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There is nothing special about this night.
The Nemesis is quiet in the late hour, a manufactured time schedule of darkness and light set to keep the work shifts delusional with the idea of rest and recuperation. Minimal traffic in these endless black halls, walkways highlighted in dimmed running lights of their overused color of violet. No conversations to be heard past the odd hushed whisper and a confirming grunt of those taking their turn in the pit of the command center. The ship’s machinery dutifully wrangled by a half awake collection of engineers, keeping the hypnotic and repetitive hum and thrum of the engines purring through the Nemesis.
And no matter where you traveled on this ship one could rest a servo on the bulkhead and always feel the vibration of engines like the purring of their ship’s core. A great beast answering a question in the dark with a soothing mechanical song.
Very little upturned the almost clockwork habits of the Nemesis at the resting hours. How many years together? How much time at war, perfecting this routine? Turning preparation for battle into the mundane. The fear of attack was no longer such a new and worrisome thing that most Decepticons slept well when it was their turn. Greedy for rest, for any fragment of peace they could cling to in between death and devastation.
The silence of the Nemesis was a lullaby to Starscream who stalked the halls late that hour - catching few in his path as he traveled. A single prey in mind, his wings kept lax and loose as he stepped quietly down the darkened corridors.
On Vos, may Primus rest her spirit, the resting hours were a lively time. Skies were cluttered with fliers, seekers and transport like a star swallowed sky. The silver towers of his home city pierced through the noise and motion, emitting manufactured pathways of light to keep the swarm of his brood on the correct routes. Flooding the world in bright colors and tempting offerings of parties and nefarious deals which clung like overstuffed hives in the incredible architecture of his home. Vos had always been filled with sound and spoiled energy that it took a great deal of time for Starscream to learn how a soldier functioned alongside silence. How war machines never stopped churning and one must simply adjust and appreciate the stillness when it was available.
He tried not to take the hushed kliks for granted - it may be your last after all.
When he was younger to war, anxiety heightened by the quiet, he took to pacing the streets of Kaon between bombings and infiltration attempts by their enemies. Always claustrophobic, though after all these years he’s found he no longer shrinks away from dark corners. Younger, he needed to stretch wings and at least see the stars above to remind himself the universe was not collapsing. Even if the sky was polluted in smoke and flames as more of Cybertron burned, it had been a comfort to see an endless expanse above and no longer feel restricted by the silent cage of rest.
Now he seeks his comfort in different ways, learning to forego a sparkling’s craving for the sky, and evolving as one must always be prepared to do.
There is nothing special about this night.
And there is nothing special about turning a corner on a path he so rarely takes nowadays, finding his pedes guiding him to the second floor gallery overlooking the ceremonial throne room. Tucked behind many doors and strange turns of the ship. Underused, almost forgotten in the confines of the Nemesis just like the reflection of the empire they once sought to build - before their planet crumbled and the black and uncharted became their home.
He slips inside and finds his way through the quiet, almost oppressive space. The auditorium was no longer flooded by sycophants or those who needed performative measures to keep fighting. Starscream can recall once, the first time he stood below in the large, diamond room. The backlit of the universe stretched across the massive projection - made to mimic a window to the universe beyond their dense ship walls. Like you could press a servo to cold glass and be not so far from the endless void of eternal. It empowered something in his mind, revving his sense of purpose and ambition like fuel to fires.
That sense of belonging was so new then, something he and his trine had lacked for so long. Reason to keep fighting offered in the palm of a scarred, dark servo.
Below there is still the ornate throne built by earlier followers - all who are now long dead and forgotten by even the oldest of Decepticons. But no longer are there banners of violet and black to decorate the space, no more trinkets and offerings ready to impress like a dutiful servant to a temple of worship. No longer is the throne room almost as elegant as the galleries of Vos or rich enough to rival the banquet halls of Crystal City.
Just a dusty room left to rot, save for a false window to the universe, and a throne built by dead soldiers.
Of course, with a throne always comes a king. And the ship’s king paces with heavy steps in this room of emptiness. Great mass is dark in shadows but tracked easily from above where the seeker watches from the high levels of the auditorium. Starscream’s body is quiet when he leans over the carved railing of the second floor - meant to emulate and honor the coliseums of Kaon and the world that burned: their birthplace.
And suddenly Starscream is young again, a bitter and lost seeker staring down at a gladiator who leaves the room unimpressive in comparison to those stubborn optics and confident pace.
Below, Megatron appears similar to a great beast irate in his cage as he walks. Too far to see what expression he wears but Starscream knows and can imagine all of Megatron’s expressions. Shuffles through them like a catalog in his mind and decides he is probably twisted with conflict, judging by the lacking speed in his steps.
