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Starscream was aboard the Lost Light.
The very idea of Rodimus thinking he could keep such a thing from his co-captain was not just patently absurd, but downright insulting. Megatron smelt the overpriced wax mingling with the stench of fire and brimstone and molten ore from the pit-smelter in which Unicron had spawned the winged demon the moment he stepped thruster on his ship.
Megatron strode through the hallways with purpose, sending unnamed crew scattering from his path as he hailed Rodimus again, and again, and again to no success.
The immature Prime was either deliberately ignoring him, or had already been murdered hideously by Cybertron’s new ‘High Chancellor’ and Megatron wasn’t sure which option infuriated him more.
He made it to Rodimus’s habsuite, led there by nothing more than instinct and an innate understanding of how Starscream operated, and began hammering a fist against the reinforced door until it opened, or preferably, fell off its hinges.
“Rodimus!” He roared, and was mid-punch when the panel beeped and the door slipped open. His fist went wide and he stumbled over the threshold, recovering his dignity with a fast stride that brought him quickly to the centre of the room.
Where he abruptly stopped at the sight before him.
“Uh,” said Rodimus, though Megatron wasn’t looking at him.
Frustration and indignity had already tensed Megatron’s gears and clenched his fists, but a much fiercer emotion was threatening to bubble over at the sight of that damnable seeker lounging on the Autobot’s berth.
“Megatron.” Starscream greeted pleasantly, reclined elegantly across the metal and propped up by a mountain of pillows. He crossed one long leg over the other, and the ceiling lights glimmered off his mirror-shined armour, his thrustered pede bouncing playfully in the air.
“So good of you to take time out of your busy schedule.” He continued smoothly. “Rodimus here was so sure you would be occupied elsewhere for the duration of my visit.”
“You’re supposed to be on bridge duty.” Rodimus told him sternly, like he had any right to call Megatron’s actions into question, as he rose from the berth where he had been sitting very, very close to Starscream. “After the stink you threw about me neglecting my duties-“
“Why is he here?!” Megatron demanded, rounding on the Prime, a digit pointed at Starscream’s infuriatingly smug face.
“He’s on an official visit.” Rodimus claimed unconvincingly.
Megatron thought he was going to blow a gasket as he snarled through grit denta, “In-your-berth?!”
“Don’t mind him, Rodimus,” Starscream purred, shifting to lie on his side. A wing lifted, straight edged and broad and a striking white, and began to sway. Megatron had to force his gaze away from it. “Some of us are better at letting go of the past than others.”
“Uh huh…” Rodimus agreed awkwardly, slowly backing away from Megatron.
“Why was I not informed of this?” Megatron gestured to Starscream like he was some sort of unpleasant infestation found under the decking. “We left the Cybertronian sector hours ago and you didn’t think to-“
“Hey, he wanted an audience with me. The Captain.” Rodimus puffed himself up importantly. “And what I do in my hab with my guests is my business. You just can’t stand being the one left out for once.”
“As Co-Captain it is my business when your ‘guest’ is High Chancellor of the Refulgent Cybertronian Dynasty, Emperor Perpetua and Defender of the Realm and has smuggled himself aboard to distract you with vile amorous attentions for some doubtlessly underhanded plot.”
“Plot?” Starscream repeated from the berth, mock offended and clearly enjoying himself. “Megatron, please. This is entirely personal. Rodimus has agreed to do me a great favour.”
Megatron’s olfactory flared.
“Favour?” he rumbled.
“He wants me to give him a sparkling.” Rodimus’s grin was blindly cheerful.
Megatron’s processor short circuited. By the time his CPU had fired up again and the ringing in his audials had faded enough for him to register outside noise, Starscream was mid speech.
“-And you know more than most how every great leader must leave behind his legacy.” Starscream was saying. “Yours was the Decepticons, with all it’s failings and ineptitudes-“
“-and war crimes.” Rodimus added helpfully.
“And war crimes,” Starscream repeated. “Mine as High Chancellor will be a lineage of proud, noble leaders, such as myself, following in my example of exemplary governance. And who better to supply the additional coding required for that lineage than a Prime?” He lifted an elegant servo towards Rodimus, whose self-satisfied smirk widened.
