Therapy

Therapy


Cybertron was dying.

It was an uncomfortable and unavoidable fact that soon another source of life giving energon would need to be found if they were to ever revive their home world. The war had dragged on for millions of cycles with no end in sight and a left a decaying planet in the place of a once glorious society, crippling all who dwelled on it's surface and called it home.

War was destructive. It was sacrificial. It was stressful. And none felt the stress of it's burden quite like Megatron and Starscream. Fighting to claim Cybertron for the Decepticon cause was painful enough, but the battle that raged between the two warriors on a day to day basis left them with hardly any energy left for their actual targets. Nerves were regularly snapped and tempers flared. Every time Starscream threatened treachery, or Megatron insulted his SIC one too many times, the desperation of their hatred and desire to murder the other rose to a near crippling impairment and distracted from the true goal of destroying the Autobots. And seeing as how neither could permanently shake the other from their perch, a stalemate would have to be called every time and the pressure between them would spike to unbearable levels.

As tedious as Starscream's antics got Megatron still couldn't bring himself to end the jet's existence. He was far too useful. However this left the larger Con with a significant paradox of how he could cleanse himself of this rage and irritation without ripping the little brat's face off. The solution seemed to accidently stumble it's way in one day when Starscream had emerged from his quarters with a fresh coat of wax and all the pride of a Seeker with shining glorious wings and several pairs of optics roving over his sculpted frame. Megatron, being one of those pairs of optics, couldn't quite shake the image of those same wings pinned to his berth and of the pleasure that sight would bring. The promise of relief that he didn't realise he wanted, until it strutted right up to him and quirked it's hips in an annoyed fashion, was far too great to ignore. It wasn't as though he had never noticed the jet's aesthetic looks before. It was just hard to remember that Starscream was a handsome mech when the slagging traitor failed to shut up.

It wasn't long before curiosity grew too great and the tyrant wanted more than a simple imaginary glance.

It only took Starscream a handful of days to finally decode the strange behaviour Megatron was exhibiting of late. Behaviour that started with strange glances and odd comments and lead to an illuminating after battle exchange that had Starscream stop scratching his helm in sheer confusion and start cringing within his very shell at the outrageous assumption. A venomous comment on one of Megatron's latest failures should have merited a backhand or at least a poisonous response. Starscream received none of these usual reactions. Instead, Megatron brushed the insult off with an order to join him in private later where they had some things to discuss. Followed by a dark servo traced with deliberate relish along the jet's back struts. Where a touch of the tyrant's hand had for a long time promised pain and humiliation it suddenly transformed into something unexpected and frightening.

To back down from such an offer, even if it was an absurdly innuendo loaded farce of decent behaviour, would be cowardly. And so, swallowing down a wave of fearful apprehension, the red and white plated mech strolled into his master's quarters with hardly a knock and a poker face that could fool Primus himself. Whatever it was that Megatron thought he would gain from this invitation would be shot down the second his intentions surfaced. Even if he had to fight like Hell his pride, and what little honour he had left, would remain untouched. After all, nobody said 'No' to Megatron and Starscream thoroughly believed that the larger Con wasn't above taking whatever it was that he desired.

He was welcomed, pleasantly enough, with a curt nod and a suggestion that he make himself more comfortable. Not yet rising from his seated position behind his desk left a fairly substantial barrier between the warlord and the air commander. One that Starscream preferred stay that way. Politely declining the offer he remained standing with his back to the closed doorway. Within reach should he suddenly find the need for an escape necessary.

Amusement tugged at the corner of the silver tyrant's mouth for an instant, but was gone before the seeker could dwell on just what was going to happen next. Megatron turned his attention to his personal computer for a moment, punching a few buttons to dim the lights and bring up a projection of blueprints for a battle strategy that he insisted his Second in command reviewed with him.

Resisting the urge to roll his optics, Starscream ventured closer to the holograph and pointed out a few things he found flawed with the plan. After a surprisingly seemless debate between the two Decepitcons, a reformatted strategy was in place and ready for presentation. However, in the heat of their almost docile conversing, the Seeker had forgotten his initial suspicions. When the discussion was assumed to be finished Starscream gave his master a quick bow of his helm and turned to take his leave.

