion groaned. Oh, what would that be like - to experience heat with Megatronus? Orion had never had a heat cycle before - in fact he’d convinced himself it was impossible for him to have one - but through his bond with Megatronus, he saw that heat was now almost inevitable. The sparkbonding process initiated heat/rut protocols to induce the creation of sparklings between mated pairs. This was soon to be just another regular occurrence: a week of fearsome, endless fragging, curled in berth with his mate and flooded with his essence.
He imagined himself bent in half just like this, wild with lust: burning with a heat that could not be sated, driving Megatronus to fill him again and again with his transfluid. He imagined his belly swollen and heavy, a tiny bulge where a larger one might grow; imagined Megatronus purring over his frame, worshipping him, kissing the place where their hatchlings would lay. He moaned sharply, louder, and bucked his hips, reaching back for his lover’s thigh and tugging him forward, urging him on. “Please - ”
“Oh, Orion,” Megatronus breathed. He had felt that little fantasy over their bond, and it sent a sharp spike of desire deep through his core. Orion saw a vision of himself spread open, gasping and pleading; a beatific little smile upon his face as Megatronus cemented their union again and again, reverently whispering to the little lives they two would create together… “Would you like that, my sweet one? To let me breed you?”
Orion’s moan was embarrassed but fervent, sharp with longing. “O-oh please that ridge I want - ”
“You would be so lovely, round with my sparklings.” Megatronus’ vocals had gone hoarse and throaty, wildly aroused. He bent over Orion’s frame completely, reaching down with his free hand to stroke Orion’s spike through the fabric of his bodysuit. Orion wrenched beneath him, fluid gathering upon the head of his spike as Megatronus stroked it in time with his own thrusts. “You are pulsing in my palm,” Megatronus said, grinning fiercely against Orion’s back. “This little fantasy revs you up, does it? Such a filthy thing. I longed to imagine you, debauched and wanting, begging for my spike - but I thought it only a fantasy. You are more glorious than I ever could have guessed.”
Orion was going to overload again soon. He was helpless to fight it, helpless to prevent it. A thick spurt of transfluid bubbled from the tip of his spike as he cried out, feeling it twitch against his belly. “O-oh I’m going to - oh it’s coming I’m - !”
And then Megatronus did the most monstrous thing imaginable.
He stopped.
“W-wait - !” Orion squirmed, frantic, trying to spear himself on the gladiator’s spike. Megatronus growled and pressed him down with one servo, preventing him from moving. “Wait, I was so close, why -?”
“I wish to torment you as thoroughly as the very thought of you has tormented me,” Megatronus whispered hotly. “I wish to watch you overload more fiercely than you ever have in the entirety of your functioning. I will drag this out as long as I must before I permit you to give in to ecstasy again. You will fall with me or not at all, my mate.”
Orion sobbed, aroused beyond belief. His spike twitched as his calipers squeezed, struggling to build his charge back to where it had been; but Megatronus did not move an inch. He was as still as stone, immovable and patient, waiting until Orion had come down from that peak.
And then he thrust in again, hard, and Orion howled, begging senselessly for more.
“ Please please mate me I want it I want you Primus please - ! ” He barely recognized his own voice as it cracked and bleated static around the words. He let his helm drop, screaming Megatronus’ name, shaking all over as charge built at an unfathomable pace within him…
And Megatronus stopped again.
“Mega!” Orion’s shattered cry broke over the washracks, sharp and keening. He felt his mate shudder with pleasure at the sound. “ Mega, I need it, please - ! ”
“Please… what, little archivist?” he purred, biting at Orion’s intake cabling. Orion whimpered and tried to move his hips, but Megatronus held him fast again, even lifting his abdomen from the ledge so his spike couldn’t be stimulated. “What is it you need?”
“You!” Orion shouted. “Please, Megatronus, spike me, I need it, I need it -! ”
He wriggled desperately in his lover’s grip, listening to Megatronus’ vents catch as sensation lit in bright sparks all over his spike - sensation Orion could feel through their bond. Realization flooded him - that he could have this, if he could only tip Megatronus over first...
“Don’t you dare, ” Megatronus growled, but there was a ripple of lust in that tone, desire to watch Orion try.
Emitting a savage little snarl, Orion twisted in Megatronus’ grip until he was on his back, gripping the gladiator’s waist tight with his thighs. There was a small tussle as Megatronus hissed and pinned Orion down again - only for Orion to arch his back and squeeze, snapping his calipers as tight as they would go around the thick spike inside of him.
Megatronus’ claws pierced the tile beside Orion’s helm as his vents roared in an attempt to cool him. His optics flared with light, bright and sharp with pleasure as he gave a shout and drove himself home. Orion gasped, helm lolling back, and clung to him, sobbing his name, gratified when Megatronus replied in kind. He buried his faceplate against Orion’s intake as he thrust again and again and again into Orion’s slick heat. Orion shuddered and closed his optics, listening as Megatronus gasped out endearments, as he babbled senseless sweetness directly into Orion’s audial. My love, my treasure, don’t ever leave my side again; my Orion, my forever, I will die before I lose you. You are mine. My consort. My mate. No one else can have you. You are mine. You are mine - !
They spilled into overload together, their sparkbond feeding the sensation of their joining back and forth in an endless loop: so intense it felt like the overload went on for eternity. Orion heard the faint echo of someone shouting in his audials, and oh, was that his voice? Primus, it was. He was howling with pleasure, utterly insensate, lost to sensation and their coupling and their bond -
And then finally it ended, both of their frames shutting down in one go.
Orion awoke scrubbed clean and tucked cozily into berth. His naughty little outfit had been washed and hung to dry between the washracks and the berthroom, and outside he heard the murmur of voices: the calm inflection of Megatronus’ low tones and Hatch’s higher-pitched, nervous ones.
Orion jolted out of berth, studying his frame to make sure he was decent before throwing the door open and striding out into the living space… where he was greeted by the peculiar sight of Hatch shifting uncomfortably in a chair while Megatronus lounged in Orion’s book nook, looking for all the world like a Prime upon his throne.
“Ah, you see? There he is,” Megatronus said, smiling at Orion. He patted the bench beside him, inviting Orion to join him. “No worse for wear, I trust?”
Orion blushed, going to Megatronus all the same: climbing up onto the bench beside him and snuggling under his arm as Hatch awkwardly reset his vocalizer. “Is there some sort of trouble, Hatch?” Orion asked.
Hatch coughed, looking away. “Er… noise complaint, sir,” he said, steadfastly avoiding Orion’s eyes. “Neighbors called it in. Might I suggest some soundproofing protocols? I know they’re a bit expensive to install, but if this continues to be a… er… thing… ”
Orion’s frame flamed, an alarmed honk sounding from inside his chassis. He had never wanted so badly to sink into the floor and disappear. “Oh. Oh! I… um… oh.” He pressed both hands to his dermas, glancing askance at Megatronus. “I… am so sorry, Hatch, I never meant - I didn’t think - ”
“There was hardly much in the way of thinking and conscience intention occurring at the time,” Megatronus drawled. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you, my archivist?” He tweaked one of Orion’s finials with a digit, a fond little gesture that Orion threw off with an irritable flick.
Megatronus, of course, was unbothered. His field burned with arrogance, a smug grin on his dermas. He looked rather like a cat triumphantly presenting its prey to its master: proud of the results he had earned no matter the cost to his catch.
Orion smacked him lightly on the chest in reprimand, a loud metallic ring resounding in the chamber. “We’ll endeavor to be more careful next time,” he said, casting Megatronus a sulking look. The gladiator merely preened. Let Primus himself know you belong to me. I care not who hears our coupling; let the whole of Iacon listen if they wish! They should all envy me the beauty in my berth.
Orion gestured sharply, and Megatronus sighed, rolling his optics heavenward. “Do offer my apologies to the offended parties,” he grumbled. He grinned slyly and added, “And assure them I’ll remember to gag him next time.”
Orion groaned and smacked Megatronus’ chest again. “ Quit it ,” he ordered, attempting to look serious; but, quite against his will, a laugh bubbled out of him, both from the absolute absurdity of the situation and from embarrassment. Once he’d started he found he couldn’t stop: giggling uncontrollably and tumbling into Megatronus’ lap in a heap of merriment, giddy and humiliated all at once.
When he finally calmed down, Hatch actually seemed relieved, having laughed himself at the situation. “Listen, Archivist Pax - ”
Orion frowned, waving a hand. “Orion is fine. Really. Titles are hardly necessary here, especially… er… given the situation.”
Hatch laughed again, quieter this time. “Alright. Orion, then,” he said. “It’s honestly not cause for much concern. These particular neighbors complain all the time about everything. They’re just… not used to you being a problem. Frankly, they’re usually the ones causing a disturbance, and you’ve never once complained.”
“Ah. These would be the downstairs neighbors, then,” Orion said dryly, thinking of the many raucous parties the personal clerks of the city council who lived below him held. “Well, I trust you’ll forgive me for immediately feeling far less apologetic on the matter.”
Hatch chuckled, grinning broadly. “Oh, yeah. Absolutely, Arch- er. Orion, sir.”
Orion smiled reassuringly at him and patted Megatronus’ leg, sitting up. “Well, as long as you’re here… can I get you anything? A cube, perhaps?”
Hatch’s optics went wide with shock. “I… er… is that allowed? ”
Orion cast him a sympathetic glance. “It is in this apartment,” he said. He ducked out from under Megatronus’ arm, pausing to kiss the gladiator’s helm. Megatronus made a low, pleased noise and pressed into the touch. “Cube, my love?”
“Please.” Megatronus caught his digits and kissed them before releasing Orion, gaze following after him as he made his way to the small dispenser located in a walled-off chamber just off the living space.
“He… he brings you energon? ” Hatch said in awe. Orion frowned and glanced over his shoulder, but realized at once that Hatch wasn’t speaking to him.
Megatronus’ voice was a rumble in the distance, lowered conspiratorially. “Orion is rather a different breed than any of his kindred. He does not see caste nor function when he looks at me, or when he looks at you, for that matter. He sees only another mech, sentient and valuable in his own right, with his own thoughts and goals and capabilities entirely independent of the caste he was born into.” There was a brief pause, and then, even quieter: “I would ask that you consider what I’ve told you, Hatch. There is a future to be had for mechs like you and I.”
“I… I want to believe that,” Hatch said hesitantly. “But - Megatronus, sir - Orion is only one mech among billions. Do you believe there are others like him in the higher castes?”
“Orion is unique among his peers,” Megatronus said, deep affection in the throaty notes of his voice. “There is no one like him anywhere. That said, I doubt he would deign to socialize with any mech above or within his own caste who did not share his opinions regarding our sentience and capability. And, more importantly: there are far more low-caste Cybertronians than there are high-caste. In sheer numbers alone, we overwhelm them - and therein lies the crux of our triumph.”
Orion felt a chill run through his lines. Megatronus was speaking of a violent uprising: a bloody revolution that would destroy the lives of millions. His servos trembled as he clutched the full cubes close, emerging from the chamber with a thunderous frown upon his face.
Megatronus looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you, my archivist,” he said, holding out his servo for the cube.
Orion set it in his palm, staring levelly at him. “There are non-violent methods to win the battle against the caste system,” he said quietly. “Energon need not be spilled to achieve your goals.”
Megatronus arched an optic ridge, tilting his helm and meeting Orion’s gaze head-on. “I did not suggest that such was necessary,” he said. “Though history has proven that conflicts such as these are seldom resolved without some violence. Those who are comfortable in life seldom wish to share the privilege they were born into, least of all when they are politely asked to do so. Sometimes a knock at the door is not enough to be granted entry.”
“And sometimes it is,” Orion fired back. “You will not know until you exhaust every peaceful solution - until you knock on every door, if that metaphor is to carry.”
Megatronus’ optics were bright and narrow, searching Orion’s face; but finally he relaxed and gestured, holding out his hand. “And naturally all such avenues will be explored, my Orion,” he said. “It was not my intent to suggest otherwise.”
Orion glanced at Megatronus’ outstretched hand, remembering the violent slaughter he had seen in Megatronus’ spark: remembering the bright light of a cannon pointed straight at him, the image of Megatronus as a proud Prime with Orion at his side…
Megatronus’ field pulsed worry and anxiety, something wounded in his expression. “Orion?”
Orion let out a long, slow vent and turned, carefully setting the second cube down before Hatch. “In answer to your question, Hatch, I have many friends who do not see lower-caste mechs as drone-like creatures - who, indeed, believe all mechs are capable of determining their own fate.” Orion turned back to Megatronus and climbed up onto the bench beside him, curling against his side and basking in the wave of relief that washed over him from within: Megatronus’ relief. He set his cube aside and clung, nuzzling his faceplate against Orion’s helm affectionately. See? We’re alright. This is alright, my mate. We can understand one another. We can come together on this matter, given time.
Orion snuggled closer, holding tight to Megatronus’ waist. I truly hope so, beloved.
“Well that’s… that’s good to hear, sir. Er. Orion,” Hatch said, somewhat awkwardly. “I suppose it’s an odd thing to wonder about, given all the years we’ve known one another. Just, it’s always been in a professional capacity, although you’ve always been very kind.” Hatch brought the cube up to his dermas, swallowing hungrily. Orion wondered if his rations had been cut for some reason - and why anyone would choose to punish him that way when he was always so diligent about his work. “And I know my status is quite different from yours, Megatronus, as I’m living here and need only sit on my aft all day watching doors, but…”
Megatronus waved the protest away with a gesture. “Service workers are barely a rung or two above my caste,” he said. “I do not imagine your life affords you much in the way of happiness.”
“Heh. Not really.” Hatch stared into his cube forlornly, downing the remainder a moment later. He was starving, Orion realized. How was that possible here in Iacon? “The slightest thing goes wrong in the building, and it’s me and the other doormans’ faults. Do you know they cut our rations three times over this month because someone in the building is stealing things? I’ve been working extra hours to try and make up the difference, earn a bit extra on the side, but…”
Orion stood, choking on something painful and hard, and gently took the cube from Hatch’s hand, ducking back to his dispenser to fill it up again. “Here,” he said, pressing the cube back into Hatch’s servos.
Hatch stared at the second full cube, then at Orion. “Are… are you sure…?”
“I don’t have an allotment like you do,” Orion said firmly. “And I am entertaining guests. It is expected that I will use a higher-than-normal quantity of energon.”
Hatch’s field echoed with the most profound gratitude Orion had ever felt. He tipped the cube back and devoured it hungrily, swallowing every drop with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you, Orion. You really are something special, aren’t you?”
“Hardly,” Orion said, waving the praise away. “I’m just a clerk. What little I can do to help, I happily and humbly offer. Do you require more?”
“No, that about fills my tanks. Thank you.” Hatch reached out and squeezed Orion’s arm gratefully, smiling up at him. “You have no idea how badly I needed that.”
“You visit me the next time they do this to you,” Orion ordered, frowning. “I won’t have you or anyone else starving on the streets of Iacon if I can help it.”
He took the empty cube and brought it to a sink in the corner, rinsing it carefully and preparing to scrub it. He thought he heard Megatronus and Hatch speaking again, but it was hard to catch the words over the hum of disinfecting agent and solvent.
When he turned the stream off, Hatch was saying, “ - lucky son of glitch.”
“How well I know it,” Megatronus replied. “When at last matters are settled and a new world order set in place, I have every intention of showering him in all manner of luxuries.”
Orion paused, smiling to himself. I do not need luxuries, my Champion. I need only two things: my conjunx and my books.
“I’d best get a move on,” Hatch said, gesturing towards the door as Orion returned to the living quarters. “I left my backup downstairs, but she’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to. Thank you for the cubes, Orion, and for the conversation, Megatronus.” He paused, winking at Orion. “And don’t forget about soundproofing, yeah?”
Orion was sure his faceplates would melt off if they burned any hotter. “Ah. Right. We’ll… we’ll look into that.”
“Good mech.” Hatch clapped him on the shoulder, waved, and then exited the habsuite, disappearing into the hall and allowing the door to close behind him.
Orion turned back to Megatronus with a soft little smile, pausing to admire his mate. Megatronus preened beneath his stare, a prideful glint in his eyes as Orion looked him over appreciatively. “Well, my mate,” the gladiator purred, “Shall we annoy your downstairs neighbors yet another time?”
Orion laughed, shaking his helm and coming to curl up against Megatronus’ side. “I thought you might like to see the city,” he said. “Given that you have never been to Iacon before - or anywhere outside of Kaon.”
“Hmm. Is it as interesting as you are in that little gold lace outfit?” Megatronus asked.
Orion flicked Megatronus’ vents, lightly teasing and reprimanding him all at once. “You have two and a half days now until your match,” he said. “We ought to make the best of them, don’t you think?”
“I think fragging you into a wailing, unconscious mess sounds very much like making the best of said two and a half days,” Megatronus replied; but he was relenting, glancing out the large window towards the cafe across the street. “Where were you thinking of taking me?”
“There is an oilhouse nearby I am quite fond of, and a sweet shop I like next door to it.”
Megatronus chuckled, squeezing Orion’s shoulder. “Are you asking to take me on a proper date, my archivist?” he said. “Drinks and candies and a bouquet of flowers, perhaps?”
Orion imagined the perplexed look Megatronus would no doubt wear if Orion bought flowers for him and smiled. Perhaps one day, when the gladiator was not so intent on appearing monstrous and hard. Perhaps he would even try it tonight, while they wandered the streets of Iacon together. “I would like nothing more than to take you on a date,” Orion said. It struck him only after he’d said it how serious he sounded: somber and grave and terribly earnest, like the words held some secret gravitas he hadn’t intended. “An intentional date, that is. I suppose, in technicality, I’ve already done so many times.”
Megatronus rolled his optics, a slight tremor of tension dancing over his field. “Yes, intention would indeed be preferable,” he drawled. “On that subject… am I to anticipate clarifying the meaning of your every word and action in the future, Orion Pax? And shall I be required to clarify own intentions, lest you misunderstand?”
Orion pursed his lips, casting Megatronus a disapproving look. “If you are uncertain of my motive, then yes - I wish you would.” He sighed, burrowing closer to Megatronus’ side. “I will never live this particular incident down, will I?”
“You most certainly will not.” Megatronus bent and pressed an apologetic kiss to Orion’s helm. “Forgive me, beloved. It was not my wish to bring back bitterness so recently put to berth. I promised to do better, and I shall.”
Orion made a grumbling, complaining noise, but pressed his helm up into the touch of his beloved’s dermas all the same. “I only thought you might wish to explore a little, as you’ve never seen the city before,” he said. “Should I decide to ask you on a proper date, be assured you shall not have need to question my intentions.” He paused, thinking of that word, proper, and all the unpleasantness it entailed. “Though if we were to call this a proper date per Iaconian standards, it would require Guild and City approval first - and I think we can both agree that we don’t want that.”
Megatronus glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
Orion met Megatronus’ gaze, taken aback. He shrank beneath the intensity of that narrow, cold blue stare, squirming away from Megatronus’ side and instinctively glancing towards the empty place where the cannon should have been. “I - I only meant that such caste approvals were hardly needed to validate what we are - ”
Megatronus waved his free servo impatiently. “No, no, I understood you fine,” he growled. “But why would you even consider telling the Guilds of your courtship in the first place?”
Oh. Oh. It shouldn’t have surprised Orion that Megatronus would be as ignorant of Iacon’s courtship customs as Orion had been of Kaon’s - yet here he was, taken aback all over again. Orion relaxed under Megatronus’ arm, chagrin and apology infusing his field. “Ah. Forgive me, Megatronus. I ought to have anticipated this. Courtship here is… well. It’s not the same as it is in Kaon,” he said. “It is not a matter of personal connection or romantic attachment, but of public status and political maneuvering within the tiers of one’s own caste. All sorts of Guild and City approvals are required for a union to be considered lawful and valid. A quite elaborate public affair, really. It was never something I desired when I only knew of Iacon’s conjunx rites.”
Megatronus balked, a full-body flinch that made the window at their back rattle with its force. “Are you saying that the Guilds here force you to sparkbond with a politically suitable mech, regardless of your feelings for them?”
Orion frowned, considering how to phrase what he said next. “As far as Iacon is concerned, sparkbonding does not exist,” he explained. “It is either entirely unknown or was deliberately erased from the middle and high caste’s cultural knowledge. We perform different rites instead - sign contracts, hold a public ceremony and suchlike. A bond plays no part in that.”
Megatronus went very still. Orion could feel his thoughts racing, rushing back to the night of their union: the way he had asked for Orion’s spark, how quickly Orion had opened for him, never questioning, never doubting him. “But - when I asked - you opened for me, you - ?”
Orion stared up into Megatronus’ face, spark throbbing. “I told you that night that I had no notion of what a sparkbond was,” he said quietly. “That I had only just learned of it after you performed the process.”
A wave of horror and guilt washed over him - Megatronus’ guilt, the sound of Orion’s vocals echoing in his audials: I didn’t even know what a sparkbond was until a moment ago!
He hadn’t believed Orion when he’d said that. Now, though - now, in the quiet of Orion’s habsuite, with no ulterior motive, no fear, no shock - now at last he understood the reality of the situation.
You didn’t know it was a marriage rite. I bound you to me against your will.
“No,” Orion said, engines grumbling in frustration. “No, it’s not - Mega, you did nothing that was against my will, regardless of what I did or did not know. I did have a small inkling of what you might have been attempting due to the record I retrieved from Hardlight. You recall my mentions of Sparklight? ”
Megatronus nodded slowly, optics wide and bright in his faceplate.
