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Megatron wasn’t like the other seekers.
He had no trine, and over the centuries many mechanisms had claimed that was the underlying issue. What this ‘issue’ was, Megatron had never been sure. But it wasn’t natural for his kind to be alone. To recharge alone. To fuel alone. To bathe alone.
Yet he had functioned perfectly well before the war without one.
And unlike standard seekers, his size excused him from the typical harassment his frame-type often suffered from grounders outside of his home city-state.
“…Are you …a shuttle?” An arrogant four-wheeler had once peered up at him during some ridiculous high-caste party he was working security for.
Megatron had stared down his nose at him, his wings spread wide, casting the rude little car in shadow. “What do you think?”
The car had glanced between Megatron’s face, and cockpit, and the thruster heels that could (and one day would) kill someone, and made himself scarce.
Most of Megatron’s interactions outside of Vos had went that way. Grounder’s too intimidated to do anything but admire from a great, great distance. He had preferred it.
Seekers weren’t so easily scared off.
“Starscream.” He warned.
The seeker in question, who was meant to the standing to attention at the side of his throne, reluctantly withdrew his servo.
“You have a scuff mark.”
“Leave it.” Megatron ordered, flicking a large wing out to ward the pest off.
It didn’t deter Starscream. He reached again, “I can just-“
“Stop-“ Megatron snapped, “-trying to groom me.”
Starscream’s lips pressed into an unhappy pout. He folded his arms grumpily. “Fine. Look scruffy.”
Megatron was perfectly content with that outcome if it meant he remained unbothered for the rest of his command shift. It wasn’t that he was so averse to touch, it was merely that allowing one seeker to fuss over his armour seemed to invite the rest of their trine too.
The last time he allowed it, it began with Thundercracker wiping the energon splatter from his chest after a particularly brutal battle against the Autobots, and ended with the entire Command Trine cornering him inside Astrotrain and trying to give him a full body polish.
He often suspected it was some form flirtation.
The majority of his air force, in fact, seemed to have some… less than professional interest in him.
He allowed it, because it kept them loyal. It kept them eager. But it meant he endured the endless sight of fluttering wings trying to steal his attention. It meant trines scrambling to be close to him in the air. It meant fights breaking out over who practiced manoeuvres with him.
And the over last few months, since their arrival on Earth, he had noticed an increased intensity in Command Trine’s determination to win these petty squabbles.
And while Starscream could threatened back into line, Skywarp was too dense and overfamiliar to take his warning growls to back off at face value.
“You got a scuff,” He said loudly, entering the war council with Thundercracker and pointing.
“Leave-“ Megatron began, but Skywarp was already on him, rubbing it off, then grabbing his helm to tilt away, inspecting his throat cabling and muttering that he’d gotten leaf stuck in there.
And before Megatron could even bark at him to sit down because this was a war council, Starscream was back on him again, pushing his wing down to get at the dirt build up in the hinges, and Thundercracker was licking a thumb to get a smudge on his cockpit glass.
Megatron stood abruptly, scowling at the three of them.
Slowly, they lowered their servos, expressions falling.
“Sit. Down.” Megatron warned.
Skywarp reached for him again, “Can I just get that-“
“No.”
Starscream huffed and Skywarp kicked grumpily at the floor and Thundercracker looked forlorn, but Megatron was not going to delay his war council for the sake of their rampant grooming urges. They were already a trine, for Primus’s sake. Couldn’t they just groom each other?
It went on like this for some time. They loitered outside his quarters on a morning, offering him energon so he didn’t have traipse down to the Mess himself, guarding him so relentlessly during battle he rarely had the chance to punch his own opponents. He had three unwavering shadows, that hissed and spat at anyone -Autobot, Decepticon, and seeker alike- who stood too near, or looked too long, or even had the audacity to speak to him.
“What will it take?” He asked Soundwave wearily. “What do they want from me?”
“Seeker culture; beyond Soundwave.” Soundwave informed him unhelpfully.