He didn't quite make it to the door before Megatron spoke his name and stopped him dead in his tracks.

Spark twisting in his chest, the jet turned to find his master had risen from his seat, already advancing with a slow deliberance that rooted the smaller Con to the floor. Crimson optics burned into his, daring him to turn tail and flee.

Megatron stood only a hand span from him and it was all Starscream could do to keep from twitching away. Despite the core searing panic, that all but demanded that he run screaming from the room, he remained still and tried to preserve his dignity. Lashing out or throwing accusations would possibly end in disaster. Cringing and displaying fear would only serve to inflate the tyrant's supremacy. Best to suppress the anxiety and keep one's wits about them.

Starscream couldn't bring himself to break optic contact. Even when the larger mech's servo raised to lightly brush his cheek, his name spoken so softly that it was a bare whisper on the other's lips. He fought back a shudder as his master pressed closer, leaning down and tilting his chin up in the same expecting motion. When he finally felt the second servo sliding up his lower back, and the heat radiating from Megatron's powerful chassis, that something vital snapped in his processor. And his composure.

He shoved out at the larger mech, finding little resistance as the surprised Con stumbled back, releasing him. Suddenly finding himself far too angry to even insult the slagger properly Starscream swore clumsily at him, cursing him out for his assumptions and his stupidity for even believing for a second that he could attempt to seduce him. Megatron weathered the tantrum. Remarkably enough, he allowed his Second to rant until he ran out of words and simmered down from his boiling rage to a more manageable degree.

When the dust settled, and that awkward post-catastrophic ambiance hung heavy in the air, did Megatron finally make his move. With nothing more than a grin the tyrant stepped back and gestured towards the door, relieving Starscream of any dread that he felt for his virtue. By nature the Seeker was not a trusting mech and therefore far more than sceptical. Not daring to test the boundaries of whatever sense of morality that Megatron had he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, trying to keep the tremble creeping up his support colum at bay.

Over the next few solar cycles it became quite apparent that he had no reason to fear the other Con. Although there were glances. Long, admiring, optics boring through the back of his head, glances that Starscream caught when the warlord thought he wasn't looking. Brief, but intentional, contact when moving around each other. Nothing that he couldn't simply ignore or avoid. Megatron obviously desired him, but not enough to attempt wrestling with the idea of forcing his second into submission. Which Starscream honestly couldn't decide if he was at peace with this or not. Part of him was relieved, glad even, that his leader would not resort to such an extreme violation of his person. The other part sneered at the weakness that this implied. In fact, he was almost insulted that Megatron would not at least attempt to capture him at all, but instead left the door open to Starscream to make the next proposition. Did the fool really expect this to turn into some sort of courtship? It was not as though the jet wasn't flattered by his master's attention. Far from it. It was a lovely little ego boost, stroking his already purring vanity, every time he imagined the powerful warrior's fists clenching in frustration. Most likely the brute went to berth biting his glossa nearly in half with the vexation of his own voracity. If so, than this could prove to be a point of vulnerability.

Though difficult to imagine Starscream was now faced with the possibility that he himself had become the chink in the tyrant's armour that he had so viciously been searching for. The opportunities that this little gap in Megatron's gleaming perfection offered to him became far too much a temptation to ignore.

However, this left the Air Commander with the sticky dilemma of just how he would use this new found weakness against the other Decepticon without resorting to the repulsive act of actually touching him. The warlord really wasn't hard on the optics and any mech should consider themselves fortunate to find themselves in his regard. Starscream was not one of these mechs. Ages old hatred, fortified with the jet's deep-seeded narcissism that screamed he disserved better, was the only obstacle standing in his way. An unfortunately gargantuan obstruction that wasn't planning on crumbling anytime soon.

And so, with no plan of attack, the red and white jet used what he had to torment and cripple his enemy from the inside.

He flaunted himself.

