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“Well done, Prime,” Megatron said drily, and stared across the cave where Optimus sat looking dazed.
Optimus didn’t answer, looking instead at his servos. Megatron shifted uneasily. Being under several tonnes of collapsed rock wasn’t his idea of a scenario to feel relaxed in, though he certainly stood a better chance of surviving than Optimus did if the rubble came down.
He could feel his communications array pinging, and distant acknowledgement from Soundwave told him that pick-up would come as soon as the battle on the surface was over.
How irritating to be kept away from where his troops were fighting. No doubt Starscream was attempting to commandeer now in futile attempt to prove his competence. The only relief to be found was that Optimus was trapped down here with him.
Though Optimus had finally looked up, his optics dilating strangely.
“What?” Megatron snapped, when Optimus just stared. Had he hit his helm on the way down and scrambled his processor? “I thought you were hardy,” he said, flicking a dismissive claw.
“I seem to have… undergone a chemical compromise with the organics on this planet.”
“So you’re weak,” Megatron deduced. “And now you’re trapped here with me.”
Well, wasn’t this perfect? Megatron was a mech to take his opportunities. He didn’t want to shoot his fusion cannon, because that would bury him further, but if he could get closer–
“I’m no weaker than before,” Optimus said, but Megatron could sense the omitted information from a mile away, let alone the span of a small cave. “Though we may need a partition.”
So he was trying to find a way to hide himself from Megatron! The cave was barely high enough for Megatron to stand in, but he did, helm lowered slightly, and took one enormous stride that put him into reach of Optimus.
And Optimus’ pede came up quicker than he could realise and kicked his leg so squarely that it buckled, and Megatron crashed into the wall. Rocks scattered around him and pinged off their frames. A low ominous rumble ran through the floor.
Optimus had scrambled away as far as possible, his optics narrowed. His words came out less controlled this time. “Megatron, I need you to stay as far away as possible, or I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”
One kick wasn’t going to deter Megatron. “That must be one of the most awful attempts at a threat I’ve ever heard,” he said, and lunged.
Then they were a mess of brawling — Megatron reached directly for Optimus’ neck, though Optimus was slamming him down against the stone ground before he could, and their knees locked to prevent kicks and flips, and Megatron just got a good grip on Optimus’ shoulder and was ready to wrench it back when Optimus slammed their helms together and he reeled for the sudden spinning of his processor.
So Optimus really hadn’t been lying when he said he was no weaker.
“Megatron,” Optimus said, his voice a sub-sonic growl, “I warned you.”
“What exactly has been compromised?” Megatron demanded from his place underneath Optimus’ bulk, because he’d been so sure that Optimus was holding back pertinent information. His question was answered in the next moment when Optimus thrust his hips forwards and Megatron’s array met with one that was alarmingly heated.
His optics shuttered. Optimus was what?
Then Optimus did it again, and Megatron started battling the requests churning on his HUD to open his panel.
“It put me into heat,” Optimus said, his tone thick with frustration. His helm had rested against the wall above Megatron’s as his hips kept shoving forward, their arrays not yet open but the movement unmistakable. Optimus was rutting into him. Him. Megatron. Warlord of the Decepticons.
And yet he wasn’t protesting it. He told himself it was the sheer shock of the situation, but he found himself only staring up at Optimus’ gritted dentae and expression. Then his gaze was drawn slowly, transfixed, down to the ripple of plating of Optimus’ abdomen each time he rolled his hips forwards. The promised power behind each thrust was absurd, and while Megatron stared, frozen, Optimus grabbed one of his legs and tugged it outwards until his thighs were spread wide. Optimus’ legs hooked just beneath and their panels were in full contact.
If Megatron had been unable to look away before, it was made completely impossible when Optimus’ panel withdrew and his spike rose, thick and wet in what little light filled the cave from its sparse glowing flora. Megatron’s panel snapped back faster than he could ever remember it opening.
The heat from Optimus’ spike radiated through his whole array. Optimus had dropped any pretence of talk now and was simply rocking his spike between Megatron’s folds, the tip of it appearing and disappearing with each thrust, dragging across Megatron’s node, glistening wet with the lubricant of Megatron’s valve.
Megatron should’ve gutted Optimus, but the sight of Optimus’ spike’s head was transfixing. If he looked away— it could push into his valve, and if it did, he- he had to see.
Optimus’ arms shifted, fully bracketing him now, and from his frame rolled waves and waves of heat. Megatron had never relieved someone of their heat before, but with this- he was starting to wonder why he’d never. The drag of Optimus’ spike against his valve was intense, almost unbearably so, and the stimulation from his node had his thighs twitching and quivering.
“Your valve is adorable,” Optimus said, and Megatron’s hips leapt up uncontrollably at the gravel-thick tone, the plush lips of his valve enveloping Optimus’ spike with that one movement. Optimus just tipped his hips back and began his slow, maddening un-penetrating pace again. “It wants me inside terribly. Look at you, swelling up.”
One of his hands reached down, spreading Megatron’s valve. And Megatron knew his valve was slightly smaller than was typical of his frame-size, but he hadn’t been with many mechs in berth enough that’d paid attention to it. It made him absurdly self-conscious as he felt its dark insides exposed to the air, though he knew at the end of the heat Optimus would hardly remember the details.
