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“Hey, Brainstorm, so… hypothetically, if someone had gone into your lab and messed around with a laser gun looking thing… how—and remember this is hypothetical— how would you go about undoing the thing that the thing did?”
There was a brief silence on the other end. “Should I assume that this isn’t Megatron?” Brainstorm asked.
“Uh, yeah.” Rodimus looked down, finding a bulky silver frame with the floor further away than he was used to. “It’s Rodimus.”
“Well, captain, you’ve been the unwilling test subject for my Freaky Friday ray. Glad to know it works! The first prototypes exploded.”
“... Good to know. So I’m guessing from the name that Megatron’s inside of me in an entirely new way.” Rodimus chewed on the end of his index finger. “How do I fix this? Is there, like, a reverse switch?”
“It’s not that simple. To fix it you—”
“RODIMUS!”
Rodimus gave what looked like his own reflection a sheepish smile. “I’ll, uh, call you back.”
“What the hell did you do?!” Megatron yelling like that would usually make Rodimus leak a little transmission fluid, but seeing it coming out of his own body turned that gale force wind to a gentle breeze.
Rodimus put a hand on his chin, giving Megatron elevator optics. “Damn, you get to look at this every day? You’re a lucky mech, Megs.”
“This isn’t funny! Why are you in my frame and I’m in yours?”
“Did the gun in your hand not tip you off? Or being in Brainstorm’s lab?”
“Rodimus.” Megatron walked right up to him, glaring up at him. “What. Did you do?”
Rodimus smirked. He grabbed Megatron by his incredibly grabbable waist and simply picked him up. His smile grew as he squirmed.
“Put me down this instant!”
“Or what?” Rodimus swung Megatron around. “Damn it's like I'm Tailgate. Why don't you throw me around more? I'm very throwable.”
“Put me down!”
“Ugh, fine. Killjoy.”
Rodimus set his co-captain down. He was still glaring at him with all the venom he could muster from his temporary, fiery frame. Hopefully temporary. But he did hope they'd be like this long enough for them to have some fun.
Megatron turned on his heel and marched for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Brainstorm's lab. So he can fix your mess!”
“Hey, don't be so hasty! I'm sure we can make the best of a bad situation.”
Megatron just grumbled as he stomped off. He really did look silly at this size. And because of his size, Rodimus’ longer legs allowed him to overtake him easily.
“Hold up, I—”
Megatron sidestepped around him.
“Megs, let's just—”
“No.”
“But I—”
“I want my frame back,” Megatron said. He growled through his words, but without the deep voice it just didn't carry the same threat.
“And you will, but first don't you think we should have a little fun?”
“No.”
“Aw, c’mon, Megs, don't be a crankshaft!”
Megatron's frown deepened, and then suddenly disappeared. Rodimus caught a whiff of a satisfied smile before the roar of a speedster engine filled his audials. He watched Megatron race off and then promptly run directly into a wall.
“Hey, don't damage the goods!” Rodimus called to him.
Another voice bellowed from around the corner. “Rodimus Prime, how many times have I told you not to race in the halls?”
Rodimus snickered to himself as he watched Megatron return to root mode with Ultra Magnus looming over him.
“I was just about to tell him that,” Rodimus said. He couldn't help but smirk when Megatron shot him a glare. “And as much as I'd like to give Rodimus a good glossa-lashing, we're a little busy right now.”
“Busy doing what?” Ultra Magnus gave them both a look that said he didn't want to know and that he also didn't consider that a good reason to shirk whatever task he had for them.
“Captain things,” Rodimus said. “You know how it is.”
“We're needed in Brainstorm's lab,” Megatron said once he'd picked himself off the floor.
Ultra Magnus almost looked a little spooked while he listened to them talk.
Rodimus exaggeratedly cleared his throat as Megatron was wont to do. Straightening and really playing up the stuffiness, he said, “I apologize, Minimus, but whatever you need will have to wait.”
“Yes, we… we have things to do,” Megatron said, throwing up stiff finger guns. Rodimus had to keep himself from laughing.
Rodimus made for a more convincing Megatron. Until he threw up a sassy salute and a quick, “Bye, Mags.”
“Mags?” Ultra Magnus’ brow creased in confusion, giving the two of them enough time to escape.
Once they'd put a deck’s distance between them and their second-in-command, Megatron said, “We need to find out how to switch back.”
“And I agree. Later.” Rodimus snuck an arm around his waist and let his hand rest on his hip and definitely not his aft.
“Can you keep your processor out of your array for five minutes?”
Megatron tried to escape his grip, but Rodimus easily grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall. Despite his protestations, his crimson face and roaring cooling fans told a different story.
“I don't know how you can when you're around all of this,” Rodimus said, gesturing to Megatron's current frame. “I'm even hotter from this angle.”
Megatron's vents hitched.
“C'mon… let's have a little fun first. I promise we'll go straight to Brainstorm's lab after.”
Rodimus’ optics honed in on Megatron's neck as he swallowed. He stifled a shiver, knowing just what that throat was capable of, but he couldn't stop his cooling fans from powering on.
So, there they were, their roles reversed, but the wanting—the desire— remained.
“No,” Megatron said.
“Aw, c'mon, I know you want to.” Rodimus dropped his voice to entice him. He knew what effect that voice had on him, and it was clear it was doing something to Megatron.
“We find out how to switch back first,” Megatron said. He slipped from Rodimus’ grip and he could see the air shimmering around his plating. “Then we'll see.”
Rodimus blew a raspberry, but followed Megatron with little complaint. Mostly because he could enjoy the view. Damn, Megatron truly was a lucky mech, and his spoiler was as tempting as he'd said it was.
He couldn't resist.