It had the desired effect. Cycle after cycle had Megatron practically tearing his optics out of his own sockets to keep from pouncing on the infurriating brat. While it would be easy enough to drag Starscream kicking and screaming to his quarters it would not resolve the initial predicament. Interfacing seemed like a simple and choice means of blowing off some steam and abusing his second would only serve to exasperate their already unstable relationship furthar. He woud benefit far more to scrap the slagger and be done with it, but that would be a waste and an unnacceptable solution.

Even more detrimental was the fact that now he couldn't get the devil out of his head. Starscream had seeped in like a poison, corroding away at his innards until he ached for reciprocation. Every cycle the little cretine slipped through his fingers left him suffocating on his own fervor.

If things carried on the way they were for much longer, he most assuredly would have murdered the Seeker if only to be rid of him for good. Relief finally came in the form of a horrible defeat, when the Autobots managed to steal a stellar cycle's worth of energon. Tempers between the two finally flagged leaving Starscream to sport a rather sizable dent in his facial plating. While it was no where near the SIC's fault the loss of their precious energon left Megatron with little to no pull. Someone had to take take the blame.

The injustice of Megatron's punishment infuriated Starscream. Revenge was a dish best served cold, but the Seeker's indignation would not allow for a precise and calculated plot. This revenge would be served hot. And hopefully the slagging megalomaniac would burn for it.

~~~

Megatron had not been seen in solarcycles.

The energon loss still stung as though it were a fresh wound, so the restless tyrant locked himself away where he could gather his demeanor and emerge with a half credible agenda that didn't involve beating the scrap out of innocent mechs. While it may not have been the wisest decision to approach his master's dark den at such a vulerable juncture, Starscream's blinding rage and ambition lead him there with hardly a cemented plan of action. Either way he expected only a handful of outcomes, all that could work in his favor depending on how he made his play. He would deal with them when, or if, they came. But for now, the jet had to focus on getting past the damn enterance. The rest he would figure out later.

He didn't even bother to test the door himself. Knowing that it would be locked he turned his attention to the intercome, jabbing at a button. A nearly inaudiable hiss of static filtered through the speaker.

"And just what do you think you want?" Megatron's growl greeted him.

Knowing full well that the other Con wasn't in the mood for any roundabout answers left Starscream with only one true response.

"You."

The long stretch of silence that followed almost made the Air Commander doubt that it had worked. Just when he thought that backing down would be the best option, the door clicked and opened. The bright hall lights chased the shadows from the threashold of the darkened room. Hesitating just a second, incase of an ambush lurking beyond the gloom, Starscream ajusted his vision in accordance and stepped in. Megatron was seated on his berth, legs folded and servos resting in his lap. His optics were dimmed, giving the impression of meditation. When the door slid shut, bathing the two Decepticons in near darkness, he looked up at the intruder with a lazy firebrick glow.

"Care to elaborate?"

Unease rose like bile in the Seeker's throat, but he had come too far to dismiss himself now. After all, the slightest of hesitation would benefit his act, adding more realism to what it was that he was here for, and what it was that he was asking of his leader.

"You heard what I said."

"I did, indeed," The silver mech replied, remaining stoic. "However, if I am to take your word with resolute, I need furthar explaination."

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He tried to keep the spite from poisoning his tone. "I came here because I want you."

The warlord's optics flashed a sudden interested crimson, narrowing for a moment before he shifted slowly and set his pedes to the floor.

"In what way, Starscream?"

Swallowing down that sudden urge to cringe, the jet took a bold steps towards the larger mech.

"The way you want me."

If Megatron felt any incredulity he certainly hid it well. Rising from the berth he closed the distance between them in a few strides.

"And what brought on this unexpected turn of events?"

Having already rehersed this part in his processor several times over Starscream allowed the side of his mouth to tug into a small grin, bright optics locked onto his master's with intent.