The old gladiator moves tired, slow. Arms stretched to grasp hands behind his back and his great chest is pushed outwards. A gleam of a purple-coated brand catching dim light and Starscream feels himself bite a soft sigh at the almost romantic image beneath. The rough edged warrior turned emperor, contemplative and still in the shadows beneath a hall long stripped of grandeur.
Megatron is a fool, but at least he is a handsome one. Crafted of knots and barbs, born of stubbornly forged steel as he stands alone before the weight of his own throne. Occasionally glancing upwards at the shape of it, the rust unbothered for many years, and back to pacing. Jaw set tight, the hard lines of his body moving in perfect fluidity for something so bulky and broad. Something Starscream watches now with chin in palm, talons tracing the shape of this goliath in the air so far away. He knows Megatron so well he can count the steps, the shuddering of the floors beneath great pedes, and smile when he stops just as expected. A long grunt, shoulders bow, and then back to pacing as whatever plagues his leader’s simple mind only continues to burrow. Worrisome and pestering.
By no surprise did he find Megatron here of course. Outside of battle or things which might keep their attention, Starscream usually knows where to find the other on still nights like this. The same way Megatron might know where to find Starscream, buried beneath too many ambitious tasks in his labs. Better at dissecting and creating when things bother his thoughts than taking repetitive steps which prove no outcome beyond perhaps a weak knee joint and worn floor.
He knew Megatron would be here upon waiting in his own chambers and no knock or curious pulse of request followed after Megatron gave command to Soundwave for the night. No summons to his berth from his king . Starscream gave it only a brief time before going to seek him out, almost amused at how predictable his leader would be.
And so without surprise he watches Megatron in his cage of a throne room. Wondering what new blight has stressed him now - what revelation or deep rooted worry has plucked its way into focus of the never satisfied Megatron?
He watches for a bit longer, at first following parallel to Megatron below from his position above. Then eventually growing bored of that and settling once more to observe - watching silently for quite some time. Recalling many years past when he was a young and enthralled with this mech charging across a gladiator’s pit. The pulse of screaming, blood-thirsty fans, falling away as only Megatron’s roar and the violent clang and crash of his weapons could reach Starscream through the crowd.
Only Megatron. Only ever Megatron.
A sweet memory, one he might share with his leader someday. How it felt to watch him stand victorious, or show mercy to those defeated. How it felt to stand too close when their circles slowly began to intertwine and Starscream shivers at the sweet thoughts. The good old days when Cybertron was still a living world and, corrupt as it was, those rotten years still gave him Megatron.
Stupid old mech.
Megatron would be impossible to handle if he knew just how much his seeker cared.
Starscream smiles despite himself, the smallest tremors of distant ship engines a constant comfort. The sensors along his wings are a thousand times more sensitive and he twitches beneath the pressure of stillness watching the mech below. Wondering about the source of his late-night ponderings. If it were anything serious he’d go to Soundwave, and if it were something tragic: he’d go to Starscream. That was how it was and yet Megatron was alone staring at a throne where he once paraded himself as king, and looked all the more lost for it.
“And just how long are you going to stand there?” The deep voice echoes through the grand chamber, shattering the silence and giving Starscream cause to feign surprise. His wings twitching eager as the shape below pauses his steps and waits for an answer.
Starscream traces talons against the solid railing as he steps forward, wanting to move with obvious steps and force the chin of the gladiator below to look up. Catch Starscream’s movement with dark red optics which cut through overgrown shadow. Megatron’s gaze is the same as laserfire in a battlefield and Starscream knows the range of his leader’s visual components. Knows the mech below can easily see the curling grin he wears, his smile as pretty and fashionable as any coat of paint.
“How could I interrupt my lord when you looked so deep in concentration...” He replies, waving talons in dismissal. “Or a stroke.”
Megatron’s brow ridge quirks. “One might suspect you’re up to something.”
“Aren’t I always?” Starscream chuckles and takes in information - how Megatron’s gaze looks tired. How he hasn’t gathered himself to hide the obvious anxiety growing across his expression. Somber and heavy is his leader below and that tends to drain all the fun out of teasing. “I knew you’d be here.”
Megatron orders Starscream in battle at times, whether direct or with few words of direction. He commands him on the bridge, the spaces between war and chaos, and even in their stolen moments. He allows it, sometimes, when it suits him. Surrendering command of himself is as easy as tearing out one’s spark and leaving it to balance in another’s grasp.
But he does with the understanding to never confuse command with control .