Megatron startled from the touch. He rounded on Rodimus, glaring, and said, “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“Showing you what it's like to have a spoiler.” Rodimus smirked. “You're right when you say it's tempting.”
“And yet I refrain in public.”
“I'm not you.”
“Yes, we've established that.”
Not being himself meant it was quite easy to wrap an arm around Megatron's waist and restrain him. While he struggled and spat insults, Rodimus got his free hand on that flapping spoiler.
Megatron moaned. A low, quiet moan, but a moan nonetheless.
“See? It's good, right?” Rodimus whispered right into his audial. “Don't you want me to get more acquainted with the rest of you? Don't you want to know how fucking amazing your hands feel? Because damn, Megs, you feel so good.”
“After,” Megatron insisted, even though he was leaning into Rodimus’ touch.
Rodimus sighed overdramatically. “Fine. This had better not take too long.”
When they got to Brainstorm's lab, he was waiting for them expectantly. And excitedly. He looked about ready to vibrate out of his plating.
“Captains! So good to see you.”
“How do we reverse this?” Megatron asked, never one to mince words.
“Is it, like, time-based?” Rodimus asked. “Because there's some, uh, stuff I'd like to do first.”
Megatron face-palmed.
Brainstorm vibrated at a higher frequency. “I can't believe it worked! And with no grievous wounds!”
“Grievous wounds?!” Megatron looked ready to unleash hell, so Rodimus picked him up before he could do that. “Put me down!”
“Just tell us how to fix it before Megatron goes nuclear.” He held him further away when he started kicking, but even when one landed it barely registered as pain.
Brainstorm blinked a few times. “Sorry, it's just… it's weird hearing you talk like that.”
“Right?” Rodimus said. “Like, how's his voice even that deep? And he's so strong! My frame feels like it weighs nothing.” To demonstrate, he tossed Megatron in the air and caught him.
“Brainstorm.” Megatron didn't need to say anything else. The threat was clear. Rodimus decided to be nice and put him down, and he didn't try to murder anyone. Yet.
“Well, you see, if everything was calibrated correctly, then the way you switch back is for you both to have a more profound understanding of each other.”
Megatron sputtered. “You expect me to understand him? Him?” He gestured wildly at Rodimus.
Rodimus rolled his optics and crossed his arms. “What's not to understand? I like fun and I like when you put your—”
“Surely there's some other way?” Megatron asked, desperation in his tone. “Why would you make this and not have some way of reversing its effects?”
“This is just a prototype,” Brainstorm said. “See, the main problem I've been having with it was with its accuracy. I've been trying to get it to work so that both parties have to want to participate, but right now it just picks someone else that bot knows randomly. Usually whoever happens to be on their processor at the time.”
Rodimus sheepishly scratched at his cheek, half-turning away from Megatron.
“I'd recommend that you just try living in each other's life for a while. Eventually, I'm sure, you'll see each other's side.”
Rodimus refused to look at anybody, because his face felt warm. After a lengthy, uncomfortable silence, Megatron sighed his usual long-winded sigh.
“This doesn't leave this room,” Megatron decided. “No one needs to know.”
“But you will tell me about any side-effects and the results, yes?” Brainstorm asked.
“You'll be lucky if I let you keep your lab,” Megatron threatened.
“Rodimus broke into my lab! I wasn't testing this on bots. Yet.”
“Correction: I let myself into your lab,” Rodimus said. “There was no breaking into. I have the code.”
“You have the override to be used for emergencies only,” Megatron said. “Regardless, I think it would be in your best interest to discontinue this endeavour, Brainstorm.”
Brainstorm, not looking intimidated on the slightest, shook his helm with wonder and said, “It's so weird. You sound like Rodimus, but I don't even think he knows half of those words.”
“Hey!”
“You don't get to be offended when you got us into this mess,” Megatron said.
Rodimus pouted. “You're not being very understanding here, Megs. I was bored.”
Megatron shut his optics, his fists clenched, and took a deep ventilation. Strained, he said, “Let's go, Rodimus.”
“My room or your room?” Rodimus asked with a cheeky smile.
Once they were in the hallway, Megatron answered, defeated, “My room.”
Door closed and lock engaged, Rodimus got his hands on his lithe speedster frame. He didn't know how Megatron kept his hands off of him because feeling his fingers touch when he grabbed his waist turned him on like nothing else. Unless he wanted to do what Rodimus was about to do:
Throw Megatron across the room and onto the berth.
Before Megatron could recover, Rodimus was on him. He used his newfound weight to keep him right where he wanted as he roughly tugged his aft up until they were pressed flush.
“I'm going to ruin you,” Rodimus purred directly into Megatron's audial. He utilized every debilitating asset of Megatron's deep, sultry voice. The way it rumbled though his chest. The growling undertone. Just how incredibly sexy it was. He was even making himself wet.
Rodimus pressurized his spike. It nudged up against Megatron's scalding and shivering panel.
“Actually, I think I want to try something else first.” Rodimus smirked with his new idea. While he got his weight off of him, Megatron wasn't free. He grabbed him by the spoiler and yanked, knowing that a lance of pain would shoot up his spinal strut, but a wave of pleasure would soon follow.
Forcing him off the berth and onto his knees, Rodimus put his spike right in Megatron's face. His massive spike. The spike that usually had Rodimus drooling in anticipation.
Megatron, however, looked wary.
“There's no way this will fit.”
Rodimus snorted a laugh. “Except you've seen me fit it plenty of times. Trust me, you can take it.” He coated his lips with prefluid, just nudging inside of his mouth. “In fact, I'm not asking.”
