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“This is – outrageous.” Starscream writhed against the examination table, feet kicking out at the stirrups. “You – cannot do this to me. This is, a, a violation of my civil liberties –”
“What civil liberties?” said Megatron, his grip on Starscream’s shoulders unyielding.
“I have rights!” Starscream howled. “This is inhumane!”
Between his legs, Knockout quietly got on with his work.
“I warned you,” said Megatron. “I told you that your constant fraternisation was becoming a distraction from your work. I told you that if you couldn’t control yourself there’d be consequences. And then I walk into your hab suite, and what do I find?”
“You could have knocked,” Starscream spat.
“You,” Megatron went on. “Interfacing with both of your idiot seekers. You’ve forced my hand, Starscream. What choice do I have but to revoke your interfacing privileges?”
“I – oh.” Starscream continued to squirm, as Knockout began to sever the last few wires. “Megatron –”
The final wire went snip. Knockout popped up from between Starscream’s legs, a freshly detached spike in his hand. “Valve too?” he said brightly.
“Valve too,” Megatron concurred, accepting the proffered appendage and setting it aside.
“Valve too?” Starscream shrieked. “No – no, no –” He bucked, making a valiant attempt to get off the table. Megatron’s hands slammed down onto his chest, holding him securely in place.
As Knockout began the significantly more invasive procedure of uninstalling the valve, he shot his patient a smirk.
“Stop enjoying this!” Starscream wailed. “You –”
“Oh, please,” said Megatron. “Be grateful I had him turn off your pain sensors. Get on with it, Knockout.”
Starscream continued to shout and curse and wriggle for the remainder of the procedure, hands grasping at anything he could reach, back arching, feet kicking the stirrups until at last Knockout’s work was done. He tucked in Starscream’s trailing wires, re-affixed his modesty panel, and sat back.
Sinking back against the examination table, Starscream let out a whimper of discontent. His diagnostic systems were sending up a number of concerned alerts about the situation. His lower regions felt cavernously empty.
Megatron patted his chest. “This is for your own good.”
Starscream’s vents blew out a gust of air. “When I am leader of the Decepticons,” he said. “I’m going to cut off your spike and throw it into the sun.”
*
He lasted one earth week.
A week of walking around with no interfacing array. A week enduring snide glances from every other member of the team – Knockout being seemingly incapable of keeping his mouth shut. A week without a single overload.
And now there he was, standing in Megatron’s office, hands clenched into fists at his sides as he tried to restrain himself from begging for mercy.
“I was in the middle of something,” said Megatron.
Knockout, standing at his right hand with a datapad, said, “It’s no problem – it can wait.”
“This is not fair,” said Starscream. “It’s targeting. Thundercracker and Skywarp are still clanging each other on every surface and they get to keep their arrays – and don’t even get me started on what that pervert Reflector has been getting up to –”
“If they’re capable of balancing their recreational activities with their duties without becoming distracted then I have no issue with it,” said Megatron. “You, on the other hand –”
“You said you did this to keep me from being distracted!” Starscream spat out. “Well, now I’m more distracted than ever, because I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to – to –”
Megatron snorted. “What is this,” he said. “Are you telling me you’re too horny to function?”
“Yes!” Starscream wailed.
“Pathetic,” Megatron scoffed. “What are you, a miserable fleshling? Over-eager to be bred?”
No. He wasn’t taking the bait. “It’s throwing me off my game,” he said. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll behave if you give them back!”
“I see,” said Megatron. “You’ll be good, will you?”
He was too desperate to be dignified. “Yes! I’ll be good! Just return my array.”
“Wellll,” Megatron drawled. “If your current state is becoming as much of a distraction as you say, perhaps allowing you an overload would be in order. Just the one, of course – that should be ample.”
“I’ll take it,” said Starscream hurriedly. With luck, once his spike and/or valve – he’d settle for either – was reinstalled, he might be able to talk his way into keeping it. Or, if all else failed, hightail it out of there.
“Very well.” Turning, Megatron opened a drawer – and brought out –
“Your desk?” Starscream squawked. “You’re keeping them in your desk?”
“Naturally,” said Megatron. “Where I can keep an eye on them. Knockout, your assistance?” He waved the medic over.
Then, to Starscream’s alarm, Megatron retracted his modesty panel.
His mouth fell open. “What are you – doing?”
“Ah – I see – you’ve misunderstood,” said Megatron. “You aren’t going to use your spike – I am. Make the transfer, Knockout.”
“Yes, Lord Megatron.” Shooting Starscream another of those awful smirks, Knockout dropped to his knees and reached for Megatron’s unpressurised spike.
“You,” Starscream choked out. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious,” said Megatron seriously. He let out a soft grunt as Knockout began to detach his array. “Now,” he went on, leaning idly against his desk as if one of his appendages wasn’t in the process of being removed. “Which of your comrades shall I interface with?”
At his feet, Knockout perked up like a turbofox begging for scraps.
“You’re fond of your seekers, aren’t you?” said Megatron.
Knockout sadly deflated.