Megatron couldn’t escape the feeling he was being told he should know, given that he was the seeker.
But he had never trined. Had never understood or felt the need, and it seemed the absence of that relationship meant he had missed a fundamental part of being a seeker. And with Vos in ruins, civil society decimated, he would likely never learn it.
He grunted.
“Suggestion.” Soundwave then added. Megatron looked over in interest, though Soundwave seemed to hesitate to continue.
“Well?” Megatron pressed.
“Lord Megatron’s specifications; abnormal. Substantially larger than typical cold-constructed seekers.”
Megatron raised a brow.
“Really?” He drawled sarcastically. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“It is possible Lord Megatron’s size comes with unexpected benefits.”
“What benefits would these be?” Megatron snorted. His size was a benefit in war, yes. It meant he was heavier and stronger than not just other seekers, but most grounders too. But it also meant he was slower, less manoeuvrable in the air- he credited it as the reason he had not trined as a young mech.
Not that he had wanted a trine.
“Position of cockpit in chassis typically complicates carriage in seekers.” Soundwave stated.
Megatron blinked. “You’re talking about gestation?”
Soundwave paused a moment, probably summoning the courage to continue. “…Lord Megatron; desirable carrier.”
Megatron scowled.
Well, that explained a lot.
He had the Command Trine rounded up and brought to him.
This seemed to excite Skywarp, who thought any private meeting was an invitation to be inappropriate around his leader.
“Is this a war meeting or a fun meeting?” He asked, bouncing on his pedes.
Since Megatron had never held a ‘fun meeting’ in all his life, he ignored the little purple fool.
“We are at war.” Megatron told the three of them sternly. “You will need to stow your base instincts until a more appropriate time.”
Thundercracker frowned, “What base instincts are these, sir?”
Megatron glared at him. “You know which ones.”
Starscream sighed dramatically, “If this is about trying to keep you clean, if you’d just let us detail you in the wash-racks-“
“We will discuss your inappropriate grooming habits another time,” Megatron rumbled, folding his arms and fanning his wings wide. All three seekers stared at them, their optics growing vacant at the sight of them catching the light. “I’m referring to your ill-timed attempts at claiming me.”
Skywarp blew air past his lips. “Attempts?”
“You’re already ours.” Thundercracker frowned. “We claimed you.”
“Like Ramjet and his pointy-headed freaks stood a chance,” Starscream scoffed, glaring at Megatron.
This was news to Megatron. He could ask when and how and why, but that would risk diverging further from the point he was trying to make, which was:
“I’ve no interested in being part of a trine.” He growled, disregarding this claiming nonsense.
The seekers all shared a look.
“Uh,” Skywarp began awkwardly. “You kinda need one.”
“I beg to differ.”
“We’re merely securing our future,” Starscream stepped in, and Megatron knew exactly what future they had in mind- procreation, filling a viable carrier with a clutch of their eggs. “We’ll continue to hold the claim on you, and should you decide you’re finally ready to be courted-“
“I have no interest in being courted, either.” Megatron glared.
“We’d be real good to you, sir,” Skywarp told him coyly. “Haven’t we shown you how nice we can be? Protecting you? Grooming you? Getting you fuel?”
“I am capable of doing all that myself,” Megatron reminded them with a huff, more exasperated than angry. Because they were, in their own way, endearing. Skywarp’s naivety and Thundercracker’s earnestness and Starscream’s…
Well, Starscream wasn’t particularly personable. But Megatron was oddly fond of him, nonetheless.
“It’s not right that you’re alone,” Thundercracker told him earnestly - but they were words Megatron had been hearing all his life. “Don’t you get cold during recharge? What if you need someone to clean the backs of your wings? What if-“
“I’ll know where to find you.” Megatron interrupted, just to shut them up.
“You say that…” Skywarp began grumpily.
“We’re at war.” Megatron said firmly. “And these relationships? They’re vulnerabilities, they create weaknesses.”