With a hand on the back of Megatron's helm, Rodimus forced his way past slick lips. He hesitated before he got all the way in. He braced himself for Megatron's gag reflex, then remembered giddily that he didn't have to be careful.
The silicone ring was tight. If Rodimus didn't know his frame so well, he might be worried about tearing it, but his spike went easily. He hit the back of his throat without any resistance. Again and again and again. While he'd done the same on Himeros, this was even better. So tight and warm. And unlike that magical time on an alien world, he felt like he could keep going for hours.
Megatron's fingers dug into his hips while his optics rolled back into his helm. Frag, but he looked so sexy.
“You know,” Rodimus vented heavily between words, “you need to talk— huff—way more during sex because it’s— fuuuuck— it’s hot as hell.” Rodimus snickered when he looked down and realized just how impossible that was for him right now. “When you’re you again.”
Just as hot, was feeling the bulge his spike made in Megatron’s neck. He’d felt it on himself before, but being the one making it was an entirely different experience. Knowing just how deep he was. Seeing just how much his perspectively small frame could take. He started to see why Megatron was so worried about breaking him.
But Rodimus had no such qualms.
He did, however, decide to give him a brief mercy. He pulled out until his girthy spike head was resting on a warm and pliant glossa while Megatron panted, his optics unfocused.
“It’s good, right?” Rodimus said with a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s fun to be used. It’s hot. I like it. And, c’mon, you can’t tell me that toeing the line isn’t exhilarating.”
Megatron didn’t say a word. Too sexed-out already. But Rodimus was nowhere near done with him, which was why he was happy when Megatron moved to swallow him again.
“That’s my good boy,” Rodimus purred. He said exactly what he’d want to hear in Megatron’s position. “Take it all.”
Eagerly obeying, Megatron bobbed his helm, taking him to the hilt each and every time. Coolant sparkled at the corners of his optics. A string of drool dangled from his chin. All he needed to do was let those panels slide away to make a mess of his thighs, and Rodimus would be able to see just how depraved and spike-hungry he usually looked.
“I think you should touch yourself,” Rodimus said. “Actually, I don’t think,” he got control of Megatron’s helm again, “that’s an order.”
Megatron shivered just before Rodimus abused his intake again. Even with the wet, gurgling, hot as hell noises coming from Megatron’s throat, he could hear his order being followed through. First, the telltale snik of a modesty panel. Then, the equally lewd, equally hot sound of fingers sinking into an absolutely soaked valve.
“Once you’ve loosened up that hole for me, start working on the other one, too. I’ve got plans for this tight little frame of yours.” Rodimus chuckled darkly. A sound that would’ve made a bigger mess of his thighs had they been in their correct frames. In fact, he was pretty sure the puddle beneath Megatron was getting bigger.
“It’s sexy, isn’t it?” Rodimus said. “I bet a bunch of the crew gets turned on whenever you’re giving them an order. But only I get to hear you order me to get on my knees. To take it. To swallow every drop of your transfluid until you’re drained. Until tonight, that is. Because now I’m giving the orders. And you’re going to be my good boy and follow them all. Understood?”
Instead of being nice and pulling out gently, Rodimus decided to shove Megatron back against the berth and off his spike. He looked dazed for a moment. But only a moment.
Megatron licked his lips, swallowing the prefluid. “Show me what you want me to do to you.”
Rodimus revved his engine, which didn’t sound nearly as sexy with Megatron’s low-horsepower and, frankly, loud warframe engine. Still. His point got across.
Easily picking up his curvaceous frame—a shame he couldn’t clone himself—Rodimus tossed Megatron again. He landed ungracefully in a tangle of limbs on the berth, but quickly rectified that. By the time Rodimus could loom over him, he had his face down and his aft up. A perfect position for him. Really, he should be allowed to stay like that all day. His frame just begged to be spiked.
“Good boy,” Rodimus whispered into his audial. “Keep being good and stay like that.”
As Rodimus retreated to plunder Megatron’s fun drawer for tonight’s festivities, Megatron said, “And if I don’t?”
Megatron had barely moved when Rodimus spanked him. Hard. It left Megatron trembling in the sheets. He gave him another spank for good measure, this time drawing a moan from his co-captain.
“I’ll have no choice but to punish you. And maybe I’ll decide I don’t want to spike you anymore. I could just fuck your throat until I overload. But that might not be punishment enough, so I could just get myself off while you watch. All that wasted transfluid…”
Rodimus watched him out of the corner of his optic as he gathered everything he needed, but Megatron stayed put. Lube. Handcuffs. False spikes with increasing lengths and girths. Collar and leash that he’d snuck in there weeks ago hoping Megatron would notice and take the hint. He realized too late that what he should have done was get the collar on himself and offer Megatron the leash at the door. But this could work, too.
He set down the lube and false spikes on the nightstand. Right in Megatron’s line of sight. Then he cuffed his hands behind his back. Finally, like tying a bow on a present, he got the collar on and tightened it until it dug into Megatron’s neck cables.
“Guess this gives the whole ‘good boy’ thing a new meaning.” Rodimus wrapped the leash around his hand a few times and then yanked on it. He heard Megetron’s vents catch. Or rather, he heard them stop . For a moment.
Megatron gasped as he was released.
“Comfy?” Rodimus asked sadistically. He didn’t wait for an answer as he lined himself up and thrust into the welcoming heat of Megatron’s valve. Primus, he was tight!
Megatron made nonsensical noises that spat in the face of Neocybex. Not that it mattered. Rodimus didn’t care to listen to him.
Rodimus slowly dragged his spike through the wet, sucking channel. Megatron’s calipers rippled around the intrusion, encouraging him deeper inside. He easily bottomed out, snug against his ceiling nodes, truly feeling like this valve had been made just for this spike.