“There is an illustration of a sparkbonding within that text,” Orion said. He thought of the beautiful image of two mates opening their sparks to one another, the glory of their light combined, and smiled to himself, remembering how it felt to be so intimately joined for the first time with his beloved. “Regrettably, the dialect the work was written in is quite ancient - nigh impossible to translate, and certainly beyond my skills at this stage. Hardlight must not have been capable of translating it, either. When I inquired about the artwork, he suggested it was an archaic form of interface.”
Megatronus pressed the back of his hand to his dermas, shaking a little. “Orion… I never meant - ”
“I know.” Orion pressed himself close to Megatronus’ frame, holding him tightly. “I know you did not intend to force me into a bond I did not understand. But despite my ignorance, I am glad of this union between us. Feeling you all through me, having you beating in my very spark - it feels right. ”
Megatronus exhaled, lowering his helm and pressing it to the top of Orion’s head. “Well, I thank all the Primes that such is the case, beloved. I could not bear the notion that I forced you to belong to someone you do not desire.”
Orion smiled and glanced up coyly. “Surely you know by now how deeply I desire you - in every respect.”
“ Ha. ” The short, sharp bark of laughter echoed around Orion’s apartment, bright with mirth and tinged with worry. “Yes, you have made that quite apparent - and you must know how much I desire you in turn.”
“I can hardly be in doubt of it, my love.” Orion climbed into Megatronus’ lap, laying his helm over the gladiator’s rapidly-spinning spark. “Mega. When I was… well. When I was trying to learn more of sparkbonds, something… odd happened.”
Megatronus wrapped his arms around Orion’s waist, worry infusing his field. “Odd?”
“Mm.” Orion looked up, resting his chin on the gladiator’s chest. “After our sparkbonding, I attempted to research the subject, only to return zero results. That has never happened to me, not in the entirety of my career.” He hesitated, clinging to Megatronus’ frame. “I cannot be certain, of course, but I believe the Guilds - or at least the High Council themselves - have erased all knowledge of sparkbonding from our databases in the hopes of controlling when and how we form attachments to one another. To keep the castes pure. To prevent undesirables from making mates of those of higher status.”
Megatronus’ expression darkened. “That would be just like them,” he growled. “Desperate to control all aspects of the lives of their subjects.” He tilted his helm, considering Orion’s face. “You fear that they will attempt to harm us.”
“I do,” Orion said, wearing a troubled frown. “I fear that you specifically will suffer for this bond of ours. They already have eyes on you for your speeches and words of dissent… should they learn of our union, they will use it as an excuse to imprison you, or worse.”
Megatronus snarled, glaring out the window. “I would dearly love to see them try,” he said. “I will slaughter any force that dares attempt to part us, no matter how great their numbers.” He paused, looking thoughtful. Orion shivered and allowed the gladiator to cradle him closer, grateful for the strength and heat of his frame as the stark reality of the situation sank in.
“Perhaps we are not as safe here as you might wish,” Megatronus said slowly. “We might be better served spending the next few days in Kaon, where mechs are loyal not to the Council, but to me.”
He said it so casually -
loyal to me -
as if this was expected and natural. Orion hesitated, thoughts catching again on the images of bloody revolution he’d seen in Megatronus’ spark. Was he building an army in Kaon? Surely he would not be so reckless. They had not even had an opportunity to speak to the Council as yet. The time for force had not yet come; and if Orion had his way, it never would.
Still, Orion had to begrudgingly admit that Megatronus had a point. Iacon was home to the High Council, and more of their lackeys wandered these streets than in Kaon. Until the final battle, at which point Orion assumed Megatronus would be booted from the gladiators’ quarters, Kaon was the safest haven for his mate.
Orion sighed, bumping his faceplate against Megatronus’ chest. “I fear you might be correct,” he said. “I’ll pack a few things.”
Megatronus brightened, lovingly caressing a finial. “Then you will come with me, beloved?”
Orion smiled, leaning into his touch. By the Primes, it was good to be with him again. “I don’t think I could bear to leave you just now,” he confessed. “Besides, I am due a great deal of leave for all the time I worked when I was meant to visit you. I barely rested the whole of this past month.”
Megatronus frowned, petting Orion’s helm. “You should not strain yourself so, my mate,” he said. “When we rule together, I will see that you are properly cared for. My consort deserves to be endlessly doted upon, not left to slave away within Iacon’s depths.”
Orion hummed an uncertain note. “I would hardly call what I do enslavement, Mega,” he said. His field rippled with gentle reprimand, and Megatronus’ instantly offered amused, half-sincere apology in return. “Besides, there is no guarantee that it will be you and I in charge when all is said and done. The will of the citizenry must take precedence.”
“And it will, beloved,” Megatronus said, tilting Orion’s chin up. His gaze was so bright, so deep. Looking up at him, Orion found himself completely helpless to resist him: his will smothered and engulfed by Megatronus’ own. It disturbed him immensely how much power Megatronus could exert with a single look. “Be assured their wellbeing is ever at the top of my concerns. But it would be naive to presume they will not wish to elect their saviors, the breakers of their chains. They will want us, my archivist. Trust in that.”
Orion shivered and curled into his lover’s frame, swallowing against the mistrust attempting to flood his spark. “As you say, my love.”
“Good mate.” Megatronus kissed the top of his helm, sweet but absent. Orion could feel his thoughts rushing a thousand miles ahead of where they were: plotting, planning, twisting the future into a shape of his own making.
Please, beloved… Orion thought, choking on an emotion he dared not voice. Don’t go where I can’t follow.
Chapter 9: Battlefield
Summary:
Megatronus and Orion prepare for the final fight.
Notes:
Damn y'all I'm sorry this chapter took so long to finish. I know what I want to do for the last two, but I can't promise it won't take equally long to do the final two. Life's been a little rough and I'm trying to get my shit back together, but it felt nice to get this done.
HAPPY MEGOP WEEK 2020
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning of the battle, Orion woke cold.
Megatronus had long since abandoned their berth, the sound of his pedes thudding slowly over the floor echoing from without. Orion guessed Megatronus was packing up what few personal items he possessed, if by some miracle he walked away from the final fight unscathed. Orion listened to that familiar, heavy tread, breathing in Megatronus’ scent. The whole berth smelled of him still, of oil and polish and battery cells and ozone. Orion buried his face in the gladiator’s cushions, taking him in with a deep vent.
Remember this scent. Remember him. This could be the last morning you have with him.
They’d returned to Kaon only shortly after determining that it was likely the safest option for them both. When they arrived at Megatronus’ quarters, exhausted and anxious, they had locked the door behind them and crashed into berth to recharge, wrapped in each other’s arms.
They’d spent most of the remaining days in berth, just… touching. Exploring. Orion had always been a tactile mech - a fact that had gotten them into this mess in the first place - but Megatronus had invariably been restrained with him, hesitating to lay hands on him until Orion had done so first. The gladiator seemed to delight in finally having permission to touch as much as he liked. He petted Orion’s abdominal plates, teased his digits over all the little lights on Orion’s frame, kissed up and down his thighs with a contented hum of pleasure. He was demanding and eager and Orion was more than happy to indulge him, warm and satisfied and glowing beneath his lover’s praises.
Megatronus took him out into the city once or twice, showing him favorite places in Kaon they had never gone to before. Not the sort of places one went during social visits or on dates, but the sort of places one visited when death was inevitable. Places that meant something.
Digits entwined, they rode a defunct lift all the way to the top of a tall industrial tower, where at its pinnacle almost all of the Badlands could be seen. “I found this place after my first triumph in the Pits,” Megatronus said, staring wistfully out across the open plains. “I had never imagined one could climb so near to the sky without the capacity for flight.”
Orion leaned into his side, following his gaze over the red wastes. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “This view is incomparable.”
Megatronus smiled to himself. “I certainly thought so,” he said. “My first speech was written here, away from the chaos and the noise and the smog of the city, where my thoughts could be clear and uninterrupted. I come here sometimes when I need to think, or when I do not wish to be bothered. You might, perhaps, find peace here too one day, should I fall.”
Orion clutched at Megatronus’ plates and tried not to think too hard about what he’d do if that happened.
After, they visited a graffitied mural painted on a wall near the entrance of a collapsed mine. RISE UP, it read in bold strokes of purple, an elegant, menacing sigil following the words. It was a helm, but heavily stylized. If he squinted, Orion almost believed it could be Megatronus’ helm.
The mural behind the words depicted flames of blue, screaming faces melting into liquid fire as the ceiling of a cavern dropped stones upon them. Spires that bore an eerie resemblance to Iacon’s high-rises loomed in the background, glowing blue eyes and bright silver smiles sharp with ill intent leering out of the dark.
“A friend of mine painted this,” said Megatronus. “A nonstop effort on her part. I found her here as if in a trance, focused and grim, working from the early hours of the morning until the darkest part of the night. When she returned, weary but satisfied, she told me it was inspired by a trauma subroutine: fragments of a processor glitch that had haunted her recharge for days after this tunnel collapsed on her and her comrades. She painted it as a tribute to their memory.”
“It is… extraordinary,” said Orion, endeavoring to hide his shudder. His gaze traced the elegant strokes of the brush, considering the surreal, nightmarish quality of those melting faces, the emptiness of the eyes looking down from the void like predators observing their prey. It was truly an exquisite work, albeit a deeply disturbing one: all the surrealism of a glitch in stored memory made real, too real, upon those fallen stones. “What was her designation?”
“Scorchflame, she called herself,” Megatronus said absently. “H-151, if you wish to seek official records of some kind. She might have made quite an artist. Certainly a better artist than a miner, despite the size of her frame. She was nearly as large as I am.”
Orion felt a dull pang of grief somewhere just beyond their bond, somewhere Megatronus was attempting not to let him reach. Somewhere vulnerable. A place that still hurt. He’d noticed over their three days together that Megatronus kept doing this: nudging Orion away from all the places inside him that were still too raw. Even now, despite everything, he still hated to be seen as weak in any form - even by Orion.
My mate/don’t hide/it’s alright/let me/help you/let me/see all these broken pieces/and love them/the same way/i love you-
A tiny smile lit Megatronus’ faceplate as that whisper came to him over their bond. It was a strange sensation, receiving and sharing data like this: speech without words, implicitly understood, like their emotional subroutines were feeding directly into one another. Perhaps that was how it worked. Orion hadn’t picked up his attempts to research sparkbonds again as yet, too occupied with thoughts of his beloved to do so yet. He filed the idea away for later examination and returned to the moment, rubbing the small of Megatronus’ back in a gesture of comfort. “You did not say so,” he said quietly. “But I presume Scorchflame was offlined, then? Your grief suggests as much.”
Megatronus shuttered his optics, lowering his helm. “An explosion in a different mine,” he said. “Deliberate, we think, though we have no confirmation as such. Many of my friends were on that mining detail - mechs who had known me since my forging. Scorchflame, D-18, Strikebrawn, Barrage...”
Orion’s spark clenched with fear. “You think the explosion was meant to harm you specifically?”
“Meant to weaken both my movement and my resolve, I think,” said Megatronus. He gritted his dentae, darkness clouding his optics. The hurt in that open place he didn’t want Orion touching pulsed ever stronger. “They believed that if they silenced my greatest supporters, they might silence me as well. I suppose they know now how mistaken they were. They only strengthened my certainty that my path was the right one.” He vented softly and reached out, curving his digits over Orion’s helm. The touch was that of one seeking comfort in something familiar and safe. Orion leaned into it, solid and solemn, sharing his sparkmate’s grief in silence.
“We will honor their memory when the castes are removed,” Orion said at last. “Perhaps we might build statues to them, like the monument we saw together of the Thirteen in Iacon.”
Megatronus brightened a little, optics shining again at the thought. “Hmm. Perhaps we might. That is not so unworthy a use for metal and stone and energon.”
There were other places as well, some shown to Orion merely for the memories, some for their significance to Megatronus’ fledgling movement. The most important of these was right beneath the Pits themselves, in the same dizzying underground pathways as Megatronus’ quarters. A secret passage led to a meeting chamber in a now-defunct mine, where Soundwave and others gathered to discuss Megatronus’ plans for the future. The chamber was enormous: circular, made entirely of dark stone, with one single beam of light from the outside bursting from the center of its domed ceiling. The walls glowed with phosphorescent flora, illuminating carefully carved rows of benches hewn directly from the stone.
In the very center of the hall, Megatronus laid a servo upon Orion’s shoulder, gesturing to all those empty seats. “If I should fall, my archivist, it will be left to you and Soundwave to carry on my legacy,” he said. He stood so proudly at Orion’s side, staring at the hall he’d no doubt helped to shape himself: quiet and certain and immeasurably powerful, the picture of charisma. “In this very spot, you must rise up and lead as I once did.”
Orion blinked, taken aback. Megatronus wished for him to lead? “But Soundwave - he is your closest follower, your acolyte,” Orion protested. “Surely he would be better suited-?”
“Soundwave does not have it in him to lead a movement,” Megatronus replied, shaking his helm. His gaze turned to Orion, bright and calm as a cavern pool. “He knows this, and he too believes you to be the logical heir to my legacy.” His expression softened, his thumb smoothing the metal of Orion’s shoulder. “Only to you could I entrust this task, beloved. I know within my very spark that you will lead Cybertron to its ultimate destiny.”
Orion trembled beneath Megatronus’ touch, stepping away from him. “But - but I am no leader,” he said, his vocals cracking. “I am - I am no one! I’m just a clerk with some ideals and hopes for the future. They will not follow me. I do not possess half your charisma, half your strength - ”
“Yes, you do.” Megatronus closed the small gap between them and caught Orion by the chin, staring intently into his optics. “You have more strength in a single digit than any of the spineless cowards who rule from the towers of Iacon. I have seen it time and time again. You have even stood against me and won.” He chuckled wryly, a fond pulse echoing through his field. “You did not fear to meet a gladiator making speeches of dissent against your own city. You did not fear to befriend him, openly and guilelessly; and when it came down to it, you did not fear to love him, either. And when I threatened your very spark, albeit without intent, you did not allow me to terrify you into obeisance. Not once.”
The words held conviction Orion had only heard before in Megatronus’ speeches. His beloved was so certain, so fearsome; convinced that he had entrusted his future to the right mech. Yet still Orion doubted. He was small and shy and privileged; he had lived a good life in Iacon, and whatever his beliefs, he did not have the strength, the swagger, the confidence Megatronus carried. How could he ever follow in Megatronus’ footsteps when the shadow he cast was so long?
Orion swallowed, dry-mouthed, feeling terribly small. “But a movement like this… Megatronus. To entrust me with this duty… are you certain it’s the right course?”
Megatronus smiled, soft and warm and deeply fond, and pressed a kiss to Orion’s crest. “I can think of no mech I have ever met with even a quarter of the strength you possess, Orion Pax,” he murmured. “You can lead, and you will - with or without me at your side.”
Orion made a sound, an anguished, hollow cry of grief. He took hold of Megatronus by the helm and pulled him down, down to him, until their lips met in a desperate kiss. Megatronus gripped him with equal ferocity, sweeping him up and off his pedes and carrying him away from the center of the room. Orion scrambled to hold onto him, feeling as though the gladiator might slip from between his fingers at any moment, as if in the next few seconds he might be gone forever…
He issued no protests when Megatronus pushed him back against the stone wall, hooking Orion’s legs around his waist. The kiss deepened and intensified into a hungry flame, lightning-bright charge crackling between their plating as they ground against each other.
Megatronus broke away, a dark sound escaping his intake as glazed, half-lidded optics looked down into Orion’s face. “Open,” he demanded, nipping insistently at Orion’s jaw. “Open up, little mate. I need you now.”
Orion was helpless to deny him, spinal strut going taut at the words. Cold stone bit into the kibble at his back as his panel transformed aside, and Megatronus’ engines purred at the touch of wet protoform to his own heated array. Then they were kissing again, Megatronus shifting Orion as though he weighed nothing; and only a moment, an eternity of moments later, Orion cried out sharply as Megatronus buried himself inside him with a needy hiss, biting at his intake cabling.
“My mate,” Megatronus rasped, gripping Orion’s hip with one hand. Orion shook in his arms, frantic with need, wrapped tightly around his lover. “My beloved, my archivist… how can you doubt your power when you so easily undo me? No one before you has ever inflamed me as you do, and no one ever will again.” Megatronus growled, spike sliding in deep, and Orion’s vocalizer cracked around a shout as his calipers snapped wide to hold him. “You are extraordinary,” said Megatronus at last, after a moment of nothing but heat and vents and molten metals meeting. “What must I do to make you see it?”
Orion cried out, louder this time, vocals bouncing back to him from the rounded roof of the cavern. “Don’t die,” he hissed, punctuating the words with a jolt of his hips. “Come back to me. Whatever you do - wh-whatever happens - c-come back to me--!”
Megatronus claimed his dermas again, a low rumble sounding from his engines, and Orion lost himself to the rhythm of their frames: the steady slide of Megatronus’ spike, the sharp crackle of charge pushed higher and higher, the feel of his spark spinning so fast, so fast, so bright -
All his struts went tense and tight, his circuits alight with fireworks of bursting charge; the quavering shout torn from his throat as he overloaded echoing again and again above their heads.
Now he lay in Megatronus’ berth, in Megatronus’ quarters, on the day of his beloved’s judgment. He traced the paths they’d walked again and again, drawing maps from one set of coordinates to another until the pattern was a mindless mass of lines. He thought of the way Megatronus’ spark sang in those places, the memories that passed unbidden through their bond at each, and ached somewhere deep within his spark for all the time that was lost to them.
I have to remember. I have to hold onto him, as much as I can, as long as I can, before he’s gone.
Panic seized him all at once. Wild with terror, Orion flung the blankets aside and ran from the berthroom, pausing only long enough to locate Megatronus’ big frame before throwing himself into the gladiator’s embrace.
“Good morning to you as well, my mate,” said Megatronus, laughing quietly as Orion’s grip tightened. “You woke early today!”
Orion clung, digging his digits into sensitive transformation seams, as if someone might tear Megatronus from his grasp. “I needed to touch you,” he whispered. “While I still can.”
A prickle of melancholy burned through Megatronus’ field at the words. He vented sharply, pressing his faceplate to Orion’s helm. “Hush, my sweet one,” he murmured. “It’s alright. I’m still here.” He spoke the words as if to a sparkling: soft and soothing and gentle, easing the pads of his digits over Orion’s back in sweet circles.
Orion trembled, helm bowed and pressed to Megatronus’ chest. “Mega, what if - ”
“Stop.” Megatronus tilted Orion’s chin up, leaning his helm against Orion’s so that their forehelms and faceplates touched. “Do not entertain such thoughts, beloved. Not a one of them. Not unless what you fear comes to pass.”
And if it does come to pass? Orion thought. What then? What am I to do without you? What is Cybertron to do without you?
“You must be careful today,” Orion ordered. The words were laced with nervous static, buzzing with Orion’s terror. “No showboating. No risks. Do what you must and get out. Yes?”
He caught the tail end of his mate’s first thought: naive little thing/the performance is everything/ just agree to calm him- “Of course, Orion,” Megatronus said aloud. “As you command.”
Orion squeezed Megatronus’ waist, sending a zing of anger and misery over their bond. You forget/i can hear/all that is you/you live in me/all your thoughts/i feel/and i will have/to feel you dying-
That finally earned him a sting of guilt, returned to him with the faintest hint of shame. “I will seal the bond before that happens,” Megatronus promised. “I will not force you to suffer that.”
So that was a very real possibility then. Orion had only been guessing. He tried to imagine what it would be like, that emptiness, that torn thread - that darkness consuming him as Megatronus’ spark went out. A void where the mech he loved should be. “I would rather suffer and be with you till the end than lose you one second too early,” he said. Even knowing how excruciating every moment will be.
Megatronus smiled at him, digits smoothing over the plating of his cheeks and tracing the sharp edge of his faceplate. “I love you,” he said. “Whatever else this day brings to you, hold on to that one truth.”
The loud buzz of a horn sounded from a speaker within the walls, and Megatronus flinched, extricating himself from Orion’s grip. “I need to prepare,” he said. “There are preliminaries to attend to before the battle proper.” He was distracted now, frowning, lost in the thought of the fight to come. “Fetch my cannon for me, won’t you?”
Orion gritted his teeth, clenching his fists at the very mention of the damnable thing. “Fetch it yourself,” he snapped. “I never wish to see or touch it again.”
Megatronus flinched again, and this time the expression lingered. “Ah. Yes. Forgive me, I did not intend to - ”
Orion glared up at him. “You cannot have forgotten your promise so quickly. Tell me you haven’t.”
The air hung heavy for a moment, like a storm rolling in from beyond the horizon: like dry lightning hissed and cracked between them, an echo of their fury. They stared at one another, and for a fleeting instant Orion saw the monster in Megatronus again, the fighter, the warrior, the executioner - the flash of red light and red optics, the cruel sneer of a mech without mercy.
Then that heat dissipated, washed away in Megatronus’ long sigh. He ran a hand over his optics, and when he looked up, he was Orion’s mate again, the mech he had always been - weary and sad, but familiar. “Orion, it has nothing to do with my promise and everything to do with needing it before the battle,” he said. He tilted his helm, staring hard into Orion’s face - a piercing gaze that made Orion ache as much as unnerved him. “Is this really how you would spend our final moments together, little archivist? Reviving arguments we have agreed to put to berth?”
Our final moments. Orion choked, pressing the back of his servo to his dermas, swallowing a cry. “I - I never wanted - I never meant - !”
He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what to feel. Every thought was scattered across the circuits of his processor, pinging him from every angle. His cabling felt tight, his struts tensed and stiff - and beyond it all, his spark pulsed in agonizing bursts, flaring and fading and flaring again with fear.
Our final moments.
Our final moments.