“Not for seekers.” Starscream pointed at him. “And you would know that, if you became our forth.”
The irony was, if Megatron had known them before the war, been claimed by them, courted by them? He would have allowed it. He would have probably even been happy with them.
“No,” he decided. And that was final.
He left them there -scowling and scheming and dejected- but knew it wasn’t over.
In Vos, seekers were rarely allowed to remain un-trined after a claiming.
They weren’t in Vos anymore, but it seemed his seekers were determined to carry forth that tradition here on Earth, too.
Megatron wasn’t like the other seekers.
When the urge to interface grew too great, he took care of it himself; hunched beneath a solvent stream in the shower, his wings low and shuddering as he yanked on his spike and let the evidence spill down the drain.
He knew the other seekers would spent hours in berth together, decadently pleasuring one another in every manner of position, exploring their frames and wings adventurously. A trine’s off-shift would be spent almost entirely within their quarters, their activities within no secret to anyone with working audials on the same deck level.
Megatron could hear them on his way to his duty-shift, his stride slowing as his audials caught the thuds and clatters and gasping breaths.
Something stirred low in his belly, clenching as he heard Skywarp’s low, deep moan.
Megatron dampened the sensitivity on his audials.
He didn’t need a trine.
He didn’t want a trine.
Yanking an overload out of his spike in the shower that evening didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as it should have.
The elite trine continued to pester him in the weeks that followed, but at least the intensity of their interest had ramped down notch.
They still brought him fuel, still shot venomous looks at anyone stupid enough to glance at Megatron’s wings, still cooed at his minor scratches and scuffs and tried desperately to get their servos on him to fix near-invisible imperfections.
When he refused, they would simply dote on each other instead.
Megatron watched out of the corner of his optic as Thundercracker fussed over Skywarp’s left wing, brushing away dust and adjusting the angle. Skywarp thanked him with a little kiss to the corner of his jaw. Thundercracker’s wings rose, high and happy.
Something in Megatron’s chest ached.
His own wings shifted on his back; they were low, flicking restlessly. Cold and untouched.
That evening in the wash-racks he leaned against the bulkhead as he pumped his spike, grinding his wings back against the tiles to create friction, trying to stimulate them.
It wasn’t enough. He felt an emptiness form at the centre of his chest as he watched his transfluid swirl down the drain at his pedes.
Using his spike to service himself was not only easier than his valve, but he was more used to it. Partners in the past had been too appreciative of the size of his spike array to ever bother with his valve.
But it was more sensitive, he realised when he fingered himself in berth- helm thrown back, wings shifting across the padding. More intense.
He thought about Skywarp’s mischievous face between his thighs as he rubbed his swollen node. He thought about Thundercracker’s spike pushing in, stretching him open, as he spread his broad digits and thrust them. He thought about Starscream grinding into him, rutting into him from behind, as he rolled into his front and humped the berth.
They would touch him. Kiss him. Play with his wings. Keep him warm. He would want for nothing.
He should have had a trine, he realised miserably, panting into his pillow in the aftermath of his overload, still thinking of their pretty faces and dainty wings and how good they always smelled.
The war be damned, he deserved a trine.
Megatron wasn’t like the other seekers.
He didn’t dance around things, didn’t delay with silly little courting rituals like grooming and sky dances and whatever other nonsense he was supposed to be doing.
He strode up to the quarters of his Elite Trine, hammered his fist against the door with the most aggressive sounding knock possible, and waited with a scowl on his face for one of them to answer.
That he was already charged up didn’t help matters. This wings weren’t lying comfortably; they felt too heavy and he kept having to flick them. The sensors were tingling like they wanted something, he just couldn’t tell what.
But he knew the other seekers would know.
They always seemed to know what he needed.
He just never let them give it to him.
The door opened and Skywarp was there. Skywarp, who took one look at his scowling, twitching face and smiled so bright and welcoming, grabbing his servo and towing him inside.