“Do you get it now?” Rodimus asked breathily. “Why I want what I want?” He gathered up some of the fluids displaced by his spike and used them to shove two fingers into his so-far neglected port.
Megatron keened.
“I like it rough,” Rodimus said. “I like it when you’re careless. I like it when you’re not constantly worried about hurting me because look. You’re fine. And I’m not being careful. And it’s good, isn’t it?”
Despite what he said, he had a stupid little twinge of worry niggling at the back of his processor. So, he slowed his thrusts and waited for Megatron to answer him.
“Isn’t it?” he prompted when Megatron said nothing.
Nodding weakly, Megatron choked out, “So good.”
Rodimus pulled his fingers free to spank him again. “Answer me the first time.”
Megatron shivered from pleasure.
Rodimus took a brief pause to prepare the first toy he intended on getting all up in Megatron’s internals. He also took a bit of mercy on him and slowly pushed it into his aft, lube squeezing out around it.
“Feels good to be so full, hm?” Rodimus leaned down over him. Caging him. Something that both turned him on and made him feel so safe when their roles were reversed. He wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close as he gently rocked into him. As much as he liked Megatron coming at him hard and fast, sometimes his frame just needed a moment to adjust.
He'd learned to be patient.
“But we're not done,” Rodimus went on. “You see that other toy on the nightstand? You're going to take that one before the night's over.”
“It's so much,” Megatron gasped out, his thighs quaking.
“And I know you can take more.”
Humming against his plating, Rodimus left slow, soft kisses along his back and finials. He paused on the nape of his neck, too, knowing just how heavenly that felt. Megatron seemed to think so, given how his ventilations shuddered out.
He nibbled on the tip of his finial to a chorus of moans. He was still getting used to hearing his own voice and not the deep, commanding tone he now wielded.
“I almost feel like I'm cheating,” Rodimus joked. “I know exactly how to get you off. I know what you want and you don't even have to ask for it.”
Rodimus straightened so he could give Megatron what he really wanted. He just didn't know it yet. He built up to a harder thrust, still going at a slower pace, but putting a good amount of force into it. Every snap of his hips struck his ceiling nodes on that pain-pleasure knife’s edge. He could see it on his face. In his movements. In the way he eagerly rocked back to meet each and every thrust.
“I've said it before and I'll probably say it a million more times tonight, but damn, Megs. You are seriously so lucky. The view you get.” Rodimus bit his lip when he caught the corner of Megatron’s blissed-out gaze. That and his impossibly tempting spoiler and exaggerated curves of his frame was just intoxicating.
“I know I'm— huff— lucky,” Megatron managed to get out between laboured ventilations. “I'd say I'm even luckier right now.”
“Just you wait, Megs. You're not gonna be able to walk when I'm done with you.” Rodimus spanked him and felt Megatron's calipers squeezing as he let out a long, low moan.
Sliding his hand along the warm, tender metal, he got a good grip on the base of the false spike. Surely by now his port would be throbbing with giddy anticipation for what was to come. So he let him wait just a little longer, slowly pumping the toy.
Then he really gave it to him.
Megatron's would-be moan cut off abruptly. Even his ventilations momentarily stalled. His optics went wide and then shuttered, and from the way Megatron was squeezing him he could tell he was close.
“Come for me, Megs. I wanna see what I look like.”
His optics reopened to flare brightly and his mouth fell open as his valve cycled down on the spike that was barely fragging him. The false spike slammed home, unrelenting, keeping Megatron on that crest so he would understand why Rodimus liked this so much. A part of him wished he would bluescreen so he could gloat, but then he couldn't keep fucking him.
Slowing the toy, but not stopping, Rodimus smirked down at Megatron's trembling frame.
“Good?”
Megatron nodded weakly. His optics were open, but dim and unfocused.
“Ready for more?”
He nodded again.
“Good. Because you don't have the excuse of your ancient frame, now.”
Megatron's glare could usually cut plating, but on Rodimus’ face, it looked like the pout of a petulant sparkling. So, cute as hell.
Rodimus lightly massaged Megatron's back with one hand while the other reached for the bigger false spike. The first one had been about the size of Rodimus’ normal spike, and this one was somewhere between him and Megatron. It was the perfect stepping stone to getting the glorious, monstrous thing destroying Megatron's valve into his port. Which he would also ruin.
Megatron was getting everything.
The toy slipped easily out of Megatron's port, leaving him gaping and twitching. Such a glorious sight had more fluids rushing to his array and his spike twitching in impatient anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to get deep inside of him, but he could be good. He could wait until he was ready.
Once he'd thoroughly lubed up the bigger false spike, he nudged the head up against his entrance, but didn't give him anything more than a gentle prod. He gave a mildly sadistic laugh when Megatron whimpered and moved his hips.
He spanked him.
“Stay still.” Rodimus pulled on the leash until Megatron's helm came off the berth. He kept going until his deliciously warm frame was pulled flush to him. After pressing some kisses to the nape of his neck, he said, “Beg me for it.”
Megatron's words were strained from the collar digging into his neck, but the desperate words still found Rodimus’ audial. “Fuck me.”
“What's the magic word?”
Growling through both his engine and his voicebox, he grated out, “Please.”
Rodimus dropped him back down on the berth, but used the leash to keep his helm up. He shoved the false spike in and a garbled cry of pleasure came out the other end. The static was so thick in his voice that Rodimus would've had trouble understanding him even if he'd managed some semblance of coherency.
“You like that?” Rodimus didn't expect an answer and didn't get one. He was able to let go of the toy and thrust it back in along with his spike, which left his other hand free to give Megatron a few more spanks for good measure. It turned him on seeing how much he was enjoying that. He could only hope that Megatron would return the favour in the future.