Optimus teased its sides with his spike, and Megatron found himself squirming down, trying to push that heavy friction further inside him. Optimus breathed out a laugh above his helm. “See?”
“You always did talk too much,” Megatron griped, though his array was undeniably shaking with anticipation. His spike had pressurised between them, and past it he could see his lubricant smeared all down Optimus’ array. He couldn’t look away. Why couldn’t he look away?
It was ridiculous, but he wanted it.
For frag’s sake. Wasn’t Optimus in heat? Why was he being such a fragging tease?
“Hurry up,” he said, and locked his legs around Optimus’ torso. The action tipped his hips upwards, presenting his valve open and wet for Optimus to sink into. But Optimus didn’t. He just kept rubbing that burning spike against Megatron’s node.
“I’d like to see you beg,” Optimus said, and Megatron mentally baulked at the very concept it. “But I think this is good enough.”
His spike pressed in with a long, exquisite slide, and Megatron’s helm clanged against the floor as he gasped with it. It spread him open widely and impossibly perfectly. Lubricant wetted the way as Optimus' servo flicked his external node so that his valve rippled down and twitched with the stimulation. He heard Optimus’ matching groan, and then he gave one of those thrusts he so promised. Rocks skidded beneath Megatron’s back — his intake fell open, his valve squeezed desperately as Optimus lit up the nodes inside.
“Yes!” he moaned as Optimus set a punishing pace. His spike was bounced between them, slapping between their torsos, and his claws were caught in indecision between mauling the floor or Optimus’ sides. “Yes, fraggit– harder!”
Optimus grabbed his shoulders and heaved him down on each thrust, his little valve seeming obscenely impaled on the spike thrusting into him. It was among the limits of what Megatron could take — his valve couldn’t cycle larger, and so every thrust dragged with it friction that sparked pleasure through him. Megatron had no objections. It shot stimulation like fireworks through him.
“You feel so good,” Optimus told him, drawing out and spearing his spike so deep that it jolted the opening to Megatron’s gestation chamber. Megatron gave a warbling cry and overloaded, that entrance inside him flexing wider, and Optimus rode him through it until the cave was filled with the wet squelching between them.
Coolant dripped from Optimus’ frame as he thrusted into Megatron’s welcoming heat, though Megatron hardly registered it. His world spiralled down to that point of connection between them, timid little moans falling from him each time Optimus jolted him forwards, softer now that he’d overloaded once. He wasn’t in heat like Optimus was — after one he was already starting to feel sensitive, but Optimus showed no signs of letting up.
And relentless Optimus was. Megatron’s valve felt unresistant each time that spike delved in, its throbbing lips pillowing inwards to allow entrance, its nodes sparking against Optimus’ spike that pressed all the way to its ceiling and battered the quivering slit there.
Charge began building in Megatron’s circuits again, and he felt helpless against it, this tidal wave of pleasure that built and crashed in him and built again. Optimus shoved hard— and overloaded, Megatron’s helm clanging against the wall of the cave as a hot wash of transfluid filled him, spraying directly into his gestation chamber. Optimus pulled away and thrust once more, and a second rope of it wetted the insides of his valve, and with it Megatron tipped over the edge. His breathy shout echoed — his valve milked what Optimus had, more and more transfluid setting his nodes on fire.
It was a gut-deep satisfaction, to be filled so soundly — and by Optimus, no less. Megatron wriggled his enthusiasm, his valve presented enticingly, and then he found himself hauled up and turned over, his face-plates scraping along the cave floor. Optimus plunged into his opening again and again, grabbing him by the hips until his aft bounced and clanged with every thrust. He tipped his head to the side, and Optimus leaned over him. “Still so tight,” he taunted, and instead of protesting, all Megatron emitted was a small moan, and his valve did exactly what Optimus said — tightened. “Still so good,” Optimus said, and fucked him until Megatron was chafing his paint all over the floor.
Megatron lost count of how many times he overloaded, except that Optimus was insatiable. He was taken across the floor, mewling and sensitive; pressed up against the wall; hauled into Optimus’ lap, his legs pressed together and lifted with an arm beneath his knees as Optimus’ spike plugged his gushing valve, thrusting until Megatron’s aft was sore with it; then turned around and pummelled, Optimus’ optics devouring the flushed expressions he couldn’t keep off his face; he was taken on his side with one of his legs held upwards; again across the floor, except that Optimus practically stood over him with his spike angled straight down to delve as deep as possible, seating himself into Megatron over and over, Megatron gasping weakly — and he utterly lost track after that. It was a blur of being turned around and man-handled into positions Optimus preferred until he was brought to pleasurable overload after pleasurable overload.
His chronometer told him that over twenty hours had passed, and Optimus was finally in recharge, curled into Megatron’s side deceptively innocently.
Megatron’s gestation chamber was practically full. His valve cover was still open and transfluid dribbled from it. He knew better than to close it, because there was always the chance of Optimus waking, rolling over, and fragging him strutless into the floor again. Optimus had already done so when Megatron had thought there was a break the first time, and heats could last for days.
He was about to drift off into recharge when the comm. came.
:My Lord,: if Soundwave were capable of sounding disgruntled, Megatron wore that his TIC was dripping with it, :I have a reading on you. Would you like to remain longer?:
Tactfully, and feeling slightly chastised, Megatron remained silent and hoped Soundwave would interpret that as a ‘yes’.