“Lord Megatron! Come in, your wings look a little dull-“
“My wings are fine,” Megatron rasped hoarsely. His servo felt large and brutish in Skywarp’s smooth, polished hand.
“No, they’re not,” Starscream appeared, aghast. He bounced up from the berth where he had been reading and came up behind Megatron, taking in the state of him with mild distaste. “Ugh. Do you ever polish them?”
No, he didn’t. He couldn’t reach. And he didn’t gave a trine to do it for him.
“We’ll fix It,” Thundercracker said kindly, helping steer him to the berth Starscream had vacated in search of polish. Their berth.
It was larger than the standard, wide enough for all three seekers, wings included.
Room for another, if they chose.
Megatron sat on it, feeling out of place and tense with pent up frustration.
“Honestly,” Starscream came back, muttering to himself. The berth dipped behind Megatron as he climbed up, polish in hand. “You’ll get rust back here.”
Megatron grunted, but shuttered his optics when a soft cloth touched the armour of his right wing and started to work in slow circles. Thundercracker joined in, leaning close to rub polish over the front side. Megatron became hyper-aware of how close he was. How deep the blue of his armour was.
He allowed himself to relax, his shoulders and wings loosening with every slow rub.
They had polished him before -they were the only mechs he would allow to do it- but he had never let himself enjoy it. He always held himself tense and stiff, waiting for it to be over, never wanting to make a fool of himself.
He sighed softly.
“You like that?” Skywarp’s voice was by his audial, warm and close.
Megatron flickered an optic online and Skywarp was there, studying him. He leaned back in surprise and it gave the seeker all the room he needed to invite himself in, taking a seat on Megatron’s thigh. Megatron tensed, before reminding himself- he wanted this.
He was allowed this.
“C’mere,” Skywarp’s deep voice murmured, reaching for his shoulders.
He rubbed polish over them and along his clavicle seams. Megatron shuttered his optics again.
His wings were now warm and relaxed. Thundercracker and Starscream teased the sensors as they worked. Then Skywarp’s cloth moved up his neck and swiped along his jaw, rubbing polish lightly into his cheek.
Megatron’s optics onlined just as Skywarp decided to lean in.
The cloth fell away as Skywarp cupped his face in both servos to kiss him.
Megatron groaned into it, helpless. He was melting at their touches, at the gentle scent of the polish. Arms circled his neck from behind, tugging his back to lean against Starscream’s chest. Thundercracker squeezed the edge of his wing.
Megatron felt himself fall back, dragged down by Starscream. He settled between the seeker’s thighs and let Thundercracker and Skywarp crowd him from above, taking turns to kiss him, each deeper than the last, leaving his lips wet and swollen.
“Yes…” he breathed, as Starscream’s servos stroked up and down the flat of his wings.
“You need us.” Skywarp whispered, servo on the inside of his thigh, sliding up and down, getting closer. “You need this.”
Megatron nodded. He did. He did.
“Don’t tease him, Warp,” Thundercracker admonished him. Then to Megatron, said softly, “We’ve got you. Open up for us.”
Megatron didn’t take orders from anyone. But here, he was going to be looked after. They were going to take care of him.
He opened his panel.
Starscream purred in his audial, claws scratching lightly at Megatron’s wings and sending tingles shooting through his sensor net. Thundercracker moved between his thighs, he and Skywarp pushing his legs aside to get a better look. Megatron could feel the air on his valve. He felt himself clench, quivering with anticipation.
Skywarp bit his lip and groaned at the sight of him, ducking his helm.
Megatron’s hips jumped when a glossa licked over him, slipping between his folds and catching on his node. It was just as he imagined it, Skywarp’s handsome face between his thighs, lapping at his valve.
He grew wetter, his lubricant mixing with Skywarp’s oral fluids until he was slick and glistening.
Thundercracker coaxed his spike out. It was a good size, fitting perfectly in his own fist as he stoked it, curving upwards slightly towards the tip. Skywarp moved aside so Thundercracker could drag Megatron’s hips up, lifting his big aft into his lap.
