Work Text:
The helm hit the floor with a solid thunk in front of him.
“What is this?” Megatron growled, slowly looking up from the growing puddle of energon before him to meet a pair of narrowed crimson optics.
“A gift,” Starscream said, carelessly kicking the helm closer to him. Energon squelched beneath his pedes, but he stepped through it without mind to perch on the thrones’s armrest. “Do you like it?”
A pair of blackened optics stared dimly up at him. Megatron shook Starscream’s exploring servos off to lean forward and peer closer at it, scowl deepening. “I didn’t order Fissure killed.”
“A good leader shows prerogative,” Starscream said, leaning his entire frame against Megatron’s shoulder. His plating, usually pristine as new-fallen snow, shimmered with the energon coating it. “He plotted against you. He needed to die.”
“I highly doubt his plans were anything worse than what you come up with on the regular, Starscream,” Megatron responded. The energon had smeared across his side, thick and still warm, and he shifted in the throne as it dripped along his plating.
“That isn’t the point.” Starscream traced a claw along Megatron’s pauldon, catching a fat drop moments from falling. He raised it to his intake, humming softly as the warm, sour fuel hit his glossa, and Megatron’s optics fixed to his throat tubing as he swallowed. “When your old spark finally sputters out, it certainly won’t be by the unimaginative machinations of some nobody.”
He reached out to swipe more of the energon onto his claw. Megatron seized his wrist before he could withdraw it.
“Is that jealousy I detect?” he asked, amused. Turning in his seat, he bowed his helm to capture the digit between his own lip plating.
His grip had to be painful, and Starscream made an indecipherable noise, perhaps a protest or perhaps a moan. Megatron savoured the pungent taste, watching with heated optical sensors as the seeker’s fans sped up and he shifted in place.
After a few long moments of delightful squirming, he released Starscream’s wrist, letting him pull it back to himself quickly and inspect the dents his digits had left in the plating.
“You’re such a brute,” the seeker hissed, shaking the limb a few times. He made no attempt to move, and without waiting for another protest, Megatron wrapped one of his servos around his slim waist and hauled him bodily into his lap. Starscream let out a startled yelp, catching himself on Megatron’s chest with those deadly claws.
“Tell me, Starscream.” Megatron detached one servo from his chestplate and turned it around in his own hand to inspect it. The claws, though still sharp enough to rend metal in a single swipe, were just rounded at the tip, dulled from obsidian to steel. “Did you rip poor Fissure’s spark chamber out before or after you beheaded him?”
“What do you think?” Starscream’s cheek was centimeters from his own, optics dim and voice breathy. Megatron saw no reason not to close the gap, tilting his head to capture Starscream’s full lips with his own.
Starscream squealed in surprise, but returned the kiss in force, claws retracting from Megatron’s chestplate to sink into the base of his neck and draw him painfully closer. His lip plates parted a bit, and Megatron wasted no time claiming his conquest, imaging that he could still detect the taste of Fissure’s energon on his glossa.
“I think it was before,” he whispered as they separated, Starscream’s gaze slightly unfocused but locked firmly with his own. “I think you looked him right in the optical sensor as you dug your claws into his chest and relished in the screams. You’ve always been a sadistic little thing, haven’t you?”
It was hardly high praise, but Starscream purred as though it was, claws sinking deeper into Megatron’s back. Megatron’s servos tightened on his waist, his panels uncomfortably tight, and drew him in for another kiss. This one was much more intense than the first, Starscream nipping aggressively at his lips and driving his claws in hard enough to pierce a minor fuel line.
Megatron threw his helm back with a half-pained groan, unable to stop his codpiece from snapping open, and Starscream’s elegant face contorted into a cruel and sinfully beautiful sneer. “Eager, Lord Megatron?”
Megatron ignored him in favor of sliding one servo down to prod at Starscream’s valve panel, growling a soft command in his audial sensor. “Open.”
Starscream, despite what he often claimed, had never quite built up a resistance to that tone of voice, and his panel slid back with no hesitation. Megatron wasted no time slipping a digit down to prod at his folds, humming in amusement as it slid between them easily. “Eager, Starscream?”
“Shut up,” Starscream hissed. He detached his claws from Megatron’s back and raised one to his intake, glossa flicking out to catch the energon beaded on it. “Hmm. Bit bitter.”