Megatron made that mistake in the past and it nearly tore the faction apart - and Decepticons were not so good at forgiving over bleeding wounds.
Whether they have forgiven one another is a question he doubts either can answer. It’s a matter of the future, of avoiding old habits and bad decisions. Of rising every new day and choosing not to dig in and destroy the other.
It wasn’t easy.
But Starscream supposed it was worth it in the end.
Yet in this moment - a command Starscream knows he would not ignore or hesitate to obey - is when Megatron reaches up to him. Standing beneath his perch, optics flickering in adjustment to see him in the dark. A single servo raised and waiting, palm up and patient without giving a single spoken order yet beckoning for him with all the grace of which he constantly proclaims Megatron lacks.
It’s shameful to feel himself react, wanting to scramble over the railing and dive down. But stopping himself is a feat, forcing his body to slow down. Take the time to expel an performative huff as he moved to stand on the short barrier. Tilt his chin to the side and allow fake gravity to guide his fall.
It’s not a short trip down. One turn midair and thrusters spark and wings open just in time to catch the speed and curve the fall. Landing with perfect poise and twin clicks of his heels against the old brushed metal floor. Standing on the edge of Megatron’s shadow and looking bored rather than angry at the summons.
The servo is still extended and Starscream has to lift his optics to meet his leader’s stare. Firm, noble face watching with the quiet of a sleeping mountain range. Unbroken from his subdued behavior, Starscream was beginning to grow nervous as he stepped into the other’s reach and took that hand.
The differences in their sizes were...unique. Starscream had been with smaller, certainly with bigger, but Megatron was the only mech who truly stood above him. Towering. Even this gentle touch where thick digits moved to curl carefully around his own blue servo was executed with unspoken purpose. Able to enclose Starscream’s hand with the same feeling of being swallowed and kept somewhere warm and secure. Even when they hated one another, tried to tear each other apart, Megatron was still the only mech who could make Starscream feel entirely surrounded - and not panic at such a thing.
“You’re acting strange.” Starscream comments like an accusation and at least his scowl triggers amusement to soften the edge of Megatron’s tense mouth. Stepping along as he’s guided towards the dais where the cold throne waits. Not considering their destination, far too focused on Megatron’s bizarre mood.
It’s too soft - and soft meant easily stabbed as far as Starscream was concerned.
“Am I?”
“You typically don’t scurry off and pout unless you’ve lost miserably to a certain enemy of ours.” He tries to rile Megatron without daring to speak that name. Preferring very much to keep the sound of it out of his mouth if at all possible, as it typically follows with bad moods and low morale and Megatron being useless with rage for days after such an encounter. “What has you so moody?”
“Moody.” Megatron echoes and Starscream’s desire to punch him increases.
“Are you just going to waste my time with your replies or…?”
“I’m sorry.”
Immediate red flag and Starscream’s body goes stiff. His gaze thins and he takes in the room with more scrutiny than before. Looking for some less obvious threat or perversion in the universe since Megatron simply does not apologize with words. And especially not for conversational rudeness.
Megatron apologizes with gifts. He apologizes with a grand gesture of humility or reverence - like offering Starscream the chance to behead a particularly offensive traitor or enemy. He simply does not say he’s sorry .
“You look ready to pull a gun on me.” Megatron seems to notice the tension, but that somber expression lingers despite the hint of amusement carrying on. Driving Starscream mad with suspicion.
“When am I not?”
“True.”
Megatron’s thumb brushes the edge of Starscream’s wrist seam, light and brief, a distractingly tender moment.
One that Starscream doesn’t fall for as Megatron suddenly tries to drag him in.
Starscream drops his weight back instead, lighter than Megatron by no small margin, but much faster. The motion forced Megatron to step forward with a crooked pede to recover balance if he wanted to keep hold of Starscream’s servo. His battlefield optics flashing with energy - but never surprise - as he narrowly dodges Starscream’s talons swiping for his face.
“Little seeker, what are you doing?” He speaks low, but it’s an empty threat. Readjusting his grip on Starscream’s hand and rushing forward, the hint of a smile creeping in while Starscream scrambles backwards to keep from being stormed over.
“Me?? What’s gotten into you?” Starscream snaps and twists his body beautifully, flexible and having long-since disabled certain nerve sensors along his joints. Allowing for a painful transition in root mode while he bends in ways a seeker should not bend. Making it difficult for Megatron to keep his grip and not get smacked in the face with the narrow elbow and sharp edges of his second.
He is forced back a few steps, dragging Starscream along with a harsh tug and blocks a downward scrap of talons with the weight of a raised forearm. Sparks flying pale between them, and yet the scrap is nothing compared to the heated mangled fights they once had constantly.