Primus alive, he might be serious. Megatron wanted to throw off his helmet and rip out his sensory panels. “And you’ve agreed to this?!”
Rodimus shrugged, glancing back at Starscream. His engine gave a rev of excitement, “He’s hot.”
“He’s vile waste of armour and circuits, forged out of the Pit itself to inflict suffering on any fool stupid enough to give him the opening.”
“Oh, Megatron, you do flatter.” Starscream sighed.
“You two really were clanging during the war, weren’t you?!” Rodimus looked between them, comprehension dawning, looking like the solstice had come early.
Megatron scowled. He had absolutely no idea how Rodimus had come to that conclusion (however true it was) but Starscream wasn’t helping matters with his knowing silence and flirtatious looks.
Megatron decided he could be spiteful too. He glowered at Starscream. “Optimus turn you down, did he?”
The ill-natured question wiped the smile off Rodimus’s face. He puffed himself up with every bit of height he had to spare, which still wasn’t enough to match his predecessor. “I’m every bit the Prime he is. More even.”
“Don’t let him rile you.” Starscream patted the berth next to him. “He’s just jealous.”
Megatron snorted.
“Come here,” Starscream insisted, shooting Megatron a spite-filled look as he beckoned Rodimus over. “Let’s not waste anymore time talking. I’m sure you understand, I have a very busy schedule-“
“Not so busy you can’t waste an entire cycle trespassing aboard my ship for some harebrained scheme.” Megatron growled, watching Rodimus walk past him and go to Starscream. “Rodimus.”
But Rodimus ignored him, reaching the berth and climbing atop it -and atop Starscream- with a creak of the metal frame. Megatron stood, frozen and impotent, as his reckless fool of a co-captain sank into Starscream’s arms.
Rodimus’s shapely hips fell between Starscream’s thighs and blue servos lifted and curled around the Autobot’s chassis. They kissed, hardly sparing their audience a glance. Megatron heard Starscream’s soft hum of appreciation and Rodimus purr of interest.
“Rodimus.” Megatron tried again, sterner.
Starscream waved a servo dismissively, mostly hidden from beneath Rodimus’s bulk. The kissing became heated, and sounded louder in the quiet of the room. Noses bumped and helms tilted. Starscream’s legs lifted and tightened around Rodimus’s waist and Rodimus began to move against him, grinding his hips down. Armour knocked together, creaking softly.
“Starscream, that’s enough.”
Megatron could feel warmth pooling in the depths of his tanks. He watched as wings and spoilers were groped and pulled. Starscream made a meek little noise of surprise when his wing tip was tweaked, and the sound triggered a myriad of past memories for Megatron.
His cooling fans snapped online.
“Starscream!” he barked, trying to cover the noise. “If you don’t cease this at once-“
Rodimus wretched himself free with a noise of frustration, “Shut up or join in!”
Then went right back to shoving his glossa in Starscream’s mouth and palming at his chest turbines. Megatron continued to watch, silently now, a lump in his throat. Rodimus broke the kiss and mouthed at Starscream’s neck, and Starscream met his gaze over the Autobot’s shoulder, his optics smouldering, lips swollen from the kisses.
Rodimus lifted his frame off Starscream’s and reached between his legs. There was a hiss of releasing pressure then his arm was moving back and forth. Though Megatron wasn’t at an angle to see, he knew Rodimus was stroking himself to fullness.
Starscream angled his hips up and looked down between their frames. Rodimus shifted, still holding himself, then groaned and pressed forward. Starscream threw his helm back with a keening noise, a servo slapping to Rodimus’s aft, which began to rise and fall as Rodimus started to thrust in and out of him. Rodimus started moaning.
Whatever restraint Megatron had been clinging to broke apart.
He crossed the room quickly, startling Starscream into flinching, and got onto the berth behind Rodimus. Rodimus looked over his shoulder, slowing to a stop when Megatron took his aft in both servos and pushed the armour apart, studying his damp panel, and beneath it, lodged tightly in Starscream’s wet flushed valve, the shaft of his spike.
“Open,” he ordered, tapping Rodimus’s panel.
“He’s busy,” Starscream hissed beneath them both, wing twitching in irritation. His valve clenched as if to remind Rodimus who was most important here. Rodimus moaned at the pressure around his spike and bucked forward, but Megatron rubbed two fingers against his panel firmly, and it popped open.