"You've been hounding me for decacycles. It's getting rather irritating."

Pressing closer to the large chassis a mere half-step away, the Seeker tentatively trailed his digits over the canopy of silver armour.

"I feel as though I'm going to burst with all this frustration pent up inside. Might as well do something productive with it."

The shift in Megatron was instantanious. As if the energon in his veins had suddenly boiled and a warm vibration flowed into the air between them. The very essence of the warlord's dark spark reached out to him causing a near convulsive twitch closer to the reverbration that drew at his own center. Bitting back a groan as a ripple of aprehension fluttered through his core, the jet dimmed his optics. A dark servo closed on the base of his neck, gentlely, but firm enough that Starscream couldn't overlook the forewarning.

"If you are lying to me...." The silver Con's voice rumbled near his auditory sensor, vocals heavy with the burden of his sudden arousal.

The threat lingered oppressively, but Starscream shrugged it off. It was either that or linger on the promise of pain that threat carried should things go awry. Daring to look up, he caught the larger mech's gaze and held it unperturbed. Pressing back with his own essance, he smirked when he felt the swell roll through Megatron's body, forcing the grip on his throat to sinche ever so slightly.

"I figure I'm due for a bit of truth."

It seemed to be the right thing to say. The hold on his neck trembled in the rush of victory for a split second before the silver tyrant yanked his second in command against his chest. His mouth crushed against the seeker's, core energy cresting and flooding Starscream's structure like a sweet elixer. His lips parted in a groan as overwelming sensations raked him from the inside. Processor stalling when Megatron deepend the kiss with a touch of his glossa.

As staggering and offbalancing as this all felt, he had to keep it together. He had to focus on his plan dispite miscalculating just how good the scrap pile would actually feel.

Of course...the plan. What exactly was the plan again? Enter quarters, trick fool into interfacing, and then.....slag.

He didn't realize Megatron had been cohercing him backwards until the hard desk bit into his hips. Suddenly the magnificent bastard's servos where everywhere at once. Stroking up his wings, running over his sides and dipping down to his thighs. All the while that slick glossa tangled with his own, sharp ventilations breathing down his throat and inflaming his every sensor. He reciprocated to the best of his abilities. Digits dug into silver plating, seeking sweet spots around the the base of his master's neck. Brief flashes of throttling the warlord only served to galvanize the urgency for more. He knew he happened upon a particularily lucious zone when the large Con drew back with a hiss and nuzzled into his collar with a relishing growl.

He was lifted off his pedes a moment later and resettled on the desk. Instictively he wraped his legs around the tyrant's waist, drawing him closer as the insisting nipping at his neck bid him to. Spark alight with a sudden desire that knocked all sense of reasoning from his tingling structure the seeker assulted the erogenous gap again, pleased when the larger Con bucked against him, growling so low his chassis thrummed.

"Starscream..." The tryant purred as he drew back, gazing at his second with a near manic fevor.

The fire in the other mech's optics cause a shudder to roll through his circuitry, forcing a strained whimper from the jet when Megatron's large servo groped up the front of his canopy.

"You want it?" He found himself saying as though a spell had been cast on him. Chest plates cracking open with a muted click under his master's minstrations, the tell tale glow of a fully aroused Cybertronian spark seeped like liquid ecstacy over the tyrant's dark digits. "Then slagging take it."

Mind and body cauterized by the wanton urgency in his second's vocals, Megatron dug deeply into the chink and pryed the seeker open so that his white core, exposed and tender, bathed the room in a burst of light. Holding the smaller mech to his chest he cracked his own spark chamber, allowing his energy to lap at the bared spark beneath him. A spasm ripped through the smaller mech's limbs. He clutched numbly to his master's shoulders, legs hiking up as he curled closer to that precious heat and the promising relief it would bring. A small keen escaped from his throat unchecked when large servos scooped under his aft bearing that burning core deeper.

Megatron groaned low and raw as Starscream's determined essence lashed back, doubling the force as if proffering a challange. One that he gladly accepted.

