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The details of how they had gotten to this point were unimportant.
Right now all that mattered to Megatron was getting this hunk of a mech to finally rail him.
Impactor already had him pinned to the wall, the hooks of his harpoon digging into Megatron's wrist, holding his left arm up. The purple mech's approach was both familiar, and more aggressive than it used to be. The weapons on his frame added a thrilling sense of danger, though it wasn't wasn't the cannon on Impactor's shoulder that Megatron wished to be trained on him.
Impactor's large hand crassly groped the gunmetal gray plating, learning the curves and crevices of this new form. Right now he was digging his thick fingers into the areas connecting Megatron's broad chest plates to his torso, causing the captain to shudder from the pressure to his barely exposed wiring.
All that reconciling they'd done in the tight confines of Megatron's room—because that was the one place they could have privacy—had led to the tension erupting now. Megatron wanted Impactor. How could he not when his oldest friend had approached him, still the same powerful drill tank physically, but with the added maturity on his chiseled face and demeanor. He was so much more sullen now, but there was a need in him that was apparent as soon as they'd exchanged words without anyone listening in. A need that they shared and continued to nurture together.
Impactor's fingers dug into another seam, now near Megatron's pelvic plating, earning him a quiet grunt. Encouraged, the Wrecker bit down on Megatron's neck, pushing his digits in deeper, prying his thumb to the spike housing from the side, under the codpiece. Megatron gasped, he knew Impactor could so easily just grab his crotch and make his desire known that way, but this more rounadabout approach to his spike was enticing.
Megatron grabbed the Wrecker's shoulder-mounted cannon by the connector, and lifted his leg to mount Impactor's hip. "Impactor," he rasped, vocalizer strained from the heat of foreplay. "I don't want you to play with my spike, now." The request was given with a playful smirk, and Impactor took a moment to cease his fondling and assault of Megatron's neck cables. "... You better show me later," the Wrecker grumbled, disappointed, and moved his hand lower.
Megatron exhaled, his thighs tensing in anticipation. Impactor held him still with such strength, so easily pinning one arm of the ex-warlord, his massive chest grinding down on Megatron's own, and his hips—by Primus, Impactor's were built for power. He had seen the purple mech lift and carry absurd loads back in their days in the mines, he had been lifted by this very mech countless times before. Being manhandled by him was what Megatron had dreamt of. Someone of his own caliber, someone with the raw power to hold him down and take him like he wanted to be taken. Oh, he had always, always admired Impactor's build.
Even now he was growing wetter, the hand pawing his valve panel not in rough, needy motions, but in firm, testing ways. He could feel the pressure as Impactor pressed his palm up, his fingers in the middle so lightly stroking the panel that still separated him from Megatron's ever slicker valve.
"You want me to have this?" Impactor murmured, rubbing harder now, his fingertips at the seams of the panel, stroking back, stroking forth, almost digging into the seams in a way that made his old friend's vents sharper and pistons held taut. Megatron was aroused enough that his engorged valve lips were plush against against panel and he could feel everything. He did not want to grind back into the touch quite yet. He wanted to feel Impactor push.
"Yes."
"How hard? The wall's not gonna do if you want me to go all out."
All out. Megatron shuddered and sighed out a hot blast of air before he could speak. "Impactor, please don't hold back," he pleaded, the pitch of his low voice now higher, addled by his desire to be demolished.
The mech pinning him down took a quick glance around the barren room, took stock of the levels and build of both the desk and the recharge slab, and made his decision.
Impactor wrapped his arm around Megatron's hips, and with a strained grunt, lifted the large tank up by his aft. His body strained, exerted to take this heavy load on with just a single arm. The powerful pistons held strong, metal muscle and wire sinew bulging under the thick plating when he relocated Megatron like he was a mech of two size classes smaller. The gray mech himself held back a surprised yelp, his grip in the shoulder cannon tighter, and his free hand finding a stabilizing hold on Impactor's chest. His processor stuttered from the absurd display of strength, he couldn't help but think; God, he is so strong.
When Impactor threw him down on the berth, there was a wet spot on the arm Megatron had taken his seat on. He had already begun leaking through his panel seams, so taken by the powerful mech handling him with such ease. His valve throbbed, his lust to be ravished growing ever stronger. Now on his berth, Megatron ceased stalling, and opened the wet panel, strings of lubricant sticking to his engorged lips.
He was given a hungry look, dimming optics and the hint of a smirk on Impactor's face. Yes, look at me. I want you, Megatron thought, heat rushing to his faceplates as he just so slightly spread his legs. With his valve now exposed, Impactor made his way between his legs, the square hips pushing Megatron’s thighs apart.