It’s probably years of cranial trauma, but Starscream would almost consider this to be a dance.
He moves, Megatron follows - allows himself to lead until Starscream gets too close and his strength meets him. Unmovable and then like a torrential storm forcing Starscream back. The seeker’s heels tripping on the dais he’d forgotten while trying to bend and claw his way out of Megatron’s steel hold. One leg goes high to try and recover but Megatron is already prepared, servo diving to grab the knee crossing into his territory. Bringing Starscream to shriek as the pressure seals around his limb and suddenly he’s lifted up. Pede leaves the floor and his wings brace themselves to be thrown into a wall---only to be dropped swiftly into the throne behind him.
Right arm swings as Megatron presses him down, drawing a blade of orange light from subspace, cutting the dark with a crackling flare and coloring them both in the warm light. The blade’s edge rests just a humble sigh from Megatron’s cheek as the other’s warm servos settle on either side of him, gripping the armrests and leaving his throat, eyes and chest open for further attack like an amateur.
It’s immediately sobering. Bringing Starscream to take in the scene, the way Megatron is watching him with a clear gaze. The twisted trust edged with a dare as he didn't push or make any move to further shield himself. Purposeful in his actions and that leaves Starscream melting of all violence - but not irritation.
“I think it’s a good sign for our relationship that you didn’t just shoot me.” Megatron speaks and Starscream tips the blade beneath his broad jaw, letting heat pick at the gray color.
“If you want to put me on a throne, all you need to do is die.” He says, watching Megatron’s thoughts spin behind red optics and then gives an easy nod in agreement. Starscream shuts down the light blade as a sign he doesn’t need a knife to kill the other. He would rather do it with his hands after all, if ever given the chance or motivation. “What glitch in that decrepit head of yours has you behaving this way?” Starscream asks, trying not to feel so awkward sitting in this throne with the empty auditorium surrounding them. Recalling standing just to the side of this platform in those early days, thinking this was where he would remain for all time.
Now Megatron has no throne past the command deck, above but amongst his soldiers.
Commanding armies from a pretty pedestal never suited him anyways.
Starscream leans back in the throne, arms crossed and trying to look bored or perturbed by the look in his leader’s face. Frowning when Megatron sighed and pulled closer, having to take a knee for balance and certainly the image did something for Starscream’s imagination. But this was all too strange to be some elaborate foreplay, and even if, why would Megatron put him on a meaningless throne? Or was it because this room no longer served a purpose he was fine with defiling it?
Really, if they’re going to be rutting on a throne and Megatron didn’t give him a chance to truly enjoy getting here, Starscream is going to be PISSED.
And then Megatron says words Starscream never expected to hear again from his leader, words he thought the other knew better than to repeat...
“Bond with me.”
It’s not a simple subject and Starscream thus fails to pretend the question holds no weight. His wings rising tense above the armrests as he jumps in the throne built for one much larger than his sleek frame. Optics flickering in confusion, then tense focus, and finally melting to annoyance as he raises a heel to kick light against the broad gray shoulder trapping him on this fancy chair in punishment.
“No.”
Megatron retreats a hand to himself, catching Starscream’s ankle joint by warm digits and holding it to his chest, expression unmoving and unchanged from what nonsense he just asked.
“You rejected me before.” He reminds, as though Starscream could have forgotten that mess. No matter how many years passed it was still just as embarrassing in memories - even drew a sharp anger from Starscream that was better off smothered down and ignored.
“I stabbed you in the throat when you had the audacity to offer union as a means of settling a petty argument.”
Megatron frowns just a bit and it makes Starscream feel better to see a glimmer of anger in this leader’s face.
“That petty argument you so callously referenced was after you disobeyed orders and lost us a solid hold on---” He trails off, choosing not to bring up old fights. Good. Apparently old cogs can learn new tricks.
“Sounds like you have terrible taste in lovers.” Starscream grins, delighting in the thin glare he received as they slowly rocked their way back to a familiar shore. Annoying Megatron was really second nature, it’s where he felt safest when Megatron did things like this. When he got romantic ideas in his head and thought union would somehow somehow solve the very obvious fact that they despised one another in those years.
If he’d bonded with Megatron then, one of them would not have risen from that marital berth the next morning. (his credits were on Megatron considering Starscream had been dreaming on how he’d kill his future conjux since he was a little sparkling) And so he refused, and they fought, and they kept fighting for too many years until they actually tried something else. So why, when things were almost perfect, would Megatron think he needed to threaten his seeker with marital bonds??
The whole idea was a new level of insulting a second time around.