Skywarp didn’t back off entirely though. He flicked his glossa over Megatron’s node as Thundercracker lined himself up, sending zaps of delightful charge through Megatron array. He felt Thundercracker at his entrance, easing into him, and Skywarp started licking at where they joined.
Thundercracker groaned, “Don’t Warp, I’m gonna go off.”
Megatron moaned as Thundercracker sank into him, parting his callipers and filling him up.
Starscream’s cheek was pressed to his own, nuzzling him as he cooed, “Isn’t that nice? Doesn’t that feel good?”
Megatron bit his lip to keep from agreeing. As Thundercracker started to frag him, a slow and stuttering start, Skywarp took Megatron’s node between his lips and sucked. He was overloading before Thundercracker had even found a rhythm.
He cried out, trying to arch up, but was stopped by Starscream’s arms, holding him down.
Thundercracker grunted, faltering as the sudden squeeze of Megatron’s valve threatened to send him over.
“Frag,” he hissed, starting up again, glaring down at Skywarp as he drove into Megatron’s oversensitive valve.
Taking the hint, Skywarp lifted his helm away, wiping his mouth with the back of his servo.
“Primus, I can’t wait to get in there.”
Megatron’s charge ballooned again as he realised they were going to take turns with him. He moaned softly at the thought.
He overloaded again as Thundercracker reached his peak, cycling down hard when Thundercracker held deep and gasped, his servos clenching on Megatron’s hips. Megatron felt the warmth of it swirl through his internals, stirring his systems.
His optics flickered. That was what he had been missing.
Thundercracker eased himself out and within seconds Skywarp was taking his place, spike out and hard. He was thicker than Thundercracker, but shorter, and there was resistance when he pushed in. He couldn’t reach as deep, but Megatron’s valve ached at the new stretch.
Skywarp started to frag him without pause. The angle he chose meant his spike was rubbing against the cluster of sensors around Megatron’s node. He was fast and firm. Megatron’s optics flickered at the sensation.
“Frag,” Skywarp huffed. “Turn him over, Star. I wanna get deeper.”
Megatron was encouraged to roll onto his front and rise onto all fours, his limbs shaking under him. Skywarp’s servos were on his hips, pulling him back, pushing inside-
Megatron gasped aloud at the deeper angle. Skywarp felt bigger like this.
In front of him was Starscream, petting his wings and helm indulgently as he huffed and panted into his lap. Skywarp’s thrusts seemed to be driving him further forward, closer to him.
Within seconds, Starscream’s codpiece began to open. Megatron watched, open mouthed, as Starscream’s spike emerged from it’s housing.
There was a servo on the back of his helm, but he was already leaning in, struggling to catch the tip in his mouth as Skywarp rocked him with the force of his thrusts.
Starscream tasted like clean, polished metal, but as Megatron forced on the tip, suckling softly, he began to taste the bitter tang of transfluid. Starscream laid back and purred, pushing his hips up, wanting him to take more.
Megatron swallowed around him, taking him deeper, swirling his glossa round the shaft of his slender spike as Starscream pinched and massaged the tips of his wings.
Starscream overloaded within seconds of Skywarp, the purple seeker’s final hard thrust shoving Megatron further forward. Starscream’s spike bumped the back of his intake just as a spurt of bitter fluid burst from his tip. Megatron choked, but swallowed what slipped down his throat. The rest flooded his mouth, coating his glossa. Starscream moaned, squeezing his wings tight.
He dragged Megatron off his spike as Skywarp slipped out of him and pulled him up to kiss him, licking into his mouth to taste himself.
A servo pulled on his wing and he gasped into Starscream’s mouth, arching his back. Thundercracker had hold of him and was re-taking his position behind him. His spike was hard again. He was guiding it back towards Megatron’s valve.
Megatron continued to kiss Starscream lazily, grunting softly when he was re-penetrated.
It was glorious in ways he had never imagined it could be.
Megatron wasn’t like other seekers.
Maybe it was time he changed that.