There were so many things he wanted to say, too many things he did not have words for. His field shuddered, rippling all around him, completely out of his control: relaying every bit of his confusion and sorrow and anger and terror to the mech he called his bondmate. The mech still standing there, alive, spark burning, watching him with cold, bright eyes.
Megatronus made a low sound, a grumbling of his engines, and made to pass Orion. Stopped. Vented out.
Bent and kissed Orion’s helm, soothing loving digits over his back.
By the time Orion reached out for him, Megatronus was gone, making his way to the berthroom. When he returned, the cannon was bright and humming upon his arm, spitting red sparks as he prepared it for combat. Orion was reminded of how it felt to have that weapon looming over him: how it had sounded, how it had smelled, the sharp, crisp scent of burnt ozone and polish flaring through his olfactory.
He was only half-aware of his own response to the cannon, pressing himself back against the wall with a cringe. How he hated to see it upon his lover’s arm! It represented everything he had ever loathed about the Pits: violence and death and wrath before rationality. His mate was not his when he wore that cannon. Megatronus became nothing more than a weapon the second the gun was attached to him.
Megatronus approached him, ignoring the tension in his field, and pulled him close with his naked arm, pointing the cannon aside. “Kiss me goodbye?” he asked.
Goodbye? Goodbye. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. Not yet - please, please no, not yet -
Orion made a mournful cry, a sound he couldn’t swallow, gripping Megatronus with trembling digits. “Not yet,” he whispered, shaking. “Don’t leave me, not yet, I can’t - ”
Megatronus closed his optics, pulling Orion closer and bending to kiss his helm a second time. Orion pressed into the touch, savoring the feel of his mate holding him near. So much time I wasted in ignorance, when I could have held you like this centuries sooner...
“You know I would not leave you if I had the choice to stay,” said Megatronus. “But I cannot enter a fight cold. My joints require testing, my weapons must be calibrated, and a good sparring session to warm up my frame is necessary if I wish to ensure our victory. Were these things not needed, I could stay with you far longer; but as it is, I must leave for awhile to practice.”
Orion dug his digits into Megatronus’ transformation seams, a stubborn frown curving his small mouth. “Fine,” he growled, clutching his lover close. “Then I will go with you and watch.”
Megatronus chuckled, shaking his helm. “You will find it a rather dull way to pass the time, my sweet one,” he said. “You could better occupy your hours selecting from my things what you might wish to keep if - ”
"Don’t you dare." Orion’s fingers dug so deep Megatronus hissed in surprise and pain. “I will not paw through your possessions as if - as if I am already a weeping widower. I will not. If your last few hours with a beating spark are to be spent sparring, then I will take those moments and treasure every last one. I will not be parted from you until I absolutely must, do you understand me?”
Megatronus gripped him so fiercely Orion thought for an instant his armor might crack - or that perhaps his spark might. It was cracked and broken already, preparing for a loss it might or might not have to bear. “Very well, my mate,” said Megatronus. His vocals were soft and choked with feeling, the sweetest tone Orion had ever heard from him. “Come with me, then. I shall position you somewhere safe to observe me, and only when it is time for you to take your seat and me to await my entrance shall we be parted.”
Orion released a deep, long vent, his grip relaxing slightly on his lover’s armor. Thank the Primes, it was not ended yet. They still had time.
Not much. But time enough.
“Thank you,” Orion said. He shifted, positioning himself beneath Megatronus’ arm, and let the Champion lead him through the Pits, holding on as tightly as he could manage.
Orion spent the next few hours perched high upon a stack of sparring mats Megatronus had piled up for him. The gladiator had fussed over his comfort, creating a veritable nest for him: padded walls built to guard him from stray blows, soft towels arranged like blankets and pillows to keep him cozy while he watched. Orion was thoroughly bundled by the time Megatronus was satisfied with his hideout, and while he merely rolled his optics fondly at Megatronus’ fretting, he was truly grateful for the snug little cave Megatronus had built to protect him. At least within its bounds he felt safe and grounded - which he could not say for the cold, cruel outside world just now.
He watched from his perch as Megatronus cracked his joints, oiling and testing them for freedom of movement. When he was satisfied with his range, he began a pattern of defensive and offensive movements that must have been as familiar to him as the scent of cannonfire. He repeated each gesture so fluidly that Orion half-wondered if he’d been birthed with these movements coded into his very CNA. He moved with all the grace of a painter before his digicanvas, palms poised and moving rapid-fire between pixelblocks of color and the naked screen before him - only the pixelblocks were his weapons, and his canvas was the air.
Orion fell into something like a trance. It was hard not to be hypnotized by the savage grace of his beloved. The sway of his hips drew Orion’s eye as Megatronus strode across the room, and when he began to battle a practice drone, Orion drew to attention, spinal strut stiffening as he watched the flash of Megatronus’ sword cleaving the air. The strength and power of his frame was unlike anything Orion had ever beheld.
What must it be like to move like that - to fight like a dancer, like an artist, like a god?
Orion jolted when a warning bell announced the thirty-minute mark before the fight was to begin. His spark leapt to his throat, a horrible, grief-laden sound escaping him as Megatronus drew to a halt, something grim and cold flickering in his optics. Orion pushed himself free of his little nest and charged across the room to Megatronus, wrapping his arms tight around the gladiator’s waist and just… holding him. Trying not to sob.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Mega, please, not yet -!”
Megatronus transformed his sword and shield away and bent to scoop Orion up in his arms. He said nothing, for what could he say? The end had been coming, and it was here now, as inevitable as the apocalypse itself.
Orion clung to Megatronus’ intake, burying his faceplate against the gladiator’s intake cables. He hardly noticed when the clash of swords and sounds of gunfire fell away into silence. The faint echo of Megatronus’ footsteps was the only sound around them, a drumbeat in time with Orion’s own spark.
When Megatronus finally paused, it was to set Orion down, disentangling himself from the archivist’s grip. “It’s time,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers over Orion’s cheek.
Orion shuddered, hard, aching to reach out for his mate - knowing that he couldn’t. Their hours were gone, and this was the final farewell. “I love you,” Orion whispered, cupping Megatronus’ helm between his hands. He stared at that familiar faceplate, smooth and square and strong, bright blue optics returning his gaze with equal pain. “I love you more than I have ever said, more than there are words for in any tongue I know…”
Megatronus gave a faint smile. “Words do feel inadequate,” he agreed. “I have thought of a thousand things to say to you, and none of them feel like enough.” He ran his thumb over Orion’s dermas, holding his gaze as Orion’s vents caught. “You have burrowed into the very center of my spark and made a home of it.”
“Keep me there,” he said in reply. “I do not intend to leave it.”
Megatronus’ optics glimmered in the dim light, his smile warming just a touch. “Do you know,” he said thoughtfully. “I think I finally understand what it is I feel for you. Why it feels familiar.”
Orion tilted his helm in surprise. “Familiar? How so?”
Megatronus was tracing the angles and planes of his face as he might have studied a map - as though he was memorizing every last detail before it was lost to him, to time. “I glimpsed the sun once, just for a moment, right after my emergence,” he said. His vocals rumbled from his very core, low and steady as a sparkpulse. “There was this… moment … a split second of light and warmth and wonder - a blink in time that sustained me for centuries in the Pits.” He smiled, optics brightening. “Being with you is like that: like glimpsing the sunlight for the first time, like feeling warmth in my plating down to my very circuits. And when you are not with me, Orion, the place in my spark where you fit is cold and empty, awaiting your return.” Something clouded his gaze, and he lowered his helm to press a soft, sweet kiss to Orion’s crest, nuzzling the metal there. “Should we be parted, my beloved, I will wait for you on the other side. As long as it takes. As long as you need to reach me.”
Orion trembled, and in the next seconds he was sobbing, arms flung tight around Megatronus’ intake once more. “You can’t leave me here,” he gasped through aching tears. “I only just have you. To lose you now - to be parted from you - it is unfathomable. No, I won’t have it, I won’t. You promised me that you would come back to me. You swore it in front of thousands. You cannot go back on your word.”
“Orion,” Megatronus said sternly. “You know I cannot make such guarantees - ”
“Promise me,” Orion begged. He was shaking so hard his plating clattered, ringing loudly in the antechamber in which they stood “Promise me we will not be parted!”
Megatronus sighed again, rocking Orion gently in his arms. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, my love. I swear upon my spark: I will come back to you. Always. Whatever form that takes, whatever that looks like… I will find you.”
Orion went limp in his mate’s grip, all his energy and strength of will sapped by the power of that promise. “You’d better,” he grumbled, swiping angrily at his optics. “I would not wish to have to hunt you down in the Allspark to kill you a second time for oathbreaking.”
Megatronus gave a bark of laughter, still rocking Orion back and forth. “Jokes from my archivist! And in my darkest hour, too. Only you could bring a smile to my faceplate while I stand on the precipice of death.”
“And only you could break my spark so when I endeavor only to make you smile.” Orion looked up, popping up on the tips of his pedes to kiss Megatronus deeply. He opened his field wide, pushing every last thing he felt in that moment through to Megatronus: his grief, his joy, his adoration. Every dizzying, fleeting feeling flooded from him to his conjunx, and in return Megatronus granted him the same courtesy: his determination, his fury, his fear. That kernel of fear was cold and hard and growing every second, flaring like a supernova as the determined hour drew nearer. Orion longed to comfort him, but what could he do? He was in desperate need of comfort himself, with none to be found anywhere.
“How adorable.”
Megatronus snarled, releasing Orion and raising a protective arm before the smaller mech. Orion glanced over that arm, curious and angry at the interruption.
“Drixco,” Megatronus said coldly. “Should you not be preparing for the coming match? I’m told you’ve been quite vocal about taking my place as the next Champion. I would hate to see your ambitions end in the most pathetic of failures.”
The mech called Drixco leveled a nasty little smirk at him, peering at Orion. His build suggested he had once been an industrial drone, but he’d since added layer upon layer of armor to his plating, weapons bristling from every inch of his frame. Orion shuddered, endeavoring to tuck himself more deeply into shadow without truly leaving Megatronus’ side.
“Oh, don’t worry - I still fully intend to wipe your name from the history books,” Drixco sneered. “And speaking of preparations, shouldn’t you be getting ready instead of canoodling with a high-caste fan? Imagine the scandal among your disciples if they learned you’d been consorting with the enemy!”
Megatronus stared Drixco down. “Who I spend my time with outside the arena is not your concern.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we, Champion?” Drixco was still peering at Orion, a dark glint in his optics. “Why don’t you come out where I can see you, little mech?”
Orion set his jaw, ducking under Megatronus’ arm and stepping into the light despite a sharp note from Megatronus’ field. The glint in Drixco’s eyes only increased as he took in Orion’s smaller frame, tracing lewdly over his abdominal plating, his thighs, his panel. When he looked up again, he smiled, baring dark fangs that caught the light.
“There,” Orion growled. “You’ve seen me. Now, get out and give us a moment before the fight begins, won’t you? We’re owed that respect.”
“Saucy!” said Drixco, pressing a mocking hand over his spark. “I like a mech with spirit. Champions enjoy a mech they can subdue, don’t they, Megatronus?”
Megatronus snarled, stepping in front of Orion with bristling plating. “Get. Out.”
“So protective!” Drixco laughed, lifting his hands and stepping aside. “Very well. Enjoy your final moments as the reigning King of the Pits. Just know that once you’ve fallen, I intend to take your place… in every respect.” Here he paused to cast a significant glance towards Orion, whetting his lips with a long glossa. Orion shuddered, tanks roiling, lip curling in distaste at the implication.
Megatronus roared and tore a chunk of wall free, flinging it so violently at Drixco that the mech actually yelped and made a run for it, barely ducking behind the competitor’s blast door in time. The heavy chunk of wall hit the door with an enormous clang, leaving a dent bigger than Megatronus’ helm in the metal after it had fallen to the floor.
Orion clutched at Megatronus’ arm, pulling him backward. “Peace, my love,” he said, laying the flat of his palm against Megatronus’ abdominal plating. “Pay him no heed now. There will be time for that later. I take it he is to be your opponent?”
“So it would seem.” Megatronus turned back to Orion, but his gaze remained focused over his shoulder, anger rippling through his field. “Be wary of him, my sweet one. I fear he will pursue you, whether he wins or loses. And as I have never fought him before, I am uncertain what tricks he is capable of…”
Orion swallowed. He was not given to hatred at first sight, but Primus, he loathed Drixco already. Their interaction had been brief, but it made Orion’s plating crawl to even think of him. He did not wish death upon the mech, not that; but he prayed Megatronus would defeat him quickly. That Drixco lacked the skill to truly defeat the Champion.
The doors opened again, and this time several Guild representatives entered, one carrying a cube of energon, another with a hot towel, and another empty-handed. “Orion Pax,” said the one without an object. “Welcome. I am to take you to your seat. It’s time to bid farewell to Megatronus.”
Orion’s spark spun behind his chest plates, wild with panic. He looked up at Megatronus with glitching optics, reaching for his hand. “Meg- ”
Megatronus bent and kissed him, sweeping him off the floor and holding him close. Orion returned the kiss with a desperate sound, clutching at his helm, determined not to leave him -
Then he was torn free of Megatronus’ grip, hoisted bodily over the guild member’s shoulder and carried away from his mate.
“No!" he shouted, desperately banging a fist against his captor’s back. “No, please, wait, I didn’t get to say goodbye, please - ! ”
He looked up just long enough to see Megatronus staring after him, jaw set and grim determination in his optics, before the blast doors slammed closed in his face.
Orion’s captor only set him down when he was certain Orion couldn’t run back to his beloved. The doors closed, the lift lurched, and the guild’s representative calmly set Orion on his pedes, patting his helm. “There, there, Orion,” he said. “No need to fret. Have you no faith in your pet Champion?”
Orion cast the mech a sullen glare, hugging himself. “He is not my pet,” he growled, field prickling. “And I have more faith in him than in any mech that walks this planet. It is you and your Guild I do not trust.”
The mech’s lips quirked up at one corner in a half-smile. “You would be wiser to trust no one, Archivist Pax - Megatronus least of all,” he said. “But I take your point.”
They rode in silence for a few moments, Orion shivering. He pressed deep into the bond he shared with Megatronus, feeling for him. Megatronus’ anger was a flat, cold thing, like a glacier stretching out across the expanse of his circuitry. The second he felt Orion touching him, that icy plane warmed just a bit, a bright tendril reaching back to him. My archivist/beloved one/i feel you/beside me/within me/near me/part of me/hello [little][darling][treasured][precious][mate] of mine
Orion smiled despite himself, hugging himself harder. My mate/my conjunx/hello/i love you/i am terrified for you/let me stay by your side/as long as i can/[beloved][brother][my.forever][my.always]
You are in every cable/every strut/every circuit, Megatronus returned. You can no more leave me/than my own spark could/no farewells yet/it is not the end
“It’s quite unwise of you, you know - your open association with Megatronus,” said the guild mech.
Orion blinked, startled, glancing in his direction. “I’m sorry?”
The mech cast him a sidelong look, a little sneer curling his dermas. “Mechs may start to get some ideas about your politics,” he said. “Your… proclivities. ”
Oh. That’s what this was about. He ought to have guessed as much. “As if I care what others think of me,” Orion retorted. “As if thousands of mechs of higher castes than my own do not descend upon these very Pits seeking fighters to grace their berths!”
“It’s one thing to carry on in private,” the mech replied with a disdainful sniff. “Everyone enjoys an illicit evening with a gladiator now and then. But you, Archivist Pax - you do not enjoy your affair in the secrecy of your own quarters, or even in his. Not anymore. You act as though he is your… your equal. You cannot believe that to be so.”
Orion did not break his stare, meeting the mech’s narrowed optics head on. His fists clenched at his sides, something in his spark going hard and bitter. “You’re right,” he said. “He is not my equal.”
The mech’s shoulders relaxed, a friendlier smile playing upon his lips. “Ah, see - ”
“He is my superior in every respect,” Orion said. “Wiser, stronger, savvier than I have ever been. If caste was granted by worthiness, then it would be he who was our Prime. He is not just a fighter, not just a Champion. He is brilliance and boldness and fearlessness forged into a fearsome frame - and if you judge me for admiring that, for loving that, it is only because you fear what he will do to you and your bloated, corrupted guilds when he triumphs.”
The mech’s mouth fell open, slack with shock - and still Orion did not look away. “Don’t you see?” he said, gesturing outward, as though the arena lay before them. “He was never your Champion. He is, and always has been, Cybertron’s Champion first. And when history records your deeds, sir, it will note how you tried to imprison him. How you tried to contain him. And I will relish, more than anything, the account of how you failed.”
The lift hummed to a stop, and the doors opened with a soft chime. The guild mech was frozen, staring, stunned speechless. Whatever he had anticipated in posing the question to Orion, he clearly hadn’t been expecting such ferocity in reply. On any other day, Orion might have been proud to earn such results - but not today. The victory felt hollow, worthless, his words barely enough to count as a triumph. After all, Megatronus still had a battle in front of him - and if the Gladiator Guild’s own representatives were speaking so openly of his final hours this way, Orion had no doubt they had already planned several underhanded ways to be certain Megatronus did not leave this match alive.
Orion turned on his pedes and stormed from the lifts, chin held high. He wouldn’t let this mech see him frightened and hysterical. He wouldn’t. He gathered all his dignity about himself like a cloak, setting one pede before the other, and made his way towards his reserved seat, avoiding the curious gazes of the crowd. And there were quite a few such stares upon him, Orion realized. He could feel them brushing over his field, hear whispers in his wake as he slid into his seat in the first row. Odd. Perhaps he was merely being paranoid.
Orion dismissed the sensation as anxiety about the match as he settled into his chair. There were mechs down in the Pit scurrying to clean the remains of the previous match’s loser from the floor, buffing out scrapes and energon stains as they went. Orion turned aside, trying desperately not to imagine Megatronus’ broken frame lying there instead.
The Council condones this by turning a blind eye to this violence. Monsters.
Orion nearly started swinging when he felt a servo touch his shoulder. He wrenched himself away, startled out of his thoughts, as the mech in the seat beside him held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t mean to scare you! Just… uh… you’re the mech Megatronus kissed at the big match a month ago, aren’t you? His high-caste fling?”
Orion blinked. “I - yes, I suppose you could say that,” he said warily. “How did you…?”
“Oh, all the pressbots went wild over that arena kiss,” the mech said, grinning. “I recognized you from the videos that’ve been shared, and the stills too. It’s been all over the gossip columns here in Kaon, but I suppose you wouldn’t know that if you’re not from around here, which, ha, clearly you aren’t.”
Oh. Was that why he’d received so many looks? Other Kaonites actually remembered him?
Well. It was a rather memorable moment, Orion supposed. He had certainly replayed the memory more times than he dared to count: that broad, elated smile on Megatronus’ face, the warmth of his palm and the pressure he exerted as he pulled Orion in to kiss him. The kiss, wild and hungry and savoring, that lasted forever and not long enough at all. Our first kiss. My first kiss.
Orion brushed his fingers over his spark, smiling to himself at the memory, and sent the warmth back to Megatronus. May it give you strength, my husband.
“It’s really an honor to meet you,” the mech beside him was saying. “All my friends will be so jealous I sat next to you at the match!” He snapped his digits, optics glitching brightly. “Hey, actually… I’ve got a friend who’d love to do an exclusive with you if you’ve any interest - he writes a killer column for The Scorcher. This’d be a huge break for him! He’d pay really well for all the dirty details - ”
“No.” He could feel the dour curve of his own dermas, the angry narrowing of his optics as his fists clenched in his lap. “What occurred between us is our business. Besides, I have rather more immediate concerns at the moment.”
“Oh, the fight?” The mech lit up, glancing towards the arena, apparently oblivious to the offense he’d caused. “Yeah, it’s gonna be killer. I’ve never seen a mech survive their final fight! Of course, not too many mechs ever win enough to buy their way out of their contracts, either. Still, seems pretty unlikely that Megatronus will live through the day.”
Orion tasted half-processed energon and acrid, burning oil on his glossa. His vision narrowed to a dark tunnel, a puddle of spilled energon somewhere on the far side of the ring its focal point as panic set in. Unlikely Megatronus will live - never - survive - the final fight -
“Too bad, really,” the mech sighed. “Megatronus is the best Champion we’ve had in centuries. I’m rooting for him to make it out.” There was a pause. “You aren’t still seeing him, are you?”
Orion closed his optics, armor clattering as it shook against protoform. “I am, in fact, still seeing him.”
“Oh. Oh, Primus, I’m so sorry,” said the mech, horror filling his optics. “I didn’t mean to - that is, I didn’t intend to come across so callous, just… I assumed, given the likelihood of his… well. Sorry. My condolences. Uh. I’ll let you be then.”
The mech folded himself away, looking embarrassed. Orion’s field prickled with his anger, his despair, and he didn’t bother to try and pull it closer. Let the mech beside him know how cruel he had been, the damage he had caused.
A horn blared, the crowd roared, and Orion straightened in his seat, reaching out to clutch the rail before him in terror. His knuckle joints creaked and squealed at the pressure as he gripped the rail hard enough to dent, shaking violently and rising with the rest of the crowd to greet Megatronus’ entrance.
The second the door slid open, Orion knew something was wrong.
Megatronus’ optics were a little glazed, teeth clenched tightly. He moved more slowly than usual, and when he searched the crowd for Orion’s frame, it took him longer than it should have to find him. A pulse of anxiety washed over Orion, burning through their bond - right as something dizzy and sick was returned back to him.
Guild/weakened me/energon poisoned/strength failing moment by moment/they cheated/they cheated/I should have known-
Orion caught the glint of raw, untempered fury in Megatronus’ optics: fury that he had come this far, fought and won and lost so much, only to be thwarted in the final stage by an underhanded trick. Fury that his last stand would be inglorious. Fury that his mate was in the stands, watching him weakened and ailing and struggling to perform at half power.