“I,” Starscream sputtered. “You.”
“Let’s see,” Megatron went on coolly as Knockout began to attach Starscream’s spike to his lower port. Starscream tried very hard to keep still. “I shall be generous. You choose.”
“Wh – what?” said Starscream, unable to take his eyes off his own spike.
“Which of your seekers do you want to watch me frag?” said Megatron.
“I – I’m not –”
“Choose,” said Megatron sharply. “Or I won’t let you overload at all.”
He’d begun to shudder, his lower port tingling at the phantom sensation of wires being affixed together. “Lord Megatron –”
“Choose!” Megatron barked.
“Skywarp!” he blurted out. “Skywarp.”
A sick smirk spread across Megatron’s face. “Very well.” He looked down at Knockout. “Have you finished there?” Knockout nodded. “Good. And he’ll be able to feel it?”
“He’ll get feedback.”
“Excellent,” said Megatron. “Send Skywarp in here and then return to your duties.”
Knockout straightened up. “Lord Megatron,” he said. “Perhaps it might be better if I – supervised –”
“No,” said Megatron.
“For medical reasons –”
“Leave.”
Dropping his gaze, Knockout trailed sadly out of the room.
For a long moment, they stood in silence. Megatron lowered his hand and trailed his fingers down the length of his borrowed spike; Starscream stifled a whimper. “You – can’t really mean to do this –”
“Sit down, Starscream,” said Megatron.
“This is abhorrent,” Starscream went on. “It’s unconscionable. When I am leader –”
“Sit. Down.”
He sat, heavily, in the chair behind himself.
“Don’t presume to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Megatron had begun to lazily stimulate his spike. It was pressurising with embarrassing speed. “You really are a miserable little wretch, aren’t you? Can’t even go an earth week without interfacing? This sort of thing is why you’ll never be leader of anything.”
Starscream said nothing, trying desperately not to watch what Megatron was doing.
“I myself can go as long as I like without interfacing,” Megatron said. “As a leader, fraternisation is a political matter. I never show that kind of weakness or vulnerability unless there’s something to be gained. If it isn’t advantageous to interface I can go many thousands of years between encounters.”
“Going thousands of years without fragging isn’t anything to boast about, Megatron,” Starscream bit out. “It’s just being a prude!”
“Ignoramus,” Megatron shot back.
The door slid open. Skywarp sidled in. “You wanted to see me, boss?” Stepping further into he room, his eyes went to Starscream, sitting on the chair and practically vibrating with tension; to Megatron, hand still casually jerking Starscream’s bright blue spike. “Oh.”
“Ah – Skywarp.” Megatron gave Starscream’s spike a harder tug. This time he didn’t manage to hold back his whine. “You’re going to help me discipline your commanding officer.”
“I am?” said Skywarp.
“He’s in need of release,” said Megatron.
“He is?” said Skywarp.
“I’m going to interface with you on this desk,” Megatron finished. “Would you be amenable to that?”
Skywarp looked at Starscream. Starscream shot him a desperate glower, in the forlorn hope of finding some support. To his dismay, Skywarp looked less horrified at his plight and more like he’d just walked into a room full of finest engex and handsome doe-eyed mechs with their valves out.
He said, “Yeah, okay.”
“Splendid!” said Megatron. “Get over here.”
“Skywarp,” Starscream stuttered as his underling went over to the desk. “Sky – Skywarp –” And there was that smirk again.
Taking Skywarp by the shoulders, Megatron bent him firmly over the desk and arranged him to his liking; Skywarp put up no resistance. Reaching down, Megatron gave his modesty panel a pat. “Open up.” There was a shkk as Skywarp’s panel retracted. “Good boy.”
The mesh of Skywarp’s valve was already beginning to lubricate, a fact Starscream became intimately aware of when Megatron took his spike in hand and ran the head over Skywarp’s array. The sensation was – one step removed from his own body – less intense than it might otherwise have been – teasing – tormentuous.
“Megatron,” he squeaked.
“Forgive me if I’m a little clumsy, Skywarp,” said Megatron. “You see, I’m used to working with – larger equipment.”
“Larger equip-ahhh,” Starscream choked out, as Megatron thrust in. “Megatron – ohhh –”
He was intimately familiar with the various sights and sounds of Skywarp being fragged. He’d done it himself enough times – this wasn’t, in truth, even the first time he’d sat and watched.
As Megatron took him by the waist and began to pound him into the desk, Skywarp made his usual contented uhh – uhh – uhh – and Starscream’s hips began to move of their own accord, thrusting up into empty air. His diagnostic system was sending up alerts, pinging over and over at the awful wrongness of the situation.
There was nothing in the vicinity of his own modesty panel but empty space; and yet he could feel the delectable friction of Skywarp’s valve, the throbbing clutch of his interior. His fans were picking up speed. There was a terrible risk that he might overheat.
The worst part was, Megatron could, undoubtedly, feel it too. Starscream’s spike was plugged into his nervous system and as he continued to frag Skywarp he let out bitten-off grunts of enjoyment.
