Work Text:
“I own you, you are mine!”
His proclamations are followed by a violent thrust, spike piercing deep inside of Optimus’ valve and breaching the tight ring of protomuscles that separated his gestation chamber. The bulbous head massages at his twitching callipers, sending shudders down Optimus’ spinal strut.
“Ah~! You m-monster!”
Optimus is unable to hold in his wanton moans, helm thrown back to rest over Megatron's shoulder. His vision blurs, unable to even focus on the intricate details on the ceiling before he's pressed down on the berth and mounted.
The Autobot groans, digits clenching at the berthsheets like a life-line. He shakes his helm, knowing that any kind of struggle is futile. “N-no more… too much, too full ah…”
“Oh but I'm not done, nowhere near satisfied my dear Optimus,” Megatron purrs behind him. He leans down, nipping at the trembling blue finials. His fangs leave clear indents across the tips, an act that excites Optimus.
Lubricant gushes from his valve, frothing around the edges where their arrays connect and dribbling down his trembling thighs.
“Ngh… fragging Decepticreep…” Optimus’ insult is so half-hearted, coming out as barely a whisper. He can barely keep himself balanced on his knees, much less able to spit out vulgarities while being so deeply fucked.
Megatron takes pleasure in debauching Optimus. His spike grinds against the front of his abdomen, distending the protomesh that stretches to accommodate his girth. Pre-transfluid oozes from the tip, slowly coating Optimus’ innards with the dirty fluids and claiming him as Megatron's property. Only the sound of Optimus’ whines, Megatron's grunts, and their slapping frames could be heard in the large, lavish berthroom that belonged to the Decepticon warlord.
“Ah ah ah~!” Optimus no longer able to keep his intake closed, glossa lolling out and drool traveling down his jaw. “Fuck you, I hate you– ah, stop pressing there ngh ah!”
“Oh, you mean here?” Megatron angles his thrusts, pulling his spike back by a few inches and changing the angle. He quickly finds the location of Optimus’ ceiling node, slamming into the nub with wild abandon.
“No no no– ah frag~!”
Megatron chuckles, pressing his servos into the mech's alloy plating across his waist. The entire diameter of his waist is encompassed by the length of Megatron's servos. This helps him keep a firm grip on the bot's frame as he sets a rhythmic tempo and thrusts in and out of his swollen valve. The lips cling to the base of his spike, sucking over a pulsing vein and making the warlord shudder in pleasure.
He leans in close, pressing his forehelm across the nape of Optimus’ neck. “Mine, all mine, you belong to me.”
Coolant clings to Optimus’ optics, lashes fluttering from the surplus of stimuli coursing through his fuel lines like a burst of pure ecstasy. “No, I'm my own–”
“Foolish!” Engines thrum wildly, fans hitching open with a mighty roar of hot air. “How long will it take for you to understand that you Autobots have lost. You no longer have a purpose or reason to live as an autonomous being. You are property.”
Optimus is pulled back by his waist. His mind is too disoriented to understand their new position, only aware of the way his helm spins painfully for a few seconds before he's humping the air and crying like a buybot in some AV datapad filmed at an oilhouse.
“S-stop– ah ah oh frag c-close so close mm!”
Megatron lays wholly on the berth, keeping Optimus seated on his spike. The new position allows him the opportunity to tease at the remaining callipers that were overlooked, massaging at bundles of nerves that had never been touched before, thus fueling Optimus with a new burst of pleasure he’s never felt before. Megatron decides to use this moment to focus solely on satisfying Optimus and keeps his spike plugged deep inside of that tight heat while bringing his servo around to massage at the throbbing anterior node peeking over the hood of his soaking wet valve.
Megatron grins, seeing Optimus startle before his frame flails, trying to escape the assault on his poor node.
“So pliant for me now that I have you overcome with pleasure. This is exactly how I want you, legs spread and crying for my spike every day and night.”
He pinches the nub, caressing it between his digit-pads. The act causes Optimus’ valve to tighten, walls clenching around Megatron’s twitching spike, trying to milk him for that delicious transfluid that is so close to being spilled across his dirty walls.
“P-please please Me– Megatron ah…” Optimus begs. His brain module burns, feeling like his circuits are melting and turning him into a puddle of desperation. Processors begin rerouting fuel to vital functions and causing that surge of charge that had been building up in his abdomen to tighten and coil like a pair of springs. “Oh Primus just give it to me!”
“Give what, Optimus? If you don’t speak clearly then how am I to properly provide you with your demands?”
Optimus grits his dentae, ignoring the warlord’s teasing remark to use whatever strength he has left and grind his hips down in circles over that fat spike, pressing it back into his gestation chamber. Slotting it back into that one spot that felt like it had been built just for Megatron, just for his spike to ruin and desecrate.
This actually catches Megatron off-guard who sits up and digs each digit across Optimus’ waist until he’s certain he’ll leave bruises all over.
The Autobot vents in relief, turning back to stare into those ruby optics with a heavily satisfied smile. “You fit perfectly, so good, inside of me…” Servos tenderly rubs against his abdomen, pressing over the bump that is Megatron’s spike and whining softly.
“You!” Megatron’s spark beats wildly against his chassis, his entire frame bursting with a surcharge of energy that can no longer be contained. “You asked for this!”
With his powers combined, he easily lifts the small mech off his spike. Raising him like he weighed like a feather and then dropping him back down on Megatron’s spike with the force of a ton. The spike penetrated all the way through, brushing over all the sensitive nodes and finally, finally bringing Optimus over the edge that he had been precariously leaning over since the start of their shameless tryst.
“Ah ah Megatron oh frag ngh~!!”
Intake wide open as a sob tears from his voice module, Optimus can no longer control himself as a small trickle of transfluid spurts from his valve before the liquid sprays out in a beautiful arch, covering the berth in his dirty liquids.
“Don’t look, no!”
“Oh but I will, I wish to savor every moment of your overload. Like I said, you can no longer make demands. Everything you are is now mine!” Megatron’s thrusts never stall, bouncing the squirting bot on his spike like a toy. He smirks, enjoying the lewd show, enjoying how Optimus becomes addicted to the lust and euphoria of being absolutely fucked like crazy.
Ngh mn ah ah deep so deeeep…”
“Mine, you are mine, it is best that you remember that because I will make sure that not even Primus or Unicron themselves can ever dare to separate us.”
“Forever?” Optimus asks, oblivious to the kind of question he just asked.
The trail of transfluid slowly lessens until there’s only viscous globs of sticky fluid pooling out of his dirty hole. Optimus’ entire frame and spark have tired of the ordeal while Megatron’s abuse of his hole reaches a crescendo. He impales Optimus on his swollen spike, hitting the very back of his gestation chamber and spilling his creamy transfluid all over the bot’s insides. Optimus’ brows furrow, intake wobbling as the only thing he can muster is a long, drawn out whine. He’s kept grounded on Megatron’s lap, forced to feel every pour of his transfluid coating every section of his valve walls until he’s filled to the brim with the Decepticon’s release.
Only their rapid vents fill the room. They show no sign of moving, simply regaining their bearings and slowly coming to the realization of what just happened.
Optimus frowns, holding back his coolant tears and staring up at the ceiling with regret.
Megatron smiles, nuzzling his helm against Orion’s shoulder. With a servo he spins the bot around, cradling the back of his helm and pulling him into a passionate kiss. It’s one-sided but Megatron could care less, not when he feels those plush lips against his own, glossa exchanging saliva and optics burning with a great anger.
They pull away and Megatron smiles through his bleeding lip.
“Forever and ever.”