Orion was merely terrified.
The slagstains had poisoned him. They’d known Drixco couldn’t defeat Megatronus without sabotage of some kind, and so this was what they’d done: weakened him enough to make him slow, enough to make him struggle. Enough to give Drixco more than a fighting chance to take him down.
Orion clenched his digits tight around the rail, all but strangling it in his grip, as if by doing so he could choke those who had dared use such cruel methods to see Megatronus defeated. The roar of the crowd around him faded out into a dull throb, a droning hum he barely processed as his spark burned hot behind his chestplates.
How. Dare. They.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Beloved. Listen to me. ::
:: Whatever they have done to you, however they have compromised you, you cannot allow them to win. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Believe you me, my mate, I have no intention of suffering a defeat under such pathetic circumstances. ::
:: I expected a trick like this. I ought to have known better… I shouldn’t have taken that cube. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: This is not your fault. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Is it not? ::
:: They played me for a fool, and they succeeded. ::
:: I knew to expect some foul, underhanded tactic, and yet I took the offered cube without thinking. ::
:: Curse my stupidity. ::
:: My mind was not on the battle where it should have been. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: You are allowed to think of other things when facing your own offlining, beloved. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: That possibility faces me during every fight. ::
:: Not a single day has passed where that threat has not loomed. ::
:: I have grown used to it. ::
:: Weak to it. ::
:: My familiarity with the end has made me comfortable with it when it should instead keep me sharp. ::
:: I cannot afford distractions now. My whole focus is required if I am to emerge victorious. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Mega - ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Forgive me, beloved, but those distractions include you. ::
:: At least for now. ::
:: If you would have me live through this, let me turn my mind to the battle to come. ::
Orion swallowed, digits burning against the metal bar. It stung to hear those words, cold and harsh and flat over their comms… but Megatronus wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not with his strength slowly waning, and a vicious fighter raring to face him.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I understand. ::
:: Then, Megatronus, I wish you luck and glory. ::
:: Win this. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: I will. ::
:: For you. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Not for me. ::
:: For Cybertron. ::
Orion caught the slight twitch of Megatronus’ dermas as he stepped with careful dignity into the ring, refusing to stumble, masking the quaking of knees struggling to hold his armored mass aloft.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: For Cybertron. ::
Sound returned in a rush. What had been little more than a dull hum suddenly became an overwhelming roar, a wave of screaming and shouting and a booming announcer’s voice washing over him as Drixco stepped into a spotlight all the way across the arena. His dark armor gleamed, polished and bright, as he grinned and waved at the crowd - many of whom, Orion realized, were cheering for him specifically. How disloyal so-called fans could be! How quickly they turned their eyes to the newest, shiniest fighter, never thinking of the mech behind the monster they chose to cheer for…
Orion gritted his dentae and glared at Drixco, willing him to stumble, to show some sign of weakness.
Instead, Drixco scanned the crowd until his optics finally landed on Orion.
He paused. Held Orion’s gaze. Gave a horrible, vicious grin. Sharp fangs were exposed beneath black dermas as he raised a servo and gave a cocky little wave, winking from across the arena. He licked his lips, letting his optics travel downwards until the rail blocked his view. His gaze made Orion’s plating crawl, like scraplets were loose under his armor.
Orion shuddered, but didn’t back down, rumbling quietly. Come for me. I dare you. I might just surprise you.
Drixco chuckled and turned aside, his laser-sharp gaze focusing instead upon Megatronus. He was confident as he approached the Champion, a greatsword slung casually over his shoulder as he sauntered his way to the center of the ring. Megatronus was already there, grim-faced, his shield out and cannon humming. Megatronus watched Drixco with a narrow gaze, tracing his every move. Orion understood implicitly that he was searching for weaknesses: cataloguing how Drixco moved, what side he favored, how he gripped his sword. If he had a shield. Where his armor was weak. Drixco was making no such study, but then, he probably assumed he didn’t need to.
He knew Megatronus had been poisoned. He’d been in on the plan. Perhaps he’d even engineered it, knowing what was in it for him if he won.
Megatronus did not rise to become Champion through dirty tricks. Megatronus held his crown through both strength and cunning - and you will make a poor substitute if this is how you begin your reign.
The announcer was saying something, asking that the duo bow to one another - but neither would bend to the other. Their optics were locked, plating flaring in a display of dominance as they each sought to intimidate the other. There would be no respect in this fight, no honor, no glory. This was a battle of survival and survival only.
A bell chimed - once. Megatronus stiffened, planting his pedes and striking a defensive pose. Orion caught a glimpse of his plating flicking as he slid into the familiar movement - the only sign of his agitation, his weakness.
The bell chimed again - twice. Drixco smirked and studied his clawed hand, ignoring his opponent, as though Megatronus wasn’t even a threat. As though Megatronus did not deserve acknowledging.
Megatronus’ leg was shaking. Just a little. Just enough.
The bell chimed a third time, and with a roar, Megatronus dove forward, making a smooth slash at Drixco’s pedes - one Drixco barely dodged. His optics went wide as he stumbled and fell, struggling to regain his footing, anger and humiliation in his stare as he scrambled back up to his feet. It was clear to him now that he’d miscalculated, that even weakend, Megatronus was far stronger than he’d realized. When he stood, Drixco was focused and angry, gripping his sword and shouting in rage as he met Megatronus’ next swing.
The fight for Megatronus’ life had begun.
Orion was hardly aware of himself then, of how far forward he was leaning, how close he was to the arena itself. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his conjunx, moving with all the grace and wrath he’d come to expect of his Champion. He screamed encouragement until his vocalizer nearly gave out, bent over the rail as far as he could go without falling. Megatronus was so far, so far from him, but he was alive and he was moving quicker than Drixco had expected, holding it together against the poison in his lines.
Drixco was clearly no Champion. Even with Megatronus weakened and moving more sluggishly than usual, struggling to get his weapons to obey him, Drixco was barely a match for him. What advantage he gained in speed Megatronus more than made up for in technique, driving Drixco back and back and back.
Orion should have felt encouraged, but he could only watch, terrified, waiting for the worst.
Most mechs wouldn’t have known it, but Orion could see how tired Megatronus was. The poisoned energon he’d been given hadn’t been enough to kill him, but it had weakened him severely. The longer the battle dragged on, the worse it became. The minutes went by with agonizing slowness, and Orion marked their passing in the wavering of Megatronus’ movements, every second bringing him closer and closer to total collapse.
By the time twenty-two minutes had passed, both mechs were cut up, dripping energon and venting raggedly, pausing their fight to glower at one another from across the ring. The slump of Megatronus’ shoulders, the way his cannon arm dragged, told Orion all he needed to know about Megatronus’ state, his optics dull and dim as he stumbled against the wall across from Orion’s seat. Megatronus stole a glance towards him, and Orion pressed a hand to his spark in reply, feeding encouragement and strength through their bond as best he could.
I’m right here. I believe in you. You will triumph, beloved. You will. You must.
Upon the screen above the stands, Orion caught a glimpse of Drixco’s faceplate, red optics narrowed and focused somewhere in the stands. Orion couldn’t actually see Drixco at the moment; he’d pressed himself somewhere along Orion’s side of the stands, up against the wall where he could watch his opponent and gather himself to fight again. Odd that he was looking upward, rather than at Megatronus. What could he possibly be seeing that would draw his eye so steadily...?
Drixco snarled and took off at a run. Orion instantly looked to Megatronus, waiting for the dark-colored mech to appear, but Megatronus was frowning, distracted, watching something else with a slowly dawning expression of horror -
Orion’s vision filled with the flash of black claws, and suddenly he was falling, falling down into the Pit itself. He gave a shout as his frame flipped midair, smashing onto the floor with an agonizing crunch. Orion’s processor spun wildly. What - how did - what am I doing down here?
A shadow blocked his view of the sky: a shadow that slowly formed itself into Drixco’s shape, his smirking faceplate sharpening in high-def as Orion’s optics finally focused correctly. “Hi there,” Drixco said, grinning.
An icy spear of terror stabbed itself into Orion’s spark. Orion gasped and pushed himself up in sheer panic, scampering backwards on his aft in an attempt to escape - but too late. Drixco dove towards Orion, digits closing tight around his intake, and yanked him aloft by the throat, just… dangling him in the air like a trophy. The crowd screamed and cheered as Orion thrashed, pedes clanging against Drixco’s chest armor.
I’m nothing but a thing to them: another player in the fight. Another piece of the entertainment. They’ll all be happy to watch me and their Champion die. They paid for the privilege.
Orion made a horrible, ragged sound, struggling harder against Drixco’s grip. What was he thinking, pulling a mech from the audience into this fight? What use could Orion possibly be to him?
Then Megatronus flooded him, every circuit, every line: raw dread crashing through the bond between them and swallowing Orion whole. Whatever Megatronus’ strategy, whatever his focus had been, it was utterly destroyed now - every instinct, every formidable turn of this thoughts focused completely on Orion.
My mate/i failed him/not him-never him-not him/i must/protect him/fight for him/save him-
Oh, no. Drixco meant to use Orion to goad Megatronus into a foolish attack. He had turned Orion into a weapon, a taunt, a challenge… and worse, Megatronus was falling for it.
Please/no/not for me/Megatronus not for me don’t-
“Hey, Megatronus,” Drixco mocked, lifting Orion higher. Orion could see him now, his optics wide and burning as Orion fought against Drixco’s grip. Orion tried to shake his helm, warn Megatronus off, but Megatronus was already shifting towards Drixco, teeth bared. “Think I found a little toy of yours just lying around up there! You really should be more careful with your things. You never know when something you value could get broken. ”
There was a flash of red heat from Megatronus’ cannon as his expression melted into one of deadly fury. The snarl on his dermas was so similar to the one he’d worn when he’d learned of Orion’s ignorance to their courtship that Orion almost shrank away from him. No/don’t let him goad you/this is what he wants/Mega please/be smart/be smarter than this/forget me -
“Put him down,” Megaronus growled, rising to his full height. The air around him rippled, literally boiling with his rage. “Now."
“Make me,” Drixco replied. Sneering, he released Orion’s intake, and Orion’s spark jumped as he fell again towards the ground - only to be captured mid-fall in the crook of Drixco’s arms. The would-be Champion yanked Orion against his chestplate, leering down into his face. “What do you think, little one?” he asked, vocals full of mockery. “Should I open you up and make him watch while I test out his favorite toy? I bet you’re all nice and stretched out already… you probably fragged before the match, didn’t you? For luck, or something. Well, I’m feeling lucky today. Maybe I can get a little of that too, yes?”
The words hit Orion like a steel beam to the spark. For a moment, he was breathless, horrified, his circuits screaming in terror… but his frame was already reacting for him, acting instinctively on some protective protocol Orion wasn’t aware was in his coding.
Without hesitation, he spat oil directly into Drixco’s optics, then slammed his elbow joint into Drixco’s faceplate with all the power in his frame.
Drixco spluttered and cursed, dropping Orion at once. For the third time Orion fell, smashing into the ground with the same painful-sounding clang. This time, he’d known what was coming, prepared for the impact. The instant he hit the floor, Orion was on his pedes, running: running towards Megatronus as fast as he could make himself go. His vision narrowed to his conjunx, his mate, Megatronus’ servo stretched out for him. He was barely aware of himself until he’d smashed fully into Megatronus’ frame, shaking and clutching at his waist.
The moment that familiar field wrapped itself around him, Orion’s terror escaped its prison, flooding every single circuit in his frame.
“I’m sorry,” Orion gasped out, shaking wildly. “I’m so sorry, I should have - I never meant - I should have stayed out of sight, now you’re in danger because of me, I’m so sorry - ”
Megatronus hissed, yanked Orion off of his frame, and hurled the smaller mech behind his back. Orion hit the wall hard , and for a moment he was sure he’d angered Megatronus so thoroughly with his slip-up that the gladiator had simply cast him aside, intending never to see him again.
But then came a clash of metal against metal; and when Orion turned, it was to find Megatronus looming protectively in front of him, sword crashing hard against Drixco’s own.
“Don’t you dare touch him, ” Megatronus snarled. The air around him was still burning, optics blazing with a reddish light Orion had only seen in his nightmares. His shoulder pauldrons flared bigger and broader, his cannon singing in warning: his very field spitting I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you -
“So protective!” Drixco said, attempting to mock - but there was a disconcerted look on his faceplate, surprise at the ferocity with which Megatronus defended his lover. Orion admitted to some surprise himself, for there was hardly a tremor in any of Megatronus’ movements. Pure, untempered rage fueled him, the need to protect driving him onwards where the fight to escape hadn’t quite sustained him. Oh, my love… “You should be grateful to have a high caste mech taken off your hands. Aren’t you the one always proclaiming the evils of the upper class?”
“Orion is mine,” Megatronus spat in reply. “If you so much as blink at my mate, I swear by the Pit - ”
Drixco froze. Time slowed. Megatronus field rippled with something alarmed and worried as the words were ripped from his intake; and Orion realized then that that title, that designation, had more significance here than he’d understood. That it was something to be used against Megatronus.
“Your mate?” Drixco repeated incredulously. His expression cleared, a smile too wide and too sharp and too full of teeth creeping slowly across his face. “Is that how it is? Why, Megatronus, I never thought you were the type. And with a mech from Iacon, too! That’ll be quite the scandal.” Drixco’s gaze snapped to Orion. “Does your Guild know you’ve made a mate of a Kaonite, little one? I’ll bet all my shanix they don’t. I bet they’d be fascinated to hear what a Data Class mech thinks he’s doing bonding with a Disposable. I wonder what they’ll do to Megatronus when they find out…”
Something in Orion snapped. A flash of light whited out his vision, a humming sound ringing in his audials. He could feel his circuits throbbing, a drumbeat reverberating in his struts, and a voice in his own processor hissing, Go. Fight. Protect him. Protect what’s yours. Save him.
When he came back to himself, he had a battle axe from the arena wall in his hands; Drixco had scampered several yards back, yellow optics agleam with fear as a slash across his abdominals bloomed with energon; and Megatronus was at his side, beaming down at him.
Orion went very still, staring at the shocked gladiator across the way. “Did… did I do that?”
“Indeed you did.” Megatronus’ vocals were soft and full of awe. My mate/so fearsome/such might within you/you make me proud to know you/little you may be/but fierce too/strong-
Drixco was rising, clutching at his wound with a hideous snarl upon his face. The crystalline shock in Orion’s circuits dispersed, and he shut down every subroutine that might get in his way, optics narrowing and focusing on his opponent. Their opponent.
Side by side, Orion Pax and Megatronus would fight together - injustice, tyranny, and cruelty, till the end.
“Together?” he said, looking up at Megatronus.
Megatronus looked down at him, smiling, pleased. “Forever.”
They did not need to speak aloud after that. Their bond sent their intentions instantaneously between them, exchanging battle plans and next moves rapid-fire over their connection. Drixco tried to follow their movements as they charged him, but their steps were fluid and lightning-fast, intended to divide his attention. He would have to pick one to focus on, and as they’d anticipated, he chose Megatronus, considering him the greater threat. The two gladiators met with a crash, Megatronus swinging hard at Drixco’s helm. Drixco raised his sword high to meet the blow, arms lifted and delicate cables and protoform exposed…
And Orion swung the axe from his opposite side, a heavy strike crashing through the joints between Drixco’s chest and abdominal plating. Metal separated from metal with a painful shriek, spitting sparks and energon all over the ground. Drixco stumbled, wheezing, clutching at the place where upper and lower frame separated with grasping digits, as if he couldn’t believe what had happened.
Orion paused, turning, a triumphant shout escaping him - a shout that faded into a horrified gurgle as he saw the damage he’d inflicted. Him. Energon dripped down Drixco’s side, internal gears and circuitry and severed lines spitting sparks. He was shaking violently, staring at the energon on his hand, blinking slowly at the wound...
When he looked up, he looked directly at Orion, as if - as if Orion had betrayed him.
“W-why?” he stuttered, heaving himself towards Orion. “Why would you - would you do that - ”
Orion lowered the axe uncertainly, tanks roiling. He’d never harmed a living mech before, and now, face to face with his victim - his victim - he felt…
He felt sickened.
Drixco was crawling towards him now. Megatronus started after him, a snarl on his faceplate, but Orion held up his hand to stop him. “Don’t,” he said, voice shaking. “Don’t, just - give me - ”
Megatronus paused. Orion/this is war/you cannot stop a battle/he must die/it’s him or me/what are you doing -
I can’t/I can’t/I’ve never killed/I’m not a monster/don’t let me become one -
Drixco was almost to Orion’s pedes now, pulling himself along with a single arm and a push of still-strong legs. His helm was lowered, focused on the ground, as he reached out and groped around until he’d closed his servo around Orion’s ankle joint, squeezing as agony overwhelmed his circuits. He paused, a rasping sound escaping him, a horrible rattling broken by the place where his torso was cut, and Primus, what was that, what was he doing, was that his vents or was he speaking or was it something else…?
Orion froze, alarm blazing through his field.
Drixco was laughing.
With a gleeful, burbling sound, Drixco tightened his grip and sent Orion flying, shoving him backwards with more strength than Orion had believed he could currently possess. Orion skittered across the arena’s floor, bouncing several times: warnings lighting his HUD about damage and protoform and broken venting before he at last skidded to a halt. Wheezing, Orion pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, dazed and confused and scared witless.
He used my kindness against me. He used it as a weapon. I would have spared him, but he -
Megatronus roared, charging straight for Drixco. The injured gladiator winked a single yellow eye at Orion and rolled over, kicking Megatronus right in his abdominal vents with all the force in his frame, sending Megatronus flying too. Megatronus smashed into a support column, blinking dazedly for a second as his systems recalibrated, determining the extent of the damage, how much pain they could overcome, where his opponent now was…
And in that split second of disorientation, Drixco pushed himself up with his good arm, pointed his gun, and shot Megatronus right through the chest.
Orion’s audials rang with a sound, sharp and painful and terrible in its intensity. It nearly drowned out the acid burn of panic in his lines, the humming in his circuits, the violent shaking of his frame. He realized the sound was his own voice, screaming: a ragged, electric howl torn from his vocalizer in notes it was never meant to play.
Megatronus stumbled and fell to one knee, clutching at his wound. He could barely lift his arm high enough to touch it - the cannon was too heavy for his weakened frame, especially now that he was injured. He looked up, optics glitching, and the cannon detached with a click, rolling towards Orion across the arena floor as Drixco gave a triumphant shout.
Megatronus held Orion’s gaze, energon welling between his digits. Trusting him. Commanding him.
Do it.
Orion could see the next few moments as viscerally as if they had already happened: Megatronus, weakened and losing energon fast, unable to escape, watching as Drixco mocked and insulted him: watching as Drixco rose to shaking pedes and drove that greatsword straight through his spark. No one would stop him from doing it. The fans would only cheer for him, and hid Guild would be pleased to see Megatronus destroyed.
Orion glanced at the cannon he so despised, thrumming with full charge. It hummed a soft song to him, whispering: It’s this or he dies. It’s this or he dies. It’s this or -
Orion gritted his teeth, shut his optics, and flung himself at the cannon.
A roar sounded through the crowd as he landed beside it, working his fingers into the control panel. He couldn’t issue commands internally the way Megatronus could, but he could shoot manually. He worked the control panel back and forth, back and forth, as Drixco grinned and waved, showing off for the howling fans.
Orion finally tore the panel free, burying his digits in the controls. He turned the cannon as quickly as he could, locking onto Drixco’s frame with his internals, and -
Hesitated.
Stared at the mech he was about to kill.
We can’t. We can’t. We ca-
Drixco turned, scowling. Saw Orion’s hand upon the trigger mechanism. His optics widened, and he gave an alarmed cry, starting to lift his good arm -
Orion pulled the trigger before he could even finish the gesture.
A hole the size of his chestplate punched straight through Drixco’s torso, all but finishing the job of tearing him in half. Internals and energon sprayed everywhere as his frame fell to its knees: optics glitching, mouth falling open, and then the metal slowly fading into gray. Drixco’s frame fell face-first into the dirt, a pool of energon spreading and running towards Orion like a waterfall.
I did that, Orion thought dimly. I shot the cannon. I killed him.
Orion trembled all over, looking helplessly up at Megatronus as his legs and arms gave out beneath his weight. What have I done, what have I done, what have I done - ?
Megatronus was wheezing loudly, vents broken, a wound in the top of his chest armor near his pauldrons. He forced himself away from the support column and stumbled his way to Orion, his legs shaking with the effort. Orion was dimly aware of cheering, a crowd gleefully bellowing Megatronus’ name, or something like it - it sounded more like… like Megatron? - but Orion could barely make sense of anything but that bright blue pool and the shape of his beloved’s frame and the cannon lying in front of him, the cannon that had almost killed him, the cannon he had used to -
Megatronus collapsed in front of him, going down on one knee and blocking his view of Drixco’s graying frame. His whole frame was beaten and scratched and covered in energon, but he was alive. Primus, he was alive.
Orion snapped out of his trance and threw himself against Megatronus’ chest, clinging to him with all the force and fire in his frame.
“You made it,” he choked out, breathing Megatronus in: the scent of energon and phaser cells and smoke all over him. “You survived, you’re alive, you’re alive - ”
Megatronus pulled Orion close, just holding him. His field burned with pride and adoration. “Thanks to you,” he said. “My brave archivist, my worthy mate. I knew you had the strength to do it. Did I not tell you so?”
