Chapter Text
“I want you to be the one to take my seal Dee,” Pax had said matter of factly, kicking his pedes like it was the most casual request in the world.
D-16’s venting stalled, kicking air back out in a choked off wheeze. He whipped his helm around to stare at his friend in utter shock, sputtering as he tried to come up with anything he could feasibly say in response as he shoved him.
He’d had a horrible little crush on Orion Pax since the cycle they’d met. Dee remembered meeting Orion and being absolutely captivated by those bright blue optics.
It was even worse when they started talking. Orion barely knew him, and still offered to watch his back after his little white lie about not mining energon before. Sure, other bots had been nice to him before, but never like this. Never this quickly after meeting him, and never with a huge smile on their faces.
It made him feel special, wanted.
It didn’t help that the more he got to know Orion, the more D-16 found out how funny and intelligent he was, how selfless and kind he could be. While Orion was absolutely reckless and drove him crazy, it warmed his spark to be the one that Orion chose to spend all his time with, to hang on, to bother.
To have the object of his closely guarded feelings just ask to interface with him sent him spiraling.
“What?! What are you talking about, where did that come from?! That’s not funny, you can’t just say that scrap, Pax. Bots will get the wrong idea,” he finally managed, looking away quickly so Orion wouldn’t see the flush on his face.
“Oh come on, just listen for a klick, and if you really don’t want to then I’ll drop it okay? Cross my spark,” Orion had said, but D-16 still couldn’t bring himself to look.
If he did, he knew there was a chance he’d agree, and if he did, he didn’t think he could handle Orion being so casual about it after. Despite being a cogless bot, Orion Pax was a dreamer, a free spirit like he’d never known. He knew others in the mines saw that too, saw his bright colors and even brighter personality, and wanted Orion like D-16 did. It broke his spark to admit, but D-16 knew he had a very slim chance compared to all the options Orion had to have an actual partner.
D-16 steadfastly refused to look at Orion, but a glancing optic managed to catch sight of pleading soft blue and he let out a defeated vent.
“I don’t think anyone could stop you from talking if they tried,” he said, trying and failing to keep himself from smiling.
He could never say no to Orion for long.
D-16 heard a quiet scrape of metal dragging on the roof as Orion scooted closer, trying to keep his spark from spinning out of control while Orion talked.
“Well, everyone else says you’re supposed to wait to interface and break your seals until you’re with someone you’d be with forever. Someone you trusted and cared about, and cared about you too. I can’t think of anyone else I trust more than you, so it makes sense.”
D-16 finally turned to look at Orion, optics cycling wider in a look of utter disbelief. His spark couldn’t take this. Orion had clearly misinterpreted what the others had said, and although it would give him the opportunity to interface with Orion, he couldn’t handle just going back to normal after.
“Orion, I don’t think that’s what they meant,” Dee managed to finally say, trying to keep his anxiety and longing out of his tone.
Oh how he wished Orion really knew what he was asking. He wanted to, he wanted to share his first time with Orion so badly, but he couldn’t handle the inevitable pain of going back to just friends. After getting a taste of more, he knew he couldn’t do it.
“Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away. Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything,” he heard Orion say, silence falling over the rooftop.
D-16 had stayed silent, watching the fliers with Orion until they finally snuck back inside to recharge.
It was a few cycles later before Dee came to find Orion after their shift. He couldn’t get the images out of his processor. He couldn’t stop thinking of getting to be with Orion, getting to be the first one to see him in the throes of pleasure. It haunted his recharge cycles, it distracted him on the job, and finally, he just couldn’t take it anymore.
He’d rather have his first time with the mech he’d loved for so long than watch that mech go off with someone else. Damn the consequences, he could deal with that later.
“I’ll do it,” Dee said softly, his faceplate flushed blue with embarrassment. “I’ll take your seals”
He hadn’t been expecting Pax to, instead of talking like he normally never stopped doing, grab hold of him tightly in a hug.
“Thank you,” Orion said softly.
And Dee knew immediately his spark would never recover from this.
They’d met back on the rooftop a few cycles later, both of them twitching with nerves. D-16 wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew the basics, spike goes out, put it in a valve, and you’re interfacing, but there had to be more than that. He’d seen a few diagrams, but it didn’t seem like a spike would fit in there without straining and causing pain. Dee wasn’t too keen on feeling pain on the most sensitive part of his frame, so he hadn’t done anything further than an unsuccessful attempt at getting his panel open.
D-16 could feel optics on him, and he finally glanced up to look at Orion. He always looked beautiful, even in the dark depths of the mines, but bathed under the lights of Iacon he looked other worldly. Dee felt his spark spin wildly as he stared, taking in the mech he was going to interface with. His whole frame felt charged already, and Primus did he want this. He wanted this, wanted Orion, more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire time online.
He barely saw the blur of movement of Pax moving closer before he heard a clang. The resulting spark of pain had him holding his helm as they both yanked backward. Both mechs held their respective helms where they’d collided before their optics met and they burst into laughter.
“Slower, Pax,” Dee said, shoulders still shaking with laughter. He reached out a servo to gently cup Orion’s face, his vents stuttering at the soft warmth.
Their next attempt at a kiss was much slower, gentler, easy. D-16 felt his charge spiking higher as he lost himself in kissing his best friend. Kissing Orion was like fireworks, like the pure energy in his lines watching the occasional races, like he imagined driving in your alt mode felt. It felt like freedom and pure joy all at once, and Dee was addicted instantly.
D-16 heard Orion sigh softly and all of a sudden he was feeling the warmth and weight of his friend on his lap. He could hear Orion’s cooling fans struggling to dump heat from his warming frame as his own did the same. Dee clung to Orion like he was the last shred of stability he had, and in some ways he was.
It was world changing.
Kissing Orion was like nothing he’d ever known, and everything he’d ever wanted all in one.
It was everything
Their frames fit together like they were made to, and oh wasn’t that a thought. Images flashed through D-16’s processor of them in various compromising positions and he wanted. He wanted Orion. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to be connected to him like he’d never experienced with anyone else.
Their kiss turned sloppy as charge climbed higher, and Dee never wanted to stop. Screw the mines, screw Darkwing, screw it all. He wanted to stay here, wrapped up in Orion forever. Until their frames rusted away to nothing.
Eventually, an internal heat warning caused Dee to break the kiss with a desperate invent of cool air. He chanced a look at Orion and his charge only spiked higher. Orion’s blue optics were half shuttered and hazy, looking at Dee like he was something special as oral lubricant stained his chin.
He looked like a dream. A dream D-16 could never admit to having and he ached.
“How…how do we do this?” He asked breathlessly, watching Orion shake off the effects of their kiss to think. He prayed to Primus Orion knew what to do, because Dee sure didn’t.
It took Orion a bit to finally respond, but when he did, he sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. “If you’ve got a cog, you can just slide it back, but we don’t so we have to look for manual latches? I think?”
Dee looked at him incredulously before letting out a snort of laughter.
“I guess it was too much to ask for you to have a thought out plan,” he teased.
He reached down, gently guiding his digits to the joint where Orion’s leg met the rest of his chassis feeling around his array. Orion jerked back, nearly falling on his aft and D-16 snatched his servo back like he’d been burnt. He held both servos up in mock surrender.
“Sorry! Sorry,” he said, ducking his helm in embarrassment. “Should’ve asked first. You said manual latches and I figured-“
“It’s fine,” Orion blurted, Dee looking back up to notice the clear flush of blue on his faceplate. “Just startled me is all. Wasn’t ready”
“Are you now?” Dee asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. He wanted this experience to be fun, not to startle or scare Orion.
He watched as Orion simply stared at him, off in his own world. Dee smiled fondly, gently tracing patterns on Orion’s thigh plating as he waited
“Orion?”
He watched as Orion shook himself out of his stupor, nodding and leaning back to expose more of his array to D-16’s probing servos.
“I’m ready. Go for it,” Orion said, still clearly a bit nervous.
With careful digits, D-16 prodded around Orion’s interface array, looking for the manual release for his modesty panel. He endeavored to be gentle. He knew the area was sensitive even without exposing your array, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Pax.
Dee finally made a sound of triumph, hooking a digit around the little latch he’d found on each side of Orion’s pelvic array. Orion shook slightly as the panel gave way with a soft click, baring him to the world.
D-16 couldn’t help but stare wide eyed at Orion’s array, taking in the new sight with no small amount of curiosity. Orion’s spike had pressurized almost immediately after being released, a simple light grey with a few blue bio lights running up both sides. His valve was a beautiful deep blue, with a little white anterior node at the top.
Dee was utterly hypnotized.
He never thought an interface array could be pretty, but Orion’s surely was. He was beautiful. Dee wasn’t sure how long he was staring, but it was long enough for a sharp kick to land on his back strut, causing him to yelp in shock.
D-16 looked up at Orion’s snickering face with a glare. That had hurt, the little pain in the aft.
“You’re just staring at it Dee, c’mon,” Orion said, his voice tight with something D-16 knew was nervousness. “Looking isn’t going to do anything.”
“It’s blue,” Dee said softly, his optics flicking back down to look at Orion’s array.
“What’s blue?”
Orion tried to push himself closer and almost fell, trying to see what D-16 was talking about. Dee caught him with a warm servo on his back strut, meeting Orion’s optics as he tried not to laugh at his friend’s antics
“Your valve Pax. It’s blue.”