Rodimus took a moment to revel in how Megatron's valve gripped him so tightly. And a moment to marvel at his stamina. Usually mechs came almost instantly when Rodimus got his mouth around their spike, but not Megatron. He might've worried that he wouldn't get an overload in the end, but then he knew how much his frame could take.
And he never stopped until his insides were coated in transfluid.
“I think I want you to work for it,” Rodimus decided out loud.
He left Megatron suddenly, horribly, empty. He squirmed on the berth, his bound hands grabbing at the air as he tried to roll over. Rodimus unlocked the cuffs, but didn't wait for Megatron to get where he wanted him. No. He was going to use every ounce of strength in his borrowed frame at every opportunity. Because, damn it, he wanted this!
With just one arm and a ridiculously small amount of effort, Rodimus flipped him and none-too-gently tugged at his frame until his helm hung off the end of the berth. He lay there, dazed, while his optics roamed.
“Don't just lay there,” Rodimus said gruffly, “get that false spike back in your port. You're gonna fuck yourself until you're ready for this.” He stroked his spike, still wet with Megatron's lubricant.
Megatron's optics darkened with unbridled desire. His field licked at Rodimus’ frame with pure lust.
Once he'd followed through with the order, Rodimus stepped forward until his spike touched lips slick with oral solvent. That touch had his hand pumping faster. Wet, squelching, and positively lewd sounds came from his sopping array while his spoiler waved in a desperate attempt to get Rodimus’ attention.
“You know what else I love?” Rodimus asked, sliding into Megatron’s mouth before he could answer. “Tasting myself on your spike.”
Lovely vibrations tingled through his spike as Megatron moaned.
“Always makes me feel so dirty.” Rodimus gave a low moan of his own as the tip of his spike teased at that soft silicone ring. It felt so nice, hugging him on all sides. He decided to take a moment to enjoy that before he got back to abusing his intake. After all, he enjoyed the tenderness sometimes. Especially when it highlighted the roughness.
“You like that?” Rodimus asked.
Lubricant and oral solvent dripped down Megatron’s face in a debauched display. Sprinkling in a bit of care among the carelessness, Rodimus wiped away the mess before it could get into his optics.
“I didn’t say you could stop fucking yourself,” Rodimus gently chastised. “And I know you want this in your port.” He gave a small thrust into his throat. “Because I always want it in there. But you’re only going to get it if you’re good and stretch yourself for me, ‘kay babe?”
Wet sounds came from his array while Megatron moaned. He’d started rubbing his anterior node, too, his hips lifting off the berth as he chased the charge.
“You look so good like this. But I bet you’ll look even better with my whole spike in you.” Rodimus started the slow thrust in.
It seemed tighter than before. Which wouldn't have been an issue if he could get his whole spike in. It took him longer than it should have to realize the source of the tightness: the collar.
For the briefest of moments, Rodimus considered just taking it off. It was the easiest and safest solution. Which was why he only thought about it briefly.
“You can take it,” Rodimus said. His voice was both encouraging and demanding. It didn't matter whether Megatron thought he could take it, because he was going to.
At first Rodimus just thrust in until his spike couldn't go any farther and then forced just a bit more in. He quickly realized this wasn't going to work. He didn't consider any other options before jumping straight to Rodimus’ tried and true method of making the damn thing fit:
Force.
Rodimus pulled out nearly all the way. He let his spike sit in the soft cradle of Megatron's glossa and let him gently suck and lick it. And it was nice enough. Until it wasn't. And at that point, with all the gusto of the first time he'd tried aft stuff, he shoved the whole thing in.
The collar snapped and fell to the floor, allowing Megatron's neck to bulge obscenely. With his optics shut and most of his frame limp, Rodimus was about to ask him if he was okay. But while most of his frame was limp, the hand gripping the base of the toy was still slamming it home.
Oh, yes. Megatron was thoroughly enjoying this treatment.
“Naughty thing, aren't you?” Rodimus purred. He gave short thrusts into his throat so he could watch where the head of his spike was. Had he been in his own frame, that sight alone would've had him draining his tanks directly into Megatron's. “Guess you’re gonna have to get a new collar for me. You want everyone to know I’m yours, don’t you?”
Revs from a loud racer engine drowned out every other sound in Megatron’s habsuite.
“Heh. Yeah. I’d want to keep you all to myself if I got my spike sucked like this.” Rodimus moaned when Megatron swirled his glossa around his spike as he retreated. “Stealing my move, huh?” He squeezed his neck when he did it again. “It’s a damn good move.”
Rodimus fucked him harder. Small cables strained around the massive bulge from his spike. They threatened to snap with every thrust, but Rodimus knew just how far he could push his frame before he hurt himself. And what were a few snapped cables in the name of pleasure?
“You let me know when you’re ready to have all this up in your aft, heh, little guy.”
Shivers ran up Rodimus’ spinal strut as he imagined it. It would be so tight that Megatron would feel each and every ridge, snug against his nodes.
Megatron's free hand clawed weakly at Rodimus’ frame. He slowly pulled out to let him speak, leaving his spike resting against his flushed cheek.
Panting, his optics unfocused, Megatron said, “Fuck me.”
Rodimus chuckled darkly as he watched him, still fucking himself with the toy. He skirted the berth and climbed up and between his spread legs. Lubricant covered his thighs and array and heat radiated off of him, tempting him closer. He pulled Megatron’s hand off of the false spike and let it slip out of his port to a groan from Megatron.
“You look so good like this,” Rodimus said.
“Quit stalling.” Megatron had probably intended some force behind it, but he practically whispered the words. It didn't help that Rodimus’ voice just didn't have the same, commanding tone.