The strength to do it. Megatronus had told him he had the strength to lead, not the strength to kill. The two were not the same. Orion shivered, hiding his faceplate against Megatronus’ shoulder. “I killed him,” he whispered. “I didn’t - I never wished - ”
“I know, beloved,” Megatronus murmured. “The first one is the hardest. The guilt and the fear and sickening dread - it all fades away once one gives it time. You will grow used to it.”
Used to it? Primus, Orion didn’t want to grow used to it. He never wanted to feel this sinking horror again, ever. “I - ”
Someone nearby reset their vocalizer in a pointed fashion, and both mechs on the ground looked up.
A mech wearing a Guildmaster badge and a cape the color of energon stood above them, wearing the most forced smile Orion had ever seen. From the way Megatronus’ field burned, Orion could only guess that this was the mech who oversaw the Gladiators’ Guild - the mech to whom Megatronus had pledged himself as a fighter and entertainer, the mech who ran this entire sordid show. Orion glared at him too, holding Megatronus a little tighter.
“Well!” said the Guildmaster, vocals full of mock cheer. “It would seem we owe you our congratulations, Megatronus! You have come out the victor, as ever. The Primes truly blessed you with a gift for killing. We’ll be quite sad to see you leave us.”
Megatronus glowered at the mech, his digits squeezing against Orion’s frame. “I’m sure you will, Phasebreak,” he said flatly. “But a contract is a contract. The final fight is won; my entry fee and upkeep are all paid. Unless you have something else you wish to impart, I believe you are here to remove the tracking chip from my frame and to release me.”
Guildmaster Phasebreak’s dermas twisted as though he’d tasted something sour. “Yes. You are… quite correct, of course. Tourniquet, if you would?”
An enormous black and orange femme approached, holding a scanner and a laser scalpel. She set about scanning with a frown of concentration while Megatronus and Phasebreak continued to stare at one another.
Clearly there was no love lost between these two.
“I will be fascinated to see what you intend to do once you leave us, Megatronus - or is it Megatron? Your public appears to be confused.” Phasebreak gestured to the cheering crowd, all celebrating Megatronus’ triumph.
Megatronus didn’t blink, didn’t break. “Megatron has a good ring to it, don’t you think? A name worthy of a free mech,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll keep it.”
“Hmm. Well then, Megatron… what are your plans, exactly?” Phasebreak sniffed. “Starving on the streets seems like a rather unpleasant alternative to stardom in the Pits.”
Megatronus - Megatron? They would have to discuss that later - looked ready to reply, but Orion spoke first. “He will be coming to work with me,” he said. His vocals were low and intense, daring Phasebreak to object.
Phasebreak stared at Orion as if his processor had just glitched. “You, an archivist, plan to hire him, a gladiator?” he scoffed. “What possible use could you have for him, aside from the obvious?”
Orion ignored the jab, holding Phasebreak’s shifty gaze. “My work requires me to travel frequently in search of rare texts, sometimes in dangerous places,” he said. “I could use an assistant as well as a bodyguard. Somehow I don’t foresee an objection from Alpha Trion, and as he is the one who oversees my work…”
Phasebreak’s lips twisted even further. “How nice. You’ll have bored the mech out of his processor in two weeks flat, I’m sure.”
“I very much doubt it.” Megatron growled as Tourniquet made an incision in a soft place under his back armor, her hand transforming into a small tool to help her retrieve the chip. “Are you finished yet?”
“Calm your actuators, Megatron,” Tourniquet replied, in a tone that sounded eerily reflective of Ratchet’s. “I’ll be finished in five…” Her hand came up, a chip glistening in the light, and she grinned at it and crushed it. “Four…” She transformed her hands and wiped them with cleanser, then groped for a welding tool. “Three…” She flicked the heat on and sealed the wound, earning another hiss from Megatron. “Two… one… and done!” She tossed the welding tool into her subspace and stood, offering Megatron her hand. “Congratulations, Megatron. You’re a free mech.”
Megatron - Primus, it was odd to think of him by a different designation - started at the words. He almost seemed… terrified. Incredulous. Could he really be free? Or was there another battle left to fight, another barrier he’d have to cross?
Orion steeled himself and helped Megatron to his feet, holding him tightly. We are walking out of here together, you and I, and no one is going to stop us. I’m taking you home. I’m taking you home. I’m taking you -
“Congratulations,” Phasebreak said bitterly. “We wish you all the best, Champion. And if, perhaps, things don’t quite go as you planned…” He grinned, winking. “Well, you know where to find me.”
The Guildmaster stepped aside at last, and the small party of mechs that had followed him also moved aside, leaving a path for Orion and Megatron to walk through. Orion heard more shouting and realized that the edges of the arena were flooded with mechs, held back by security: thousands of fans all reaching out for Megatron, chanting his name, and howling something else…
Rise up! Rise up! Rise up! Rise up!
Orion clutched his lover a little tighter, leaning into his grip, and tried to push the growing unease from his spark.
He’s free. We’re free. That’s all that matters.
Notes:
Per the Aligned wiki, Drixco is mentioned as the first mech Optimus Prime kills as part of the war and causes him to have a crisis of conscience. Obviously I used that idea in a slightly different context, but when I settled on what I wanted to do with the fight and the conflict I wanted to set up, it seemed like an interesting idea to play with.
Chapter 10: Forevers
Summary:
In the aftermath of the battle in Kaon, Orion and Megatron reflect on how they came to be here, and what the future may hold for them.
Notes:
God, I'm so sorry this took me so long to post. My mental health has been a complete disaster, and we're trying to buy a house among other things - but it's done! Finally!
This is technically the "end" of the story, but there's an addendum to come after this. So, more soon. I have a number of other MegOp projects I've been working on that will be going up soon as well.
Enjoy!!
Chapter Text
Orion woke to gray, ashen dirt between his digits, a heavy silence muffling his own vents.
He lifted his helm, his spark thrumming in awkward pulses as he turned this way and that. He had no idea where he was. Above him, the sky was dark and starless, the moon leaking red and blue into the midnight black around it. And there, illuminated by a sickly gray light: empty stands, glowing greenish and dusty under the moonlight.
He rose on unsteady pedes, spark pulsing harder, lines tightening with unease.
He was in an arena. A crumbling, abandoned arena.
He blinked, puzzled, internal alarms pinging as he searched the stands for signs of life. How had he found himself here? Something told him he ought to run, but fear paralyzed him, rooting him where he stood. The air was thick with dust, clogging his vents as he tuned his audials, hoping to hear some kind of sound out there in the darkness.
Nothing.
Safe. Or was he? Nothing about this situation felt safe. There should be an audience. There should be sounds from outside the stands. There should be someone else there, waiting for him, expecting him, hunting him -
A faint prickle, like a whisper of a touch over his field, and Orion grew certain a pair of eyes were locked on him. He stiffened, clenching his fists at his sides. He knew who it was who watched him from the shadows: his opponent. His enemy. He bared his teeth, staring out into the silent darkness beyond. Every strut in his frame tensed, ready to attack the second his opponent made a wrong move.
One. Beat. Two. Beat. Three. Beat. Four.
Crunch.
Behind him, there it was, the sound of a pedestep: muffled but distinct, pinging Orion’s field and returning a projected set of location coordinates. Orion smiled, fierce and cold and lacking any kind of joy.
Found you.
He didn’t think. Didn’t command. Didn’t vent. He spun in a single fluid motion, lifting his arm high: following some internal protocol he’d never accessed before. He’d fired the shot before he could consider it, a cannon as unfamiliar as these empty stands heavy upon his arm. He laughed, triumphant, following the path of its deadly beam as it traveled across the ring.
It struck its target, illuminating him in sparks of red and purple. The shape of that frame was so familiar, tantalizingly so, like a friend he had once known and long ago lost...
When the injured mech lifted his helm, Orion found himself staring into the face of Megatronus.
“Orion,” he said, stuttering over the designation, optics wide with betrayal. The rasp in his voice was a death rattle now: a wheeze, a gasp, a cry. “Why...? I - trusted - ”
Orion’s arm dropped like a lead weight as every inch of his frame went cold. His mouth opened, and a howl tore free of his vocalizer, a scream so raw the voxcorder itself felt as though it had shattered. He was screaming, sobbing, he knew he was; but he heard no echo through the empty stands. There was only the silence and the clang of Megatronus’ knees hitting the ground as he stumbled and fell, turning gray…
Orion shouted. Tried to run to him. His pedes made a horrible crunch , foot sinking down into the earth, and when he looked -
Bodies. Thousands of them. Millions. When he looked up again, the stands were gone, and a field of rusting, twisted frames stretched on into forever, disappearing into the horizon. They’d been blasted apart by cannonfire, some of them with mouths still open, howling their death throes to an uncaring sky. A river of energon rose about his ankles as half blown-off faces swiveled towards him on broken neck struts, wearing rictus grins.
Give it time. Give it time. Soon you won’t feel it. Take the shot. Just a little more time and it won’t hurt anymore...
A servo closed around his leg, digging into his frame and shaking him. His plating clattered and his processor spun dizzily as he pitched forward, falling, falling into yawning darkness -
“Orion!”
Orion bolted upright, struggling against a massive weight attempting to hold him down. His frame blared with all sorts of alarms, warning him of panic and danger and lost recharge. He clawed at the thing that held him prisoner, struggling viciously against its grip. You won’t take me without a fight. I have to fight. I have to fight. I have to - “Let go!”
“Orion,” said Megatronus’ voice, sharp with worry and reprimand. “Stop. Stop! ”
Orion went still, venting rapidly. Was he hearing things? The vocals were right, the hands were right, the weight of that frame was right. His helm snapped in the direction of that voice, spark flaring in his chest. He almost didn’t dare believe that his conjunx still functioned, not after what he had seen and done.
But there he was, glimmering in the morning sunlight: Megatronus in his full glory, optics bright with concern and field stretched out to wrap itself around Orion, breathing warmth and comfort to him.
Calm yourself[my mate][my spark]it’s alright/i am here/you are safe[protect you with my life] -
Orion’s resolve crumbled, and he collapsed, gasping, burying his face against the former gladiator’s chest.
“Shh,” Megatronus - no, Megatron, his name was Megatron now - murmured, bundling Orion into his arms. “I’m here. I’m right here, sweet one. It was only a dream.”
A nightmare.
Orion drew in a long, slow vent, seeking some semblance of calm. Slim digits sought and found transformation seams in which to bury themselves, clinging with all the might in Orion’s frame. He needed to touch his Conjunx, hold him, drink him in. He breathed in the scent of medical grade and fresh welds as a scar from where Megatron had been shot pressed against his faceplate. Orion nuzzled it, aching and teary-eyed. My fault. My fault.
Megatron’s embrace was firm, his arms heavy around Orion’s body. The weight helped. The pressure of those powerful arms reassured Orion that he was safe, that he was loved, that the danger had passed and they had both come out of it alive. Orion’s sickened spark spun less harshly as it tuned itself to Megatron’s own.
Sparkmate is here/[beside][next to][with][near] you/safe-and-sound[my love, always, protect you until my death]-
“There,” Megatron murmured. “That’s better. Just a dream.”
Orion realized that Megatron was rocking him like a sparkling, gently swaying to soothe his troubled spark. It was calming enough to lull Orion back to sleep - or it would have been, if images from his dreams hadn’t kept reasserting themselves full-force. Megatron, bloodied. A half-ruptured faceplate opening its mouth to scream. The cannon jolting on his arm -
“Stop,” Megatron said quietly. “Let it go, my mate. What you are seeing are but fragments of the grief and terror you felt during the fight, not reality.”
Orion blinked, disconcerted - then realized that what he saw, Megatron must also be seeing too through their bond. “Ah. You saw my dream, then,” he said, voice crackling with exhaustion.
Megatron made an affirmative noise, smoothing circles into Orion’s lower back plates. “And quite a dream it was,” he said wryly. “I certainly did not expect to witness my own demise at your hand! You make for a strange murderer, my mate.”
Orion shuddered, a great, heaving gasp escaping him, and Megatron squeezed him more tightly, apology erupting all over his field. “No, no, beloved, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing Orion’s helm. “Hush. Forgive me. I should not make light of such things.”
You most certainly should not, Orion wanted to say; but the words wouldn’t come. His plating shivered minutely, and he stared into nothing, still clutching at Megatron’s armor - desperate to find peace in his touch.
At least they were home in Iacon. Safe, for the moment. Orion was still uncertain what the future held for them, but he drew comfort from the sight of his own berthroom, his datapads and fairy lights and the view from the window he knew so well.
Megatron was free. Megatron was here to stay, and Orion Pax need never give him up again.
That last thought finally soothed his tumultuous thoughts, and he eased in Megatron’s grip, the frightened trembling of his frame slowing to a halt.
“There,” Megatron said, nuzzling his crest. “Feeling better?”
Orion looked up, flashing a tiny smile by way of reassurance. “A little, thank you.” He hesitated a moment, considering what to say. He did not want to abandon the dream in lingering silence, where it would be forgotten until it resurrected itself to haunt him again. There were many things they had not had time to discuss in their frantic flight from Kaon, things that Orion knew could not be left to fester. “Yesterday was… disturbing.”
Megatron’s servo stilled on Orion’s back. “Disturbing?”
Orion nodded, thinking of all that had happened. He was still struggling to process what he had done in the heat of the moment - that blinding rage and terror that had driven him to strike. Was that what Megatron felt all the time? Was that what Megatron had buried so deeply he’d assured Orion it would disappear one day, leaving him colder, harder, crueler?
No. The notion was untenable. Orion could not, would not become a killer. It was against everything he’d ever stood for, the line he did not dare to cross.
“I could not bear to lose you,” Orion said at last. He lifted his face to look at Megatron, seeking comfort in his eyes. “Yet I did not wish for Drixco’s demise, either. That a mech perished at my hand - that I killed him…”
Megatron tilted his helm. His gaze was dimmed and unusually soft. My [mate][gentle one][softspark][sweet one]/too kind for the world in which we live/this is difficult but real/i am sorry you learned it like this - “What you are forced to do by command of the system is not inherently your fault. You cannot take the burden of a gladiator match’s rules upon yourself like this.”
Orion frowned, almost accusing. “I did not want Drixco to die.”
“I know.” Megatron gently kissed his helm, nosing his crest. “Do you think I wished harm upon my own opponents? Such is the way of things in the Pits. To survive, we as warriors are presented with a choice: to slay the other mech and live, or to grant that mech his life by sacrificing our own. That is no choice at all to me, nor should it be to you, my mate.”
Orion was only further disquieted at the words, but he did not know what to ask to calm his fears, to ease the strain within his spark. He did not know how to convey the root of that disquiet, even to himself. “When did the dreams cease for you?”
Megatron considered that, lying back down and pulling Orion with him. “It was a long time before I no longer felt the sting of my victories. I’m not sure I could count the years. It was a weakness I endeavored to hide from my fellow fighters as best I could so that it could not be exploited. They scent such vulnerabilities like bloodhounds. If any had believed me to be so soft, they would have used it to destroy me.”
Orion hummed in thought, settling himself atop Megatron’s chest with his chin resting upon his hands. “You’ll find that society in Iacon is quite different than in Kaon,” he said. “Such displays of aggression are not necessary. You need not be so hard and fearsome for the sake of show - not any longer. You are permitted, at last, to feel. ”
Megatron chuckled. “Hmm. I suppose you’re right, although it will be quite a difficult habit to break.” His servos stopped moving, hesitating over Orion’s frame. “Orion. What you said to Phasebreak… do you truly intend to employ me at the Hall?”
“That was my first notion, yes.” Orion looked up, grateful for the change of subject. In the warm and cheery glow of daylight, the cobwebs of his nightmares were at last beginning to fade, leaving only the whisper of an icy chill in his spark. “Unless there is another occupation you would prefer?”
“I doubt very much that any other occupation would take me.” Megatron smiled down at him, and for the first time that morning Orion really looked at him. The welding on his chest was still fresh, still tender, and there was a thin scar Orion hadn’t noticed running dark and cracked down Megatron’s faceplate, over his left eye. Even so, he remained the mate and mech that Orion loved and worshipped: handsome, strong, certain. A fighter to his very core. A rebel. “But I would not have you risk your position on my behalf. I know how happy your records make you.”
“Megatronus, I - ” Orion paused, tripping over the designation. “... Megatron,” he corrected. Megatron smiled a little wider. “I would never wish to force you into work you do not enjoy. You needn’t decide just yet. Rest, recuperate, think on it. You have earned that much and more besides, I think.”
“The notion of being a house husband is infinitely less appealing than working in the Hall would be,” Megatron replied, lip curling in distaste. “What would I do all day?”
“Were I to hazard a guess... I imagine you climbing atop one of Iacon’s many statues and giving political speeches until the Elite Forces tossed you into a cell,” Orion said dryly.
Megatron gave a full-body laugh this time. “Ah, how well you know me, little archivist,” he said. “What a dire scenario you paint! I suppose you shall have to keep me very occupied.”
“Oh? And how shall I occupy you, my mate?” asked Orion, adopting a somber face. “Perhaps you’d like to sort my collection of datapads? Paint the berthroom? Frag your humorless husband into a short-circuiting puddle?”
“ Humorless? Primes forfend, my sweet one!” Megatron cocked his helm, stroking Orion’s audial fondly. “I believe my so-called humorless husband is attempting to make a joke of something I take quite seriously.”
“What’s that?”
Megatron’s optics glinted, a flash of mischief glittering in their depths. “I am utterly devoted to Orion Pax’s pleasure. Rest assured, all the power of my processor is put to the task of what sinful delights I might show you next.”
Orion bit down on a smile. “But only when the nanites have done their work and that weld is fully settled,” he said, with all the solemnity of a funeral. “I would not wish to agitate your wound.”
What had been a sultry grin turned to a frown. “You will agitate several other parts of me quite painfully if you choose to wait so long,” said Megatron. He looked very much the sulky sparkling, annoyed at being denied the treat he’d asked for. “If you are so concerned about the wound, you could take charge instead. I do so adore the notion of watching you drive yourself to overload atop me.”
Orion vented, engines revving before he could quite catch them. Ride Megatron? The idea had occurred to him before, but he’d half-expected Megatron to loathe it when his partners took control. Hearing that he liked it - that he wanted Orion to do it... “You would allow me that? Really?”
“I might even tolerate a spiking from you,” Megatron said, casually folding his servos behind his head. That smug look had returned, a gleam in his optics that Orion knew intimately by now. “ If you think yourself capable of handling me.”
Primus, what would that be like? Orion had genuinely not considered spiking Megatron before, if only because he expected his lack of experience and smaller size might make him clumsy and awkward; but if he could… if Megatron thought he might enjoy it...
Orion realized abruptly that Megatron had never uncovered his valve during interface before. His spike housing he always drew aside gladly to Orion’s touch, but even when Orion had pressed teasing caresses to his valve cover, attempting to coax it open, Megatron had merely dragged him away on the pretense of trying something else. Orion ached to see it, to become as familiar with this last piece of his Champion as he was with all the rest.
“Hmm...” Orion said, unfolding one arm and lazily tracing his digits down Megatron’s vents. “Would it be too much to hope you might allow me to taste you?”
Megatron’s field flared with surprise and arousal, bright crackles of charge dancing between his armor plates. “You want to?”
Orion arched both brow ridges. The intensity of that response was unexpected indeed. “ Yes. Desperately. I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you from the start!” He paused, grinning up at his Champion and winking slyly. “May I take that rev of your engines to be a sign of your approval?”
Megatron’s optics glitched for a moment, a hot gust of air escaping his vents. “You are certainly welcome to try if you wish,” he said, swallowing thickly.
Orion’s spark leapt, and in the next moment he was all motion, gripping Megatron’s sides and pressing worshipful kisses to his chest. A soft thunk sounded, and when Orion glanced up, Megatron’s helm had fallen back against the berth, his digits clawing at Orion’s sheets. Orion slid lower, pressing his lips to one of his favorite parts of Megatron’s frame: those beautiful open vents in his abdomen, warm and flashing red circuitry and oh-so-responsive to the soft caress of his glossa. Megatron made a hoarse sound, growling syllables Orion could only assume were those of his designation -
And then the door to his berthroom snapped open.
“You’d better not be agitating those very complex welds I worked so hard on, Orion Pax,” Ratchet snapped, servos on his hips as he glared at Megatron. Megatron, who had wrenched upright at the intrusion, bared his teeth, snarling in reply. “And you, Megatron - did I mention you need to limit your physical activity while you recuperate? That includes any kind of interface. No arguments!”
“I’m fine, ” Megatron bit out, glaring at the doctor. “I thought you would have shown yourself out by now.”
Ratchet rolled his optics, turning away. “I was having a chat - of sorts - with your quiet friend here,” he said, gesturing to Orion’s living room. “I made some repairs to his frame as well. He advised me that you might require a reminder about your limitations.”
Orion blushed a florid blue. How could he have forgotten Soundwave and Ratchet, recharging out in the main room of his apartment? How could he have forgotten Soundwave’s many cameras, the security he had so carefully installed while Ratchet worked on a stasis-locked Megatron?
Well, Megatron made it easy to forget a great many things. Especially when he turned that single-minded focus to seducing Orion.
Megatron’s upper derma curled, eyes flashing with annoyance. “ Soundwave should be reminded that I have survived far worse injuries than this,” he said. “I’m not an invalid - ”
“Yes, you are,” Ratchet snapped. “Doctor’s orders! No activity. I’m expecting you to enforce that rule, Orion.”
“Understood, Ratchet,” Orion said tiredly. He patted Megatron’s chest, avoiding the fresh welding scar, and disentangled himself from the former gladiator’s lap with a regretful pulse of his field. “We should see to our guests, Megatron.”
Megatron growled, but rose, laying his servo on the small of Orion’s back. “As you wish.”