“I think you misunderstand.” Megatron presses onward while his servo cups the back of Starscream’s leg. Moving upwards until digits curl warm and gentle at the crook of his knee and linger against the seams of the joint. His expression is something Starscream now only sees in memories, in reflections of the past when the Decepticons began to rise and there was hope felt for the first time after long years of suffering. It was an expression Megatron wore as he spoke in intimate circles, sharing his dream of a home with those who had lost theirs - or never were permitted to have one in the first place.
Starscream feels his leader is far too romantic sometimes.
And in return he must be the fool addicted to such a mech, swooning even now until Megatron says: “Bonding myself to you in our current state gives me nothing. No benefits or security. I already have you.”
Nevermind, Starscream takes it back, he’s horrible UNromantic and also in range of kicking. Which Starscream really wants to do repeatedly to his stupid face after THAT start to his explanation.
“Oh, you have me?” Starscream hisses and Megatron’s hold on his knee tightens and seems prepared to stop the impending kicking fiasco.
“Yes.” He leans closer, jaw brushing the inner length of Starscream’s thigh, and the insulting mood shifts so abruptly...like a trap snapping shut and caging him in...that Starscream gapes with disbelief.
“You’re not here being tormented by thoughts, you were waiting for me?” He deduces and when Megatron smiles he DOES try to kick him. A short skirmish, however. Allowing the other to take those great, big, offending servos and lock them over his kicking thighs. Leaning that thick body between his knees and greeting Starscream’s fanged snarl with a small kiss.
Starscream bites him, Megatron groans, Starscream melts.
It’s a kiss heated only by outrage, passion fueled by pride, and Starscream does his best to show his disapproval with sharp denta clacking against Megatron’s invasion only to be swept up by the sinking warmth of that familiar mouth and dominating shroud which follows his leader with every touch.
“You’re despicable,” Starscream snaps against Megatron’s lips and the other gives a warm chuckle in reply. “Useless save for one thing.”
“Bond to me anyways.”
“Why should I? You’re already making it wonderfully clear you get nothing from it!” He turns away and Megatron’s nose touches his cheek too gently for one who has burned so much of the living world with those servos.
Then again, Starscream was the one who lit the fires at his command.
“That’s the point.” Megatron slips another kiss against his jaw, dipping to rest his mouth hot and close against the plating of his throat where delicate cables could be easily bitten. That there is no point to it. No grand reason…”
“You wretched-”
“I just wish to be yours.”
A trillion terrible or wonderful things have happened to Starscream in this lifetime. Things he could not begin to explain. But not one of them stops his core pulse the way those words do. Leaves him rigid and startled under the strange feeling he’s certain he’s never suffered before.
Like wanting to laugh or cry all at once: maddening in its simplicity. Horrifying no matter how you look at it.
“Starscream, back then I made an offer and was rightfully scorned for my arrogance in thinking I could control you with something so intimate.” Megatron’s thumbs leave comforting shapes where they pet his thighs, his voice heavy with sincerity and the confidence that is as dangerous as it is alluring. “Aren’t we stronger now?”
“Exactly.” Starscream agrees, thighs jumping under the attention while his fuel pump does something horrible in response to the certainty in Megatron’s speech. “So why do you want to ruin it with this?”
The tragedy that Megatron is so handsome makes it impossible to look away. It’s a good view, really, one that Starscream enjoys then, before, and now. Something that is his - no need to add ancient ties to the matter. He’s still not entirely convinced this isn’t some trick - though Megatron’s brand of scheme would never involve something so crude.
His leader could charm a foreign world into tearing itself apart just because it’s existence was an inconvenience to his goals. But playing with Starscream this way was far beyond even his moral compass. So by that logic it had to be...earnest.
Which didn’t make Starscream feel better at ALL.
“You can say no, and I promise you there is no punishment. This is not like last time.” Megatron sighs before settling back where he knelt before, doing an impressive job at keeping his disappointment down. However Starscream knows him greater than any being, no matter what Soundwave claims. Because while it’s true the empath has always known how Megatron thinks, Starscream is one of the few who understands what their leader desires .
And he desires Starscream.
“Can I demand you beg me?” Starscream questions, the tone playful but clearly for show. “Would you?”
“No.”
“You’re no fun.” He pouts and relaxes, unable to think between the rise and fall of his spark twisting itself apart. Maddened that Megatron would put him in this position.
Does he believe Megatron would accept rejection? Yes.