D-16 felt another kick land as Orion started squirming in his grip, his faceplate flushed a deep blue.
“Okay, enough looking, help me up. I gotta get yours too.”
“Oh! Yeah, sure. Sorry,” Dee said, helping Orion sit upright. Lost in his fascination with Orion’s array, he’d almost forgot he needed his too if they were going to do this.
D-16 watched as Orion moved slowly and carefully, seating himself in front of him with his pressurized spike almost absurdly sticking straight up. After he took a klick to vent, Dee parted his legs to give Orion room to get at his array. He met Orion’s questioning optics and nodded, joints locking up in preparation for Orion’s servos on him.
Dee tried to remain as still as he could while Orion probed at his pelvic array, but he was starting to see why Orion had jumped so suddenly. It was very sensitive, and it felt both strange and good to have someone poking around down there.
It took Orion less time to locate the latches, quickly finding them and applying pressure. Dee let out a sigh as his charge spiked and his panel opened with a soft clicking sound.
The quiet was broken almost immediately by Orion’s mildly outraged voice, his optics alight with indignation and something that made Dee want to yank him closer.
“Oh come on! How come yours is bigger than mine?!”
Dee snickered, looking down at his own array to inspect the newly revealed equipment. His spike was slightly bigger than Orion’s but very similar in form. His bio lights were yellow instead of Orion’s soft blue, and he imagined his valve was a similar color.
“Well I am taller than you,” he said smugly, “so it makes sense.”
Dee was nearly tackled by Orion laughing as the familiar weight of Orion landed on top of him.
“Come on! You’re not that much taller, it’s like barely a difference! It shouldn’t count!” He protested, flicking D-16 in the helm.
Dee rolled them over, Orion’s back hitting the roof with a soft oof. He reached up and flicked Orion back, unable to keep from laughing as he watched the startled look on Orion’s face.
“Maybe if you’d spend less time breaking and entering, you’d be able to spend more time growing”
Dee only laughed harder when Orion burst out laughing too, falling into old familiar patterns. This was why he loved Orion so much. The pure joy he brought to even the simplest of things had brought something to D-16’s life that he didn’t realize he was missing. It was the closest to home he’d ever felt.
Both mechs jolted as their spikes brushed against each other, sending shocks of pleasure through both of them. Dee had almost forgotten what they’d been doing, the spiking charge bringing him back to the present.
“So, uh, how do you want to do this?” He asked, looking down at Orion.
“You can stick it in me if you want,” Orion said, optics locking on Dee’s spike again.
D-16 looked down at Orion’s valve, optics catching the shine of the plastic seal. Compared to his spike, it looked way too small. There’s no way it wouldn’t hurt him.
“Are you sure it’ll fit?” He asked, hesitantly moving his servo to rest on Orion's thigh. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He traced little patterns on Orion’s thigh plating, trying to seem more sure than he was. While this interfacing thing seemed cool and all, he didn’t want to hurt Orion. Especially since they had to work the next morning. Darkwing wouldn’t care how hurt he was, only that Orion wasn’t working. It would mean both their afts would land squarely in trouble.
“I think you’re supposed to stretch it out first,” Orion finally said, sitting up and once again trying to bend forward far enough to see his own valve. D-16 looked at him with obvious confusion before Orion elaborated.
“With your digits Dee. You’re supposed to stick 'em in there and stretch out the calipers first. I think.”
Dee looked down at Orion’s array again, and then back up to meet his optics. That seemed…weird to say the least. But Orion seemed sure, so hopefully he was right.
“If you’re sure,” he said, slowly moving his free servo toward Orion’s valve.
D-16 felt Orion jolt when his digit first brushed near the open array. He’d almost pulled back, but Orion quickly reassured him that he’d just been surprised. He slowly, carefully traced around the outside of Orion’s valve, slicking his digits with the lubricants that had been leaking out past Orion’s seal for Primus knows how long.
This was it.
They were doing this.
D-16 met Orion’s optics as he received a nodded consent to continue. The digit Dee had been using to trace Orion’s valve slowly moved to peel away the little transparent seal and gently push inside. All Dee could feel was overwhelming wet warmth around his digit, and his spike twitched at the thought that it would soon take that digit’s place.
Dee looked up at Orion, optics continually flicking back down to look at where his digit was sunk deep into Orion’s frame.
“You okay?” He asked, his optics studying Orion, looking for any bit of pain or discomfort.
He watched as Orion vented deeply and squirmed around his digit.
“Feels fine. Just kind of weird I guess. You can keep going if you want.”
Dee nodded, face furrowed in concentration as he slowly slid the digit out and back in, dutifully getting Orion’s valve used to the intrusion. Orion had said something about stretching, right? So he probably had to move his digit around a bit instead of just going in and out. D-16 crooked his digit, brushing against something with a slightly different texture when Orion jerked like he’d been electrocuted. Dee hurriedly pulled his servo away, terrified that he’d caused damage on accident. Had he touched something he wasn’t supposed to?
“Woah, woah, what happened?! Are you okay, did I hurt you?!” He asked, trying to check Orion over for signs of a tear or other source of pain.
Orion quickly shook his head no, looking almost dazed as he finally spoke up.
“I’m okay, promise. It just startled me is all. Felt nice. You can keep going if you want,” he mumbled, face flushing blue.
Oh.
He hadn’t done something wrong at all.
Orion liked that. He’d liked it a lot if the noise of his cooling fans was any indication. Dee now had a goal, a plan. He was going straight for that little textured spot, and he was going to stretch Orion out just like he’d asked.
D-16 reached downward with two digits this time, delighting in Orion’s resulting gasp. Just like before, he moved slowly and carefully, coating his digits in lubricant before delving inside. It felt like more of a stretch this time, and Dee could feel Orion beginning to tense up, his calipers contracting around Dee’s digits before he found his target.
He gently massaged the spot, delighting in Orion’s soft moan. D-16 scissored his digits back and forth, almost hypnotized by the way Orion’s valve was adapting to the intrusion. Maybe his spike would fit after all.
“Talk to me Pax, you doing okay? Still doesn’t hurt?” He asked, slowing down, but never stopping the movement of his digits.
D-16’s venting stuttered at the hazy look in Orion’s optics. He looked relaxed and at ease in a way that he’d never really seen his friend. Orion was always so wound up, but now? Now he was practically melting under D-16’s touch. Orion finally nodded, giving Dee a shaky smile.
“A-All good,” he said, voice breathy and tinged with static. “Feels really nice. You can put another one.”
D-16 nodded, pulling his digits out with a wet sound, slicking up another digit with the copious amount of lubricant Pax was leaking all over the roof. He returned to Orion’s valve, gently easing in three of his digits. Orion let out a choked off whine, his calipers cycling down around Dee’s digits.
D-16 could tell it was more of a strain and he brought up his other servo to gently rub Orion’s thigh plating.
“It’s okay Pax, you’re doing great,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “I won’t move anything till you’re ready, just let it adjust.”
Dee felt his spike drip prefluid as Orion moaned, a smaller servos coming up to grip tightly onto his shoulders. He watched carefully as Orion slowly seemed to relax, waiting for his go ahead. As much as touching Orion like this was intoxicating, he didn’t want to hurt his friend because he got too excited.
Eventually Orion nodded at Dee, giving him permission to continue. He slowly began to ease his digits in and out of Orion’s valve, trying to make sure he rubbed up against that spot Orion loved so much on every pass.
Orion was getting louder, moaning near constantly as he was stretched out. Dee could feel his spike practically dripping in response, but ignored it. He would get to that later. Right now was about Pax.
Eventually D-16 was snapped out of his stupor with a pat on his shoulder, looking down questioningly at Orion.
“I’m ready Dee, you can do it. I want you to do it,” he admitted, optics darting between D-16’s spike and his optics.
Dee’s optics cycled wider in realization, but he bit his derma and nodded. He could do this. No matter how charged up he already felt, he was going to make this good for Orion. He readjusted to take hold of his spike, his whole frame shuddering as his charge immediately spiked. He moaned softly, spreading the lubricant that had covered his servo all over his spike.
This had come out of Orion.
This had come out of Orion, and now he was mixing their fluids together and it felt so so good.
He snapped out of it when he saw Orion watching him. Right. He had a job to do. He was going to interface with Orion. He couldn’t overload now, not when they’d already come this far.
D-16 scooted closer both bots readjusting themselves in a jumble of uncoordinated limbs until Orion was on Dee’s lap again. Dee felt his spike brush up against Orion’s valve and he gripped onto his friend’s hips hard, trying not to give into the urge to just slam into that tight heat.
“We can stop any time you want, okay?” Dee said, trying his best to keep a hold of himself. “And tell me if anything feel’s wrong, and we’ll figure it out.”
Orion nodded, leaning forward to rest his forehelm against Dee’s.
“Likewise. We got this, it’ll be okay.”
D-16 nodded, holding Orion steady as Orion reached down to take hold of Dee’s spike, lining up their arrays. With his spark spinning wildly in his chest, Dee gave a nod of consent and Orion slowly sunk down on his spike.
Dee distantly heard Orion moan as his spike was engulfed in warm wet tight heat, and oh this was why bots did this.
It felt otherworldly.
Their preparation had been slow, yes, but Dee couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when more of his spike was slowly sliding into Orion and taking his higher processing function with it. His charge was spiking, his cooling fans screaming, and there was nowhere on Cybertron he’d rather be.