He shoved the Seeker down until his back struck the desktop. Starscream gasped from the severance of the connection more than the impact blindly reaching out to once again fasten his grasp on his master's structure, pulling him down and trying to re-engage that wonderous sync of energies. He needed it badly, before his already fragile and insecure composure had a chance to snap and have him beg the tyrant to stop. Before he had a chance to dwell on where he was and who he was with. Before that self loathing would hit like lightning and sap any pleasure that was still racing through his circuits.

The silver mech rose up and bore down once again, relishing the way his second squirmed beneath his grasp and the silent pleading in his bright crimson optics as he drew vent after vent of air. Dipping down into the jet's panting mouth, he kissed brutally hard, biting down on the other's trembling lip. Starscream felt his support colum melt as the savage display woke something far deeper than just his sensor nodes. Something that craved more than just laying back and taking it. Something that had him fumbling with the warlord's own paneling, digging his fingers into the crevace and yanking viciously. The vice of Megatron's servo closed on his throat again, pressing down on the taught cables and drawing out a submissive whimper that sounded vaguely like a 'please'. A sound so deliciously vulerable he lost his mind.

There was no holding back. He had held back for far too long. The swealtering rush of domination hit like a catalyst in his veins just as the feelbe prying at his chamber finally worked the panel open. Their cores met with a feral snarl and a shrill shriek. White hot pleasure burned through their circuits like wildfire. The charge of their combined passion accumulated, breaking against their structures in crests and waves as their sparks pulsed together. Overload hitting them moments later with a metal on metal grind as the silver tyrant crushed his air commander to his chest, cursing abrasivly into the crook of the smaller Con's neck. Starscream tensed in his embrace, digits raking down the gunmetal grey plating of Megatron's shoulders deep enough to carve navy blue tinted lacerations.

When the last spasm finally faded Megatron pried the Seeker from around his neck, where his servoes had fastened with a death grip during those final throws. Starscream relented after a few tugs and he dropped to his elbows, sitting up shakily as the larger Con shifted between his knees to give him space. For a few moments they vented in silence, drawing in deep cooling breaths as the akwardness settled in. The warlord's palms rested on the jet's hips keeping the afterglow alive for as long as possible before it died in an apoplectic fit. He half expected the vicious little mech, still proped up on his elbows and panting and not daring to make optic contact, to bolt from the room screaming.

Despite the effort the intimacy went terminal. Far less spastic than he predicted, but possibly far more painful.

Starscream blinked a few times, glancing up at his master with an expression of complete shock and awe. An expression that quickly warped into acrid disgust, like he was about to purge his tanks after one too many energon cubes. However, he tried to hide the ugly grimace with his servo, sitting up and rubbing at his helm in the same movement.

"Slag." He groaned miserably, as if he'd just dropped his said fictional cube, spilling it's unwelcome mess over his lap.

Megatron stepped back, allowing the Seeker to slide off the desk and catch himself on wobbly legs. Head still in his hand, he close his chest panels with a cold click, shoulder's hunched enough to convey his discomfort. The warlord sneered in near disbelief as Starscream tried to side step around him, taking his leave with hardly an afterthought on what they'd just done.

"Charming." He scoffed, causing the jet to shoot him an offended glare over his shoulder as he passed. "Planning to spit on the floor on your way out to insult me furthar?"

"What do you want from me?" Starscream snipped back. "To thank you? You honestly think that your performance was so spectacular that I should be grateful? It was amusing enough, but hardly the best 'face I've ever had."

The room went silent. It remained silent except for the sound of his own pede steps as he made his way to the door and exited his master's quarters. When he was not pursued, and he made his way back to his own berth without a fusion cannon blast to his exposed back, did he finally revel in his success. Despite the fact that the scrap pile probably was the best 'face of his life, and it was utter failure on his part to even acknowledge that, he had his small, petty little revenge on the bastard. No victory had ever been as sweet as a speechless, flabbergasted, and thouroughly insulted Megatron.

