Work Text:
Optimus was lying with his stomach in Megatron's lap, completely engrossed in the puzzle in his hands. It was a more complicated version of what Earthlings would call a Rubik's cube – only this one had more faces. Megatron was reading a report (paperwork being an ever-present part of their lives as faction leaders), and his hand stroked Optimus's back absent-mindedly, making the Prime's powerful engine purr.
Except that he wasn't a Prime right now; a pet collar around his neck indicated that his Primely duties were left outside their shared room, and all Optimus needed to care about currently was behaving and keeping his master happy. Which he did gladly.
At this moment, however, Megatron didn't require his services, so Optimus was offered a toy to busy his mind and hands with while the Decepticon dealt with the paperwork. It was a pleasure of its own – to be able to relax and simply play; normally Optimus couldn't afford such a leisure activity. It always made him feel guilty: he knew he could be doing something useful, there were always important matters that demanded his involvement, and he was the Prime of Cybertron, it was his responsibility to serve his people...
When he was a pet, however, he served only Megatron, and if his master wanted to spoil him with toys, Optimus would obey. This was the only way he could truly relax and forget about his obligations.
The puzzle gave a melodious series of beeps when the last pieces fell into their places, and opened, presenting an energon treat it had inside. Optimus mewled in joy and immediately put the candy into his mouth; he loved these! And, once again, abstained from them as a Prime: long ages of war turned energon treats into a luxury, and surely the Autobot leader could find better uses for his faction's budget... Megatron, however, loved spoiling him with sweets as well, and Optimus gleefully ate them from his master's open palm – only to lick and kiss said palm in gratitude afterwards. This was a pleasure too – as much as eating the candy itself.
And now, sated and happy and content, Optimus squirmed in Megatron's lap, eager to express his adoration. He propped himself on his elbows and began turning, fully intent on showering his master's frame with kisses and nips, when Megatron's hand came to rest on his back, pushing him down.
“I'm busy, Optimus,” the warlord said, optics never leaving the datapad. Optimus whined and wiggled, demanding attention; he had solved the puzzle, surely he earned a bit of his master's affection!
This time Megatron outright growled, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, and Optimus mewled in delight as a titillating shiver ran down his spine. Usually that warning growl was enough to keep him in check, but now he was feeling bratty. He continued to writhe, and the hand on his back retreated – only to smack his bottom. Optimus yelped, jerking up his head.
“Be still!” Megatron grumbled, but there was no true anger in his voice – he seemed amused rather than annoyed. Optimus decided to take a middle route: he ceased squirming, but proceeded to whine softly, pawing at the berth's padding. He'd much rather be pawing at his master's interface panel!
They spent a couple of minutes like this, and finally Megatron's patience ran out.
“Oh, for the love of..! Fine. If you can't lie in peace, I'll find you a task. To the floor, on your knees.”
Optimus beamed and hurried to follow the order, slipping from the berth, spark beating fast in anticipation. Master will let Optimus pleasure him! Oh, Optimus would do his best! His entire frame vibrated as his engine purred, and he gave Megatron's thigh a quick nuzzle, showing his thanks, before sitting back on his heels modestly.
Megatron chuckled, one clawed hand rising to stroke Optimus's cheek.
“Eager, are we? Such a dedicated pet I have...”
Optimus shut his optics and smiled at the praise. Of course he was dedicated! He loved his master, he had the best master ever!
Megatron chuckled again, and with a soft snick his interface panel retracted, baring the half-erect spike. Apparently, Optimus's rubbing and writhing didn't go unnoticed – so much that it distracted master from work. Optimus felt a twinge of guilt for that – but for the most part he was proud and joyful.
“Go on, suck it. And meanwhile I'll have to finish the report.” Megatron went back to his datapad, demonstratively ignoring his pet, and Optimus got to work with vigor. Oh, he was going to make sure master forgot about those stupid reports and paid Optimus proper attention! He knew he was being naughty for thinking that... but then again, it might bear the sweetest fruit.
Shutting his optics, Optimus took the spike into his hands and gave the head a chaste kiss. One kiss turned into a series of soft licks and nips down the underside; Optimus let the length rest on his face for a moment, sensing how it was swelling rapidly. His master loved Optimus too, always so quick to become aroused! Purring, Optimus made sure to shower the spike with adoration, worshipping it like a proper pet should, and then finally wrapped his lips around the head. Megatron's hips twitched, but he kept his composure, still engrossed in his paperwork. Optimus frowned and decided that it was time to stop teasing: he opened his mouth wide and let the spike slide inside.