"You got hot quick, Megs." The familiar nickname warmed his chest in a way that went beyond lust, but that was not what this was about. No, this was raw sexual tension that he needed to take care of in the most indulgent way. That was what this had to be.
Impactor lifted Megatron's leg up, and over his shoulder so that the captain of the ship tilted to his side.
The positioning made a wet sound as Megatron's sticky valve lips parted, opening him up. His hole twitched, his sparkbeat louder and louder in his whole frame but mostly in his array. He was riling himself up before he'd even seen Impactor's spike, but he didn't need to see it. He remembers it. He remembers and aches to be filled like that again.
A drip of lubricant fell on the bed, and then it got spread on Impactor's codpiece. He ground himself on Megatron's exposed valve, and the gray mech could feel how strained the spike panel was. He was being teased, and he didn't have the strength to endure it, just the bulge alone was making him clench.
"Impactor, please. I'm burning up," he begged, growing more desperate by the second.
"Alright, since you asked so nicely," Impactor kissed the pede on his shoulder, a very unexpected gesture, and let his spike out. It pressurized immediately to it's full length, sliding right onto Megatron's swollen valve. Megatron balled his fists tighter, his node twitching from the weight laid on top if it. He could feel Impactor's pulse, and when the Wrecker moved, their shared arousal sent shivers down his back strut.
Impactor moved, his spike rubbing along the valve lips, slicking himself with Megatron's juices while the mech shivered. The way those red optics shimmered with need, the way Megatron's body was cycling air in pace with his every movement was the best reward Impactor could have. But he wanted to tease this ever bigger mess of a mech further. He grabbed his spike, and more vigorously rubbed the top-heavy shape of it just on the outer parts of the valve.
"You absolutely sure you want me to just go in and fuck you until I'm done?" Impactor's voice was now just as husky as Megatron's. He was in charge, but his revving engine held no form of self-control. It was flattering, having Impactor so ready to fuck the brains out of him, and yet taking these little cautionary steps that he'd probably gotten accustomed to when interfacing with smaller mechs.
Megatron's face contorted with his desperate plea. "Yes, Impactor. Yes. Please just take me already. I'm not going to break, and- and if I do, please, don't stop."
Those were very explicit directions. Guess this old mech really wanted to get his hole wrecked and ruled. The permission to go as hard as he could had Impactor grow even more excited, his spike lurching eagerly on the valve that so readily lubricated for it.
"Hope this room's soundproofed," Impactor let out a short chuckle, and finally, finally angled his blunt spike to Megatron's dripping valve.
He pushed, slowly. He had to, with the head of his spike being the widest part. "Ah," Megatron twitched upon the intrusion, his brow knit up as he trembled from his anticipation coming to an end. His valve opened, and opened, and opened. The stretch was almost too much, but his lubrication and hunger to be filled made up for the—
"Ah!" He gasped when the wide tip made it past his throbbing valve rim, sinking into the sensor-rich interior. Primus have mercy. He cycled on the hard tip, moaning, charge tingling all over his pelvic circuitry. His optics unfocused as the feedback rushed through his systems, he'd probably had come if Impactor didn't pause right there.
"You good?" The purple Wrecker grunted through his teeth, neck cables tense. Megatron smirked a bit, knowing well that it was his eager interface array that made the mech so strained even when he took the pause to obviously worry for his well-being.
"Yes, please, keep going. The deeper the better," Megatron gave what he hoped to be his last request. He was ready for Impactor to take him without worrying about his stupidly large spike. What good was such equipment if he constantly worried if he was hurting someone?
"You want deep, huh?" Impactor quirked his brow.
And then he drove his club of a spike further in. Megatron couldn't keep quiet, his voicebox sputtering, optics opening wide as he felt his insides shift. Impactor's spike was unforgiving in its advance, and it pressed every internal node down on its way to Megatron's core.
"Mmmph!" Megatron quickly hid his face behind his arm, panting against his fist. He squirmed, feeling weak just from being filled like this. Moving, his calipers clenched down against the invading rod, barely getting any squeeze on it due to just how large Impactor was. He let out a shaky sigh, and cried out again when Impactor pulled back. All those sensors that had been so roughly lit up on the way in got another round of hard spike on them.
The best Megatron could do was squeeze onto the base of Impactor's spike when he would hilt him, but that was a brief, brief moment before Impactor began to pick up speed. His leg, held up by Impactor, shook from the overwhelming pleasure.