It was a captivating sight, and Starscream knew that well, taking his time cleaning each of his digits off while maintaining incessant optical contact. Megatron pressed a digit to his anterior node in revenge, drawing a hitched moan, and slid the other past the rim of his valve. Starscream’s back arched, wings flaring wide as Megatron slowly fingered him.
“This is where you belong,” Megatron murmured, watching his second squirm and gasp on his hand. His gaze drifted up, meeting the empty optics of the helm still staring up at him from the floor. Possessive pride flooded through him, and his other servo tightened further around Starscream’s waist, making the metal creak in protest.
A sharp smack to his chestplate snapped him out of it. He blinked, looking down at a glaring Starscream. “That hurt.”
“My apologies,” Megatron said, running his servo over the dents.
“Ugh.” Starscream shook his helm in irritation. “Just frag me already, you useless idiot.”
Megatron sighed, but seeing no reason to protest, let his spike extend. Starscream swooped down upon it like a starving predator, and Megatron tried not to shiver as his claws scraped along the shaft, just on the edge of pain.
He glanced up again, meeting Fissure’s dark gaze, and smirked.
“What are you looking at?” Starscream squirmed in his lap, unable to twist fully with the servos on his waist. He finally caught a glimpse of the helm, and paused, turning back to face Megatron with a knowing glint to his optic. “Let me turn around. I want to look at him too.”
“I don’t want wings in my face,” Megatron told him, releasing him nonetheless. He wasted no time, squirming about so that his back was pressed to Megatron’s chest, wings lowered in a rare moment of obedience.
“He begged for mercy, you know,” Starscream said, letting his helm fall back on Megatron’s shoulder as he pushed himself up to hover over the fully-extended spike. “Even offered to let me be his second-in-command after he killed you.”
Megatron had been gently supporting his weight with his servos as he slowly slid down, but he couldn’t help pausing at the words, an incredulous laugh bursting from his chest. “What?”
Starscream rolled his optics and pushed his servos off of his waist, letting the spike seat itself fully in his valve and arching back into Megatron with an elated gasp. “Don’t worry, Master. I made sure to put him in his place.”
“That you did.” Pride swelled in Megatron’s chest once more, and he tilted his helm down to capture Starscream in a kiss once more. It was an awkward angle, but he was thankful for it, as it allowed him to keep his gaze locked with Fissure’s as he bucked his hips up, making Starscream squeal and reach back to dig his claws into the back of his helmet.
He relished in the pain, as always. Starscream was greedy and cruel, and he was well aware it was only a matter of time before the high of his latest kill wore off and he set his sights on the Decepticon throne again. A not-insignificant part of him looked forward to it; his second was at his most beautiful coated with energon not his own.
A harsh thrust drew a whine from Starscream's lips, and Megatron released him from the kiss, driving both of them towards completion. Starscream moved to meet each thrust eagerly, wings angled high in ecstasy and conveniently obscuring Megatron’s view of the violent scene in front of him. Fortunately for him, Starscream had clearly taken great joy in making a mess of the kill, and so he leaned forward to run his glossa along the edge of one wing, catching the energon smeared across it.
Starscream moaned at the sensation, valve cycling down on Megatron’s spike and claws slicing into the back of his helm, and with a cry of his own, Megatron followed him, dragging his hips down and holding him in place as he shuddered through the aftershocks of overload. The two of them sat there, fans blasting at full speed, until Starscream finally detached his claws from Megatron’s helm and rolled his shoulders, perhaps feeling the aftershocks of keeping them bent so far back.
“Did you like your gift, Lord Megatron?” he breathed, pulling himself off of Megatron’s softening spike and turning to face him. His optics were wide and innocent, as though he had not just a joor ago ripped a mech to shreds and dropped his helm at Megatron's pedes like a pet seeking approval.
“It wasn’t bad.” Megatron leaned back and raised a digit to wipe over Starscream’s cheek, catching yet more energon smeared under his optic. Humming, he slid the digit into Starscream’s intake, watching in amusement as the seeker’s optics shuttered and he moaned at the taste.
“It was great,” he huffed once the digit was clean, pulling his intake off of it. “You just don’t want to admit I did a good job.”
“You still acted without orders, and-” Starscream started to rise off his lap, looking distinctly unamused, and Megatron sighed. “Fine. You did well, Starscream.”
The praise did its job well, Starscream instantly diving back into him with a purr. Claws made their way back into his pauldrons as the seeker pulled him into a deep kiss, hips grinding down and wings fluttering affectionately.
Yes, he decided as Starscream nipped at his cables, fans at full blast once more, he liked his gift very much.