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: To be continued. ::
Orion smiled, leaning against Megatron’s side.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Oh, I wouldn’t wish to disobey a medical professional. ::
:: To be continued - in a week, when the wound has settled. ::
Megatron’s optics snapped to him, an ominous rumble sounding from his engines.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Orion. ::
Orion calmly piloted Megatron towards the door, returning Megatron’s narrow glower with a coy, wide-eyed stare.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Yes? ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Don’t you dare bat those innocent optics at me, little archivist! ::
:: You may have been sealed the first time we were together, but I’ve seen your fantasies. ::
:: You will be as hard-pressed to refrain as I am. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Are you so certain? ::
:: I am very patient. ::
:: And I believe we agreed patience was not among your more prominent qualities. ::
Megatron made a complaining sound, displeased. No doubt Orion would be treated to that fearsome glower for however long they were required to abstain.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Do you wish to see what 225 tons of restless warbuild acts like after a week of deprivation? ::
:: Is that what this is? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: I have seen how you are after literal years of such deprivation, my Champion! ::
:: Although I suppose you likely had other partners during the time before the mate-claim. ::
:: Romantic partners, I mean. ::
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Is that a subtle inquiry? ::
:: There were a few. ::
:: Not so many as you perhaps imagine. ::
:: Actually, an encounter with a fanmech is what gave me cause to realize I desired you. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Oh? ::
By the time Orion had posed the single-syllable query, too carefully framed to be casual, they had crossed into the main living space, where Soundwave and Ratchet were waiting expectantly for them. Megatron shifted into his more public persona, the thread of their comms stalled as he straightened and focused his attention on his fellow gladiator.
How does he do that? He remains so unruffled on the surface while so much is happening in the mind beneath. I’d require a real mask to hide my feelings that way.
Soundwave had folded himself into the window seat, one of his cassettes - Ravage, Orion thought he was called - seated beside him with a weather eye on the city spread out below. Orion nodded and offered a small wave, but his thoughts were preoccupied with Megatron - with this encounter that had brought him clarity regarding his feelings, presumably far before Orion had had any certainty of his own.
“All is quiet outside, I trust?” said Megatron to Soundwave. Soundwave tilted his helm, an image displaying a perfectly typical view of Iacon’s streets. “Excellent. You will continue to monitor, lest anyone approach us who might intend harm?”
Soundwave gave a minute nod, silent as ever; and in that pause, Megatron finally issued a reply.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: Are you inquiring after details, beloved? ::
:: Do I sense a hint of envy in that pretty field of yours? ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Envy? No, not as such. ::
:: But I do wonder what it was about this mech that made you realize you wanted me instead. ::
“I don’t know what harm you expect to come to you,” said Ratchet, scoffing loudly. Orion frowned at him, trying to convey disapproval without interrupting - but Ratchet, as ever, would not be silenced. “This is Iacon! The crime rate is incredibly low compared to your Kaon rates. No roving gangs here, no drunken fighters eager to show off their strength. There’s nothing to watch for.”
Megatron cast Ratchet a disdainful glare. “Not for you, perhaps, doctor, ” he replied. The title echoed with venom, reminding Ratchet that his caste was one of the highest, and that Megatron had no patience for his opinion on this subject. “Low-caste mechs are never safe among such lofty company. I would far prefer to be overly cautious than to be caught unawares by some council or law enforcement official intending to collect me and return me to the city from whence I came.”
Orion curled further into Megatron’s side, shuddering at the notion. No, he would never allow that, never. The path ahead of them would be difficult, of course, and they would yet face many trials due to their differences; but in the end, they would still be together. Orion was certain of that.
“I’m not unfamiliar with your struggles, Megatron,” said Ratchet, scowl deepening. “I worked in the Pits before you were ever there. A nightmarish place. That you survived is a testament to your strength, cunning, and ferocity. That does not mean you are prepared for Iacon, however. It’s nothing like Kaon, and if you intend to survive here, you’ll have to - ”
“Ratchet,” Orion said, keeping his voice soft. Still, the note of warning in his vocals was unmistakable.
Ratchet threw his hands up, rolling his optics. “Yes, yes, stop lecturing. I hear you.” He turned and gathered his medical kit, huffing his way towards the door. “Well, my work here is done, it would seem. If that weld requires mending in the next week or so, Orion, I’m charging you for my time.”
Orion gave a quiet laugh, shaking his helm fondly. “Thank you, old friend. We appreciate your help.”
Ratchet paused, casting an unusually heavy glance over his shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure you do.”
The emphasis was not lost on Orion, nor was it lost on Megatron. Orion felt a pulse of cold dislike for Ratchet over their bond, faint but clear: not meant for him to feel, perhaps, but also not an emotion Megatron could fully contain, either.
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Ratchet means well, though at times he may seem… prickly, I suppose. ::
:: Not entirely unlike a certain Conjunx of mine. ::
And there went Megatron’s engines again, another threatening rumble sounding just loudly enough for Orion to both hear and feel it.
D16.MEGATRONUS[GLAD-MINER-166610]-CNJX
:: If you believe me to act in any fashion like Ratchet, my mate, then advise me of what I must change so the comparison is never made again. ::
ORION.PAX[ARCH-DATA-131307]-MATE
:: Hush. ::
:: There are far worse mechs to be compared to, beloved. ::
Soundwave rose from the window seat, and Megatron turned back to him, that pulse of dislike fading at once into calm and trust. Megatron was familiar to Orion in all his forms by now, but when he was with Orion and Soundwave only, he was at his most natural, his most relaxed. Orion wished he could feel the same sort of ease around Soundwave, but the mech made him quite nervous - not the least because he had the distinct impression that Soundwave did not approve of him.
He’d never really understood why such might be the case, but now at last he realized the cause. Soundwave had no particular objections to Orion as a being; he simply did not feel that Orion was an appropriate match for his closest friend.
Orion would have to prove him wrong.
“Thank you for ensuring our safety, Soundwave,” Megatron said gravely. “You are, as always, the truest of friends. You needn’t linger here if you do not wish to - I know Iacon makes you uneasy.”
Soundwave gave the barest semblance of a nod, a tiny tip of his helm. He pointed a spindly digit towards Ravage, then released another cassette from his chest - Laserbeak, Orion thought its name was.
“Thank you,” Megatron said again. “Laserbeak will keep surveillance while Soundwave is in Kaon,” he added, specifically to Orion this time. Orion had often wondered how Megatron could interpret so much from the tiniest movement of Soundwave’s frame. “Between Laserbeak and Ravage, we should be safe for now. More drastic security measures may be required later.”
Orion started to reply, but noticed that Soundwave was sailing past him, silent as a ghost. “Thank you, Soundwave,” he called after the mech’s retreating back. “Travel safely.”
Soundwave paused. Glanced over his shoulder. Gave another nod.
Then, just like that, he was gone.
Orion blinked, frowning at the door as it slid closed in Soundwave’s wake. “He disapproves of me, doesn’t he?” he said aloud.
“Retribution for your beloved Ratchet disapproving equally of me, I suppose,” Megatron replied, plating ruffling irritably. In the next sparkpulse, his servo had found its way to Orion’s hip, turning him firmly back towards the berthroom. “Now, where were we? I believe you had made a request of me before we were so rudely interrupted...”
“ You were telling me about a certain encounter with a fan, I believe,” Orion replied, wriggling out of Megatron’s grip. He wasn’t going to escape the discussion that easily - certainly not when he was the one who had started it in the first place.
Megatron’s optics flashed, a slight downward turn of his dermas informing Orion that this was not at all what he had meant, as though Orion was not perfectly aware of the fact. “So interested in my past berthmates! I might question your own history in this regard.”
Orion heaved an exasperated vent. “You know my history. You are my history!”
Megatron waved a servo, dismissing the words. “Immaterial. There are many things a mech might do that would not break your seals. So? No fumbling attempts with your ancient medic friend?”
“ No ,” Orion said, aghast. “Primus, no! Nothing of that sort was ever between us. I’ve had other relationships, but they were largely superficial and short. Nothing like this.” Orion tilted his helm, arching an optic ridge. Wait. I see what you are doing. “You are attempting to distract me from the heart of the matter. Tell me of this fan that made you realize you desired me.”
Megatron growled, and Orion thought he caught a glimpse of a slight ripple of heat around his face. “There is nothing to tell. It was only that he looked very much like you - the same paint colors, though not in the same places; similar frame type; similar caste. If I squinted and shut down my audials, it might have been you there with me.”
He was being too casual, too dismissive. Orion could feel him shying away from the reality of what that had felt like: how fiercely it had made him burn to think of Orion shuddering in his lap, crying out his designation as his control shattered. How much he had ached to have Orion beside him in berth, sated and blissful, proposing political quandaries and plotting revolution from beneath Megatron’s arm. How startled he had been to find he wanted it so much.
Orion stepped back into the perimeter of Megatron’s field, leaning against Megatron’s frame and teasing his digits over the warrior’s chest. He had to work to keep a smug smile off of his lips. “Fascinating. And I suppose the idea did not horrify you nearly so much as you expected.”
Megatron rolled his optics. “I was not entirely repulsed, no.”
He was doing it again - shying away from any perceived vulnerability, as though to feel such things was a weakness. Well, we can’t have that, can we?
“High praise indeed,” Orion drawled. “I am delighted to learn you do not find me completely repulsive.”
“That is not at all what I meant and you know it,” said Megatron, glowering down at him. “Do not pretend I am imagining that arrogant little gleam in your eyes!”
“Arrogant and repulsive! Your compliments do wonders for my ego, Champion.” Orion curled himself fully against Megatron’s frame, wrapping his arms around the gladiator’s waist and looking up at him with a little smirk. “Dare I imagine that your recognition of my frame type made you more enthusiastic for that particular encounter?”
Megatron huffed, annoyed, but his servo came to rest atop Orion’s helm, caressing the royal blue metal. “Indeed it did. I was astonished to find it so. It had not occurred to me that what I felt for you might stray into such licentious territory.”
He paused, suddenly growing serious. Orion’s vents caught in his chest as both his beloved’s servos lifted to curve around his helm, cupping his face. Would he ever cease to be amazed by that tenderness, that capacity for softness within Megatron’s warrior-build? Such gestures turned his internals to liquid warmth, glowing like heated ore.
Megatron was still looking at him with that terribly admiring gaze, optics dimmed and half-lidded. “You were, and are, one of very few mechs I prize as my equal,” he said. The words came slowly, quietly, measured and taut with meaning. “I considered you a counselor, a dear friend, a veritable saint. I thought debasing you with such thoughts a vile betrayal at first, until it struck me that you need not be a berthmate only.”
Orion’s spark throbbed in his chest, overwhelmed. “What do you mean?”
Megatron paused for a moment, as though considering what he was about to say - deciding whether or not it was wise to speak at all. Orion’s dermas parted, and Megatron smiled fondly, brushing his thumb over his lower lip. All at once his field and spark both unfurled, opening for Orion to feel completely. Orion made a small, shuddering sound, optics fluttering as he accepted that openness and offered up his own in return, promising that this was safe - that Megatron was safe with him. I will never take for granted this gift you have given me. I will never use this vulnerability against you. My mate, my life-force, the light within my veins, the star that guides my way at night...
Megatron hummed in reply. When he finally did speak, his voice was measured and hoarse and full of an intensity of the deepest, most primal nature. “I had always believed it my destiny to walk my path alone,” he said. “The notion of taking a mate seemed a laughable one, a foolish proposition for a gladiator emerging from the mines. I could not imagine that any mech existed whom I could trust with my whole spark that way. But you… ”
He went silent again, emotion echoing through his field in gentle waves. Orion made a sound as that warmth, that depth seeped through his circuits, down to his very protoform. If he had ever doubted Megatron’s feelings for him, it was impossible to deny them now.
Orion opened his eyes, reaching up to lace his digits through Megatron’s and returning the feeling back to him in sweet, soft sparks of gratitude and joy. Even now he seldom felt as though he had the words for how much Megatron meant to him, but this - this starburst of emotion, erupting and embracing - this he could express, and gladly, a thousand times over.
Megatron gave a tiny smile, smoothing his thumb over the silver plating of Orion’s face. “You have proven the exception to nearly every rule, Orion Pax,” he said softly. “Perhaps especially this one. When first I met you, I did not believe you could be all that you appeared to be: a mid-caster who genuinely supported my cause, who saw me as his equal and cared little for the delineations caste lines set for us. I did not believe you would prove a staunch ally, nor that you would be every bit the brilliant, scholarly, genuine mech you seemed to be in your missives. I could not, and sometimes still cannot, believe that the earnestness of your spark is as true as it appears - that your kindness and softness is real.
“But years passed, and you did not change,” said Megatron. “You were you, always, even when you might have been better served pretending to be someone else, to profess beliefs you did not hold. I prepared myself for a catastrophic fall that never came. Years of our friendship were spent denying what I felt, putting words to what was between us that did not fit: friend. Brother. Confidante. Companion. I cut off any hint of something deeper, knowing that if you failed me, if you betrayed me, it would hurt that much worse. I fought myself, ignored what I felt, and played at friendship every time, until my frame itself rebelled against me and forced me to face what it was I truly desired from you.”
He paused again, venting softly, and bent to nose Orion’s pointed crest. Orion breathed him in, pressing back into the touch, saying without speaking how much hearing these words meant. My[mate][conjunx][spark’s-light][starlight][sun]/do you know/how much/i [love][admire][adore] you-?-
“After that night, I could no longer pretend I did not love you,” Megatron said. “You set every part of me aflame. You are in all respects my perfect balance, and your counsel is ever-wise and ever-useful. Even before that encounter, I had intended to have you at my side as my most trusted, my dearest advisor; why not, I thought, have you at my side as that and more? And thus I began to change the shape of my plans to include a mate-claim and a future not just for me, but for us. ”
Orion’s dermas parted, a tiny, surprised noise escaping him. It had never occurred to him that Megatron had thought of claiming him as a mate before he had made the gesture himself, though it had been foolish of him to believe Megatron hadn’t considered it. Now that it had been mentioned, Orion wanted to know everything: how long Megatron had intended to claim him; how many times he had tried to hint as much; how long it had been since that fateful frag that had brought his feelings to light.
“But though you felt this way, you never issued a claim,” Orion said at last.
Megatron gave him a distinctly disapproving look. “Would you have noticed if I had?”
Orion stared right back. “Regardless of my ignorance, I know you would have protested if you considered a claim already in place,” he said. “Do not pretend I did not somehow beat you to the punch.”
Megatron’s field bled exasperation, but he refrained from rolling his optics this time. “If you must know, I was considering issuing the claim at a match - something rather similar to the kiss we shared in the arena, come to think of it. I was quite preoccupied with planning my own attempt the day you issued your claim.”
Orion’s thoughts raced, memories of that day pulled from archival memory to replay for him. Did that mean Megatron had considered a proposal in the square? But he had not acted as though that was his intent at all. Hadn’t he been furious when Orion had reached out with his field to share his admiration? He had acted so cold, all but pushing Orion away, brittle and suspicious and resistant to Orion’s warmth. Orion had always known Megatron to be moody, but regardless, to behave so coldly when he intended to propose seemed… odd.
“All I recall of that day is that you were angry with me,” Orion said.
Megatronus frowned. “Angry? When was I angry with you?”
“Directly before the claim!” said Orion. “Surely you remember. I said something about the admiration you deserved, all the ways in which the high castes were wrong to imagine you unintelligent…”
“Ah. That.” Megatron had the decency to look chagrined, rubbing the back of his helm in an adorably nervous gesture. For such a big, vicious mech, you can be so precious. “I was not angry with you, beloved. I was…” He paused, relenting. “Well, I suppose I was a little angry. Vexed, shall we say. I was much-distracted by the question of whether I should issue the mate-claim myself, but I was uncertain of your feelings. Your field spoke of such love for me, such sweetness, and yet you had not said the words aloud to me.” He paused, considering that with a distant frown. “Not while awake, at any rate.”
Not while awake? Orion lurched backward, searching Megatron’s face. “What do you mean, ‘not while awake?’”
A glimmer of amusement passed through Megatron’s field. “Do you not remember? I suppose you wouldn’t, given the state you were in the few times that you said it.”
Orion’s processor spun wildly, attempting to remember these incidents: uncertain what to make of this revelation. I told him I loved him. I told him I loved him when I was not consciously aware of it, when I was searching for the words myself. How could I have known so long and never realized? “What state? What happened?”
Megatron tilted his helm, a muffled laugh reverberating through his chest. “Nothing happened ,” he said. “Not as such. It was only that, once or twice, when you slipped into recharge or were waking, you said the words to me. Never when you were fully awake, of course - hence my conflicted feelings regarding my potential claim.” His servo moved to stroke one of Orion’s finials, and despite his spinning thoughts, Orion relaxed at once, engines humming with pleasure. “The first time, you had been running yourself ragged on a mission for the Hall,” Megatron continued. “You drifted offline while reading a datapad beside me on the couch. You… ah… fell into my lap.” He paused, something akin to shame rippling through his field. “It was a mere week or so after my revelation, so I was… ah… not altogether keen to relocate you.”
Orion couldn’t quite stop his tiny smirk from blossoming. “You allowed me to sleep in your lap?”
Megatron shrugged. “What can I say? You made quite the cozy picture. Besides, you were ever so eager to cuddle. How was I to refuse you when you seemed so content to use me as your cushion?”
Orion blushed, embarrassed by his past behavior. He wondered what that had felt like, what it had looked like. Recharging with Megatron was still relatively new to him; he was almost angry to realize he’d been denied experiencing that pleasure sooner.
He wished, more than anything, that he could remember this moment Megatron spoke of: this moment on the cusp of recharge when he had known himself more deeply than he ever had while fully awake.
He hesitated for a moment before stretching out his hand and pulling back the panel in his palm. “Share with me?”
He worried that Megatron might consider the request invasive, but he needn’t have been so concerned. Megatron smiled and stepped close, gently pressing his forehelm to Orion’s and looping his digits through Orion’s with utmost tenderness, carefully plugging into the port inside his palm.
Orion burrowed close, sinking into the sensation of dual minds within his frame as the memory began to bloom. When it was fully realized, Orion found himself looking down at a datapad, clutched in Megatron’s sharp claws. It was disorienting, seeing things from Megatron’s perspective rather than his own. Orion thought he recognized the contents of the datapad, though they were mostly a blur - a political treatise he remembered disliking, one Megatron had argued deserved a re-read on his part.
Orion connected that datapad to the visit in question. It had come almost directly after a trip to Gornon-36, where he had spent eight sleepless nights clambering through a maze of hostile ruins attempting to locate a data drop from a government agent. He still remembered how good it had felt to come to Kaon, to bathe in the warmth of Megatronus’ frame beside his own. How comfortable the couch had felt beneath him as they settled in to read.
He decidedly did not remember his systems shutting down one by one as recharge overtook him; but he could see it happening there in Megatron’s memory in real time, his own datapad falling from nerveless fingers with a soft thud that echoed loudly through the otherwise quiet habsuite. Soon that thud repeated a second time, echoed by the thunk of Orion’s weight against Megatron’s arm.
Suddenly Orion found himself looking down, down into his own sleepy face. His frame had tumbled into Megatron’s lap, and he jolted, optics fritzing bright with startled light as he began to sit up, blinking tiredly.
He felt, then, how Megatron’s spark had squeezed, desperate not to lose this precious, tender moment. How he had reached out to caress Orion’s helm, sweetly, softly, reassuring him and easing him back into recharge.
“Hush, little one,” murmured Megatron, there in his memory . He was so earnest, so nervous, aching with a feeling he did not have words for. “It’s alright.”
Memory-Orion blinked again, lifting a servo. It came to rest over Megatron’s abdominal plates, where Orion could feel its weight as his digits stroked the vents there with absent fondness. In the present, he blushed, surprised. “Oh,” he said aloud. “That was… forward of me.”
“Quite forward, yes - but lovely.” Megatron nuzzled his audial, smiling. “Hush. You wished to see this, did you not?”
Orion blushed deeper still and turned back to the memory still unfolding, to his own optics blinking closed and his frame slumping back down into Megatron’s lap.
“Tired,” said Past-Orion, vocals crackling.
“Of course,” said Past-Megatron, continuing that slow, careful caress. “No need for you to wake. Rest, my archivist. You are weary. ”
Orion’s blinks were slower now, taking longer and longer for his optics to un-shutter. “You, too?”
“Soon, my Orion.” Orion felt how Megatron’s spark had swelled with something unfamiliar, something tender and protective - a feeling both Megatron and Orion now recognized intimately. “But first I will see that you are recharging comfortably.”
In the memory, Orion’s optics shuttered as Megatron stroked his finials. He curled into a small ball, turning on his side and pressing his faceplate to the gladiator’s abdominal plates, clinging to his waist. “Goodnight, Mega,” Past-Orion mumbled, optics closed and biolights pulsing in a gentle rhythm. “I love you.”
Orion felt rather than saw how Megatron’s frame had wrenched, how his very spark had stuttered and throbbed and burned at the words. How he had stared, dazed, at the small mech cradled against his frame, overwhelmed by the words.
Is that what this is - this tenderness, this ache, this depth of regard and fondness I feel for the guileless creature lying so openly atop me? It can be nothing else...
Primus. I love him. I have loved him from the very moment he came into my life.
How have I been so foolish, that I have not ever realized?
… well then. That changes things, doesn’t it?
This one, this archivist, this soft-sparked mech who speaks so fondly of my words - this one must be mine. I lay claim to him now, as he lays claim to me, not for a lifetime, but a thousand such: my mate, my spark, the epicenter of my universe. This one will sit at my side and rule with me, and to him and him alone will I surrender myself completely.