Impactor. Impactor. "Impactor," Megatron shut his optics and whimpered into his fist as he began to lose control. The slow thrusts turned faster, and he hadn't even felt the Wrecker hit his pelvic plate to his valve yet. He still hadn't gone all the way in, and already he felt like he was nearing his first—hopefully first, peak.
Thrust, pull, thrust, pull. It was like Impactor was bucking into him to make him move on the bed as much as possible with each movement. He felt so full, so full of Impactor who despite his pleas to be rough, was so gentle on him.
The consideration and the leisurely way his valve was being taken, had Megatron tip over to an overload. He inhaled sharply, frame tensing when the soft, pulsing dissolution of charge hit through him. Beginning with fast-paced spasming of his valve, spreading to his twitching node and to the rest of his body, Megatron trembled. He could barely milk the spike inside, but he didn't get to worry about that. He had overloaded, but Impactor barely spared him a break, continuing through.
"Oh god, Impactor." He felt his array grow more sensitive, more engorged now that he had come. And his greedy body more readily accepted the large spike, loosening up.
His pede still held up on Impactor's shoulder, he was spread wide. Now, satisfied with the preparation, Impactor took a firmer hold of the leg he was holding up and began to pound.
He hilted himself into Megatron, pushing the ceiling of the gray mech's valve up and deeper into his body, and short-circuiting Megatron's brain for a moment. Optics wide when registered the sensation pushing up to what he felt like was all the way to his spark chamber. Right now he wanted that. Nothing else mattered, he wanted to feel Impactor rearrange his internals with force.
Trying to hide his fizzing optics behind his arm, crying out and then biting his teeth together Megatron squirmed. Every thrust drilled deep, Impactor's club of a spike making room in Megatron where there previously was none. He placed his hand on his abdomen and could feel the rough thrusts through his plating, forcing the grill to flex outward. He knew Impactor was big, but the physical reminder was so much.
Those strong hips pistoned back and forth, grinding Megatron's frame on his berth, and spilling his lubricant all over, his valve now the second loudest orifice in the room. Megatron's mouth came first, with his screams even when muffled loud enough to strain his vocalizer. He couldn't stop himself, not when Impactor took him like this, pummeling into him, leaving dents into places that he couldn't see but would surely feel for days before his internal repair system sorted them out.
He didn't care, all he wanted was to be fucked like this.
There was a creaking sound that didn't come from neither of the mechs' frames, and suddenly the berth's edge gave in.
Megatron dropped, on his back luckily, since Impactor had the reaction time to move his grip from his leg to his arm to avoid a head hit.
"Frag," Impactor cursed, his spike bouncing as it so abruptly slipped out of its snug hole. He lowered Megatron on the floor, then stepped over him, his treaded pedes on each side of Megatron's hips.
He looked so big, so intimidating standing there, glaring down from behind his large bust. Megatron cycled down again, biting his lip at the sight of the heavy, dripping spike looming over him.
"You alright?" The brute of a mech asked, standing still.
"Yes," Megatron nodded. They may have lost their 'facing surface, but he was still very much in need, still wanted to feel Impactor drill into him with that promised 'all out' ferocity.
"Good." Impactor smirked and stroked his spike. For a moment Megatron considered to be splattered with his transfluid, marked by the Wrecker, but even more he wanted that come inside of him.
Without wasting any more time, Impactor stepped back, spread Megatron's thighs again with his feet, and kneeled down between them.
Megatron expected him to just keep going like this, but Impactor hooked his arms under his knees, and lifted.
"H-hey, what are you doing?"
"Getting you the best angle. You wanted deep, right?" Impactor kept raising Megatron's feet, over his shoulders, then pushing them back by climbing over the gray mech until he was practically folded over. Megatron's aft was tilted a bit over into the air, and most importantly, his valve was now positioned directly up.
And Impactor could see his face very close now. In a moment of weakness, Megatron thought how much he wanted to meet those surly lips with his, but for now this had to be purely physical. A kiss would say too much.
The Wrecker guided his spike down, his hips directly above Megatron's, and pushed. This time the tip slipped in with barely any resistance, the valve warmed up and ready to take him fully.
Megatron could feel it, the new angle further emphasizing the blunt shape of the spike, the hard ridge of it lighting up his ceiling node cluster. He grit his teeth, then gasped and wrapped his arms around Impactor's neck. He couldn't meet the yellow optics glaring intently down at him, drinking up each face that he made. He was well aware he was taking this spike like he'd never have any after this.
Impactor hilted himself, finally grinding his plating to Megatron's throbbing node, spike deep, deep inside the valve that so generously stretched into Megatron's frame to accommodate it.