~~~

Life returned to normal. Unfortunately.

While optic contact was now far more difficult then ever, and made for some pretty awkward war councils, the two Cons managed to coexist just as disfunctionally as ever. However, Megatron's subtle advances ceased all together, leaving Starscream to almost lement the loss of such ego stroking attention. Often he would glance over to his master, expecting lazy optics to be trained on his aft, only to find the silver mech avoiding his general direction completely. Despite his adversion to interfacing Megatron in the first place the seeker suddenly found that life had become far more boring when compaired to the entertainment of being pursued day by day. Not to mention he knew just how good it felt when the warlord had finally 'captured' him and had his way with him. The very memory had him shivering on his berth night after night. It was only a matter of time, and several vivid dreams of dark servos on his wings, before Starscream would be forced to admit to himself that he had miscalculated and shot himself in the pede.

He wanted Megatron. As much as that notion hurt like a slap to the faceplates.

He would have liked to have thought he was stronger than some pathetic lingering lust. Certainly it had more to do with the fact that he had not been so pleasantly touched in so long that he forgot what a true overload had felt like and now craved that same processor splitting pleasure again. Nothing to do with the fool himself. While he tried not to dwell on the spark fluttering sensations this new predicament had left him with the universe had far better ideas and a few more cosmic jokes to play on him before his misery would end.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to function professionally around the tyrant while trying to keep his actions from betraying him. Often he would find himself shaken out of a day dream by the sound of Megatron's frustrated vocals, or a nudge from one of his trine as he drifted off during the middle of a briefing. Libidious fantasies vanishing and smacking him awake like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head, leaving him flustered. When called upon to speak, that brief acknowledgment would cause him to stutter stupidly, or grasping for words that seemed to elude him.

Not to mention that shameful solar cycle when he tripped and fell, crashing into the silver mech and introducing them both to the floor. Now, humiliated beyond mortified, he had to find some semblence of relief. Sadly, the one night stand he indulged in with Astrotrain failed to scratch his itch leaving him far more irritated and self pitying than before.