Megatron made a curt choked noise, which only urged Optimus to double his efforts. He began moving, relaxing his intake and bobbing his head, doing his best to take the spike as deep as he could. He cast a glance upwards to check the reaction and saw Megatron's claws dig into the datapad, leaving scratches on its surface. Optimus hummed, his throat vibrating with the sound, and it was the last drop: Megatron quickly wrote something in the datapad, switched it off and threw it to the side. Red optics fixed on him, smoldering, burning, and Optimus looked up from his kneeling position, lips stretched wide around the spike. This view, apparently, had the desired effect: Megatron's pupils dilated and his flight engine roared like a confined beast.
Still, Megatron maintained control; his claws delved into the berth's padding, hips thrust a little in response to Optimus's ministrations – but the warlord didn't grab his pet's helm and didn't start fragging his throat like Optimus hoped. He whined again, making sure that his intake vibrated with the sound, wishing for his master to take action at last, but Megatron gritted his dental plates and remained idle. His optics, on the other hand, blazed with the promise of impending retaliation, and Optimus shivered under that glare.
It didn't take him long to bring his master to overload: with a muffled growl Megatron's silver frame shook, and finally – finally! - his hand grabbed one of Optimus's antennae. However, he didn't plunge into his mouth as Optimus expected; instead, Megatron took his spike in hand and held it in place, allowing thick splutters of transfluid to fall on his pet's glossa. Optimus kept his mouth open dutifully, optics shimmering with excitement as he felt the familiar taste on his tongue.
Megatron allowed his head to droop for a moment, collecting himself after the overload, broad shoulders heaving. His spike depressurized only slightly and was obviously longing for another round. When the Decepticon lifted his head and looked back at Optimus, his pet was waiting for him patiently, mouth full of transfluid, stray drops glistening on his smooth faceplate. But just as Optimus began to close his lips, preparing to swallow the load, Megatron pushed two fingers between his dental plates.
“No,” he said hoarsely, dark smirk forming on his lips. “Keep it there; don't you dare swallow.”
Optimus whimpered in confusion, obeying without thinking, and Megatron pulled his fingers out. Optimus closed his mouth carefully, looking rather funny with his cheeks puffed out a bit. That, combined with his bewildered expression, was so cute that Megatron couldn't help but snort. His spike found it very hot, though.
“This is your punishment for being a cheeky brat,” Megatron murmured, rubbing Optimus's antenna; he knew how sensitive that thing was, and he knew just how much pressure to apply in order to cause pleasure on the verge of discomfort. “You will get to swallow your treat only when I give you my permission. This is your chance to prove that you are, in truth, a good pet.”
Optimus whimpered, his every gesture a testimony to his desire to be a good pet. Megatron's smirk became predatory, and he blatantly ignored the plea in those blue optics; he grabbed the antenna harder and shoved Optimus to the side, forcing him to stand on all fours. The Prime let out a muffled yelp as he obeyed, spreading his thighs in wordless welcome and retracting his interface panel. His array was radiating heat, lubricant flowing freely out of the quivering valve; Megatron could see the biolights blinking and calipers flexing instinctively, hungry to be filled, always so hungry for him! Megatron curled his claws and rubbed a knuckle against the opening, smearing the lubricant. Optimus's reaction was priceless: he moaned and rolled his hips, a picture of wantonness, and Megatron hadn't even entered him yet!
He proceeded to knead his pet’s valve gently, never pushing his fingers further, and Optimus sobbed, all sounds distorted by the liquid in his mouth. He wanted to beg for it, to crawl to his master and kiss his feet until master had mercy... but he wasn't given a command. He was being punished. Oh Primus, he wanted it so much, needed it so much! Oral lubricant was gathering in Optimus's mouth, mixing with the transfluid, but he was forbidden to swallow, and so it appeared in the corners of his lips, dribbling down his chin in thin threads.
Finally Megatron took pity upon him, and those fingers retreated, giving place to something much more impressive. The Decepticon let Optimus only have a moment to brace himself – and then that thick spike was pushed inside, slowly but steadily, spreading the aching inner walls that fluttered around the girth. A deep, guttural groan was born somewhere in Optimus's throat as his head fell on his folded elbows and his hips angled, receiving fulfillment at last. Optimus couldn't speak, but he tried to demonstrate his gratitude and submission with his pose, with every fluctuation of his EM field that was raging around him, thick with desire.
And it had its effect: Megatron answered with a low growl of his own, grabbed Optimus's waist, those deadly claws wrapping around his middle perfectly, fitting into every seam between armored plates, and began moving in short, forceful thrusts. Every one of them pushed Optimus's frame forward, making his knees scrape against the floor and his back arch, and it was just perfect, so perfect..! He mewled and moaned and whimpered, the taste of his master's transfluid rich in his mouth, his master's spike splitting him open and filling his emptiness, his master's powerful field surrounding him and submerging him in the torrent of want and possessiveness.