It was repulsive. It was sickeningly intimate. There was nothing he wanted less in the world than to witness Lord Megatron in the grips of passion; to be so bodily joined with him, interfacing not merely physically but on a sensory level, made him want to scream.
“Enjoying yourself, Starscream?” said Megatron, in remarkably level tones given that by his own admission he likely hadn’t fragged anyone in around four million years.
“I despise you,” Starscream hissed.
Megatron had the sheer spite to laugh at him. “How about you, Skywarp?”
“Uh – yeah,” Skywarp groaned. “It’s good.”
“Better than he frags you?” remarked Megatron.
Skywarp pressed his face into the desk. “Yeah,” he said, cottoning on. “So much better, boss, ugh –”
“He’s just saying that!” Starscream wailed. “He doesn’t mean it!”
Megatron pulled out and at the deprivation in his already tormented state he almost screamed aloud. “Turn over,” Megatron commanded. Skywarp dutifully rolled onto his back and spread his legs. Megatron hummed in approval. “Are you this well behaved for Starscream?” he said, pushing Skywarp’s legs up.
“He’s a nasty little brat,” said Starscream. “I despise him too.” Megatron pushed back in and he threw back his head, whimpering shamelessly at the ceiling.
“Remember what I told you,” said Megatron as he continued to ream out Skywarp’s valve. “You get one. Let’s make it count, shall we?”
“You – you monster,” Starscream gasped out, pressing his thighs together in an utterly vain attempt to achieve some direct stimulation. There was, of course, nothing to stimulate.
Skywarp’s hips had begun to pitch up into Megatron’s thrusts, his valve making a dreadful wet squelching of enjoyment. “Are you going to overload, Skywarp?” said Megatron, sounding almost bored at the situation.
Bored! As if Starscream didn’t have the most interesting spike this side of Alpha Centauri. People were always telling him how wonderful his spike was and how gracefully he used it – perhaps not in quite so many words. It usually sounded more like oh, your spike is so big and frag me harder, but he could read between the lines.
“Yeah, boss,” said Skywarp. “Ungh. Yeah.” He was gazing up at Megatron with big rapt eyes, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Starscream couldn’t believe it was happening either, but Skywarp seemed to consider being fragged by Lord Megatron with Starscream’s spike to be less of a horrific nightmare and more of a dirty fantasy come true.
“Well,” said Megatron, picking up the pace and pounding Skywarp into the desk so hard his thighs began to make a solid clunk, clunk, clunk against the edge of it. “Go on, then.”
To Starscream’s disgust, the line actually worked. Skywarp’s head lolled back against the desk with a conclusive thunk, sparks dancing up his chest; and a moment later there came the distant, glorious, horrible sensation of a valve tightening around his phantom spike. “Hgnnh,” Starscream choked out. “Megatron –”
“Beg for it,” said Megatron, still in that mild, vaguely bored tone.
“Ahh,” he choked out. “Mega-tron –”
“Beg,” Megatron repeated.
Skywarp’s noises had taken on a more pained quality; based on previous experience, the fragging had probably become less enjoyable post-overload. Well, having his idiot valve pounded long after he was done was no more than he deserved, the traitor.
Anyway, Starscream wasn’t about to beg. He was not going to beg.
“Please,” he muttered.
“Beg properly,” Megatron instructed.
He snapped. “Please!” he cried out, voice buzzing. “Please, please, let me overload! Please, please, please!”
Tipping back his head, Megatron let out a long, heavy groan, sparks crackling down his spine; and a microsecond later the sensation rolled through Starscream, his pleasure circuits buzzing with the phantom overload. It was blissful – it was glorious – it was entirely unsatisfying.
He sat, legs shaking, hips still making the occasional involuntary jerk up, watching as Megatron pulled his spike out of Skywarp’s valve. At the sensation of a hot droplet of transfluid running down its length, he twitched and whimpered. Megatron’s transfluid, he reminded himself; not his own. Revolting. He’d have to have his array fully decontaminated when he got it back.
“Skywarp,” said Megatron. “Send Knockout back in here, would you?”
“Yes, sir.” Skywarp’s modesty panel clicked closed. Rolling off the desk, he ambled over to the door on noticeably shaky legs.
“Traitor,” Starscream hissed as he passed. Skywarp simply smirked back. If he’d had anything throwable to hand, he’d have thrown it.
The door closed.
“I do hope you’ve learned something from this experience,” said Megatron.
Oh, Primus, he was reaching down to touch himself again.
“A valuable lesson about self-control, maybe.” Megatron’s hand closed around his depressurising spike, toying with it. Starscream gripped his own thighs and tried his utmost not to make any sound. “Or perhaps something worthwhile about leadership?”
He supposed he could take a small amount of comfort in the thought that it might have been Megatron’s first overload in thousands of years. “I’ve learned one thing, Megatron.”
“Oh?” said Megatron, still playing with his spike. “And what’s that?”
“When you die,” he bit out. “It’s going to hurt.”
Megatron’s hand stilled on Starscream’s spike. Then he began, uproariously, to laugh.