Rodimus easily tugged Megatron’s aft into his lap. He didn’t know if he’d ever get tired of how effortless moving his co-captain was. But his attention was stolen by Megatron’s stretched-out holes. He hooked his thumbs inside of his twitching port and it cycled open with little resistance.
“God damn.”
“I said: fuck me.” It was amazing how much someone's voice affected their words. No matter how much Megatron tried to sound like himself, he just sounded so whiny. Constantly begging for what he wanted.
“And I will,” Rodimus said. After a bit of teasing.
Rodimus ran his fingers through the gaping mess of Megatron's array. Surges of lust pumped out into his field as he watched the huge fingers teasing at his holes. It really was a marvel at how much he could take. Case in point, his port easily welcomed three fingers.
The sweet sound of Megatron's moans filled the room. They shuddered out with his ventilations as Rodimus swirled his fingers and then tried to open them.
“What if I just want to do this?” Rodimus asked.
“Rodimus.”
“Yes?”
“Please.”
“Please what?” Rodimus smiled cheekily.
Megatron arched and keened when Rodimus’ palm met with his valve. “I've already asked twice!”
“And I want you to beg me for it again. I know how much you want it. Now show me.”
He resisted for all of maybe five seconds.
“Please fuck me.”
“I've got options down here, Megs. You're gonna have to be more specific.”
Megatron gave a short, angry rev of his engine. “Fuck my aft. Please. I want you so badly.”
Rodimus would never get tired of hearing Megatron beg for his spike. Especially when he looked like this. When the spike hovering so close to his array looked like it might very well split him in half.
He took just a few more moments to admire his offering. What a gorgeous sight he was. Heated and wet, his limbs splayed out uselessly around him as his fans redlined in a futile attempt to cool his frame. It was no wonder why Megatron kept coming back. Who wouldn’t want to see this as many times as possible?
“You love being in my frame, don’t you?” Rodimus ran his spike through his slit, nudging the head against his swollen, pulsing node.
“You’re quite, mm… sensitive. Now stop teasing me. Please.”
Rodimus’ fingers dug into Megatron’s hips when he attempted to grind up against his spike. It throbbed from the movement and he couldn’t wait anymore.
Whatever erotic fantasy Rodimus’ processor could conjure up paled in comparison to reality. His face, his frame, the sounds. The way Megatron desperately pawed at his chest alone had Rodimus rushing to get the rest of it in. He took him to the hilt without even the slightest resistance.
“Do you feel as good as you look?” Rodimus asked as he pulled out and then slammed right back in. “Because you look damn good.”
“Less—aah!—talking and more, ooh… more fucking.”
“You asked for it.”
Rodimus got his hands around his waist and basically used him like a frag toy. It was just so easy. Megatron might as well have been a datapad, he felt so light. But even rendered practically immobile by hands that could practically span his chest, Megatron still tried to lift curvaceous speedster hips to meet him. It was never enough. He always needed more. Harder.
Slender golden hands grabbed whatever part of Rodimus they could. They looked so delicate against his thick warframe’s plating. So breakable. Seeing his own frame like this truly cemented just how different they were, but that didn't mean he couldn't take some punishment.
But then. Then, with his hands still around Megatron’s waist, fingertip to fingertip, he let him come to rest on the berth. It was then, with his hips rocking at a steady pace, that he realized he could feel his spike just beneath his armour, pressing at his protoform.
Rodimus nearly overloaded.
“Dude. Did you ever… like, I can feel my spike in you right now. Have you ever felt that? Because it's hot as hell.” He paused to let Megatron speak and not because he was fighting off an overload.
Megatron laughed breathily. “A few times.”
Rodimus shuddered, moving just enough to feel it again.
“Now do you see why I worry I might hurt you?”
“Ha! All I see is that you're stupid. To me,” Rodimus slammed into Megatron, “that's a reason to start hammering.”
Rodimus pounded into his tight port. It wouldn't be tight for long, though. Not with the relentless pace he'd set, feeling as the head slammed into the pliant metalmesh beneath his thumbs. He shifted his weight and got one hand on the berth beside him, steadying him, while he splayed the other over his ventrum. Every thrust pushed the armour into his palm.
“Next time,” Rodimus spoke through his heavy ventilations, “this happens— fuck, Megs—you start fucking me like your life depends on it.”
Megatron didn't say anything to that. The only thing he could do in that moment was moan Rodimus’ name and grip the sheets. He tried to arch off of the berth, but Rodimus held him firm. As pretty as he looked with his accentuated curves, Rodimus’ hand wasn't moving until he'd drained his tanks in Megatron's sinful frame.
“Are you gonna overload again?” Rodimus smirked triumphantly down at the mewling mess. He didn't need to ask. The vice-like grip on his spike said it all.
Megatron fought his hold as charge crackled across his plating and released all at once. He screamed as his optics flared a bright, blinding white. His calipers cycled down as he climaxed. He squeezed Rodimus so perfectly that he overloaded, too, hearing the deep moan rumble from his voicebox.
Thick, hot spurts of transfluid shot deep inside of Megatron's aft. He gave short, hard thrusts, and every time he thought he was done, he found just a bit more transfluid in his tanks. By the time he was empty, Megatron's belly had a gentle swell, much to Rodimus’ horny delight.
Heat spilled from Megatron's flared plating and his fans roared on high. His chest heaved with his ventilations. Condensation dripped in thick rivulets down almost every surface, leaving him a wet mess all over.
Rodimus had a similar fate. About the only difference between them was that Megatron was shaking like nothing else. That, and Rodimus had left him filled.
