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Megatron stalked through the halls of Starscream’s palace, closing in on the throne room, where he planned to catch him.
His processor is filled with thoughts of what frivolous ornaments would adorn Starscream’s frame; how perfectly he’ll be polished. A shining prize waiting to be taken.
He’s trying to get into the mindset of someone who’s going to enjoy Starscream for the first time. Against Starscream’s will.
Sleeping with the Winglord was such a gamble-- Starscream either wanted to be fed energon bon bons and then clanged into stasis on an elegant chaise, or some other indulgent whim that distracted Megatron from his duties as Lord Protector.
Or they're doing something like this.
When Starscream had casually mentioned to him during his last dinner party that he was in the mood to be conquered and assaulted by a powerful, unmannered brute, Megatron had merely frowned at him.
“You want me to act like a barbarian?” he asked, dryly.
Starscream’s smile had been unpleasantly coy. “Oh, like it's difficult for you.”
Sometimes, it was better not to question Starscream’s motives. But Megatron would be lying if he said the thought of roughing up Starscream didn't appeal to him as well. Starscream’s obnoxious, knowing smirk told him he had figured Megatron would find his request enticing.
And, well. Here they were.
When Megatron entered, Starscream was pacing the throne room, agitated, as if he were a prisoner in his own palace.
Upon hearing him arrive, Starscream turns to glower at him. He radiates arrogance, as he places his hands on his waist and cocks his hip, in an exaggerated, sultry gesture that displays all the charms of his frame.
Megatron’s HUD pings to deploy his spike.
He could deploy it, right now. While Starscream was still gasping in surprise, he could tackle him to the floor like a horny mechanical. Grind his elegant nose into the tile and not allow him to rise until he was half-senseless and heavy with his transfluid. It would be in character.
But it would be no fun to spoil this so soon. Starscream looked so good, he wanted to admire him a bit longer. Let the tension rise to a fever pitch before making any dramatic move.
That was clearly Starscream’s aim too, as he’s barely able to conceal his pleasure as Megatron ogles his long, shapely legs.
Starscream saunters over, scanning Megatron’s own frame with his lip curled. Megatron had arrived sooty with smoke and ash like he'd just fought a battle. Starscream scowls at the grime he’s tracked in.
“It took you long enough,” he sneers. “What have you done with my trine?”
“They're not your concern anymore,” says Megatron, playing along.
Starscream’s plating flares. “I thought we were meeting to negotiate their release.”
“You thought. I don't negotiate.”
Starscream throws his hands up. “Then what are we doing here?”
“I thought you might want to beg for mercy,” says Megatron.
“Oh. How considerate,” drawls Starscream. “And here I thought you were a complete brute without any--”
“It’s not for your sake,” Megatron interrupts. “I think hearing your whimpering entreaties would be amusing.”
Starscream looks scandalized. “Who the pit do you think you are? Do you know who you're talking to?”
“Beg,” says Megatron. “Your palace has been overtaken. You have no other option. Surely, you have some foolish request you'd like me to fulfill.”
“The day I beg for mercy from a degenerate, uncouth disposable like yourself is the day I offline.”
“You expect me to kill you?” Megatron muses. “Hm.”
Starscream’s mouth twitches, but he stays silent.
“Let's not be hasty,” Megatron says. He slowly looks him up and down once more. “You will be put to better use.”
“You filth,” Starscream sneers. “I’d rather die than suffer that .”
“Hm. Your trine said much the same,” says Megatron, with a horrible, leering smirk.
He expects it, when Starscream flies at him, slashing at his optics.
He dodges his claws, and Starscream curses at him.
“Ah… you have spirit,” says Megatron. “I can tell you’ll be nice to fuck.”
And then he grabs at him.
Starscream evades, then launches himself at him again, this time slashing his arm open.
Starscream insisted they fight. He reasoned that it would be hotter if Megatron overpowered him and rendered him helpless before having his way. They knew starting out that Megatron would win, unless Starscream was unusually lucky. Knowing this will only end in one outcome, it’s only a matter of time before Megatron subdues him.