Swallowing his pride, or what was left of it, he approached Megatron. Almost praying the larger Con would blast him for his tresspasses.

~~~

Getting the silver mech alone was surprisingly easier than he had expected it to be.

It was possibly the most idiotic thing he had ever done all his stellar cycles. The first being that time he approached his master's quarters with a half-caulked scheme. This time he had no plan, had no angle. He simply called the warlord on his personal frequency and asked him, politely, to come to his quarters. The transmission had gone through, and had been received, but Megatron gave no response. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing remained to be unseen. Spark hammering nervously in his casing for a megacycle with no reply, Starscream gave up and went to berth. He couldn't recharge even if he tried, so he just laid there trying to keep his own servos from teasing along his plating. Self stimulation would only be sinking lower than he had already sunk.

Before he could cotemplate whether suicide should be his next option the door opened with a startling creak. The seeker sat up with a jolt and a terrified squeak as his door had been locked and should not have opened.

Megatron's large form filled the doorway, glaring across the small quarters with a less than impressed look on his face.

"How did you get in here?" Starscream scrambled to his pedes. "The door-"

"Unlocked because I have an override command on every door in Kaon." The other Con informed.

The Air Commander's frightened expression twisted to disbelief, but he didn't have time to linger on the uncomfortable invasion of privacy. Megatron stepped passed the threshold and into his personal hovel and shut the door behind him. Surely locking it with the same override that allowed him to pass.

"Now, before I rip you a new exhaust port, would you care to tell me just what the slag is going on?"

Chewing on his bottom lip, Starscream regarded the larger mech with a quick calculating sweep. While the other mech was clearly frustrated, possibly angered by the late night invitation with no clarification on what was to be expected, his posture still didn't carry that same rage that the jet had come to recognize. After all, there was no cannon aimed at his fragile spark chamber, no fist tightening around his throat with malice or intent to injure. Megatron stood at a respectable distance with no indication that he would make good on his face-saving threat. He had come here for answers, not retaliation.

Composing himself with a deep breath, Starscream approached his master cautiously, optics trained on the other's now curiously glowing ones.

"I have come to realise a certain...mistake that I had made recently." He chose his words carefully.

"A mistake." Megatron repeated with an empty tone, clearly demanding more of an explaination.

"Yes," The Seeker drew closer, noticing an uneasy shift in the warlord. "And if you would just hear me out, I promise I can make this worth your while."

Any patience the tyrant had was rapidly disappearing. He shook his head in disbelief, spurning his second, and scoffed at the very assumption that Starscream could ever redeem himself.

"Have you finally gone off the deep end and lost your tiny processor, or is this some kind of sorry assassination attempt?"

Feeling his very dermas sting, Starscream bit back a nasty retort and ground his dentals until the pain in his jaw soothed him.

"I know you have no reason to trust me. I've proven myself to be...quite difficult of late. But now I've found that my dishonesty with you, and myself, has become problematic."

"And you're just figuring this out now..." The tyrant almost laughed scornfully. "After all these stellar cycles you've finally admitted that your constant treachery has become problematic! I've been trying to get that through your thick skull for ages and now I'm to believe that you've had a sudden change of heart?"

Starscream clenched his fists, his own patience waning.

"That's not what I'm talking about, you imbicile!"

"Then what are you trying to say, Starscream?" Megatron spread his hands, gesturing towards the smaller mech. "What could you possible have to offer me? Your loyalty, your respect? I doubt you've ever had a grasp on those concepts long enough to bestow them to anyone, let alone yourself!"

"Y-you're not being fair!" He sputtered back, servos literally grasping at air as if he could pluck up some sense of reasoning that would penetrate the tyrant's impervious armour.

"Fair? You want to know what is not fair?" Ire rose in his voice and he jabbed a finger at the jet's chassis. "Having a mistrustful, incompetant Second in Command such as you, who I tragically must rely on if I hope to win this war, and just when I have a grasp on him, a way to keep myself from ripping his very sparkchamber from his chest and shoving it down his throat, it slips through and I'm back to where I started. Back to this! That is what is not fair, Starscream!"

Taking a deep vent, he stepped back from the stunned Con. Having said his piece Megatron shook his head once again, as if he still could not believe that he was there, standing in his Second's quarters and indulging the slagger in the first place. Throwing up his servos he turned away from the wide-eyed Seeker and attempted to leave.

"Mega-"

"Shut up!"

"Megatron!"

He could hear Starscream advance towards him. Twisting around, he raised his arm as if to swat out at the pest, but froze mid swing when the agile creature dug a servo into his shoulder joint to gain purchase and scaled the taller Con's chassis in the same movement. His warm mouth pressed against his a fraction of a second later, sapping the wrath from his very blood and replacing it with icy disbelief.

At first there was just the warm, seductive push of the other's lips against his own, Starscream clinging to his frozen chest with all of his might, as though it were possibly the last thing he would ever do on this planet alive. Slowly the incredulity melted away and Megatron could move his arms. He wrapped an embrace around the jet's narrow hips, giving in to the heat that radiated from his Second. He felt servos on his faceplates a moment later when Starscream moaned into his throat, raw and wanting.

"So, willing to hear me out now?" The brat dared to whisper when they parted for a breath.

Somehow they found their way to the berth with Starscream coming out on top. The tyrant was content to let the devil climb into his lap, straddling him, shoving him back and pinning him with an evil little smirk. The sight alone cause his spark to flip in it's housing, and he had to hold himself back when his servo was taken and guided over that glistening canopy, plating hot to the touch and seeping that delicious current of core energy. Starscream shuddered almost violently when the digits found a tender seem in the red plating of his chassis. He cursed, the sound of it thick with arousal, when the panel slid open.

Their sparks met once again and overload followed, fast and hard. The Seeker, holding back a decacycle of pent up frustration, cried out his master's name when the climax hit. Both losing themselves to the sensations, hatred and exaspiration, forgotten, lost to the mind searing pleasure.

When the afterglow faded, reality once again came crashing back down on the two Decepticons. Significatly less painful than before, but an undeniable unease settled into their very cores. Now that the deed was done, what do they do with themselves? For the moment Starscream seemed to settle just fine on his chest, still sprawled where his limbs had fallen when the final tremor wracked his body. Helm resting just bellow his master's chin. Ignoring that itch that began to crawl over his dermal plating.

Megatron lazily stroked at the Seeker's wing. Starscream jerked as though the touch was red hot and he pushed himself upright with shakey arms. His expression far blander than the first time as he looked down at his leader.

"Nothing changes." He blurted out when the larger mech did nothing but stare back.

"Obviously." The silver Con sighed, digits began wandering aimlessly over red and white armour. "Why should you behave yourself now?"

Starscream frowned, but resettled on the warlord's chest with a grunt.

"So this was your grasp on me? The way to keep from ripping my spark chamber out and shoving it down my throat?"

"More or less." Came the tired reply.

"We're going to have to set some ground rules if this is going to continue." He muttered, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Such as no crashing in the other's berth after 'facing."

"Are you kicking me out?" Megatron's tone held amusement when Starscream made no move to roll off of his chassis.

"I will tomorrow. For now I'm too tired to deal with you."