Megatron whimpered, hands grasping at Impactor's neck cabling. He met his eyes, and pleaded. Impactor pulled back, and slammed back in. All Megatron could do was throw his head back and scream. He couldn't arch his back and straighten his legs, all he could do was hold on and hope that Impactor would keep pounding at his valve ruthlessly.
"Hah- hnh," by now Impactor was getting more vocal, grunting with every few of his thrusts. His spike sunk deep into Megatron, pushing moans and whines out of the pinned mech. His rhythm was intense, their position letting him use all his vigor on moving his hips and making sure that Megatron's wet valve kept squirting out lubricant with each powerful lunge of Wrecker spike.
So full of his former, and now-again lover, Megatron couldn't do anything but throw his head back, shut his optics and scream. God, he wants so badly— He wants Impactor to come inside.
"Im– Impac– tor," it was so hard to focus. His sensornet was alight and all his processor managed to fully comprehend was the repeated motion that sent his charge surging with each powerful thrust. All he got out was the name.
"Megatron." He got a short, quick reply from the Wrecker, and heard his name spoken laden with lust, not hatred. He was trying his best not to get emotional, to keep this as just a frag to release the tension they had been building. But damn it. He missed this. He had missed Impactor so much.
Suddenly Impactor slowed down. Megatron's vents stalled the second he realized what was going to happen, the strong twitch of Impactor's spike promising him what he wanted, and he overloaded again.
The grey mech's valve clenched down and gushed, eager to milk the thick spike within. But the rush of the overload fizzled out quickly. Impactor didn't come into him. The firm presence of his spike pulled out at the last moment. Megatron turned his optics back on, his ruined overload begging him to ask why?
He felt so empty, valve clenching on nothing but its own walls, while he had to feel Impactor rutting his spike on the pulsating external parts. Impactor was gritting his teeth, like he often did when he came and didn't want to make too much noise. And his gorgeous spike pulsed strong, Megatron could feel it clearly on his sensitized node, but feeling the transfluid spill on his chest instead left him craving.
As Impactor came down from his release, he was confused by the look he got.
"Huh..? Something wrong?" He panted, taking in air to cool his frame down.
Megatron pushed with his legs a bit, indicating that he would like to adopt a more relaxed position. This fold he was in was sexy, sure, but it made his swollen valve crave for spike and seed it was not going to get. Impactor moved back, and let the captain's feet down, staying between them.
"I wasn't expecting you to pull out," Megatron is exasperated. He tries not to sound as frustrated as he is, but slag it, he hadn't waited for this moment to come and then leave him so wanting.
Impactor gave him a look, then glanced at his transfluid on Megatron's chest. Megatron could swear there was a smirk on his faceplates there for a second before he looked back at him.
"Sorry. You wanted me to come inside, on the first time we interface in four million years?" Impactor emphasized his words heavily. This was something he had taken as basic manners. It was much easier for his casual interface partners to clean their outsides than their insides. He did not expect Megatron to...
Some gears turn in the Wrecker's head.
Megatron doesn't wait for him to continue, not even with that thinking look on his face. "Or maybe you could've held out longer so I could properly overload." He didn't think he could get this agitated over a ruined overload. But Impactor's spike was so big, and he wanted to grip it with his pleasure-struck valve, wanted to feel him inside while his calipers could get a proper, tight grip on the girth.
He gives Impactor an angry scowl when the Wrecker dares to shrug.
"I've got mods to keep going."
Wait what?
"You can— You can go for more?" Megatron's optics widened, in both surprise and charge-surging hope.
"Yeah, as long as the co-captain doesn't have anything else scheduled, I can give you your damn dose. And if you can take it, I might not hold back this time." Impactor smirked that handsome smirk of his, and Megatron was sold. He might be one of the driving forces behind keeping the whole ship running, but the others can take care of that for a bit. Daring to hope, he spreads his legs in an invitation.
"I can re-schedule. You are a rare guest and I haven't had my fill yet. Come, Impactor. Take me again."
"Not on the floor though," Impactor quipped, and got on one knee by Megatron's side. He hadn't missed how Megatron's engine purred whenever he handled him, so this time when he scooped his arms under the tank's knees and back, he grinned at him.
Megatron scoffed at the smug Wrecker. How could he look so damn satisfied with himself when he was now shorter than him? That confidence was so attractive. And now with his desire revealed, the grey mech allowed himself to indulge. He gripped Impactor's bicep, firmly, to feel how the mechanism under the plates bulged while holding him.
His field hid nothing, and when Impactor lifted him against the wall, legs spread to straddle the Wreckers hips, that lust reignited further.