By the time their arrays met with a soft ‘clang’, both bots were a mess. D-16’sl venting had turned ragged, his digits digging into Orion’s hips as he tried desperately to stay still so he wouldn’t overwhelm his friend. Orion didn’t look like he was faring much better, clinging tightly to his friend’s shoulders as Dee felt his valve calipers cycle down on his spike as they tried to adjust.
“Frag,” Dee managed to get out, an edge of static in his voice. “Pax. Orion. You’re so tight.”
Orion’s calipers clamped down as Dee spoke, forcing a choked moan from his intake. His processor felt like it was leaking out his audials. All he could think about was Orion. Sweet warm perfect Orion, wrapped around his spike and sitting on his lap. He never wanted to leave.
“I’m not gonna last long,” Orion said, his breathy voice shaking Dee from the trance he’d fallen into.
Dee nodded his agreement. His hips shifted and charge sparked through them both, sending them both moaning and clinging to each other in a tight hug.
“I’m not gonna last either. Let’s just stay like this, just like this,” Dee said, starting up a slow grinding rhythm that Orion easily matched.
Lubricants dripped all over both of them, leaking from where they’d joined, but neither mech cared. Both were too caught up in their own little world to notice anything but the other. Dee’s spark ached as he imagined being with Orion, doing this regularly and he couldn’t take it.
“I love you,” Dee said softly, unable to hold it in anymore. “I love you so much. I want to stay like this forever. I love you Orion.”
Dee felt his helm getting yanked back from where it had come to rest on Orion’s shoulder. He was confused for a moment before Orion kissed him hard, stopping his processor in its tracks.
“I love you,” Orion said through moans, loud enough for it to echo on the almost silent roof. “I love you Dee, I love you so much. I didn’t want anyone else like this, only you, only ever you.”
D-16 looked up at Orion, the mech he loved, his best friend, his everything and kissed him again, speeding up their grinding, making both mechs moan louder.
“I love you Orion,” Dee confessed between desperate kisses. “I love you with my entire spark, I have for so long, I don’t ever want to be apart from you.”
He could feel Orion trembling under his servos, holding their frames tight together. His charge was climbing faster by the klick, and he didn’t want it to ever be over.
“Dee. Dee I’m gonna-“
“It’s okay, it’s okay Pax, me too.”
Dee reached down and gently rubbed a tight circle over Orion’s anterior node remembering it was supposedly a sensitive spot.
And oh was he rewarded.
Orion’s back strut arched as he let out a strangled moan, fluid gushing from his valve and spike all over both bots. Dee watched, entranced, as Orion’s chest plating split open, bathing the roof in beautiful blue light. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He had no idea why it was out in the open, but he couldn’t find it within himself to question it.
Dee’s grinding sped up, distantly feeling his chest split too, his processor too frazzled to think too much about it. He surged forward, kissing Orion and connecting their sparks as he overloaded. The feedback loop from the connection must have sent Orion over the edge again into a smaller overload. Dee heard him cry out as he dumped transfluid deep inside Orion, some little part of his processor insisting that was correct.
By the time they both came down from their highs, their sparks had safely tucked themselves away and they’d forgotten everything but each other.
“You really love me?” Dee asked quietly. He didn’t think he could handle it if it was just a spur of the moment thing he’d said during interface. He’d loved Orion from a distance for so long, but a direct rejection? He didn’t think his spark could take it.
“Of course I do, how could I not? You’re the most amazing bot I’ve ever met.”
Orion responded easily, like it was a silly question to even ask. D-16 felt his spark nearly melt in response. He really did feel like that. He really did love him.
“We should probably get cleaned up,” Dee said quietly, starting to laugh despite himself. “We’re covered in…everything.”
Orion laughed and leaned against Dee, kissing his neck cables gently.
“In a second,” he said, and Dee didn’t have the willpower to argue with him.
After this, they’d have to sneak back down to the wash racks, clean up, and sneak back into their recharge stations. Then tomorrow it was right back to the mines.
Here though? Here there was just D-16 and Orion Pax, and Dee didn’t want to give that up just yet.
“Take all the time you need,” Dee said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
———————
All D-16 could feel was pure rage, advancing on the false Prime in front of him. Anger at him, anger at the system he had once believed in.
Anger at Orion.
Orion had tried to stop him, tried to tell him this wasn’t right, but how could he possibly say that? He’d suffered under Sentinel just as much, but he would still defend him?
It didn’t matter.
Once Sentinel was gone, everything would be fixed.
Dee took aim and fired when he saw a blur of red. He tried to yank his arm away, but it was already too late.
He’d hit Orion.
Orion had jumped between him and Sentinel.
He watched in horror as the plasma bolt ripped a hole through Orion’s chassis, taking his arm with it and sending him skidding toward the Well. Without even thinking, Dee ran after him, catching him before he could fall.
“Why would you do that?! Why?!” He cried, desperately holding onto Orion.
Why had he done that? Why had he shot Orion? It was Orion, Orion Pax, the mech he loved most in the world.
And something came into startling clarity.
Orion had tried to save Sentinel, who had ruined their lives before they could even live them. He’d been willing to give up his own life, for a mech who’d tried to have them killed.
Orion had always said he’d protect D-16 with his life, and Dee thought that made him important to Pax. If he’d do that for Sentinel, he’d do it for anyone. Was Dee even special at all? Orion said he loved him, but was that the same way? Would he have loved anyone that had befriended him? Was Dee just the lucky one that got picked?
His spark twisted and his anger flared. He hadn’t meant anything at all had he. If Orion Pax would truly do this for anyone, all the kind words and touches and kisses didn’t mean a thing. D-16 wasn’t anything special, wasn’t different from everyone else, he was just the one who’d managed to get most of Orion’s attention.
He was done.
He’d done so much for Orion to prove he cared, and Orion had risked their lives and jobs, sent them on this wild quest, and essentially gotten himself killed in response. He didn’t love Dee, not the way Dee loved him, and he was done being a simple convenience.
“Dee. No,” came Orion’s choked voice, the blue optics he’d once loved so much flickering as his frame failed him.
D-16 was done living a lie.
“I’m done saving you”
And with that final word, D-16 let Orion Pax go, turning to face the false Prime as he shed the final weight holding him back.
Notes:
Hope yall liked hearing from Megs! Shit is gonna get real messy real quick over on the Decepticon side. The Autobots are experiencing depression, but the Decepticons are about to have an HR nightmare.
Stay tuned! And as always your comments and kudos make me want to write more please give them.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Yeah my bad, this was supposed to be done a while ago, I just kept getting distracted. Rip. Either way, this is when we start getting into the drama and HR violations. Once again, I have no beta reader, I’m just trying my best out here. Please enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Megatron half listened to a report from Soundwave on Autobot activity, his processor otherwise occupied.
His own prowess in battle had grown as he’d fought Prime, the latent warframe coding kicking in beautifully. The more they’d exchanged blows, the more Megatron realized that just as D-16 had died when he killed Sentinel, Orion Pax had died when he’d fallen into the depths of the planet.
Optimus Prime was nothing like Orion.
He was quiet and strategic, measured in a way that Orion could only dream of. The only thing that remained was his unflinching optimism and kindness. Over and over he tried to convince Megatron to give it all up, to end their war, despite Megatron’s refusal every time. He saw the way he cared for his troops, just as Orion had cared for the other miners.
But he was not Orion.
At best, he was something puppetting Orion’s reformatted corpse, maybe the Matrix itself. Megatron had come to the conclusion that the Matrix was to blame for Orion’s erratic shift in behavior before it had all come crashing down. There was a marked point in his memory where Orion’s excursions into the Archives became an almost every cycle occurrence instead of every once in a while. It must have been the Matrix, calling to him, pulling him away, trying to get him to find it. He would never have betrayed D-16 otherwise, Megatron was sure of it.
But the Matrix got what it wanted. Orion was no more. And Megatron had played right into its sick little grasp. He missed Orion. The Orion that had promised to protect him, to care for him, to love him. There was a reason beyond Sentinel’s twisted engraving that Megatron had kept the symbol of Megatronus Prime as the brand of the Decepticons. Orion had given it to him first. It was Orion’s gift to him, and he would carry it with him until Prime finally worked up the gall to offline him.
At first, the back and forth had been exhilarating.
Megatron had been fighting the most powerful being on their planet, and succeeding. He had an army at his disposal that both feared and respected him, for the most part anyway. He was a leader, a warlord, a revolutionary, and all those that stood against him feared his name.
So why did every victory feel hollow?
It had been almost fun at first, but now it just felt like an obligation. He would stand against Prime till his spark choked out, but he had nothing left to return to if it ended. He’d watched his Decepticons, and all of them had someone to care for them, to need them. Even among his High Command it was the same. Starscream had his trine. Soundwave had his cassettes and Shockwave.
It had been a bad night when Megatron realized he didn’t have anyone.
He’d been laying in the wreckage of his habsuite, trashed after a particularly humiliating loss to the Autobots. No one came to check on him. No one came to offer their support. He could hear the low murmur of other bots checking on each other, patching wounds, whispering reassurances, and he sat in his hab alone.
Megatron was feared, sure. Respected even. But not loved.
His spark ached for when he’d known that love. Before the Matrix and their cursed god had taken him away. He saw Orion in the corners of his vision in the dark, barely heard his laughter ringing in his audials in quiet halls of their base. He watched Orion die in his dreams, taken away to be used as a weapon against him until they both ceased to exist.