But would that slowly poison what they built so far? Megatron didn’t have the best track record of allowing failure from clouding his perception on things. He would eventually take out his disappointment on Starscream, they would be sparklings tearing one another apart before long.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Megatron interrupts, shaking his helm and using his voice to lure Starscream out of his thoughts. “This is not something to dissect or plan around. This is merely an answer to a question, you will be mine for so long as you allow me to have you. Bonding is just…”
“Forever.” Starscream feels the points of his denta against his lips as he hisses the word.
“Hardly forever.” Megatron frowns, but he must recall that they are of the same planet, but not the same world as he adjusts his statement. “I understand it’s different for seekers…”
“It could kill me to lose y-- whatever idiot I bonded to.” He explains with a touch of fury that seems unable to hurt his leader. In fact Megatron drank down his fury like the sweetest energon harvested from the glowing belly of a dying star. Primus, why did he have to find the one freak who enjoyed his anger?! One who sought out his destructive emotions like it was his favorite place to lay?
“It wouldn't hurt to lose me now?”
“What a stupid question.”
“Because you would feel nothing?” Megatron asks and Starscream can’t bear to speak the truth: That he was not afraid of losing Megatron, simply because Megatron was not allowed to go anywhere he could not follow.
Starscream would tear apart the swirling pit if he had to. He would conquer death to drag Megatron’s sorry aft back from any realm he tried to slip off to.
No.
It wouldn’t hurt because it was not allowed.
And if they bonded Megatron might finally understand how absolutely he belonged to Starscream.
Not always a good thing.
“Somehow this is a trick.” He says, knowing that’s untrue and Megatron can see it too. But he doesn’t react with accusations or refusals, doesn’t raise his voice or scowl at the insult.
Instead, calmly he dips his chin to kiss Starscream’s thigh. Gentle as he strokes the pale metal, curved and warm, his focus on the way his optics almost reflect on the polished surface. Kissing once more and leaning back to turn his chin and give Starscream a simple look.
Then he opens his chest plate without warning.
Or at least he tries. The shape of his chest splitting and turning open, hidden mechanisms guarding the most precious item in his body whirling to life and Starscream lets out a sharp yelp before diving forward. Talons dig into the pathway of dense plates and protection, stopping Megatron from revealing his spark chamber before it’s too late.
“What are you doing, psycho?!” He snarls while heat creeps up his body. Never ashamed of his perverse nature and sexual appetite, but THIS was too intimate even for him!
“It’s easier to prove you wrong without words, you enjoy arguing too much.” Megatron says, voice firm and servos moving to grip Starscream’s wrists. “Let go.”
“No, you idiot, put yourself back together!” He orders and tries to fight the controls to push the plates back. Hoping it might sting a bit for the mech who is doing this to him.
Starscream is faster than Megatron by not an insignificant amount, but Megatron is much stronger. Able to, with a soft grunt, pluck the talons from his chest and with one step, rise from the floor and take his seeker with him by the hold on his wrists. Starscream snarls as they go, his pedes hitting the throne seat and using it like a step. Chest to chest with Megatron who only tugs their servos down and pins Starscream’s talons at his side.
“You’re insane!”
“You know this already.”
He witnessed Megatron commit great atrocities, bathe in the life force of their fellow Cybertronians, and eviscerate thousands of planets all for the sake of feeding his violence, to satisfy his desires to tear apart this universe to accomplish selfish goals.
But now Starscream shivers, that voice gentle against his audial receptor as the throne brings him to a height still not equal to Megatron. Held still while machinery clicks and shifts against his own chest and a warmth unlike any felt before caresses his body. Seeping the heat of Megatron’s very core across the seams of his chest plate, dripping across his wings where light can reach and leaving him choking on anger and a new sense of terror.
He’s trapped out of his own panic, can’t escape because his body won’t let him fight with something so delicate and absolute exposed to danger.
Starscream, plenty of times before, had dreamed of similar moments. Of prying open a defeated Megatron’s body, tearing into this fragile chamber and ripping out that light before shoving it down his own gullet. Wanting to feel Megatron’s last moments burn down his throat and settle into his core before building his throne out of the scrap left behind. Those ideas still tinker away in his processor, his darkest desires no longer so violent - but appealing in a way that leaves him searching for Megatron’s servos and berth. Wanting to thrash under him until those images meld with a physical delight and he’s crushed beneath a spent weight. Feel that tempting hum of Megatron’s spark smothering his own.
But this?
He’s never dreamed of this.
“I’ll kill you.” He snarls against the edge of Megatron’s collar where he is tempted to bite and tear out what his teeth can reach - and when Megatron purrs he feels that pulse of that light draw in his torso like gravity of a star summoning him to sink deeper against the pale light. Legs fall into that feeling and he’s pressed so close to the warmth he wants to scream.