By no means does Starscream give Megatron an easy time, though. In fact, he seems determined to put him through the wringer before he can stake his claim.
Megatron tries to get behind him to grab a wing. Starscream uses them to balance, and he’ll be useless if they're pinned. Starscream has them lifted high, drawn close to his frame. At the first sign of Megatron grabbing for them, his wings shoot up like an arrow, out of his reach. They were previously fanned out, blocking Megatron’s view of his torso, so when they snap together and shoot up, it obscures Starscream’s movement as he winds up to roundhouse kick him across the face.
The kick connects, dazing him, and Megatron stumbles back.
Starscream finishes the kick with the barest pause to see the damage he inflicted. His optics are bright, goading him on as Megatron rubs at his jaw– and that’s Starscream’s mistake.
Megatron comes at him immediately, and Starscream, taken aback by his recovery, sloppily claws at the least-armored parts of his frame– the face, and any exposed protoform he can find. With an opponent like Starscream, getting a fuel line slashed is a real possibility.
Starscream, as usual, goes in too hot and doesn’t think several steps ahead. He can’t resist pausing to gloat when he manages to cut Megatron or land a hit.
Megatron, to his credit, is sufficiently goaded as Starscream taunts him and smacks him around.
After enduring several minutes of Starscream’s antics, Megatron is burning to jam his spike in him. Roleplay or not, Starscream just had that effect on him.
When he gets ahold of Starscream, it’s by the wings-- both of them-- and he’s not gentle about it. Starscream squawks in indignation as his delicate appendages are yanked, and forced together where they protrude from his back. The hinges jerk and creak, the plating rattles violently as Starscream tries to flick them out of his grasp.
Starscream stumbles, his gyroscope struggling to re-calibrate with his wings pinned. He throws his arms out at his sides in a poor attempt to correct his balance, but topples sideways and ends up getting dragged across the floor by his wings. He twists and swipes, trying to claw Megatron, but his movement is severely restricted.
Metal shrieks as his plating scrapes the floor, the din outclassed only by Starscream’s own shrieking.
It definitely doesn't hurt to drag him by the wings, as they're meant to support his weight, but Starscream is howling pathetically that it hurts, and they’re going to tear off, like he's going to get somewhere with that lie. When he doesn't, he gets angrier and starts threatening violence, which is just as ineffective.
“I’ll kill you! Do you hear me!?” he shouts.
With his voice echoing through the palace, Megatron can’t hear anything but him.
He throws Starscream facedown at the foot of the throne and wrenches his arm behind his back. Starscream thrashes beneath him, cursing, his wings beating ineffectively against Megatron’s sides as Megatron drags a hand over the curve of his hip, leaving behind streaks of grime.
“Don't touch me! You're filthy!” Starscream wails, kicking at him.
Indeed, wherever Megatron has touched him, smudged, dark handprints decorate his silky white plating. Megatron admires the easy slide of his hand over his aft while Starscream screeches his displeasure at him.
When he pries his modesty panel open, Starscream is soaking; his prim, dark valve plump and glistening.
Megatron grasps his polished thigh beside it and tugs it open to better see his array. He feels smug as he leaves another dirty handprint behind.
“Present yourself to me,” he orders.
“Eat slag!” Starscream spits.
Megatron slaps his valve, and Starscream’s legs jerk.
“How dare you!” Starscream shrieks, kicking him again.
So Megatron continues delivering rough, stinging blows right against his node and sensitive intimate mesh, until Starscream is howling in pain and embarrassment. Then, Megatron switches to marking up his thighs and aft. By the time he’s finished, Starscream has left a little pool of lubricant beneath his hips. His valve continues to spill, in a slow, sticky drip.
But his hips are raised, arched up to show off his array.
“Here,” Starscream rasps miserably. With one shaking hand, he reaches between his legs and spreads himself. “Look.”