He sunk two fingers in. Their size disparity meant it was a lot for Rodimus, who slumped atop Starscream like his arms were about to give out, servo flying out to grab a wing and squeeze. Starscream yelped.
“Do you mind?!” Starscream snarled.
“Do you?” Megatron murmured in Rodimus’s audial, pumping his fingers and getting into position behind him. His codpiece split apart and his spike began to emerge, pressurising with charge and fluid until it was stood perpendicular and straining.
On the bottom, Starscream was trying to hook a leg under Rodimus’s aft to get him thrusting properly again, but all Rodimus could really manage were little back and forth motions as Megatron mercilessly drove his fingers into his valve.
Megatron pulled them free and wiped the string of translucent lubricant coating his digits off on Starscream’s leg. Starscream spat a curse at him that was lost to Rodimus’s shout of surprise when Megatron began to push into him.
Rodimus was tight, despite his reputation. Strong callipers gripped Megatron’s spike as he pressed himself deeper, wanting to seat himself in one slow, steady stroke. Rodimus was moaning and trembling, pushing deeper into Starscream as he bucked forward to get away from the intense pressure.
Despite his earlier fussing, Starscream was panting with arousal and craning his neck to see, familiar himself with the overwhelming feel of Megatron’s spike splitting him open and wanting to see it happen to Rodimus.
Remembering those times filled Megatron with a whole new sense of satisfaction, and knowing that whatever lies Starscream spewed and insults he hurled, nothing could undo the unquestionable fact that no one had ever fragged Starscream as good as he had.
His spike was almost completely buried inside Rodimus when his tip bumped the back of his valve. Megatron shoved against it, wanting to get the past few sections of his spike inside, and felt the aperture of Rodimus’s gestation tank against the sensors on the head of his spike. Rodimus grunted with a jolt, but caught between him and Starscream, was unable to squirm away.
“Uh,” Rodimus began thickly, “That’s my forge.”
“So it is,” Megatron agreed, and started to thrust.
Rodimus shouted, and beneath him so did Starscream. Megatron put force enough into his thrusts that every shove in turn drove Rodimus into Starscream, the motions rocking through his entire frame, grinding his spike through Starscream’s tight valve.
“This is how I had to frag him,” Megatron told Rodimus breathlessly, repeatedly hitting the seal of Rodimus’s forge with the tip of his spike, forcing the aperture to iris open around him, taking a little more of him each time. “I was too big for him, he’d say.”
Rodimus was gasping with every slap of Megatron’s hips against his aft. Beneath him, Starscream was clawing at the berth in frustration. “Shut up, Megatron!”
“You feel that?” Megatron huffed, slowing his thrusts to pointed jabs, so Rodimus could feel how the seal was letting Megatron pop the flared tip of his spike in and out of his gestation tank. “In your forge? Perhaps I’ll give you a ‘legacy’ of your own?”
Rodimus tightened like a vice around him, and the seal of his gestation tank caught the tip of his spike as the Autobot started rutting sloppily and overloading. Rippling callipers and flowing charge massaged the length of Megatron’s spike, encouraging him to climax, but Megatron wrapped a fist around the base of his spike and squeezed, denta grit, until the urge to overload subsided enough.
Rodimus bucked into Starscream one last time, then collapsed on top of him.
“You selfish bastard,” Starscream hissed at Megatron, shoving Rodimus’s face away from his neck, which he looked to start drooling over. He was panting heavily, cheeks flushed prettily and also, Megatron noticed when he pulled his aching spike free of Rodimus’s now loose and dripping valve, leaking transfluid.
Megatron sat up and gently lifted Rodimus’s frame. The Prime’s spike slipped free of Starscream’s valve, and with it followed a healthy trickle of silvery transfluid. Dazed and gloriously fragged out, Rodimus let Megatron guide him to slump to the berth at Starscream’s side.
“‘Gonna be ‘nough to spark him?” He mumbled.
“I didn’t overload, you useless twink.” Starscream looked like he wanted to hit him.
“That’s hardly necessary for conception.” Megatron informed him, kneeling in front of him with his spike hard and leaking and very ready go again, should Starscream… request that of him. “I would gladly correct your dissatisfaction, however… I would hate to contaminate the coding sample.”