It was torture, but forgetting him would almost be worse.
”Query: what are our plans for a response?”
Megatron was shocked from his reverie by Soundwave’s direct question. The Autobots. The war. They needed direction. He vented deeply, wracking his processor as he tried to come up with something that would make him look semi competent.
”Schedule a meeting with the rest of the High Command. We’ll discuss our next steps then,” he finally responded, unable to stop from slumping down on his throne.
Soundwave was quiet for a while, staring at him with that same unreadable visor. Megatron was beginning to feel like a small creature being studied beneath a microscope when Soundwave finally spoke again.
”Megatron: Doing well as leader,” he said, the familiar monotone giving away nothing about the mech’s true intent.
As his communications officer walked away, Megatron felt himself relax slightly, a slight feeling of warmth cutting through his loneliness. Soundwave rarely said anything beyond what he found to be factually correct and necessary in the circumstances. If he said that Megatron was doing well, it was because he believed it.
Expecting to be left to his own devices, Megatron didn’t expect the door to open again, letting through an unfamiliar purple and gold seeker. He looked slightly familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. He cocked his helm to the side in confusion as the jet approached him, an easy smile on his face and a data pad in his servos. He wasn’t used to most of his Decepticons showing such open emotion, let alone a seeker. Most of them were fairly closed off, with more loyalty to Starscream than anything.
The seeker walked right up to the base of Megatron’s throne, waving hello in a bizarre display of friendliness that Megatron had long since grown unaccustomed to.
”Hi Lord Megatron!” The seeker said cheerily, red optics looking up at him with zero trace of fear. Megatron couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him without a trace of fear in their optics.
”I couldn’t find Starscream to deliver my scouting report, but since he gives them all to you anyway, someone said I could probably just give it straight to you!”
Ah, there it was.
One of the others had most likely convinced this seeker to find Megatron in person, anticipating he would lash out at the utter waste of time it was for him to be given a scouting report directly. There was a reason Starscream compiled them and sorted out any useful information from all the bots under his command.
Normally, they would be right. He would lash out in anger, throw the data pad being offered to him to the nearest wall and send the seeker running for safety. But something about the utter lack of fear caught him off guard.
Megatron stood, making his way closer and taking the data pad from the seeker. He gave the first page a cursory glance, catching the mech’s name. Cirrus.
”Thank you,” he said simply. “You are dismissed.”
He watched in shock and amazement as the seeker’s face lit up with a beaming smile. His wings twitched up and a little chirping sound escaped him.
Megatron had never heard one of the seekers make that sound before.
He could barely think to ask about it before the seeker was waving to him again, talking with such obvious joy in his tone that it sent Megatron reeling.
”Thank you, Lord Megatron! Bye! I hope you have a good rest of the cycle!”
And with that, the seeker turned and walked back out, leaving Megatron’s optics to lock on the swing of his hips. He didn’t think he’d had a more bewildering interaction in his entire time as leader of the Decepticons. It had already seared itself in his processor.
How had he never seen this mech before? He was memorable, not only because he was pretty, there were plenty of attractive mechs within the Decepticon ranks. What really stood out to Megatron was his demeanor. He hadn’t met any mechs like him in a while, so unflinchingly positive and unafraid.
He reminded Megatron of Orion.
He subspaced the data pad and set off for his habsuite. He needed to find out more about this Cirrus.
———————
The more Megatron found out about this seeker, the more he’d been absolutely bewildered. How had a mech like this managed to survive among the Decepticons?
He’d found out quickly why Cirrus looked familiar. He had a sister, Moonstream. A spark twin. They were almost identical, with the only difference being the shade of purple of their plating and the color of their optics. Moonstream was fast, smart as a whip, and absolutely vicious in combat. She had many successful battles under her belt, and feared nothing and no one. She was a warrior at spark, and a damned good one.
Cirrus was nothing like her.
He was clearly soft sparked if his scouting report said anything about the mech. He’d spent half of it rambling about various cybernetic wildlife he’d seen on his morning fly over. Cirrus had drawn surprisingly good pictures of the wildlife he’d seen all over the report. It was barely a report at all, more like a sketchbook with words. He’d found a small energon spring, noting it with coordinates, but that was about the only thing helpful about the entire report.
After pulling internal records, Megatron realized he had never seen active combat at all besides one battle. He’d nearly been downed only a few klicks into the fighting, and he’d almost taken Skywarp down with him. After that disaster, Cirrus had been delegated to aerial scouting and guard duty only.
“Cirrus?” Starscream had said, completely incredulous when Megatron had finally asked. “Why would you want to hear about him?”
“Curiosity,” Megatron responded easily. “He came to deliver me a report in person.”
Starscream groaned, visibly frustrated before he finally chose words.
“Cirrus is…quite frankly completely incompetent. While I don’t necessarily like his sister, she at least knows how to handle herself. His processor is completely scattered, and he barely has a clue how to defend himself. He is weak and clueless and the only reason we haven’t left him behind is because of his sister. She was quite clear they are a package deal, and we need all the seekers we can get.”
———————
Megatron paid much closer attention after his conversation with Starscream.
It was more difficult than he’d expected, like Cirrus was being purposely kept out of his way, but he’d managed to find him anyway. He didn’t refuel with the rest of the seekers. He didn’t even try. Instead, Cirrus would take his ration to go sit on the roof of their base, staring out across the surface of Cybertron. He kept a datapad with him, and it looked like he was using it as a sketchbook.
Megatron watched as most of the other seekers either completely ignored Cirrus, or actively ridiculed him. Moonstream was a notable exception, but the treatment only worsened when she wasn’t around.
Megatron could understand why. Cirrus was nothing if not a liability, but it made his spark twist as he watched the jet continually try to be kind to his fellow Decepticons only to be met with cruelty. It became clear to him around then that this was why Cirrus had come to him to deliver his report. The other seekers clearly couldn’t stand him. They wanted him to get hurt.
The thought of hurting a bot who looked at him like he’d hung the stars for saying thank you made his tanks twist.
He found that Cirrus enjoyed his scouting missions the most, and was very vocal about it. Starscream seemed glad to be rid of him every morning when he was sent off across the surface. Reviewing future scouting reports from Starscream, Megatron found himself looking for doodles in the margins and little pictures of cyber deer.
And he was so kind.
Despite his fellow seekers not giving him a shred of respect, he helped them. He remembered everyone’s creation cycles, he asked after the families of those he knew that had them, he inquired about healing injuries, he offered his assistance to those that needed it.
He reminded Megatron of Orion.
It wasn’t long before he summoned Cirrus to come see him again.
The seeker walked into Megatron’s throne room just as he had before, a big smile on his face and zero fear. He walked right up to the base of Megatron’s throne, waving hello after he stopped.
“You wanted to see me Lord Megatron?” He said, rocking on his pedes slightly.
“Yes I did,” Megatron said, unable to stop the smile from splitting his face. “I had some…questions about your position as a part of our aerial squadron.”
The smile on Cirrus’s face quickly dropped, the joy immediately gone. The flight frame now looked nervous and unsure, fiddling with his digits as he waited for Megatron to continue.
“You’ve barely seen active combat, and according to Starscream even the performance you did have was…lackluster.”
That seemed to finally tip the seeker over into full blown panic. He stepped even closer, optics wide with distress. Megatron heard the telltale click of a vocalizer resetting, once, twice, before Cirrus finally spoke.
“I-I tried, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to fight as well as everyone else, but I can learn! I promise I can learn, just please give me a chance. I’ve been helping other ways! I’m good at other things!”
Megatron held up a servo, cutting off Cirrus’s desperate begging. A dark corner of Megatron’s processor wanted to hear that desperate tone in other contexts, but he quickly batted it away.
“I never said you were in trouble, Cirrus. I only think your efforts might be better served in a different role.”
Cirrus’s look of panic morphed to one of confusion. He cocked his helm to the side as Megatron allowed his optics to trail over Cirrus’s frame appreciatively, taking in the gleaming gold and purple plating.
“You may not be well suited for combat, but there are other ways you can help the cause. I need someone to manage some things for me, schedule meetings with my High Command, plan out strategy sessions, work around training slots. I find myself increasingly busy and Soundwave has enough responsibilities as it is. You of course have the choice to turn this position down and I will find someone else, but I thought it might be a better fit for your skill set than active combat.”
Cirrus brightened up immediately, sending Megatron’s spark spinning. He looked even more beautiful when he was happy. The seeker nodded eagerly, letting out another chirping sound. Megatron would have to ask someone about that.
“I can do that! I’d be honored to take the job Lord Megatron!”
Megatron waved his hand, unable to stop a soft smile from appearing. Maybe now that Cirrus was in closer proximity, some of that kindness would be extended to him. At the very least, he wouldn’t be horrible company.
“Good. Effective immediately, you no longer report to Starscream, you report to me. You will be given a datapad that will connect with my daily schedule that you can move and rearrange to work most efficiently. You will also be expected to take notes during meetings which you will be given another datapad for.”
Cirrus nodded his understanding, happily running off as soon as he was dismissed with a small wave goodbye.
Hopefully, this would be a good thing.
———————
Megatron had massively miscalculated.
His intention had been to simply get closer to Cirrus, to have someone near him that wasn’t afraid. And if he wanted something pretty to look at every day, that was between him and Primus.