Glowing sensors line the interior, softly pulsing in time with the charge flowing through him. His red node glistens, jewel-like, crowning the apex of his prim little slit.
Megatron grunts his approval, watching Starscream struggle to keep his soaking valve parted. His fingers slip and press in slightly. Megatron briefly entertains the idea of making him finger himself to overload before he has his way with him, but decides that’s beyond the limit of Starscream’s obedience.
Besides, he has a better idea to humiliate him.
Now that his conquest has suitably humbled himself, Megatron runs a thick finger through the swollen, dripping cleft of his array, before pushing it straight in. Starscream writhes as Megatron works it deep, swishing it around his valve.
“What are you doing?” asks Starscream, when Megatron’s fingering doesn't progress beyond mere exploration.
Megatron hums. “Making sure you're not defective here before I risk my spike.”
“You must be joking,” says Starscream. Megatron ignores him, sliding his finger along the length of his walls, prodding and spreading, like he’s truly inspecting him for defects.
“I’m not shareware, you brute!” Starscream protests. “Stop this at once!”
“I’ll determine if your valve is adequate to sheathe my spike,” says Megatron.
“Adequate!? ” Starscream’s shout rattles the walls, as he briefly forgets he's not supposed to be fishing for compliments from a barbarian. “I am the most flawless mech you've ever seen in your miserable existence-- how dare you condescend to-- oh--!”
Megatron shoves another finger in and screws it against a sensitive cluster of nodes.
He fingers him more purposefully, massaging rapid circles right up against a spot he knows Starscream loves. Starscream’s valve begins twitching.
“Stop!” he demands, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.
Megatron gleefully continues playing with him.
“What a strong reaction. No shareware enjoys this so much.”
As his fingers aggressively target his ceiling node, Starscream’s legs kick and toss, and his cries become even more hysterical, until he’s sobbing pathetically.
“Stop it! Stop!” he wails. “I’m going– I’m going–”
He went– and easily, Megatron noted with smug pride– with a snap of charge, squeezing around his fingers. All the while screeching like a beastformer having its wires stripped.
In any other palace, the servants would come running, concerned that their master was being gruesomely murdered. Here, they were well aware of Starscream’s flair for dramatism, and Megatron was free to make him squeal until his vocalizer gave out.
With one last stuttering yelp, Starscream collapsed. Lubricant drooled from him, adding to the mess on the gleaming tile below his array.
Megatron can't resist leaning down and licking his trembling valve. He withdraws his fingers in order to drag his glossa over his entrance, lapping up the lazy spill. The taste is rich and metallic, and every lick makes Starscream’s legs shake uncontrollably.
Starscream shoves Megatron’s face away with his free hand, whining about being sensitive.
For the first time tonight, Megatron relents, and pulls back, but only because he doesn't expect a conqueror would eat their victim out when their spike was so eager to be sheathed.
He wants to see Starscream’s expression while he takes him. It’s always a treat to watch him being spiked. He flips him on his back for this, and for his indulgence, he's rewarded with a petulant snarl and a claw to the face. Megatron bends Starscream’s legs up to his chest and settles his weight on him so he can hardly move, much less dig out his optics. His shoulders are getting scratched to pit though. Starscream keeps trying to bite his throat as well; perhaps tear out some of his neck cabling. Megatron loves that he’s fighting all the way to the end.
He allows his spike to pressurize against Starscream’s array, rocking his hips and relishing the warm friction against the supple valve. Then he pushes in.
Starscream could take him, despite their differences in frame size. But not easily even under casual circumstances, and the way Megatron was trying to bully his way in, Starscream was struggling.
Megatron sits back and pins Starscream’s arms as well, so he can watch.
Megatron didn’t know how Starscream did it– he certainly had a lot of practice sneering– but Starscream’s expression of revulsion didn’t change as he was penetrated. He looked the picture of horrified disgust, if not for the delighted flutter of his wingtips at being stuffed to bursting. They clicked the tile, drawing Megatron’s attention.