~~~

It wasn't really all that surprising to find himself being tossed from Starscream's quarters the next day like an empty energon cube into a waste disposal unit. Even less so when the Seeker blatantly ignored him throughout the rest of the decacycle. However, it wasn't long before the two Decepticon's found themselves tangled on the floor of the warlord's berthroom, not even able to stumble their way to the berth, or the desk. A few solarcycles passed after that before they ended up against a wall, Starscream cradled by servos under his aft as Megatron drove him into the steel. After a glorious victory, where several dozen Autobot's fell and never got back up, they tumbled together onto the Seeker's berth.

Stellar cycles went by in similar fashion.

They would lay side by side as though they were lovers, servos brushing and ventilations slowing from a frantic pant to a more contented rythem. They shared the warmth that lingered between their structures, basking in the last traces of pleasure racing in their circuits. For a moment the aftershocks of overload overshadowed the trivial implications allowing the tyrant and traitor those final glimpses of peace before a cold radiating hatred seeped in and hung thick in the air around them like a fog. The same poisonous haze that slapped them awake every time and chased their personal little haven away. The dark reality of their situation setting in and numbing them to the core the moment their sparks ceased their frenzied spasms and the tingling pleasure faded from their tired structures. The pendantic intimatcy of the scene only served to magnify this, by now familiar, spark twisting shame.

Megatron would often sneer at the theatricness of it all. The falsity of lying next to his Second, a mere handspand away and yet a universe apart. Every time he caved in, and dragged the pretty thing behind closed doors and 'faced him senseless against the nearest stable surface, was weak. It infuriated him every time. He could almost feel the triumphant smirk on those lips every time he grasped the Seeker's chin in a crushing vice and kissed him so hard that he melted. Yet he knew that the vicious little imp was still planning treachery and would one day no longer find pacification in simple interfacing. It made the larger Con want to carve the cretine's spark out with a rusty lamp post and yet he collapsed into the fantasy every time with little to no protest. The sting of self loathing was nothing compared to the mindshattering burn that came when Starscream uttered those deliciously weak wimpers, grinding further against his master's hard chest and pressing his very essance deeply within the inferno of his spark chamber. In those insanly sureal moments, the silver tyrant couldn't find it in himself to care weather those blue servoes wrapped around his neck merely to gain purchase while in the throws of passion or strategicly reaching for a more vulnerable point of attack.

It didn't matter, as long as slagger managed to groan out his designation when they finally reached their peaks. That sound alone could sustain him for another decacycle or two despite how obnoxious Starscream would be in a few days. A good 'face always seemed to calm them both down for some time before the grating of each other's prescence would wear on their processors until they were at one another's throats again, ready to draw blood. It was thereputic. A ritualistic cleansing of the oil bubbling ire that both Decepticons functioned, barely, together in. It was more a necessity than life giving energon.

War was destructive. It was sacrificial. It was stressful. However, the war that raged between them was far more unbearable without that little escape. That brief moment when they forgot all about the battles they had fought, the allies they had lost. The blood they spilled and the sparks they had snuffed. Every time they shouted and clashed and bled and cursed. That special something that they somehow managed to preserve despite it all.

End