What he had underestimated is exactly how comfortable Cirrus would be around him. Not only was he completely unafraid, but he’d been actively trying to care for Megatron in little ways. He’d memorized what additives he liked in his energon, purposely buffered High Command meetings with training sessions after, and forcibly ended his meetings and activities at a time where he could actually get an adequate recharge cycle.
Megatron hadn’t felt this…good in cycles. His mood was improving, he was actually rested, and the Decepticons were all doing better as a result. For the first time in a while, Megatron was actually content.
It helped that it was hard to stay angry around Cirrus.
The seeker’s positivity was infectious, and he was never far from Megatron’s side, talking his audial off about something or another. The detailed meeting notes Megatron would review each night were full of little doodles in the margins that he couldn’t bear telling Cirrus to stop drawing.
The big problem was that the seeker was very tactile.
He would lay gentle servos on Megatron’s shoulder, reminding him of an obligation. He would nudge him during Shockwave’s presentations to keep him from falling into recharge. He even gave Megatron a hug after he’d wished Cirrus a happy creation cycle.
It didn’t help that Cirrus was pretty, and he didn’t seem to realize it.
His plating was a beautiful mix of purple and gold that made him look near regal when the sun caught it. He had long legs and a trim little waist that Megatron knew he could probably completely encircle with his servos. His optics were bright and expressive, and so intensely ruby red that you could drown in them.
The longer it went on, the more Megatron wanted those touches more, and wanted to touch Cirrus in return. His recharge was plagued with dreams of the seeker laid out beneath him, taking his spike like he was born for it.
But Cirrus had shown no interest so far in such things, not that Megatron could tell anyway.
So Megatron contented himself with stolen glances and his own servo, trying to keep a firm grip on his self control. Except it was getting harder and harder as Cirrus got more and more comfortable with him. He’d dropped the formal title all together at this point, and even when he was technically “off duty” he’d come to spend time with Megatron.
That in itself was a blessing and a curse.
While he did get to spend more time with the mech who’d captured his attention, it meant he had much less time to self service. That left him pent up and irritable, and he started backsliding again, snapping at anyone who even remotely bothered him.
“Hey Megatron?” Cirrus said, looking up at Megatron from his smaller desk the warframe had added to his office. “You’ve been seeming like you’re in a bad mood again lately. Did something happen?”
Megatron sighed, dropping the datapad he was holding and trying to vent deeply. He didn’t want to snap at Cirrus too, but he wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation. A moment of silence passed before Cirrus tried again.
“Is there any way I can help?”
Flashes of the seeker tucked under his desk, swallowing around Megatron’s spike as he looked up at him with hazy red optics had Megatron’s vents stuttering and his spark spinning. It had been much too long since he’d been able to take care of himself, and his spike had begun trying to pressurize nearly immediately.
“No,” he managed to force out, voice clipped and tinged with irritation. Hopefully, Cirrus would just drop it before he made it worse.
He heard the soft scrape of a chair and had no time to react before he could feel the warmth of Cirrus’s frame right behind him. Thinner digits worked themselves under the armor on Megatron’s shoulder, gently massaging out the tension he didn’t even realize was there. Megatron slumped almost immediately, his charge spiking higher as Cirrus poked and prodded.
“There’s a lot of tension in your shoulder joints, probably cause you won’t take a break or recharge like you’re supposed to. No wonder you’re grumpy. But it’s okay, my digits are smaller and I can help fix it and then you can stop being mean,” Cirrus said matter of factly, ignoring the soft groan from Megatron.
This was dangerous. Very dangerous.
Cirrus was so close, touching him so gently, and he was so pent up he thought he’d explode. It wasn’t long before Megatron finally snapped. He stood up, ignoring the surprised sounding chirp from Cirrus as he whirled around.
“Cirrus, you need to stop touching me. Right now,” he said, voice low as he tried to restrain himself.
Cirrus looked at him for a moment, really looked at him, and it reminded him so much of Orion. The way the seeker was looking almost through him was so familiar in a way that sent a thrill through his frame.
Cirrus finally stepped closer into Megatron’s space, gently taking hold of his larger servo to play with the digits. The flush of his faceplate was a vivid blue Megatron had never seen on Cirrus before, and he wanted to see it again and again.
“If, um, if that’s what’s wrong I can, uh. I can help with that too. I-If you want,” Cirrus managed to stammer out, optics turned down toward the floor as he refused to look directly at Megatron.
Megatron felt his processor grind to a halt. Cirrus, sweet, naive Cirrus who doodled little cyberbunnies in the margins of his notes was propositioning him. Cirrus was actually proposing Megatron use his frame for stress relief.
In an instant everything on Megatron’s desk was swept to the ground with a loud clatter as he effortlessly picked Cirrus up and deposited him on the now cleared surface. He held Cirrus’s chin, forcing his helm up so he would actually look at Megatron. He had to grit his denta and try to vent as Cirrus’s wide optics met his. He was absolutely beautiful and Megatron wanted to eat him alive.
“You need to tell me right now whether or not you want this,” Megatron managed to force out. “Yes or no Cirrus. I won’t be upset with you, but you need to tell me now.”
Cirrus simply stared at him for a moment, optics wide in shock before he surged forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Megatron’s derma. He could barely register the little peck happened before Cirrus was pulling away and looking down, flushed an even deeper blue.
“I do,” he said softly. “Want to, I mean. You’ve been so nice to me, and I know it’s stupid, but I really like you.”
Megatron’s processor ground to a halt. Of all the possible outcomes he’d imagined, this hadn’t been one of them. A part of him felt slightly guilty that he’d somehow managed to make this mech fall in love with him. A larger part of him didn’t care.
Starscream had long since told him to go frag off after he’d yanked too hard on one of his wings during interface. Their arrangement had been clear from the beginning. They fought, they fragged, they moved on. It was release and enjoyable, but there was something absolutely intoxicating about the opportunity to interface with someone who wanted him.
The last time he’d had that was Orion.
Aiming to push Orion from his processor, Megatron took hold of the little waist that had been torturing him for far too long and pulled Cirrus into a searing kiss. His ego and charge both spiked as Cirrus practically melted into his hold, moaning softly as Megatron’s glossa plunged into his intake.
Starscream had been much different. Starscream made him fight for it, earn his submission, which was more than enjoyable. Cirrus? Cirrus gave in like it was second nature, offering Megatron complete control on a silver platter.
It was intoxicating.
Not even Orion had been like this.
Megatron could hear Cirrus’s cooling fans nearly screaming in an effort to keep him from overheating, only drowned out by Megatron’s own fans whirring. When Megatron finally broke their kiss, he felt his spike attempting to pressurize behind his modesty panel as he took in the sight before him.
Cirrus looked positively debaunched.
He looked up at Megatron with hazy red optics filled with lust and longing, oral lubricant dribbling down his chin. Cirrus chirped and whined softly, blinking and resetting his optics as he tried to lean up to get another kiss. Megatron just chuckled in response, slowly forcing Cirrus onto his back with a warm servo on his chest plate.
“Shhh, don’t worry, pretty thing,” he cooed, delighting in the shiver that wracked Cirrus’s frame. “I’ll take good care of you. You won’t even be able to think soon.”
Megatron gently ran his servo down Cirrus’s chassis, stroking featherlight over his modesty panel when he finally reached it. He pulled back slightly as Cirrus’s panel immediately snapped open, revealing his already dripping valve. A sense of glee overtook him when he watched Cirrus’s valve lubricant drool from his pretty gold array, already starting to leave a puddle on his desk.
“Someone is very excited,” Megatron teased, ignoring Cirrus’s soft whimper as he slowly ran his digit around the outer lips of Cirrus’s valve, coating it in lubricant. “It’s alright. I like that you’re eager. Your frame is already so responsive and I’ve barely touched you, I can’t wait to see how you handle my spike.”
With that, Megatron slowly eased his digit into Cirrus’s valve, gently petting over sensitive nodes and making the seeker arch and moan. He knew from experience that he needed to be careful with his prep. He was a good deal bigger than Cirrus, and he didn’t need a visit to the medic because he’d been thinking with his spike.
Cirrus opened up beautifully beneath Megatron, taking every added digit like he was made for it. Megatron couldn’t help the way his grip tightened on Cirrus’s waist. His spike was practically aching, his modesty panel begging to be unlocked, but he wouldn’t. Not until he’d properly prepared his partner.
By the time he managed to squeeze three digits in, Cirrus was nearly incoherent. The seeker held onto Megatron’s shoulders in a death grip, shaking and moaning as Megatron coaxed his charge ever higher.
“Please! Please just do it, I’m ready, I can take it, please!” He begged, his voice tinged with static.
Megatron finally released his modesty panel, groaning low in relief as his spike finally pressurized. He watched with a smirk as Cirrus’s optics widened, clearly nervous about taking something so large, but he remained silent. Megatron grabbed hold of his spike, slicking it up with his lubricant covered servo as he grit his denta. The urge to just continue working himself to overload was strong, but the desire to be buried in a tight valve was stronger.
While Orion had been wonderful, interfacing with a seeker was an overwhelmingly good experience. Despite the bared denta and threats of decapitation, Starscream had been an incredibly good frag.