Starscream looked like he was fuming, his lips pursed and his jaw set, and his valve gaping and oozing transfluid. Megatron peered at it thoughtfully, thinking on how little it had changed since he had last used it, all those years ago.
“By all means,” Starscream began through gritted denta, like he hated every word, his optics darting between Rodimus watching lazily and Megatron’s broad spike. “Variation in the coding only strengthens CNA.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Megatron agreed pleasantly.
“So,” Starscream waved a servo dismissively, lip curled. “You can… continue… if you wish.”
Megatron wasn’t letting him off that easy.
“Beg.” He ordered.
“No.” Starscream snarled, all pretence forgotten. “You think I won’t walk out of here and offer the job to the first disgusting little Autobot to cross my path?! You think you’re special? You think he is?” He nodded to Rodimus.
“Hey!” Rodimus complained, struggling to lift his helm.
“You want me?” Starscream challenged. “Fragging take me.”
Starscream always had had a spectacular success rate for provoking him.
So he did, dragging Starscream towards him and grabbing his thighs and shoving into him without ceremony, his way eased by the slick of lubricant and Rodimus’s spill. Starscream wailed, grabbing at his biceps and throwing his helm back, but it was a good noise. Megatron knew it well.
Rodimus rolled onto his front next to them and propped his chin up on a fist, watching. Megatron pushed one of Starscream’s thighs out to the side so the Prime could see better as his spike sank down to the hilt, swallowed up by Starscream’s well trained valve.
Like with Rodimus, Starscream’s valve didn’t have the specs to fit all of him, and he had the joyous experience of fragging past the aperture of his forge too. It was already full, and Megatron could feel the molten heat of the transfluid Rodimus had shot into it earlier, sloshing against his spike with every inwards thrust.
Starscream sucked in a sharp breath and began to stiffen, a sign he was about to overload, so Megatron went for it, pounding into him hard and sharp, his hips clanging brutally against Starscream shapely aft.
Starscream arched dramatically, back off the berth till only his helm and wings were still touching it, his valve cycling down to draw any offering of transfluid up into his tank. Megatron relished the sensation this time, letting it coax him towards overload. He finished with a long drawn-out groan, spike twitching as it emptied in pulses, milked by the clench and pull of callipers.
Against his lower chassis, Starscream’s belly seemed to warm, the heat of his ignited forge radiating through his abdominal armour. Megatron smoothed a palm over it and Starscream grunted, expression twitching. Too full.
Rodimus was watching curiously, so Megatron removed his servo and heaved himself up, easing his spike out of Starscream. A river of mixed fluids spilled out onto the berth to puddle under Starscream’s aft.
“So,” Rodimus began, looking at the mess. “Do I send the cleaning bill to your secretary, or..?”
Starscream released a exhausted noise of defeat and threw an arm over his optics, turning his face away.
Megatron settled down between them with a weary noise. Unsurprisingly, Rodimus wriggled in close, seizing his arm and dragging it around himself, his frame warm and sated and beautiful. Megatron stroked a servo down his flank, and Rodimus nuzzled into his shoulder.
“Knew you were a good frag.” He praised. “Psychos always are.”
Ignoring that affectionate piece pillow talk from Rodimus, Megatron went to mirror his embrace with Starscream too. The moment he tried to drawing the seeker into his hold, was he getting kicked in the thigh.
“Get off me you, big brute!”
Megatron dragged the ungrateful fool in anyway, locking an arm around his neck in more of a headlock than an embrace to keep him there. Starscream struggled for a moment, half-choking himself, before settling with a huff. He shot glares at them both.
“…I better not be sparked.” He muttered.
Rodimus lifted his helm from Megatron’s shoulder, his expression twisted in confusion, “I thought you wanted to get sparked? What about your legacy?”
Starscream, who had obviously never for a moment in his life desired to create offspring, scoffed, “Primus, you Autobots are dim.”
“Hey-?”
Megatron closed a servo over Rodimus’s mouth to silence him, tightening his hold on them both, longing for the peace of a few hours recharge before having to decide what to do with them.
Hopefully neither killed him, or each other, in the mean time.