“I keep thinking there's no way I can look any hotter, but damn, Megs,” Rodimus caressed up to his chest, Megatron arching prettily beneath him, “you're just begging for a round two.” A minute shift of his hips, his spike still buried in him, had Megatron groaning.
“No,” Megatron said on an exvent.
“Aw, did I break you?” Rodimus teased. Admittedly, he did look a little beat up, but it was nothing that Rodimus wasn't used to after a rough frag.
Megatron sighed, but it ended on a smile. “No.”
“Good. Because it's time for you to experience the best part.”
Worry creased Megatron's brow. He gasped as Rodimus pulled out, a rush of fluids following his depressurizing spike. It paused in its descent at the debauched display; so much transfluid and excess lubricant spilled from both of Megatron's thoroughly used holes. The urge to get back inside of him was thwarted by his array’s need to recharge.
At least he could show Megatron the way he liked to be held.
Rodimus scooted up the berth, accidentally knocking into Megatron when he didn't take into account just how broad his shoulders were.
“How are you not constantly banging into stuff?” Rodimus complained.
Scowling, Megatron said, “I'm careful.”
“Don't be like that,” Rodimus purred, his voice deep in his chest. He sat back against the headboard and then easily pulled Megatron against him. He turned him onto his side, half laying on Rodimus, encouraging him to lay his helm on his chest. The last move he made was to tug Megatron's free hand up until his palm rested over his spark.
“See?” Rodimus said, giving him a little squeeze. “Best part.”
Megatron made a pleased noise.
Rodimus rested a hand on Megatron's helm, his fingers absent-mindedly stroking his cooling finials. He hummed a tune, knowing the deep vibrations of his frame were incredibly calming. But Megatron didn't seem able to settle.
“Are you always this antsy?” Megatron asked, annoyance slipping into his tone. His spoiler kept twitching and Rodimus could hear the restrained hum of his engine.
Shit. It had been a while, hadn't it?
“Not always,” Rodimus said. “But, uh, something you should know about speedster alts is that if we don't let loose every now and then, well, it can be like torture.”
“You just—or I just—overloaded three times.”
Rodimus snorted a laugh. “Not like that. That's just me. I meant driving. Why do you think I take every opportunity to go racing?”
Megatron scratched his arm. He was trying to scratch that itch that Rodimus knew all too well.
“C'mon. I know a good deck to get a little drive in. We just have to hope Magnus doesn't catch us.”
Megatron didn't look enthused at the idea, but he followed Rodimus nonetheless. Once that feeling got into his lines, it was a hard thing to ignore. ‘Facing helped sometimes, but not always.
“Afterwards you owe me some cuddling, though,” Rodimus said as they took the elevator down.
Megatron grumbled.
“C'mon, please? I swear it's really nice when you're not all jittery.”
Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, Megatron said, “Fine.”
“Stop being grumpy. You can't tell me you haven't had at least some fun today.” Rodimus wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned down to whisper in his audial. “You seemed to be having a lot of fun when my spike was inside of you.”
Megatron squirmed. Oh, yes. His voice did something to him even when he wasn't in that frame.
“Honestly I thought that would give you a better understanding of me,” Rodimus said.
“I'll admit you can take more punishment than I thought you could.”
“... And?”
“And I'll be a little rougher with you.”
Rodimus couldn't help his little celebration dance. He could help not grabbing Megatron in his extremely grabable frame, but he really didn't want to. In fact, he wanted to make use of Megatron's strength at every opportunity, which is why he was dipping Megatron and kissing him like he hadn't seen him in years. When he finally put him back on his own pedes, his face was as red as his plating.
“You could stand to do that more often, too,” Rodimus said. “You've been holding out on me.”
“Then you'd better hope we switch back soon.”
“I'm sure one shift on the bridge will tell me everything I need to know about you.”
“Primus forbid we go that long without switching back.”
The elevator doors parted to a long, empty hallway. Doors lined either side just like the upper decks with the habsuites, but here was almost completely used for storage. Rodimus honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been down here to actually get something.
“Maybe you can help me to convince Magnus to use this as a driving deck,” Rodimus said.
“A driving deck?”
“Yeah, like… maybe this one and the one underneath can be one-way driving decks. I've tried to convince him that it's not just for that itch. If there was an emergency or something on the other end of the ship it would still be quicker to get down here and drive to the other end. But he says it's dangerous or whatever. And I'm always like, that's why we'll have two and they'll be one-way. But he never listens.”
Megatron put a hand to his chin in thought. All the while his spoiler did these cute little flicks. “I don't think that's a terrible idea. Especially if every speedster feels like this often enough.”
“Wait, wait, wait, hold on. You're… you're agreeing with me?”
“When you're not being stupid, yes. Giving you an outlet is better than having you randomly racing through the halls or breaking into racetracks on foreign planets.”
“Huh. Maybe Brainstorm's ray was a good idea.”
Megatron crossed his arms. “I've yet to see you come to understand me any better.”
“I understand plenty. You're super strong and super stupid for not using that to make me lose my damn processor. Especially when I'm actively asking you to.”
“We've been over this. You know why.”
“And yet, here you are, totally unharmed.”
“I'm quite sore, actually.”
Rodimus rolled his optics. “After-sex soreness is a good thing. It tells me I got fucked good and hard. As I should be. Now c'mon.” He spanked Megatron, who unintentionally yelped. “Into your alt mode.”
Megatron tossed an annoyed look over his shoulder, rubbing his aft, but he did as he was told.
“Start slow for now,” Rodimus instructed. “I know you're only used to moving slowly if you moved at all.”
“I had a flight frame for a long time,” Megatron said.
“Okay, sure, but there's a lot less things to hit in the air and I don't need you denting my bumper anymore than you already have.”