Megatron forced Cirrus to still, lining himself up and slowly, slowly pushing inside. There was an obscene squelch as the head popped inside, forcing more lubricant from Cirrus’s valve as Megatron inched forward. It felt glorious. Warm, wet, tight and cycling down on his spike as the calipers tried to adjust. Cirrus trembled in Megatron’s grip, intake open in a silent moan as the too big spike carved a place for itself inside of him. Cirrus whimpered when Megatron finally reached the hilt, his cooling fans screaming as Megatron tried to keep still and let the jet adjust.
The stillness lasted only a moment.
As soon as Cirrus’s frantic venting slowed down and evened out, Megatron readjusted his grip on Cirrus’s hips, slowly pulling back a few inches before snapping his hips forward and slamming directly into the seeker’s ceiling node. The motion ripped a staticky, pleasured scream from the jet, the sound driving Megatron’s charge higher. He slowly picked up the pace, pulling out more and more each time until he was pounding the entire length of his spike in and out of Cirrus’s messy valve.
Cirrus seemed to have quickly lost control of his voice box, desperate cries and moaning only broken by that sweet little chirping sound. His valve cycled down on the spike carving its way through his internals like it was trying to milk him, making Megatron moan as his overload slowly built. This was leaps and bounds better than his own servo, and he was going to savor it.
He could almost imagine blue and red in front of him, splayed out underneath him, taking his spike and begging for more.
Megatron shook his helm, forcing his optics open to focus on glinting purple and gold as he thrusted harder. Tears began welling up in Cirrus’s hazy red optics, the mech sobbing as he dug his digits into Megatron’s shoulders. The telltale clicking of a vocalizer resetting several times rang out before Cirrus finally managed to speak.
”Close! ‘M gonna-. Please Mega-ah!” He cried, sounding nearly delirious.
Megatron grinned, leaning down to lick up Cirrus’s tears. He looked so beautiful crying in overwhelmed pleasure. He slowly reached down, pressing a digit hard against Cirrus’s anterior node.
Cirrus went rigid, charge arcing across his body as he overloaded, wailing as he soaked himself and Megatron in transfluid. Megatron watched, absolutely captivated, as Cirrus squirted, never halting his thrusts. He’d never been able to make Orion do that. He wanted to see if he could make Cirrus do it again.
He slowed down temporarily to work Cirrus through his overload, leaning down to silence his whining with a filthy kiss. When Cirrus was properly recovered, optics unfocused and half lidded, oral lubricant and tears staining his face, Megatron resumed his earlier rhythm. He still had his own overload to worry about.
Megatron felt his thrusts stutter for a moment as Cirrus’s valve continued to try to milk him, stronger now after the intense overload. It felt divine. He groaned loudly as he chased his overload, delighting in the cries and sobs of pleasure from his partner. He reached down again, rubbing tight circles over Cirrus’s anterior node, grinning devilishly when his cries jumped in pitch. Cirrus was shaking in his arms before long, nearly gouging divots in his shoulders.
“Shh, it’s alright pretty thing,” he murmured, smile widening when he caught sight of the dents he was leaving behind on the seeker. “You can do it. Go on, overload again for me. Get yourself all messy with transfluid again, just for me.”
Cirrus nearly convulsed, visible charge arcing across his body as he overloaded with a scream that abruptly cut off as his voice box gave out. His valve clamped down hard on Megatron, pushing him over the edge with a choked moan. He slammed into Cirrus as deep as he could, emptying all the transfluid he’d had pent up into the seeker.
Megatron snorted upon seeing Cirrus had been knocked into recharge, venting evenly splayed out across the now filthy desk. He hissed as he slowly pulled out, a staticky whimper pulled from Cirrus as he was left empty. His spike gave a valiant twitch as he watched his transfluid gush from the seeker’s abused valve.
Reluctantly, Megatron tore his optics from Cirrus’s prone frame, digging through his subspace for a rag to make them look at least a bit more presentable. He wiped as much transfluid off of his legs as he could, moving on to wipe Cirrus off too. The seeker was much messier, covered in transfluid and still dripping. To get around that problem, Megatron simply closed Cirrus’s modesty panel, sealing the worst of the mess inside so he could wipe him down without worrying about his cleaning being useless. He could wash him off better when they had actual washracks.
Clean enough, Megatron scooped up the recharging seeker, leaving the mess where it was on and around his desk. He’d clean that later. He carried Cirrus back to his habsuite, thanking Primus he had his own washracks. He turned the solvent on, warming it up as Cirrus started to stir. He looked like he barely knew where he was, which had Megatron holding in a laugh.
”It’s alright,” he said, gently lowering Cirrus’s pedes to the ground so he could start washing him off. “I’m just cleaning you off.”
Cirrus made a few more of those little chirps, letting Megatron support most of his weight. When they were both finally clean, Megatron sat Cirrus on his berth as he busied himself with his nightly energon. After a moment, he remembered Cirrus had most likely not refueled and grabbed a second cube.
After downing his own portion, Megatron handed the cube to Cirrus, smiling as the seeker lit up and began eagerly refueling. Once both cubes were empty, Megatron returned them to his small refuel station to clean them. By the time he turned back around, Cirrus had curled up on his berth and fallen into a deep recharge.
He thought for a moment about waking him, kicking him out like he always did to Starscream. But he watched Cirrus tuck his servos against his chest as he got comfortable, a vivid memory of Orion doing the same thing nearly overtook his entire processor.
One night wouldn’t hurt.
Megatron slowly climbed into the berth, snorting softly in amusement when Cirrus quickly tucked himself in close to the warframe, seeking warmth. After being assured Cirrus was deep in recharge, Megatron leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his helm.
It would be fine.
It was just one night.
Notes:
Told yall. HR violations.
In all seriousness though, this is NOT a good situation. Megatron is in a position of power, and while he’s not thinking about it consciously, he’s abusing it. He is abusing his authority to get Cirrus close to him, and while Cirrus is fully consenting, he’s also not aware of the implications of what Megatron has done.
DO NOT LET YOURSELF OR SOMEONE YOU WORK WITH GET INTO THIS KIND OF SITUATION. SNITCH TO HR IMMEDIATELY.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Anyways, hope yall like Cirrus, and I’m sorry if you do cause this is only gonna get worse. Comments and kudos make me write more pls give them to me
Chapter 3
Notes:
Damn. So this was supposed to be done a while ago. From the bottom of my heart, my bad. Unfortunately, I’ve been had by SO many things happening at once it’s ridiculous, but I guess I should’ve expected that when I started posting fics. Whoops.
Anywho, another chapter! This ended up longer than I planned cause I kept rage baiting one of my faves, but in my defense it’s funny. Here you’re also getting another character created by a dear friend of mine, so I hope yall like her as much as I do. As always, I be writing and editing this on my own so if I fucked something up it’s all me.
Enjoy the happy end of the drama shit show!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Megatron had massively miscalculated
It was supposed to just be once. One time, one night. Just one.
It was no longer one.
Since that first time, not much had changed at all aside from Cirrus getting a whole lot more tactile. Instead of barely there touches that could be explained away without a second thought, he was being noticeably more affectionate. Soft kisses against his temple, the squeeze of a servo signifying “I’m here”, delicate digits massaging tension out of joints.
As much as Megatron hated to admit it, it was nice. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.
The interfacing didn’t hurt either.
Before Megatron knew it, he was preparing two cubes of energon every morning and shaking Cirrus awake with a gentleness he’d thought had been lost to him. It was strange, but in a way that he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy.
He’d initially been drawn to Cirrus because of the similarities to Orion, but the longer he spent around the Seeker, the more he grew to appreciate the things that were different. Cirrus was much softer spoken than Orion. Where Orion had been brash and bold, Cirrus was a subtle presence. Instead of devouring data pads, Cirrus preferred to draw.
Megatron had been given the privilege of seeing his personal journal that contained various sketches of wildlife, other Decepticons, and increasingly him. The drawings of him always made him look near regal; poised and strong, yet gentle. It made his spark skip in an almost foreign way.
It bewildered him beyond belief that this gentle, sweet mech had seemingly decided to attach himself to Megatron of all bots.
Apparently it also bewildered his twin.
Without much warning, Megatron found Moonstream standing in front of him in his throne room, face unreadable. Cirrus had stepped out for a moment for his annual physical exam, leaving Megatron alone with his twin. She studied him for a moment, helm cocked to the side and silent as she seemingly picked him apart.
At a distance, he could tell how easy it would be to mistake one for the other. Had he not spent as much time with Cirrus as he had, he might’ve made that mistake too. But her purple plating was lighter than Cirrus’s and cooler toned. Their optics were where they truly varied. While Cirrus had bright red optics filled with curiosity and light, Moonstream’s were yellow, calculating, and seemed to track even the smallest shift in Megatron’s frame.
“My brother hasn’t been coming back to our hab,” she finally said, voice kept carefully neutral.
It was an accusation. They both knew it. Odds were, Moonstream knew exactly why Cirrus wasn’t returning to their hab, she just wanted to hear him say it. But she was smart enough to know exactly what would happen if she accused him outright of keeping her brother from her, although she would be somewhat correct.
She had a lot of nerve confronting him directly, she was clearly brave and for that she had Megatron’s respect. But he didn’t owe her any explanation. Cirrus was his, and that was his business. However, having her as an ally, even a begrudging one, would be more helpful than having another seeker plotting his death. He stood, walking forward to stand closer to Moonstream, grin widening when she held her ground.
“He hasn’t,” Megatron confirmed, watching as Moonstream’s optics tracked his every move as he slowly began to walk around her. “He’s been staying in mine lately.”