“You haven’t yet.” Megatron dares to chuckle and suddenly releases Starscream’s wrists, giving the seeker the opportunity to escape and flee this insulting and startling moment…
All he has to do is run.
All he needs to do is run away.
Or just tear out that light and be done with this once and for all.
He wishes Megatron would just command him to take part in this, that would make it all easier to flee or…
There are gentle servos on his waist, light and hardly capable of trapping him in. Starscream tilts his chin to meet Megatron’s impending kiss, knowing without needing to see his intention. Bracing his lips against the other’s, feeling cold in comparison to that insufferable heat that seeps from his leader’s very being. Eating him alive, burning out every challenging thought as Starscream moves against him. Talons drawing cautiously and dangerously close to that open seam of light and life which Megatron has so carelessly left to his whims. Glossa swirls and teeth scrape, Starscream’s body gives a distant hiss somewhere deep inside and Megatron chases after it with a growl that leaves him trembling when he traces the inner chamber of his chest. Finding knuckles scalding in the light and feeling the way Megatron’s body buckles at the sensation of intrusion.
“Starscream,” He says his name in reverence, like it’s something placed upon an altar and Starscream suddenly feels very much like a crown held at the throne - waiting to be merged with a king’s lofty brow.
“A lifetime of me…” Starscream whispers, deft fingers curious at their new path. So absorbed in his research he has to brace the bridge of his nose against Megatron’s chin just to keep focused - to look anywhere but the determination in his leader’s gaze.
One he’s seen plenty of times before: one that proceeds revolution and war for the sake of what his desires.
“Are you sure you want that?” He questions and abruptly digs the tips of talons in the softer metals cradling Megatron’s spark. Leaving an indentation in the weaker materials that draws a pained sound from the mech trying to swallow him whole. Megatron’s body is unable to defend and instead of being thrown off like Starscream expected, Megatron only nuzzles the side of his helm like some great beast wrapping itself possessively around it’s hoard.
“With or without this,” He says, voice tinged in a desperation Starscream has only heard in their most depraved sessions of carnal exploration together. The sound of it tingling up every sensor in his back… “You are already mine for eternity.”
Starscream has never thought much of what forming a bond might feel like.
He assumed it wouldn’t feel much different than forming a trine. The splitting and sharing of three consciousness, jumbling together yourself with two others and the almost horrific sensation of forever having a piece of yourself living in another’s frame.
He was wrong.
It felt very different.
He only opens his spark chamber after Megatron gives a noise of surprise, the bulky mech narrowly catching Starscream’s legs as they wind around his waist. Too thick, barely able to cling to that incredible frame and sending Megatron forward to rest a knee on the throne to keep their balance. Forcing Megatron to take their weight and hoist Starscream high enough that the tinged glass and delicate shields opening between them meets his own. Sucking the hardline of Starscream’s jaw as their sparks stretch and spiral, joining somewhere between while their bodies find this sensation was something neither could ever have prepared for.
Starscream’s wings hit the throne back as Megatron presses him against it, balanced and held with support while the universe decided to click off and leave them both in visual darkness. The sudden gasp of light and power streaming through their frames, clawing and pulling closer to each other with tense servos and digging talons carving up the back of a great metal back. A rut begins to guide their torsos and Starscream’s voice cracks with static as his spark discovers something new. Swearing and twisting around this brilliant, eternal sky built upon the backs of mountains endless and unmovable.
He can’t see past the light soaking his vision but he feels Megatron’s tense jaw, finds it by his teeth and bites, laps, and sucks down the groan that seeps through when mouths find one another in a breathy mess. Slipping and colliding while the throne groaning beneath is ignored in favor of the sharp sounds and crackling stars reforming between them.
Large hands cradle his body and he feels himself in them. Feels his hips and legs and wings shivering beneath Megatron’s touch. Feels himself lifted and dropped on a lap and can sense Megatron against his consciousness - feel the other gasp and shudder as Starscream carves marks against his body and strokes new places neither knew existed before. Worlds unexplored, unconquered where light sinks and fills every shadowy corner of their thoughts. Spilling secrets and desires and memories and hopes into one another’s minds like a spire of liquid metal dripping into their own thoughts and leaving them hungry for more.
He sees himself, young, proud and pretty with spilled energon across his hands that won't stop shaking no matter how desperately he tells them to stop.
He sees himself looking up at Megatron who approaches and smoothes his hands across a wing - not knowing what that does to a seeker - and congratulates him on the victory.
He sees himself staring with brilliant optics, the shaking stops and he feels the moment Megatron’s spark expands at the sight of him.