Megatron revved his engine a few times.
Rodimus whistled. “Feels good, doesn't it? All that horsepower?”
“We'll see,” Megatron said. He gave a few more, smaller revs. Likely unintentional. Rodimus could feel the irritation in his field from having to hold back.
“You gonna drive?” Rodimus asked.
“You told me to take it slow.”
“I just meant don't, like, floor it right away. But you're not gonna feel any better if you don't get some good speed going.”
Megatron rolled forward a bit and then reversed back, just getting a feel for his tires. Rodimus was about to yawn when he finally started to drive.
At first Megatron eased onto the throttle. He carefully picked up speed, testing out his new wheels, but soon enough that itch took hold of him in frame and processor. His tires gripped the “track” while he put his pedal to the metal and his engine roared as it nearly redlined. Rodimus cheered him on, even though he was pretty sure he couldn't hear him.
As his fiery frame sped off down the hall, Rodimus felt warm and light. He'd heard the brief bout of giddy laughter before he'd left his audial range, and he knew that Megatron just got it now. But a twinge of worry soured his mood. He knew just how easily one wrong move could send him careening into a wall. And while Megatron's warframe was built to take hits and shots and keep moving, his own was made of light, aerodynamic plating.
Rodimus didn't need protection. He'd held his own in the face of adversity countless times. He knew this. And yet… he had this fierce need to protect Megatron while he was so much more vulnerable. A bullet that could maim or even kill Rodimus would glance off of his armour. And he'd take that bullet for him.
Without question.
No sooner had that thought left his processor, Rodimus found himself at full throttle with a quickly approaching wall. He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop and teetering on two tires for a moment before he came back down on all four. He ventilated heavily, adrenaline still coursing through his lines, before he pulled a u-turn and started to make his way back to Megatron. This time, at a reasonable, Magnus-approved speed.
As Megatron got larger before him, he realized another figure was, too. Someone who had height on Megatron.
Someone who looked ready to scold him.
“What did we just talk about this morning?” Ultra Magnus said as Rodimus transformed and walked the last bit, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground.
“Magnus, I'm sure he has a good reason,” Megatron said.
“A good reason for racing?”
“I wasn't racing; I was just driving. Fast. Racing implies competition.” And it wasn't even me!
“Semantics. Rodimus, it's dangerous to not only you but to the crew. We have rules for a reason.”
“Hardly anyone ever comes down here! It's a good place to get it out of my system! I don't know why you're so against the idea!”
“This is about you not being able to control your impulses, Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus said. “You can't just do whatever you want whenever you want. You are supposed to be the captain of this ship. Which means you need to set a good example!”
“Minimus, you should listen to him,” Megatron said. “He has some good ideas.”
While Rodimus was pissed that he needed Megatron to vouch for him, he was mostly grateful. Mostly.
“Unnecessary ideas,” Magnus said.
“I disagree. From what he's told me, he needs to drive every now and then. I imagine he's not the only one. Whenever my Seekers hadn’t taken to the air in a while, they were insufferable. All of them. Even Thundercracker would become irritated and moody.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“All I'm suggesting is that you listen to Rodimus.” Megatron gave him an empathetic look. “He already has a good solution.”
“Is this about those driving floors?” Ultra Magnus asked.
“It's a good idea! I know I'm not the only one who needs to drive every now and then.”
“No one needs to drive,” Ultra Magnus said.
“Just because you don't need to doesn't mean everyone else is like that. You just don't understand!”
“All I understand is that you want a reason to endanger the crew. Seventy percent of the accidents on this ship are caused by people driving or flying in their alt modes.”
“Maybe that’s because they’re being reckless because they let it sit in their systems too long!”
Ultra Magnus opened his mouth to keep arguing, but closed it when Megatron put a hand on his shoulder.
“Can a senator truly understand a miner's plight?” Megatron asked.
“Ooooohhhh he pulled the caste system card!” Rodimus said.
Ultra Magnus frowned at him.
“Minimus, it’s impossible to truly understand what someone is going through unless you see the world through their optics. Don't you think those accident numbers would decrease if we gave the crew a place they were allowed to use their alt modes?”
Magnus considered that for a moment.
“What if we put it to a vote?” Rodimus suggested.
“I think that's a great idea,” Megatron said.
Rodimus smiled at him. Usually he only had Drift on his side, so… this was nice.
“I'll consider it,” Ultra Magnus said. “But for the time being, you'll walk.”
Rodimus waited until he'd turned before he made a face. The face he made when Megatron approached him was much more pleasant.
“I always thought you were exaggerating,” Megatron said. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you in the past.”
“I don't always lie,” Rodimus said. “Sometimes to get out of a meeting, sure, but it really does suck to stay cooped up for so long.”
“I can tell,” Megatron said with a little laugh.
“But now that we're back in our own frames…” Rodimus got right in Megatron's personal space. “I think I owe you for vouching for me.”
“We just interfaced,” Megatron said, “and I know for a fact that you're quite sore.”
Rodimus shrugged. “I didn't get to enjoy that treatment, though.”
“Later,” Megatron said. “If you're not still sore later, then I can try fucking you the way you want it, hm?”
“Promise?” Rodimus held out his pinky.
“Really?”
“Yes, really! Pinky promise!” Rodimus held his outstretched pinky in front of Megatron's face.
Instead of doing as he was asked, Megatron surprised Rodimus by dipping him like he'd been dipped earlier, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He smirked as he righted him and said, “There's my promise.”
Rodimus couldn't hear Megatron's loud, clanking steps over the pounding of his spark. His tank fluttered in a new, but familiar, way. He couldn't stop himself from touching his tender lips, still tingling in the aftermath of that vent-stealing kiss.