He watched, grin turning sharp as he watched a flurry of emotions, rage, fear, worry, all flash across Moonstream’s face for only a second before she returned to her careful neutrality. She obviously cared a lot about her brother. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize him and his wellbeing. As long as Cirrus stayed loyal, and he would, Moonstream would too. No matter her own personal feelings.
“He’s quite the mech,” he continued, voice forcibly casual. “I intend on courting him properly. When the Decepticons take Cybertron and we’ve destroyed the false Prime, he will sit by my side.”
Moonstream visibly stiffened before forcing herself to relax. Megatron smiled dangerously as he regained his place in front of Moonstream. He wasn’t lying. He cared for Cirrus, even if that care was different than what he’d felt for Orion. He liked Cirrus, and it wasn’t like he had many other options. Most of the other Decepticons would stab him in the back in an instant if he invited them to berth. It was a logical choice, and he doubted Cirrus would be upset to hear it. They were extremely compatible, and Megatron would be a fool to waste that.
When Moonstream spoke again, her voice was carefully neutral, but Megatron could hear the slight strain in her voice as she tried to keep it that way.
“Congratulations. I wasn’t aware of that, Cirrus hasn’t told me anything yet,” she said carefully, watching Megatron warily.
The warlord simply shrugged, walking back to lounge on his throne. “It’s fairly new, but this really is for the best. He’s not the strongest fighter is he? This way, he doesn’t have to be. He’s the safest mech in the entire army.”
It was a threat and both of them knew it. With Cirrus this close to Megatron, there would be nothing to protect him if Megatron decided he’d displeased him enough to warrant punishment.
He would never hurt Cirrus, but Moonstream didn’t know that.
All he needed to do was remind her he could.
Megatron watched in silent victory as Moonstream grit her denta and dropped her helm in respectful acknowledgement. “His safety and happiness is all I want,” she said, only small movements in her wings betraying her agitation. She turned to leave, evenly measured steps that he could hear pick up in pacing as soon as the door shut behind her.
He’d won this round, but even a blind mech could see she wasn’t happy. He’d have to keep that in mind.
Megatron was ripped from his mental celebration by a comm call from the med bay. Sighing, he slouched on the throne and answered it. He’d already had his own annual physical, so he hoped whichever medic had commed him had a very good reason.
“Ah, Lord Megatron. Apologies for the interruption, I hope you weren’t too busy.”
So Knockout had drawn the short straw this time. Although the red medic was flashy and a bit vain at times, he did good work. He’d transitioned to life as a Decepticon well, although he did complain about the lack of personal care materials.
“What do you want Knockout,” Megatron said with a huff, standing and making his way back to his hab. Hopefully, he could refuel in peace before he resumed the rest of the day.
“It’s about your…assistant my lord.” That made Megatron stop in his tracks. He’d almost forgotten where Cirrus was. “He’s… well he’s physically fine, but there’s a bit of an abnormality in some of his test results and he’s asking for you.”
Megatron picked up his strides, turning down another hall away from his hab. “I’ll be there in a moment,” he said, cutting the call before he could hear any complaints.
When he finally arrived at the med bay, Cirrus was sitting on the exam table staring transfixed at an image on a data pad. He let out a few soft chirps, digits gently brushing the screen like it could break at any moment. Knockout quickly intercepted him before he could reach Cirrus, his voice low as he glanced back at the Seeker.
“Thank you for coming, my Lord. I trust you know I wouldn’t bother you unless it was urgent,” he said, optics darting between Megatron and Cirrus. He knew something. Megatron could tell he knew something.
A simple glare was all it took for Knockout to sigh, pursing his derma as he gathered his thoughts.
“He’s carrying,” Knockout finally said, glancing back at Cirrus. “Not far along, but he’s carrying, and I’m assuming that would be your doing considering he immediately had me call you when I told him. You need to speak with him and tell him he can’t keep it, he won’t listen to a thing I tell him. The sooner I can get rid of it, the easier his recovery will be.”
Megatron stumbled back in shock like he’d been punched in the gut. Cirrus was carrying. Cirrus was carrying a sparkling. His sparkling.
He’d always assumed that had been another thing Sentinel had taken from them, that so long spent without a cog would render all the former miners unable to ever have sparklings. It was hard enough for cogged bots to accomplish, but cogless? It was a pipe dream at best.
While Megatron had been reeling from the revelation, Knockout had continued talking, continuing to discuss the situation like he was discussing the weather.
“And we’ll have his baffles replaced,” he added, glancing down to study his own digits, scanning for even a spec of paint out of place. “Can’t have any more accidents, this place isn’t exactly sparkling friendly. It’s not my place to tell you not to frag your secretary, especially since he seems pleased with the arrangement, but unsafe interface is a problem. Cirrus I can understand being a bit forgetful. Sweet mech, very distractable, but I thought you of all mechs would have been a bit more careful about sparking up your assistant.”
Knockout finally looked back at Megatron, taking his utter shock for a moment before pinching his olfactory, venting out a deep sigh.
“I keep forgetting half of you were uncogged. They never taught you about sparklings did they? Or probably anything about interface now that I think about it,” Knockout said, walking over to a cluttered work bench and gingerly grabbing a data pad off of it like it was diseased. He walked over and handed it to Megatron, continuing his lecture despite his leader’s silence.
“Not typically my department, but this is a basic safe interface guide. I’ll see if I can get Flatline to get some more copies to circulate so we don’t get any more accidental surprises.”
Megatron held the data pad, looking down at it and back up to Cirrus as his processor tried to rationalize what was happening. He’d sired a sparkling. He’d actually sired a sparkling. A smile slowly grew on his face as the full implications sank in. A family, a life beyond the war that already felt never ending.
It was a life he’d always wanted.
A life he’d originally imagined with Orion.
Knockout glanced back at Cirrus with a deep sigh before meeting Megatron’s optics. He seemed to notice the smile and grimaced before speaking.
“You need to tell him to let me terminate it. He won’t listen to me, but he might listen to you.”
The smile immediately dropped from Megatron’s face, any happiness he felt replaced with confusion and quickly rising anger. Terminate it? When Cirrus clearly wanted to keep it? He almost couldn’t believe how protective he already felt over a mere speck orbiting his assistant’s spark. Knockout must have noticed his displeasure, quickly cutting him off before he could cause a scene.
“Quite frankly, the frame disparity between you two makes this dangerous,” Knockout said, any trace of a casual or nonchalant tone gone from his voice. He looked more serious than Megatron had ever seen him.
“If anything, if you were dead set on procreating, most medical professionals would suggest you be the one to carry, not him. He’s smaller and flight frames historically have short carrying cycles. Given the fact that there’s a large possibility it’s a warframe, it could kill him. His frame isn’t meant to carry a sparkling that far beyond his size class, and it could harm the sparkling to not have the full gestation period it needs.”
Megatron pushed past Knockout, ignoring the doctor to stand beside Cirrus. Looking over the seeker’s shoulder, he found himself looking at a spark signature readout, with a small dot clearly visible orbiting the larger mass. Cirrus looked up with a beaming smile, reaching for his servo and squeezing it gently as they both looked at the first image of their sparkling.
It was so small.
If Megatron didn’t know what he was looking for, he doubted he’d have seen it at all. Such a tiny little thing, a mere blip on a data pad, but it would grow into a fully formed bot. Cirrus looked so happy, already overjoyed at the prospect of carrying.
Who was Megatron to deny him that?
“We’re keeping it,” Megatron said firmly, a small smile appearing on his face.
Cirrus lit up like he’d been given the world, throwing his arms around Megatron in a tight hug as Megatron’s processor ran wild. It made his spark skip to think of Cirrus carrying his sparkling, his frame changing to accommodate the little life Megatron had put there. He found himself fantasizing of holding a little bundle in his servos and getting to bask in the joy of their creation with Cirrus.
He wanted this.
He wanted to be a sire.
Knockout sighed defeatedly, fixing Megatron with what would’ve been a withering glare to anyone else.
“Fine,” he said, rolling his optics. “You want the little thing so bad then so be it, but I wasn’t lying about the risk. He’ll need consistent check-ins and monitoring to make sure the little scraplet doesn’t offline him.”
Megatron straightened up, looking back at Knockout with consideration. He supposed the medic was right. He couldn’t have anything happening to his unborn sparkling or to Cirrus.
“You’re right,” he said, delighting in the momentary look of bewilderment on Knockout’s face. “Until he reaches emergence, you will be responsible for Cirrus’s medical care.”
Knockout blinked a few times, staring at Megatron in utter shock before his face changed to a look of horror and outrage.
“WHAT?! Me?! My specialty is surgery! Cosmetic surgery! I haven’t studied pre-emergence care since my first years in the medical academy! He needs specialized care from someone with specialized training that I don’t have!” He yelled, servos gesturing wildly around the room as he tried to convince their leader to reconsider.
Megatron tried his best to hold in laughter as the medic continued his ranting. He had expected backlash sure, but not backlash as entertaining as this. Despite Knockout’s clear displeasure, he was well suited to care for Cirrus. If the medic was right, and the sparkling was too big for Cirrus to safely have without intervention, it would be best to have a skilled surgeon overseeing emergence and ready to intervene if necessary.
Megatron tuned out the outraged mech and held Cirrus closer. They were going to have a sparkling. A little creation of their very own.
A family.