This one is mine.
The plug disconnected with a soft click. Orion blinked, briefly disconcerted as his mind settled back into his own body, into the present. The space where Megatron had been united with him quickly filled with the bond instead, ever-present and warm and full of Megatron’s affection. It grounded him, that sensation, that certainty that Megatron was with him no matter how far apart they might be physically. No matter how deep into time and space they went.
When he was stable and himself again, he looked up into Megatron’s smiling face, his optics warm and fond and gentle.
“Hello, my mate,” Megatron murmured, brushing his digits against Orion’s cheek.
Orion smiled in return, a swell of gratitude bursting through his field: gratitude that they were alive, that they were together, that they were still a bonded pair despite the multitude of threats attempting to come between them. “Hello, my mate,” he replied, reaching up to grip Megatron’s hand. “Thank you for sharing that with me. And in case you were still uncertain - I love you.”
Megatron gave a quiet laugh. “I love you, too, Orion Pax.” He bent and pressed a kiss to the top of Orion’s helm, engines purring within his chassis. “My archivist.”
“My Champion.” Orion reached up to caress the scar on Megatron’s shoulder, frowning at it. “You should rest that arm for now - but perhaps in a few days I can show you the city and the Hall. That should give you time to think about what work you might wish to pursue, now that you are a free mech.”
“I imagine that work is severely limited by my past,” Megatron said, a little growl of annoyance escaping him.
Orion hummed in thought, tracing the seam with a slim black digit. “I would mostly be inclined to agree, but things are changing here, albeit slowly. I recall that a lower-caste mech ran for a public office in a recent election. Nothing prestigious, not yet - but he garnered quite a number of votes, and he was not nearly so charismatic as you are. I imagine you could easily win your way into a local council of some sort if you wished. It’s hardly the Primacy, of course, but it’s a start.”
“Hmmm.” Megatron’s optics gleamed. Orion knew that look; it meant that Megatron was planning, leaping lightyears ahead of their present and far into the future. “It’s a thought.”
Orion smiled fondly and shook his head, stepping out of Megatron’s arms and tugging on his wrist. “Come, my love. You once offered to read to me after a bookshop visit, and I’m afraid you never followed through. Perhaps you will indulge me today?”
Megatron seemed to snap back to the present, smiling down at Orion and following after him to the window seat. “How negligent of me! Of course I’ll indulge you, my spark. It is hardly a painful task.” He glanced out the window at the gleaming buildings, stretching on into the horizon. “Though I intend to share many such evenings with you in the future.”
“You had better!” Orion exclaimed with a teasing glower. “You promised me forever, and I’ll accept no less from you!”
Megatron chuckled. “As you wish, my archivist. My forevers are all yours.”
Orion beamed, spark flaring bright in the warmth of his quarters. As my forevers are all yours, my beloved. We have been separated by circumstance, by caste, by violence - but I will see to it that we are never parted again.
Chapter 11: Epilogue
Summary:
After the war, Optimus thinks about his once (and future?) Conjunx.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
4.3 million years later…
REPORT
UPDATE
MATTER: LORD MEGATRON,LOCATION
REQUESTED BY: OPTIMUS PRIME
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: ICARUS.5[SYSTEM], TIVIRI[PLANET], VODINIA[CITY]
PROVIDED BY: VODINIAN CITIZENS
NOTES: SOUNDWAVE[CON-TIC-111210]
Reports indicate Lord Megatron aided in a citizen uprising which led directly to the overthrow of the city-state’s tyrant leader Gundalar. Citizens have, as directed by Lord Megatron, sent gifts of thanks to Cybertron, including a large sum of monetary aid and a considerable energon supply. Last reported sighting was one month, two weeks, six days, four hours, seven-point-five-six-two minutes ago.
Current location remains unknown.
Requests to comm have been denied.
The lights of the city of New Iacon glimmered far below, twinkling like stars in a dizzying assortment of colors. Chin in his hands, Optimus Prime let his gaze sweep over the view, a melancholy smile upon his lips. It was a beautiful sight, a happy one, and yet his spark throbbed painfully as he surveyed the picturesque vista below him.
This was not a view to behold alone. This was a view meant to be shared - today most of all.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Happy anniversary, Megatron. ::
He knew better than to expect a response. Megatron was somewhere in deep space, resolving whatever conflicts within himself he felt he needed to resolve. His own former faction had been attempting to contact him for years with no success. Why should Optimus assume his messages would arrive when theirs had not?
Still, it made his spark ache somewhere deep and tired when silence was his only reply.
Optimus reviewed Soundwave’s report for the twelfth time that day, scanning the sparse notes for details he might have missed on the first few go-arounds. There were none, of course, but Optimus checked and checked and triple-checked, just to be certain.
The facts were always slim when it came to Megatron’s whereabouts. He had become something of a legend among the alien races now regularly contacting Cybertron: a Champion of the oppressed and hurting, the weak and broken, fighting against tyranny wherever he found it. He was as a mech possessed, fiery and formidable, all his focus set upon searching every corner of the universe for ways in which he might atone for all he’d done before Unicron took hold of him.
Every corner, that is, save one.
Optimus sighed and let the report close. His spark echoed with an absence that burned more fiercely than the sun, a roaring void that pulsed and screamed where their sparkbond was meant to be. Megatron’s death back on Earth had sharply cut the bond between them - the bond they’d maintained despite millenia-worth of warfare, despite Megatron’s descent into darkness and Optimus’ retreat into the stoic, formal shell of the Prime. The Matrix hadn’t liked sharing Optimus’ spark much, but it was the one thing Optimus insisted on holding onto: the one thing that belonged, ultimately, to him and only him. It had not been a wise decision, but Optimus had no regrets. The few times they had opened the bond over the course of the war had made it worth the danger.
Fighting Unicron side by side had been one of those times. They had moved so fluidly together, sparks pulsing in sync, fighting like two halves of a whole as they once had on the floor of the arena. Optimus had thought then, This is how it should be. This is how we should be; and Megatron had agreed, faintly, the tiniest hint of longing echoing through their bond.
We could have had this. We could have fought side by side forever. But you could not bring yourself to fully trust me, to trust that I did not and had never wanted the title you wished to claim. No matter what you said to me in the days before, you doubted me, and you abandoned me.
Perhaps it was foolish to still hurt over the abrupt and painful separation Megatron had instituted when Orion Pax had been named Optimus Prime; but no matter how he tried, Optimus could not stop the flash of agony that cut across his spark every time he thought of it. Thought of Megatron.
Do you know how much I miss you?
He’d felt Megatron’s absence first, before he’d even registered his physical form again, when he’d been sent back from the Realm of the Primes. That void hurt in ways he could not put voice to, infinite and terrible and weighing down his every step with grief.
He hoped, wherever Megatron was, whatever he was doing, that he did not hurt half so much.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: If only you could see the planet as it now stands... ::
:: It is beautiful. ::
:: You would be truly proud of your mechs, my Champion. ::
:: I daresay you might even be proud of mine. ::
:: Soundwave reports your doings to me as regularly as time allows. I can only guess at your intentions, but it would appear you are working hard to remedy your past mistakes. ::
:: I am grateful, beloved - grateful, and very proud. ::
:: I meant to tell you - Starscream finagled his way into a position within a lesser Council. I cannot find it within myself to be surprised. ::
:: He is as arrogant as ever, but glad enough to be home that he causes little trouble. He has dedicated himself to Cybertron’s military for the time being. ::
:: Don’t worry; I am keeping a close eye on him. ::
:: There is a new Council with representatives from all walks of life, with limited terms, in power. It is the system most agreed would be fairest for the time being. ::
:: I proposed a model we once discussed in Champion’s Hall - do you remember? ::
:: That was the first time I stayed overnight in Kaon, if I recall correctly. ::
He knew better than to expect an answer. There wouldn’t be one. But he asked the question all the same, posing memories to the chasm where his beloved should have been. It made him feel… less lonely, he supposed.
Odd that Optimus Prime would feel lonely when he was never without company. Friends, politicians, and sycophants all gathered around him, eager for a bit of his attention: all wanting to touch some part of their savior and take it home with them. It was, for Optimus, the most exhausting existence he could have imagined. If he had had his way, he would have retired to a rolling hillside somewhere: built a house with a library full of his favorite books, kept a garden. Written another paper on sparkbonds, perhaps. His first had rocked the very fabric of Cybertronian culture, reverberating through the many Halls like an earthquake, like moonfall. It had single-handedly won him and Megatron a meeting with the High Council - a fateful day he now had cause to curse.
At the very least, he could expand on what he’d learned after Megatron had left him. After all, he had millennia of experience with what it was like being bonded to a mech who would neither open to him nor let him go.
Perhaps if he had a home like that which he imagined - one distant and well-hidden, tucked away somewhere few could reach - he would have time and energy to write such a paper. Only his closest friends would have the coordinates to find him, coming for dinner perhaps one to three times a month. And Megatron would be there too, of course: teasing him for reading too late into the night, waking him in the morning to demand a sparring match. Spitting hellfire and fury about the youth of Cybertron and the classist overtones of some new policy. Reading aloud to Optimus as twilight washed over them.
Yes. Megatron would be there, too, if Optimus had his way. As long as he was daydreaming, he might as well allow himself that much.
His comm pinged. He didn’t check the line before opening the message, expecting something from Prowl or Bulkhead or Windblade.
He froze, vents stalling, when he read the designation of the mech it was actually from.
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Of course I remember. ::
:: You drank four cubes of high grade in a misguided attempt to keep up with me. ::
:: By the end of the night you’d suggested we put the High Council on rations and force them to live in Pit housing, see how well they liked it. ::
:: It was precious. ::
:: I think fondly of your shiny drunken optics often. ::
Optimus lurched, emitting a sound torn from his very spark. That shout, broken, burning, bounced off the walls of the tower, fading as it dispersed across the breeze; yet it echoed far longer in Optimus’ audials, ringing like the hum of his innermost workings grinding to a halt.
Megatron… had replied to him. As if this was a perfectly ordinary conversation, as if… as if…
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Megatron?! ::
:: Where have you been ? We’ve been trying to reach you, all of us! ::
:: I have been trying to reach you. ::
:: You never answered, I assumed… ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: I know. ::
:: Forgive me, beloved. ::
:: I cannot, despite my internal protests, offer you any excuses - none worthy of your suffering, at any rate. ::
:: I simply wasn’t ready. ::
Optimus’ knee joints gave out. He fell until he was sitting back on his heels, a servo pressed over his mouth, his frame shivering minutely.
Megatron was alive. Megatron was responding. It was their anniversary and Megatron was replying to him and oh, Optimus wasn’t sure his spark could take this, not like this. It swelled and pulsed within his chest, a painful crackle of static dancing over his frame.
My love. My life. My Champion.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to compose the next messages. His spark was full, so full, an onslaught of emotion wreaking havoc upon his systems. It was an odd turn for a mech who had schooled almost all feeling from his expressions during four million years of warfare. He forced himself to vent, to cool rapidly heating systems overwhelmed with sensory data.
One thing at a time. Just take it one thing at a time.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: You weren’t ready ? ::
:: That is your reasoning for years of silence? ::
:: What of those you left behind, those who spent those same years terrified that you had met some awful end? ::
:: What of the endless darkening hours I spent begging for an answer? ::
:: Megatron, I know you needed time to think, to sort yourself out after Unicron took possession of you… ::
:: I understand that, truly. I never begrudged you that. ::
:: But not a single ping to confirm that you still functioned? ::
:: Not even an answer to Soundwave ? ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: All this time, and you are indignant on Soundwave’s behalf? ::
:: Of course you are. The kindest, most empathetic creation Primus ever did make, always thinking of others before he thinks of himself. ::
Optimus laughed, though the sound was muffled behind his servos, tucked away inside a mournful shout too bittersweet to be pure joy. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more: punch Megatron right in his wry, handsome, smug faceplate, or kiss him dizzy and senseless instead.
He would only know the answer once the mech himself stood before him.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: You would not say such things if you could see my thoughts at the moment. ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: I would give everything and more to hear your thoughts again, Optimus. ::
:: The emptiness of my spark has been felt more profoundly than I can say. ::
:: I have taken solace in your messages instead - your images, your stories. They have kept me sane. Kept me grounded. ::
:: Thank you for that. ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: You read them all? ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Every word. ::
:: Often enough that I can recite them without accessing archival memory. ::
Optimus stayed on the ground, leaning heavily against the transparent glass of the balcony’s safety rail, too dazed to stand and pace the way he wished to. Megatron had read all his messages. He had tucked them away like love notes, like memories, reading them again and again as he traveled through the vast reaches of space. No matter how far he had gone, no matter what he had been doing, he had carried Optimus with him.
Optimus hadn’t been sending those messages into a dark void, after all.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Primus, Megatron. I wish you would have said something. ::
:: I have followed your progress where I can, but Soundwave’s reports are sparse. ::
:: What have you been doing all this time? ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Repenting. ::
:: I have traveled far and wide endeavoring to right wrongs where I see them, whether or not they are my own. ::
:: And in the silences between encounters, I have been alone with my thoughts, considering things. ::
:: Reviewing my memories. ::
:: Reviewing yours. ::
:: Attempting to understand what went wrong. What changed. ::
:: But nothing changed, did it? I was always an arrogant, prideful fool who believed he knew best what you and everyone else needed. ::
:: Perhaps I still am. ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: You were never a fool, my love. ::
:: Arrogant, certainly. Stubborn. Always preparing for a battle. Always preparing for the worst. Quicker to doubt than to trust. ::
:: But never a fool. ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: My love, says the Prime, as if our bond is not broken. ::
:: As if I deserve such a title from you. ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: I did not choose to break the bond. It was broken when you died. ::
:: I would reestablish our link this very moment if I could. ::
There was a pause. Optimus experienced a flash of cold terror, wondering if what he’d said had been too much - if perhaps Megatron no longer desired to be bonded to him. It shouldn’t have surprised him that such might be the case; after all, four million years of warfare had changed much in both of them, not the least the union they had once intended to share for a thousand lifetimes.
Optimus wasn’t sure what he would do if Megatron refused him.
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Would you really? ::
:: Even after all this time? ::
:: Even after everything I’ve done? ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Yes , Megatron. ::
:: How can you doubt it to be so? ::
:: My spark was in your keeping long before I knew it, and there it has remained ever since. ::
:: From the very start I’d hoped that I could change your mind, that I could convince you not to fight. That we could find peaceful compromise and be together once more. ::
:: Now that opportunity presents itself to me, and you believe that I would give it up? ::
:: Never. Never, never, no matter the years, no matter the war. ::
:: Do you think I have not seen in those reports that Soundwave gives me that you are working to repent? ::
:: I have tracked your progress through the stars, ten steps behind you and yet ever-more in awe of you with every footfall. ::
:: To fix what was broken in yourself, you tried to fix the universe. ::
:: I have waited all this time for you to decide it was enough. ::
:: It has always been enough for me. ::
:: You have always been enough. ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: You are so soft… ::
:: Tender even to things with claws and teeth. ::
:: Is that wise, Optimus? ::
Those words again, those words that had haunted him for millennia. How many times had he thought of them over the years? How many times had he remembered that moment in Megatron’s quarters, asked himself of the wisdom of loving someone so bent on his destruction? Hundreds. Thousands. Millions.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: I don’t know. I don’t think I care, either. ::
:: If I cannot be soft, if I cannot love that which has claws and teeth, do I deserve this title? ::
:: I did not become a Prime through force or violence. ::
:: I became a Prime because I was soft. ::
:: Because I loved a thing with claws and teeth. ::
:: Because that mech, I think, loved me in turn. ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Whatever he said, whatever he did, however many years he lashed out and tried to strike you down - yes, Optimus, he loved you very much. ::
:: He still does. ::
:: He will go to his death loving you, I think. ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Not yet. ::
:: We have both already died once. ::
:: This is a second chance. ::
:: Come home , Megatron. ::
:: We can rebuild what we destroyed. ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Does that include our union? ::
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: Please. ::
:: If you knew how I have hurt and ached and longed for you… ::
:: If you knew the agony my spark endures without yours… ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: I know it as intimately as I once knew your frame. ::
:: It is no different for me. ::
:: The emptiness of space was as nothing compared to the vacuum in my spark where you belong. ::
:: You look well, Optimus. Happy. Comfortable. This new view of yours is incomparable. ::
For a moment, the last words didn’t register, the pretty compliments from before usurping all of Optimus’ attention. He was warm and cold all at once, pinpricks of energy and light licking his armor plates as a swell of happiness deeper than any he’d ever known flooded him.
He was in the midst of composing a reply when the final sentence truly hit him.
You look well, Optimus. You look - this new view -
Optimus went very still, helm snapping up - and then he was all motion, scrambling to his pedes, turning this way and that and searching the skies for Megatron’s familiar outline.
OPTIMUS.PRIME[BOT-GEN-131307]
:: You’re here. ::
:: You’re home! ::
:: Where are you?? ::
LORD.MEGATRON[CON-GEN-166610]
:: Oh, you know. Just admiring the view. ::
A picture loaded on Optimus’ HUD: an image of himself leaning on his balcony rail, taken from above just before Megatron had replied to him the first time. His vents caught, his engines making a deep rumbling sound of shock. Megatron was here, he had come home, he was already right there and -
A woosh of air and that distinctive transformation noise, and suddenly a familiar field embraced him, old and tired and awash with regret.
Optimus swallowed and turned, trembling, hardly daring to believe… but there he stood, almost exactly as Optimus had imagined him and yet profoundly changed. Megatron had been reformatted since their last meeting, having shrugged off Unicron’s changes to his frame. His optics were the same burning red, his armor silver and matte dark gray, his accents black and red. His scarred face studied Optimus’ with a depth of longing that Optimus was sure reflected in his own gaze.
“Hello, Optimus,” Megatron said quietly.
Optimus choked and flung himself wholeheartedly into Megatron’s arms.
“Stupid - slagging - idiot warlord,” Optimus growled into Megatron’s chestplates. It was the first time he had allowed himself to feel this deeply in what seemed like eons - the only time he had felt safe to do so. “Why didn’t you tell me, why didn’t you reach out?”
“I have only just returned.” Megatron seemed hesitant to close his arms around Optimus’ frame, as if Optimus might disappear if he did so. When the weight of his grip finally closed around Optimus’ middle, it tightened fiercely, pulling him closer. “I have fought many battles and atoned where I could; but I realized after a time that my true atonement must be made here, on Cybertron, with the mechs that I have wronged.” He vented, pressing his faceplate to Optimus’ helm. “With you.”
Optimus trembled, clinging to Megatron with grasping digits. “You should have told me,” he admonished. “You should have told me you were coming home - ”
“I know. I’m sorry, Optimus.” He looked tired, unbearably tired, and old. “Frankly, I had not intended to see you if it could be helped.”
Optimus looked up, his field blossoming with pain. Was standing in his presence truly so terrible - or did Megatron still loathe him that much? Optimus wasn’t certain which would be worse. I never wished to cause you pain. I never wanted - I never meant -
“No, none of that,” said Megatron sternly. “I did not wish to avoid you because of anything you did. I did not - and still do not - believe I have the right to stand in your presence at all. What have I done to deserve your grace, your mercy, your kindness? You are the very star that guides me and yet I did not dare presume I had the right to approach you. But, as ever, my selfishness won out. Once here, I found I could not stay away.” Red optics softened, dimming slightly as Megatron brushed Optimus’ cheek with his digits. “Especially not today.”
Optimus finally smiled, even though it hurt. “It would have been far worse to me to know you had come home and yet not contacted me,” he said, pressing black hands to Megatron’s face. The metal was sharp and rough with scars, pinging his sensory circuits in warning. “I missed you.”
“And I, you, beloved.” Megatron turned his helm, enough to kiss the center of Optimus’ palm. “I mourned you for a long time. I believed you to be dead.”
Optimus gave a wry smile. “I was.”
Megatron chuckled, a soft hiss of air that barely registered. “Yes, I know. Were you too tiresome even for the illustrious company of your fellow Primes, then? I must imagine they found your long-winded discussions of justice and peace and compromise at all costs as vexing as I did.”
Optimus laughed aloud, reveling in the ripple of pleasure in Megatron’s field at the sound. “Something like that,” he said. “I had been granted a mission I knew I must complete. There was work to be done still, tasks to undertake that none but a Prime could fulfill. My duty to Cybertron, to our people, was not yet finished.”
“I have my doubts it ever will be,” Megatron said. “The universe would be much-diminished without Optimus Prime in it.”
Optimus’ spark throbbed and flared bright, crystalline warmth washing over him at the words. “As it was colder without you in it.”
“You flatter an old warrior, beloved.” He looked intently into Optimus’ face, studying every sharp ridge and gleaming silver plane as though he’d never seen them before. Optimus supposed, faintly, that it was all new to him: this frame, similar and yet changed, this face, the same and yet unknown. Optimus felt much the same about Megatron’s frame. “When I received the first comm from you, I excused it as a glitch at first - though it very nearly caused me to reevaluate my opinion on spirits.”
Optimus’ eyes crinkled with good humor. His hands were still on Megatron, just touching him, hardly daring to believe he was truly there. He needed to feel him there beneath his palms to believe as much. “I suppose I ought to have prefaced the message with something more declarative. ‘Due to personal reasons, I have been reanimated,’ perhaps?”
Megatron grinned. “Had I received such a message, I would instantly have doubted its veracity. What I received was far more like you. Your lovingly-worded treatise on your fears regarding the rebuilding of Cybertron reminded me very much of your first missive to me.” He paused, venting softly, seeming to lose himself in Optimus’ stare. Optimus did not rush him, enjoying the warmth of his frame, the very comfort of his presence. “I thought perhaps your subsystems had glitched, wherever your frame was, and had sent an old message to me one last time before collapsing. But then they just kept coming, day after day after day, and I quickly realized no glitch would make this possible. Either someone was using your personal frequency to trick me into returning, or you lived again. The latter no longer seemed so far-fetched in the wake of my own resurrection.”