“You're enjoying this,” he says, stopping halfway inside just to tease him, leaning down to lick and caress Starscream’s neck.
The air is fragrant with the rich scent of his polish, emanating warm and sensual from his hot frame. His valve is so perfectly slick and silky, it takes all Megatron has not to ram into him. Then he remembers he’s been encouraged to do exactly that. So, he pushes concern for Starscream’s comfort to the back of his processor and mounts him like a beast, filling his valve with a violent shove of his hips.
Starscream yowls and arches under him, but takes it all.
“It seems we’re compatible,” growls Megatron. He begins thrusting in earnest and Starscream’s vents hitch. It takes him several more thrusts to answer.
“A frame like yours would never be compatible with one of someone of my status,” he hisses.
Megatron grunts. “Or maybe your valve is compatible because it's so cheap and unremarkable–being a seeker. There’s a hundred others like it. Your trine’s, for example.”
“What?” Starscream’s tone is dangerous, and Megatron takes the opportunity to tease Starscream’s protective side.
“Oh yes. They posed even less of a challenge than you. And I expect you’ll moan and overload around my spike the same way they did.”
A furious, anguished cry bursts from Starscream.
“You're a liar!”
Megatron continues, “How does it feel, taking the spike that ravished them? I made them mine.”
“Not yours,” Starscream snarls.
“What are you going to do about it?” Megatron asks. His hand drifts between Starscream’s thighs to tweak his node. He strokes it as he thrusts, until Starscream begins to shout threats at him again. “I’ll make you mine, too.”
Starscream overloads a second time, clinching Megatron’s spike so tightly in his glorious, hot little hole that Megatron loses the last of his restraint. He frags Starscream without mercy, pounding him into the floor. Starscream goes slack, unable to move as Megatron bears down with his full weight and crushes him into submission.
“You overload so willingly. You're an embarrassment,” he taunts.
Starscream’s optics are hazy, and oral lubricant slides down his chin. His worn-out vocalizer clicks and hisses.
“This means nothing...”
“It means your valve is weak– it easily succumbs to a new master,” says Megatron.
Starscream’s fans shriek. The clanging of their interface is thunderous.
“Swear allegiance to me,” Megatron commands.
Starscream shakes his helm. Megatron leans closer, brushing his mouth against his audial.
“I’m built for long haul expenditures of energy. You’re not. I’ll frag you until your spark burns out if that's what it takes.”
Starscream warbles a piteous whine– utter, raw pleasure at this point.
“Is that how you’d like your spark to be extinguished? Not in a blaze of glory, but from taking your conqueror’s spike?”
“No,” Starscream sobs, but his eyes are bright with excitement. “Please no..."
“Then swear.”
“My lord, my master…” Starscream begs, twining his legs around his waist and yanking him closer. “I'm yours. Have mercy.
Megatron groans. It takes all his strength not to kiss him, as overload consumes him and Starscream both.
Once his systems have recovered, Megatron realizes he's exhausted. His joints ache. Banging Starscream on the ground with all his strength took it out of him.
Starscream sits up, disgruntled, twitching one wing.
“You idiot, you yanked it out of alignment!” he scoffs.
Megatron couldn’t see any difference between the two.
“Should I yank the other one to match it?”
Starscream kicks his side. “Get off my floor. You’re dripping energon all over.”
Megatron grunts dismissively– they’re small cuts after all.
Meanwhile, Starscream has sprung up and is brushing himself off. Megatron is surprised he can even stand, albeit with some bow-leggedness, after being fragged into the ground, like Megatron didn't give it his all. One of his many mysteries.
Megatron hauls himself up, joints groaning. Starscream struts off and motions for him to follow.
They walk off together for a bath, where Starscream demands that Megatron massage his wing back to its proper place. And then demands a normal wing massage.
Megatron grins. More of the usual.