Tremors shook his frame, overload driving close, and Optimus's cheeks heated in shame; he was so close, he couldn't overload before his master, he'd be a bad pet, he didn't want to be so selfish, but it was so good, so good... His face was a mess, oral lubricant was dribbling down his chin, staining his lips. And then Megatron leaned over him, on him, pressing their bodies together; his hand lay on Optimus's neck, controlling and formidable, and Optimus heard a low, sultry growl right next to his audial:
“Swallow.”
Optimus's EM field exploded. He gulped and then licked his lips, greedy for every drop of transfluid, for every bit of lingering taste, ever devoted and ever obedient, and then he was overloading, his unobstructed cries completely unintelligible. His optics shorted out, static took over his audio feed, leaving him blind and deaf for a moment, unable to take in anything but the waves of pleasure tearing him from within and the maelstrom of charge raging through their combined fields.
When Optimus came to his senses, Megatron wasn't moving, but his spike was still hard inside his pet's valve. Embarrassment took over Optimus; he overloaded alone, while his master had to wait, he was a disappointment, he failed at being a good pet again, how could he..?
“You are so beautiful when you overload, my pet.”
Optimus widened his optics in bewilderment as his master's field confirmed his words, nudging against his own. The spike withdrew from his valve, and strong hands grabbed his shoulders, flipping Optimus on his back carefully. Now Optimus was able to see Megatron's face – and the Decepticon was smiling.
“You are such a good pet, diligent and faithful.” His claws ran down Optimus's cheek and stopped on his lips, forcing them apart – he didn't actually need to use force, since Optimus opened them readily, but the rough motion drew a guttural moan from the subdued Prime. Megatron narrowed his optics, inspecting the cavern of Optimus's mouth, and then nodded, satisfied by his examination.
“I see that you swallowed it all; excellent work, my pet.” He curled his fingers, playing with Prime's glossa, which swirled around his claws, coating them in oral lubricant. “I am very pleased with your performance. You are so wonderful, the best pet one can dream of, accepting everything your master bestows upon you. You can take more, can't you?”
He was fondling one of the antennas as he spoke, and the blue helm leaned into his touch. Optimus shut down his optics and basked in the praise, his engine purring, but immediately looked at his master when Megatron finished the question. Megatron was watching him intently, searching for any sign of distress, and there came a ping on their emergency comm frequency that they used during the sessions when Optimus was forbidden to speak. But Optimus felt calm now; he was safe and loved, he did his best and was commended for it, and he was ready for more. He'd take whatever his master had in store for him, and he'd make his master proud! Optimus sent a signal that meant “I'm fine, go on” on their frequency and nuzzled Megatron's hand, expanding his field and demonstrating his eagerness in any way available.
Megatron's engine revved, and there was genuine regret written on his face as he pulled his hand away and rose to his feet. Optimus watched him rummage through their box of toys, and his spark beat faster; his master was going to play with him more! When Megatron came back Optimus was already waiting for him, back on his knees and clutching at his collar, ready to please and be pleased. What he saw in Megatron's hands – a clamp with a long cord attached to it and a double-edged magnetic lock – made him sway his hips instinctively, valve flexing in anticipation. There was so much one could do with these devices!
“Now, pet, what do you think about that?” Megatron let the clamp dangle in front of Optimus's face, holding the end of the cord. The Prime had a lot of thoughts and fantasies, but no means of voicing them, since pets didn't talk; but he would be thankful for any use Megatron saw for him and the toys, so he bowed down and nuzzled his master's feet, kissing and licking the curve of the silvery armor in a show of gratitude. He heard Megatron chuckle good-naturedly above him, and a hand came to rest on the back of his neck. With a soft click the magnet was placed on his collar.
“Come on, lie down.” Megatron maneuvered him, pushing him to lie on his back, and activated the second part of the magnetic lock, successfully nailing Optimus's collar to the metal floor; now the Prime couldn't move up or away, sprawled before his master.
Optimus mewled and spread his legs, displaying his soaking valve, arching his back and writhing in hope that this view will entice Megatron enough to make him grab Optimus's thighs and sink into him, to pin him and ravage him until Optimus's throat was hoarse from screaming. But Megatron was used to his naïve tricks, and all Optimus earned was a light slap on his clenching valve.
“Nah-ah-ah, don't be greedy.” Megatron went down on one knee next to Optimus's side and smirked at his pet's begging face. “I know you want those needy valve and mouth filled, but you've just had your treat. Still thirsty?”