“And yet you stayed away, and did not reply.” Optimus tried not to sound accusing, but he knew from the flicker of Megatron’s optics that he had failed.
Megatron’s expression fell. “What right did I have to speak to you, Optimus? You had descended back from the heavens to rescue our broken world, whilst I who had risen from the very depths of darkness fled my responsibility in a fit of terror and weakness. I did not have the right to your voice, to your thoughts, to your person, and yet you gave them all to me anyway, asking nothing in return. I had to become worthy of that gift, as much as I could... if such is even possible. I had to become worthy of you . I never will be, of course, not truly; but I think at last I have done enough to make amends to you in person, if you will allow it. If you would wish that of me.”
Optimus was silent for a long, long moment, just… staring. He took in Megatron’s face, battle-scarred and weathered and yet still painfully handsome; his new armor, more reminiscent of a mercenary and a knight than a warlord; his eyes, tired and broken, aching with ancient pain.
“You are the light that fires my spark,” he said at last, softly, holding Megatron’s gaze. “You are the path that guides my steps, the command that rules my functioning. You have wronged me, yes, and I have wronged you - but my spark was, is, and always has been yours.”
Megatron’s answering smile gleamed with hope. It was an unusual look for the old warlord; he had seldom had cause to hope in the days before the war, when he made his fate himself. If he had ever had such naive inclinations, he had hidden them well.
Now at last he was fully open before Optimus, refusing to hide himself. Perhaps he considered that part of his penance. “You do me great honor, Optimus Prime.”
“As you honor me in the work you have done to repent.” Optimus leaned in, butting his helm against Megatron’s in an affectionate gesture. “Stay with me tonight? It is our anniversary, you know.”
Megatron chuckled. “I have never forgotten it.” He paused, tilting Optimus’ chin up, studying him with a contemplative air. “You claimed that you would reestablish our bond this very moment if you could. Did you mean that?”
Optimus’ vents hitched. “I seldom say things I do not mean.”
“Quite.” Megatron closed his optics and leaned his forehead against Optimus’, staying there for a moment. “I would like to bond with you, my mate - but properly this time.”
“ Properly ?” Optimus’ frown deepened, a puzzled look in his eyes. “What do you mean? It was proper the first - ”
He paused, realization dawning. No, it had in no way been proper the first time. He had only fully understood when the rites were complete, when reflection and their sparkbond revealed the error that he had made. Megatron wanted to start again. Megatron wanted to do it right this time.
“You wish to perform the courtship rites a second time,” he said. “The claim, the declaration, the gift.”
Megatron inclined his helm. “Indeed.” He gave a slight frown, daring Optimus to argue with him. “And I insist on being the issuer of the claim this time.”
“Do you indeed,” said Optimus dryly. “I might like the chance to perform the rites deliberately, you know.”
“You had your chance, Optimus,” Megatron shot back. “And we both know how well that went.”
“And now that I have the opportunity to make it up to you, you would snatch it from my servos?” Optimus wanted to look disapproving, but his spark was giddy and whirling with happiness. Megatron wanted him. Megatron wished to bond with him again. He could have this again, he would have this again, and done right this time instead of -
“Someone ought to teach you how it’s done.”
Optimus harrumphed, folding his arms over his chest. “And when do you intend to issue this claim of yours? This will prove a very difficult anniversary celebration if I am not permitted to touch you.”
“As long as we have an understanding, and as long as you are amenable, I have no particular objections to touch.”
“Oh?” Optimus cocked his head, frowning in mock-puzzlement. “Such an interesting culture you come from, my lord, where hand-holds are betrothals and interface is the business of friends.”
Megatron rolled his optics. “I may be stretching the limits of Kaon courtship strictures a tiny bit.”
“I see.” Optimus paused before Megatron, looking up at him. He knew he still bore a certain softness that he had never quite been able to shed: a somber, gentle personality that suggested he never swore, never drank, and certainly never did anything filthy. He used that softness to his full advantage, blinking up at Megatron with a serene expression. “I may have a suggestion regarding other limits you could stretch.”
Megatron’s biolights all lit up at once, heat licking Optimus’ frame as it was thrown off shiny gray-silver armor plates. “When did you become so saucy , Optimus Prime?”
“A certain gladiator I once knew in Kaon may have assisted in that.” Optimus reached out, cautious, testing Megatron’s reaction as he brushed his digits over his abdomen. “Stay,” he repeated, soft and low and murmured on the rumble of hungry engines. “Stay with me tonight. I want to hear about your travels.”
Megatron gave a crooked grin, and for a moment, he was a handsome young gladiator again, proud and confident and seemingly invincible. “Is that all you want?”
Optimus glanced downward, a coy flutter of blue optics that made Megatron’s vents catch. “I may have other plans in mind as well.”
“Primus, you are irresistible,” Megatron growled. His thumb brushed over Optimus’ lip, tugging it down and brushing over the wet interior of the soft protoform. “It’s not a good idea, Optimus. I have not done my atoning here, it’s too soon - ”
Optimus pulled Megatron’s hand away, stepped close, and kissed him, open-mouthed and ravenous for the contact. He had been starving for centuries, aching to be touched, to touch like he once had: to hold his lover and mate in his arms, to feel him thrumming through every circuit the way he once had. “Four - million - years,” he said between kisses, listening to the sound of Megatron’s engines roaring to life, reveling in the bite of the former warlord’s claws against his hips. “Four million years since last I touched you the way I wished to, and yet you would have me believe this is too soon?”
“I don’t deserve you,” Megatron rasped - but he wasn’t pulling away, either. “You shouldn’t - I am not worthy - ”
“I want you , ” Optimus said firmly. “What I deserve is immaterial; I want my mate.”
Megatron hissed, needy and desperate and burning with longing. “Impatient Prime! I fully intended to stay an hour and leave again before such temptation presented itself, and yet now the very mech whose glorious frame I intended to respect has commanded me to stay the night with him.”
“It is not a command, Megatron. If you do not wish to come to my berth, you do not have to.” Optimus paused, searching Megatron’s face, suddenly hesitant. “I did not intend to make it seem otherwise.”
Megatron laughed at him, the slagger - laughed at his somber face and his worried eyes and the anxiousness pulsing through his field. “I thank you for your consideration, Optimus - but I assure you, my most fervent wish is to have you. Whether or not it is a wise decision, especially on your part, is another matter. You have your reputation to think of, after all.”
“My reputation, should it suffer, will recover in time,” Optimus replied. “But that is a concern for the morning. Tonight, I wish to welcome you home… properly. ”
Megatron’s engines revved again, loud enough that Optimus’ frame shook beneath their force. “How can I refuse such a generous host?” he said, grinning. “I am my Prime’s obedient servant… for tonight, at least.”
For tonight, Optimus thought. That’s more than enough. That’s more than I ever imagined I would be permitted.
Optimus was kissing Megatron again before the command to do so had fully executed, gripping Megatron’s hips and pushing him backwards: back through the doors that led to his habsuite, to the left and into the berthroom. Megatron hit the edge of the berth and fell onto it with a surprised sound, dragging Optimus down with him as he fell.
Optimus landed without breaking the kiss. He pinned the warlord beneath him with an ease he had never mastered as an archivist, using one knee to nudge Megatron’s legs apart. He wanted so much, so much more than he could have just now. He wanted Megatron’s stories, he wanted his voice, he wanted his beautiful new body and his brilliant mind and his warrior’s spark all at once. He poured that feeling into his field, that love and adulation and desire, and let it wash over Megatron, deliberately seeking the warm glow of the delicate clusters of sensors guarded by heavy armor plating. Optimus had learned how to seek and find them over the years, how to trigger them without ever physically laying hands upon his berthmate. It was harder with Megatron, given both Optimus’ lack of concentration and the thickness of his plating; but it was far from impossible. As soon as he had located a few such clusters, Optimus expanded his field wider, sinking down to target the circuitry below heavy armor - and there they were, blazing and alight with sensation, as though Optimus had physically touched them with his digits.
Megatron gasped into Optimus’ mouth , taken completely by surprise at the feeling as sensory nodes blossomed with Optimus’ ghostly caress. It was not the same as the touch of a servo or lips, but it was nearly as intense in its way.
“What in the Pit - ?” Megatron rasped, optics wide and bright.
“Too much?” He pulled back, anxious, fearing to overwhelm his mate.
“No! Primus, no, just - what was that?”
Optimus smiled, bending to press a kiss to the metal above Megatron’s spark. “It is called field play. I thought you might enjoy it, given the effort it takes to stimulate your sensory array.”
“How did you discover this little trick?”
“I may have learned a few things during the war years.”
“So it would seem,” Megatron said, regarding Optimus with an arched optic ridge. “Such tricks were hardly in your repertoire as a young archivist.”
“Indeed they were not - but as you may remember, I was and remain curious and eager to learn new things. This was one of them.” Optimus let his lips linger over Megatron’s spark chamber and set his field to work, brushing over Megatron’s waist, hips, and thighs with feather-light touches that matched the brush of his dermas. Megatron wrenched upwards, a hiss of air escaping him as Optimus reached for the circuitry within his inner thigh, field licking at the seams. “If you wish me to stop, tell me so. I know you were never altogether comfortable with my use of my EM field.”
“Had I known it could do this, I would have found it far less troublesome,” Megatron panted. “Optimus - ”
Optimus hummed and did it again, this time in quick bursts popping at random over Megatron’s plating, hot and cold in turn and piercing through to the sensitive cabling beneath the thick armor Megatron wore. Megatron made a sharp, hungry sound, gripping one of Optimus’ smokestacks in his digits and giving it an experimental stroke in reply. His palm was warm and rough with scars from battle and it felt incredible, tearing a moan from Optimus’ intake.
“I do not believe I directed you to stop,” Megatron said. His field reached for Optimus’, lacking any of the precision of Optimus’ touch - but Optimus didn’t mind. He met that crashing wave of energy head on, passing straight through Megatron’s field to trigger hidden sensory nodes all across his chassis and around his spark. Megatron made a strangled noise, arching up beneath him, and Optimus drank him in. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful.
Megatron opened his optics, dim and hazy now, and squeezed Optimus’ hip. “This is not precisely how I had imagined our reunion.”
“No?” Optimus gave a secret smile, bending to kiss Megatron’s chest with all the fervency of a supplicant at the feet of his deity. “Did you imagine a trembling young archivist unraveling beneath your touch?”
“Something like that.” Megatron sounded chagrined, his digits coming to rest atop Optimus’ helm. “It was a foolish notion.”
“I am more than happy to give control to you if you desire it,” Optimus replied. “But if it does not trouble you much, I would like to worship you. Consider it my gift of absolution, if you like.”
“Mmm.” The hum was just shy of seeming dreamy, content and warm and deeply affectionate. “If you wish to pay me worship, Optimus, then who am I to deny you? Impress me with your newfound skills, then.”
Optimus chuckled, but did not rise to the bait. He softened the brush of his field so that it was harder to feel through Megatron’s armor: like vents ghosting over him from an inch away. Megatron squirmed, frustrated, and reached for Optimus as though to stop him - and then Optimus dipped lower, just above Megatron’s array, nipping sharply at pointed modesty paneling as his field plunged beneath Megatron’s armor to pluck at his internal sensor clusters directly.
“ Hh - Optimus - ! ” Megatron’s servo tightened around Optimus’ helm, leaving claw marks on his audial.
Optimus smiled and continued lower, kissing and biting and licking the plating by turns: denting Megatron’s inner thigh with his teeth and then soothing the wound with a brush of his glossa. All the while he let his field light up every sensor cluster in Megatron’s frame, erupting like fireworks beneath his armor. The response was so intense that Megatron began to throw off sparks, static prickling over his frame and shocking Optimus wherever he touched him.
Optimus lingered a long time on this process, teasing Megatron until the air snapped and crackled with the scent of ozone. One particularly deep wash of his field made Megatron’s panel snap back at last, his thick spike pressurizing right by Optimus’ face. Optimus rumbled in approval, unable to resist, and took the glorious monster into his mouth, circling its head with his tongue as Megatron bucked into the touch. Optimus swallowed around him, bit by bit taking more of Megatron’s spike into his mouth, relaxing the calipers of his intake as much as they would permit to fit Megatron ever-deeper. Each suck was met with a shuddering groan, pleasure skyrocketing through Megatron’s field.
“Wait - ” he hissed, clawing at Optimus’ back. “Optimus, wait, I can’t - it’s been too long, and to see you like this, to feel you like this - with me - I can’t - !”
:: Hush, my mate. You fret too much. I want nothing more than to pleasure you. ::
Megatron made a harsh, grating sound, like gears grinding stone. The first blush of an overload was there in his field, a tremor of intense, quivering heat just beginning to bloom. Optimus encouraged it, coaxing it to unfurl even further, directing his field to light Megatron’s exposed anterior node and all the sensor clusters in the swollen, wet lining of his valve.
The pressure and intensity of that sensation was all it took. Megatron shouted, bucking into Optimus’ mouth, and overloaded all at once, pulses of transfluid bursting across Optimus’ glossa in hot spurts. Optimus swallowed greedily, making low, pleased sounds as Megatron shook beneath him. He felt the bright pinprick of claws scraping over his shoulders, his helm, and shivered in delight. Pain had become almost equivalent to pleasure where Megatron was concerned: bruises and scrapes from their battles admired like lovebites, like paint transfers.
Megatron’s struts relaxed all at once, the tautness of his frame going slack as he collapsed against the berth. Optimus slowly pulled off of Megatron’s spike, letting it slide out of his mouth with a slick pop. Megatron made another sound, a garbled, satiated moan, and cracked open an optic to peer at Optimus.
“You never disappoint, do you?” he said wryly. “Cybertron’s most holy saint has more skill in berth than the best buymech ever did. Who would have guessed?”
Optimus grinned, running a thumb over his dermas and licking away whatever remnants of Megatron’s fluids remained. Megatron’s plating flared wide, a soft hiss of vents and a blast of arousal from his field washing over Optimus. “And to think, I am not nearly finished with you!”
“Oh, no, Optimus. It’s my turn now.” Megatron’s optics glinted, and suddenly he was all motion. In the space of a sparkbeat, Optimus found himself flipped onto his back, Megatron looming above him with a predatory look.
“Megatron - !”
“Hush,” Megatron said, leaning in close. “Let me greet my mate in the fashion he deserves, yes?”
Optimus groaned, helm thunking back against the berth as Megatron pressed a fervent kiss to the windows across his chassis. He hadn’t been touched like this in so long, least of all by Megatron. He’d had other partners over the course of the war, but it was always Megatron’s touch he had craved the most. He could read in Megatron’s field that he had felt much the same.
Megatron paused and lingered above Optimus’ spark chamber, seemingly reluctant to move away. His optics were dim but focused, straining to find even a glimpse of the light within as his vents ghosted over glass panels. Optimus watched him quietly, fondly, waiting for him to ask: waiting for him to give in to what he so clearly desired most, or move on.
Megatron huffed a regretful sigh, kissed the place over his spark chamber one last time, and started to shift, moving to grip Optimus’ thigh.
“Do you want me to open it?” Optimus asked softly.
Megatron smirked, yanking Optimus upwards to rub teasingly against his panel. “Yes, obviously. How else do you imagine I can pleasure you properly?”
He was deferring. Optimus arched an optic ridge in disapproval, reaching up to cup Megatron’s helm between his palms. “Megatron.”
“Optimus?” Megatron ducked out of his grip, avoiding his gaze. He set about teasing Optimus’ panel instead, insistently rolling his hips. “Do you intend to make me work for it?”
Optimus frowned, but allowed his panel to slide back all the same - and opened his chest plates simultaneously, waiting.
Megatron froze, gaze catching on Optimus’ exposed spark. It glowed fiercely and warmly, soft light reaching out for him at once, as though it had recognized the signature of a spark it had once been bound to. “Oh,” he choked out, staring. He reached out despite himself to touch the gleaming light, digits trembling as they delicately brushed the tendrils of energy reaching out for him. “I wanted to do this properly, I wanted to take each step… but….”
Optimus laid a trembling servo over Megatron’s still-closed off spark, giving a rueful smile. “You and I have never been much good at doing things properly, my love.” His optics dimmed, and he softened as Megatron’s optics cycled twice over. “If you truly wish to carry through with the rites, I will gladly accept it, and I will be honored; but if you wish for the bond now instead, then know that I am ready to give it to you.”
“Impatient Prime,” Megatron repeated hoarsely, distant and awed. “How can I refuse this, when you offer it to me so willingly?” His digits dipped further still, past the tendrils escaping the chamber itself and downward towards its very center. “You are still so beautiful…”
His digits dipped into the light of Optimus' spark chamber, and he shuddered as every circuit in his frame lit up, as if Megatron was touching every last inch of his body at once. “Careful,” he gasped, clutching at Megatron’s pauldrons. “Careful, I - please, gently - ”
“I’ll be careful.” He ran his digits over the edges of Optimus’ spark chamber, and Optimus trembled wildly, arching beneath Megatron with a sharp, aching sound. Waves of electric charge washed over him, heating him up as Megatron touched the deepest part of him. It was so intense. Optimus made ragged sounds as Megatron lowered his helm and bent to kiss the edge of that spark chamber, just so: the barest brush of his lips over light and metal, the touch echoing like a thunderclap through Optimus’ whole frame.
“Do you want to try something I learned of?” Megatron murmured. “Only in theory, of course, but the notion has lingered in my thoughts for centuries…”
Before Optimus could answer, he vented softly into the very center of Optimus’ spark, carefully tracing the rim of the chamber with his tongue. Optimus shouted, rocking fiercely into the touch, every seam and strut and circuit within him suddenly alight with pleasure. It was like field play, and yet not so: like an overload that crested and then never broke. The air around him pulsed vividly, his vision cycling with a riot of color, and he realized only when Megatron suddenly filled him that he’d been babbling, begging for Megatron inside of him.
The stretch was unbelievable and exquisite. Optimus clung to Megatron so tightly he felt as though their frames had melted together. He realized faintly that Megatron had shifted them, that he was bundled in Megatron’s lap and riding him so fiercely his berth shook, and Megatron’s helm was still bent to his chest and his tongue was still wreaking havoc on every inch of Optimus’ exposed spark -
It was incredible, and it was torturous. He had never felt anything so intense, and yet no charge would disperse. It was like every inch of him was coiling tighter and tighter, like he was being twisted into knots, and all he could do was beg to be unbound…
Megatron exhaled, sharp and hot, straight into the center of Optimus’ spark, and Optimus finally erupted. He wrenched in Megatron’s lap, shuddering violently as charge burst in lightning strikes of blue all over him, the air burning hot and crackling with all that had been wrung from him. He hung steadily upon that climax, its peak dragging out longer and longer and longer still - and then down, down he crashed, suddenly strutless and aching all over, every limb heavy and feeling like jelly.
“I’ve got you,” Megatron murmured softly, cradling Optimus close. “There’s my Prime. Hold onto me, yes?”
Optimus slung both arms around Megatron’s neck, pulsing gratitude and satiation and exhaustion through his field. “Speaking of never disappointing… ”
Megatron laughed, harsh and bright and delighted. “I aim to please, at least where you are concerned, beloved. It wasn’t too much?”
“Oh, it was - but in the best way. Primus, Megatron, where did you discover that theory?”
“I happened upon it during a reread of a fascinating little book my Bondmate once rescued from obscurity,” said Megatron, amused. “ Sparklight, it turns out, has quite a few interesting tidbits, once translated.”
“You translated it? All of it?” Optimus glanced up, awed and slightly more in love than he had been before.
“I had assistance, of course, but yes, I did. Soundwave referred to it as my ‘pet project’ in the early days. I liked to relive happier times on occasion.” Megatron brushed past the remark before it could turn melancholy. “At any rate, you presented me with such a lovely opportunity, I could not imagine not testing it.”
“Mmmm. I am glad you did.” Optimus was exhausted now, exhausted and happy in a way he had not been in millions upon millions of years. “Having said that, you may have tried my stamina rather more than expected…”
Megatron laughed again, pulling Optimus close. “Am I to get my way after all? Are you permitting me to initiate the Bond in my own time, with all the rules intact?”
Optimus chuckled. “I would like nothing better, beloved.”
Megatron radiated warmth, as happy and as bright as Optimus had ever seen him. “Excellent.”
“But don’t plan to recharge elsewhere tonight,” Optimus interjected. “You’ll forgive me if I find it a bit difficult to let you go just now. Besides, I want to hear about where you’ve been.”
“As I would hear of all you’ve done here.” Megatron settled beside Optimus in berth, pulling Optimus close. “No need to fret, Optimus. I’m not going anywhere.”
Optimus nestled close to Megatron’s frame, letting the words sink deep beneath his plating, settling into his very circuits.
This time, truly, I’m not going anywhere.
Notes:
And on that note, it's finally done! 195 pages in Google Docs, almost 100k words and hundreds of wonderful comments later, I just want to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with me, messaged me, befriended me and followed along with me as I wrote this story. This story will always hold a special place in my heart thanks to all of you, and I'm so happy so many people loved it as much they did. Y'all rock. <3
I have some plans to edit this a bit at some point, and I'll at least be going through and updating the formatting to be more consistent and less wonky when I have the spoons. But for now, wonky formatting and all, I'm happy with the story and calling it done.
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AndromedaPrime on Chapter 1 Thu 01 Aug 2019 03:32AM UTC
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