Megatron sees too the gladiator he once was.
The way Starscream’s talons gripped the edge of a railing and the hum and buzz of the world lost as Megatron fought.
He feels when Starscream’s spark pulsed, clamber towards a figure center stage of gathered wretches. Turning battlefield optics across their empowered faces and settling on Starscream…
They felt their first kiss in the belly of a bunker, bodies screaming in pain and fury after a thousand losses.
Felt their first time sinking claws or fists into each other. Anger fueled by disappointment and expectation.
Their first dance beneath a conquered sky, the first time Megatron placed a gentle servo on Starscream’s cheek and the time he broke the other’s mandible in a furious strike and the nausea he felt after seeing the tamed body carried away.
Feeling the moment Starscream shuddered in panic after drawing his sword out of Megatron’s chest - thinking he finally killed the mech - head screaming in terror that it wasn’t possible . How Starscream’s knees buckled and he showed no sign of it when Megatron pinned him to the bulkhead not weeks later, kissing him until lips were scarred from the other’s strength for days.
They merge and stretch into one another. Tangled mess somehow knowing where to go. How to settle within the other and find refuge in familiar bodies. Like they were made for this, waited for this, their sparks greeting as if they were different beings who had been kept apart for too long, greeting and reforming into a single shape that was never supposed to be parted. There is no pain but agony swims through Starscream’s thoughts, held at bay by Megatron’s unmoving certainty. Like a dark servo cradled his fears and Starscream returned the gentleness by holding out, keeping himself from being lost to the wilderness so that Megatron always had a star to follow when the world grew in violent thorns around him.
Yoursyoursyoursyours mineMineMineMine Mine.
They watch themselves, watch through the other’s gaze over millions of years. Their spark bleeding to touch, to keep, to take. Both feeling the years wasted on violence, and the stubborn tumble back to the pulse of their sparks now finding their way to a patient rhythm. One kept pace in darting song while the other held the world steady, carrying the shared pulse through the highs and lows…
The sound of their sparks now wound together, finally matching their desire to be inseparable.
Megatrons feels words Starscream swore to himself he would never utter to another press delicately to his helm. He feels them sink against his thoughts and embed themselves to the core of his being, feels Starscream’s shivering form placed in his lap as the swell of their sparks ease. Parting light streams like tendrils desperately reaching for one another while their bodies fall into exhaustion. Slumping back into the throne where Megatron crushes Starscream to him, feeling the way his seeker both despises and craves such a thing - incapable of choosing which is most important.
He chuckles and Starscream frowns, knotting his brow ridge against where he’s slumped into Megatron’s chest. Talons are tired and weak where they rest over the resealed chamber. The violet symbol tucked protectively under his palm and the core sings a doting song that matches Megatron’s low purr. Pleased and yet sensitive while Starscream swallows down a thousand curses and insults and false declarations of disgust - because he feels Megatron is preparing for them and no longer has the fire for his typical performance.
“Don’t say it.” Starscream snaps, lips brushing Megatron’s frame and knows he’s speaking a language he did not speak before. Something old, ancient, something Megatron knows and has shared with him.
Megatron only grunts to reply, a wordsmith and yet it only takes a sound for Starscream to feel answered. Those great hands stroking down weary wings, his tired form, each touch like an apology and praise for their years together and Starscream is sick of it rather quickly.
He sits up, torso heaving from exertion, startling Megatron with his sudden energy and kisses him. Hard. Demanding. Almost a punishment as Megatron is left to lazily open his mouth and let the seeker delve and bite and draw him in. Talons pricking his jaw and the obscene sounds echo across the throne room while Starscream leaves Megatron’s mouth bruised and dented, the metal warped against his teeth so none could know otherwise.
“You want to ask me why, don’t you?” He speaks, still holding his bonded’s helm and shivers at the new sight of this world. How Megatron is no longer just leader master lover but his and it’s impossible to blink from his sights. Everything about Megatron now looks marked by him in ways unseen and yet overwhelming that Starscream has to bite his own glossa to keep from giggling like an idiot at his new possession.
His his his his his his hishishishishishishishis yours hishishis mine …
The mind sings and Megatron only smiles in such a noble way he wants to slap him and kiss him and decides he will do both very soon.
“I know why.”
“But you still want to hear me say it.”
Megatron nods, turns his chin to kiss Starscream’s palm where he can reach, and waits to see if his request will be answered…
Starscream just grins, his spark singing Megatron’s reply and can feel his leader’s frame sink in amusement and disappointment at being teased.
“We’ll see how you behave this next eternity, and then maybe I’ll tell you.”