Optimus wriggled, his neck fixed in its position, and opened his mouth, showing just how thirsty he was. Maybe his master would allow Optimus to suck his spike again... A shudder ran through his frame as he imagined it – Megatron positioning himself above his face, grabbing his head to keep him in place and fragging his throat roughly, without holding back, all power hidden in that great frame concentrated on Optimus, given to him, oh, Optimus was fairly sure he could overload just from the feeling of it...
He snapped out of his daydream when Megatron grabbed his tongue.
“I think somebody's thinking about being naughty again?” The Decepticon's grin turned positively feral. “We can't allow it, can we?” And with that said he put the clamp on Optimus's glossa.
The Prime let out a surprised yap, but his EM field flared with appreciation. And Megatron finally moved in between his legs, standing on his knees and lifting Optimus's hips, so that his upper torso bore most of his weight. One of his legs was placed on Megatron's shoulder, the other was supported by the warlord's hand, claws leaving scratches on the smooth silvery metal. Megatron didn't wait any longer: with a long groan he plunged deep into Optimus's swollen valve, and the Prime answered him with a groan of his own, both powerful frames rattling with the rev of their engines. Air around them was wavering with heat and crackling with charge, EM fields were overlapping, but right when Optimus closed his optics and was ready to succumb to his bliss, Megatron took the clamp's cord and pulled it.
“Agh! A-a-ah...” Optimus's sounds were rendered completely incoherent as his tongue was forced out of his mouth, the clamp's grip becoming somewhat painful – which only made the sensations more intense, more acute. Oral lubricant was gathering in his mouth, but swallowing was hard; Optimus was making such a mess of himself, yet Megatron was practically devouring him with his optics.
“You are so beautiful like this,” he murmured, flicking the cord between his fingers and making the clamp dance. “So perfect. So precious. And mine. You’re mine, aren't you, my pet?”
Optimus met his gaze and whimpered, trying to lean after the cord's pull despite the collar, feeling its band tightening around his throat, blocking the flow of energon, and still trying to follow the improvised leash's lead. Megatron's red optics flashed almost white, and with a roar he thrust forward, burying himself into that welcoming valve.
They began moving – both of them together, Optimus bucking his hips as much as he could in his pose, - and never broke eye contact. The sounds that escaped Optimus's throat were wheezy and broken, his visual feed was flickering, every seam aglow with sparks of electricity – and yet he couldn't stop looking at his master, he needed to keep looking, needed to show his devotion, his love, his ultimate trust... And receive the same in return. Megatron's field enveloped him, and Optimus relished in that maelstrom of emotion, fiery and almost brutal in its passion, but so, so sincere! At some moment the clamp was taken off Optimus’s tongue, the sting a bright flash on his neural net, and then he was overloading, all higher systems shutting down and rebooting, the remains of conscious thoughts swept away by the torrent of pure delight that left his frame convulsing.
When Optimus’s sight returned to him, the first thing he saw was Megatron’s face above him, serious and strangely contemplative. He unhooked the Prime’s leg from his shoulder and leaned down, lower and lower, as his lips parted slightly. Optimus’s spark clenched with sudden tenderness; despite the successful truce, despite the relationship that bloomed anew during the hard-earned peace, despite all they did together behind closed doors, Megatron still was very hesitant about such simple yet intimately personal things as kisses. Optimus didn’t push him, giving the ever-mistrustful warlord the space he needed, but yearned for those rare kisses all the same. However, when Megatron’s lips finally descended upon his, Optimus couldn’t hold back anymore: he opened his mouth and answered the other glossa’s tentative touch with all the fervor he repressed for so long.
They kissed as they started rocking together again, only slower this time, a gentle caress rather than a wild ride. Optimus wrapped his arms around Megatron’s neck, ankles crossed behind his back, trying to bring him closer, ever closer. His valve felt warm and snug, and post-overload numbness tuned down the sensations, making them soothingly pleasant instead of sharp and electrifying, and when Megatron shuddered and hid his face in Optimus’s shoulder, overload claiming him at last, Optimus just held him, humming contently.
They lay together like this for a couple of clicks, limbs and EM fields intertwined and sparks pulsing in unison. Finally, Megatron propped himself on elbows and opened their comm line.
[Enough?]
[Enough.] Optimus gave him a small exhausted smile. He lost his pet mindset somewhere around the kiss anyway.
Megatron deactivated the magnetic locks and unfastened the collar. Clawed fingers ran down Optimus’s neck cables, massaging them; the Prime purred, but otherwise made no attempt to move or speak. He felt perfectly happy just relaxing and enjoying the moment. Maybe he wasn’t a pet anymore, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to lap up every bit of attention he could get.
The Decepticon chuckled quietly, guessing his intentions but having nothing against them. Why not indulge Optimus when he was so warm and pliant under him?
Megatron loved spoiling his Prime, after all.