———————
Despite Knockout’s lack of faith, Cirrus managed his carrying cycle a lot better than anyone expected.
Megatron hardly let him do anything, insisting he rest and not strain himself. Word spread quickly through the Decepticon High Command, and Soundwave quickly stepped in to offer support and an extra servo. Cirrus even received a somewhat sincere congratulations from Starscream.
It was mutually agreed that Shockwave would meet the sparkling only with direct supervision. While a brilliant scientist, the mech was anything but sparkling safe.
At the end of every cycle, despite all the helmaches and preparations taking up most of his time, Megatron would hold Cirrus in their berth. He had taken to resting a protective servo over Cirrus’s abdominal plating, feeling the warmth from the slowly forming protoform inside.
When their sparkling first moved against his servo, Megatron nearly knocked them both off the berth in shock. Cirrus had laughed, steadying himself and grabbing hold of Megatron’s servo to press it back in its place, letting the warlord feel the movement again.
“He’s telling you to have a good recharge,” Cirrus said softly, gently linking their digits.
“He?”
Cirrus nodded, looking down at their servos. “It feels right. I’ve been thinking about designations a bit.”
Megatron finally tore his optics from Cirrus’s abdomen, looking at him with an uncharacteristically gentle smile. A designation. For their sparkling. It made it all feel so much more real.
“Oh? And what did you come up with.”
Cirrus smiled, leaning against Megatron as he played with his digits. “I know you had your friend Orion… I thought it might be a nice way to honor his memory if we named our sparkling after him.”
Megatron felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over his head. Images of Orion’s smiling face, the devious grin, the shock in his optics as he’d fallen into Cybertron’s core flashing across his optics.
“No,” he snapped immediately, the pit in his tanks growing as Cirrus looked at him in confusion and a bit of hurt. “Our son deserves his own designation, not one of a dead mech.”
Cirrus reluctantly nodded, dropping the matter for the evening. They still had plenty of time to pick a name.
———————
Megatron had been holding a strategy meeting when he got a priority comm from Knockout.
“It's happening, get your aft down here right now.”
Megatron didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to warn anyone, didn’t explain himself. He simply rose from his chair and took off toward the med bay without a word. Bots quickly moved out of his way in the halls, fleeing the thundering steps of their leader. A good thing too. Primus help anyone who got in his way at this point.
He shoved through the med bay doors quickly, subconsciously noticing the entire wing had been cleared. He quickly made his way to Cirrus’s side, taking his servo as the seeker shook. Knockout had him hooked into an energon drip and monitoring equipment Megatron couldn’t even begin to try to name, closely watching as Cirrus squeezed Megatron’s servo hard.
“He’s progressing well. Shockingly well despite the frame disparity,” Knockout said, setting his data pad down to stand next to Cirrus and address the jet directly. “Hear that? You’re doing great, and your bitty is working with you really well right now. Shouldn’t be long and then you can hold him and rest.”
Cirrus nodded, seeming to relax slightly at the gentle encouragement from Knockout. “I want a nap after this,” Cirrus said, laughing a bit breathlessly as he tried to ignore the pain.
Megatron pressed a gentle kiss to his helm, using his unoccupied servo to gently cup his cheek. “Anything you want. Anything at all and it’s yours,” he said, trying to distract Cirrus from the pain as the seeker bore down again with a cry.
“Just want you,” Cirrus said softly, leaning into the comforting touches. “And our sparkling. Our family.”
Megatron nodded, keeping his touches gentle and supportive as Knockout moved down toward Cirrus’s bared array.
“One more good push if you can Cirrus? He’s just about out,” he said, looking to Cirrus with an encouraging smile.
The jet nodded, squeezing Megatron’s servo with a strength the warlord didn’t know he had as he bore down one final time. He screamed in pain as the little curled up ball of metal left his frame and dropped into Knockout’s waiting servos. The medic quickly carried the little ball over to a pre prepared bundle of soft mesh, wiping off the assorted fluids and trying to coax the sparkling to uncurl.
“Come on little one, you’re out now,” he said softly, cleaning the outer panels and watching as they slowly turned purple and gold with contact to the air. “Just come out for me so I can make sure you’re healthy and hand you back to your carrier.”
As if on command, the little jagged ball uncurled to reveal a little warframe, the spitting image of Megatron. Knockout quickly checked him over as he let out an audial splitting shriek, clearly displeased at being poked and prodded. After only a few kliks, Knockout quickly handed the sparkling back to Cirrus, helping him arrange the new spark to lay on his chest plating.
“Congratulations you two,” he said with a wry smile.
Megatron was transfixed, watching captivated as their sparkling settled as soon as he made contact with Cirrus. Tears welled up in Cirrus’s optics as their sparkling, THEIR sparkling, nuzzled his helm into his carrier’s chest, seeking out the familiar hum of his spark.
He looked so tiny and fragile. Like a vent in the wrong direction would shatter him. Megatron was almost scared to even touch him. Cirrus grabbed hold of Megatron’s servo, dragging it closer to rest on their sparkling’s back plating. Megatron felt the gentle rise and fall of their sparkling’s vents and felt his spark melt.
This was his sparkling.
His little tiny progeny that would grow into a fully formed bot with hopes and dreams and aspirations. He felt tears begin to prick at his own optics, watching as big red optics looked up at him like he held the secrets of the entire universe.
“He’s perfect,” Megatron whispered, almost afraid to speak too loud and have it all vanish like a dream.
“Our little Destroyer.”
———————
“I’d like to announce his emergence,” Megatron said quietly, holding Destroyer as Cirrus rested in their berth. He’d hardly put the sparkling down since his emergence, scared to let go of him for even a second.
Cirrus gave him a tired smile, turning to look at them both and offering his digit to Destroyer. “I think that would be nice,” he said, delighting in the little peals of laughter as he tickled their son. “I think the other Decepticons would be happy to have him.”
“I’d like you to be there for it,” Megatron said, leaning in to kiss Cirrus’s helm. “But you’re exhausted. You just went through emergence, and you need to rest. We can see about setting up an announcement when you’re rested.”
Cirrus sat up, gently kissing Megatron before standing to grab energon. “I’ll be fine. Plus, rumors are probably already going around, it’d be better to stop them now before everyone thinks something happened to you.”
Megatron turned his optics back to his son, smiling at the soft little squeaky sounds Destroyer made as he reached for his sire. He nodded his agreement with Cirrus, offering his digit to Destroyer to gnaw on.
“We’ll make the announcement then.”
———————
Megatron watched as Cirrus leaned against Starscream, mildly shocked the other seeker was allowing the contact. He shouldn’t have believed Cirrus when he said he was fine, but it was too late now. He’d hurry and get this over with and then take him back to their hab for more rest. He strode forward, Destroyer carefully tucked against his chest.
“My Decepticons,” he started, staring out at the assembled troops.
“We have all fought bravely against the tyranny of the Primacy. We have all made the choice not to let a long absent god determine our leadership and throw us into servitude. We have made the choice to honor loved ones wronged and offlined by a brutal regime by ensuring their sacrifice will not have been in vain.”
“We will build a new Cybertron atop the rubble of what came before us and bury those that oppose us beneath the weight of their own cowardice! We will take the stand those before us were too scared to take to form a better world for those that come after!”
The Decepticons roared their approval, stomping pedes on the floor in a clamor of support. He’d become accustomed to their enthusiasm over time, but that didn’t make it any less intoxicating. He looked down fondly at the tiny form of his son resting in his servo before continuing. This was all for him.
“I come to you this cycle to celebrate not only our resistance, but new life.”
Megatron raised his servo and uncurled it slightly revealing his prize to the crowd and watching their shock as they realized exactly what he was holding.
A sparkling.
The first of the Decepticons.
“Destroyer emerged only a cycle ago, but he is strong,” Megatron continued, taking advantage of the hush that had fallen over the crowd. “As his sire, I am even more determined to reshape this world for him. I ask you all to reshape this world with me, not only for my creation, but for future creations of your own.”
“I will not rest while the Primacy continues and puts my son at risk. My son will never know a false god’s empty promises and hollow words. He will grow into the finest warrior Cybertron has ever seen, and he will inherit the empire I will create for him, just as any future Decepticons will inherit a free world. A free world we will forge in fire and energon until all traces of tyranny are gone!”
The roar of the crowd was just background noise to him as Megatron offered his digit to his son. He stepped backward to stand next to Cirrus, holding him tightly so he could lean his frame against him.
“Megatron,” came Soundwave’s monotone voice in his audial. “Autobot broadcast interception confirmed.”
Megatron’s smile turned wicked. Good. He was glad the Autobots had taken the bait. Let them know that Megatron would never back down now, not with his sparkling on the line.
Let Prime know what he’d never have.
Notes:
Megatron is a petty bitch and I will not be told otherwise. And trust I will be continuing to rage bait Knockout because it’s funny.
Also! If it’s not abundantly clear, I am very pro choice. However, the point here is unfortunately, when people are in complicated emotional situations, they don’t always make the best choices. All the medics can truly do is give everyone the most information they have so they can make the best informed choice for themselves. However, unfortunately no one in these two fics is making the right choices, that’s why there’s drama.
Anywho, here’s my PSA to make your own choices for your own body, and not let anyone pressure you otherwise! Also vice versa, don’t be trying to make choices for other people concerning their bodies.
Hope yall enjoyed this little sweeter chapter cause everything is going to hell in the next one🥰
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