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The depths of Iacon never slept. The constant hum of the drills, the crackle of raw energon being extracted, and the acrid smell of rust and burnt metal filled the tunnels like a second atmosphere. D-16 gasped, his chassis still vibrating from the blow Darkwing had dealt him minutes earlier. The foreman, loyal to the core to Sentinel Prime, had not needed a real excuse. An energon container that had destabilized due to a failure in the straps—a failure everyone knew was from poor maintenance—had been enough.
Now the young miner was alone in a secondary gallery, his fist clenched against the metallic rock wall. Each blow sent blue sparks that died on the dirty floor. His gray armor was stained with fresh energon and old rust; the miner’s badge—a worn copper rectangle—glowed faintly under the dim light of the industrial lamps. He was the equivalent of nineteen vorns. Enough to work until he wore out, not enough for anyone to see him as more than disposable scrap.
“Damn them all!” he growled, his voice hoarse with contained rage. His optics, an intense, bright red even in the gloom, burned with a fury that seemed too large for such a young transformer.
From the elevated platform that connected the upper levels with the supervisory mines, Starscream watched.
The seeker of haughty design kept his arms crossed over his impeccable chassis, the purple and silver cloak falling elegantly over his folded wings. His armor shone under the artificial lights, without a single speck of dust. It contrasted violently with the lower world. Boredom. That was the feeling that had brought him there. Sentinel had sent him to “supervise”—an elegant way of saying “stay away from upper Iacon while I enjoy myself”—and Starscream hated every second of that humiliation disguised as duty.
Then he saw him. That miner pounding the wall as if he could bring down the entire system with his fists.
A lopsided smile, sharp as a razor, curved the seeker’s lips.
“How picturesque,” he murmured to himself, his voice elegant and laden with disdain. “A rabid pup in a cage.”
With a soft hum of his turbines, Starscream descended. His wings opened slightly to stabilize the descent, catching the light and casting elongated shadows on the walls. He landed gracefully a few meters from D-16, the impact of his feet barely raising dust.
D-16 turned sharply, optics lit. For a second, surprise crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by that same fierce rage. He recognized the High Guard emblem. He recognized the second-in-command.
Starscream tilted his head, observing him the way one examines a defective piece on an assembly line.
“Well, well… A little miner with such bright optics thinks he can look at me like that?” His voice was silk over steel, cynical and seductive at the same time. “What’s wrong, little one? Did the scrap rebel against you today?”
D-16 clenched his fists, energon dripping from a superficial cut on his arm.
“I’m not your entertainment, Starscream.”
The seeker let out a low, musical laugh that echoed off the tunnel walls.
“Oh, but what charm. You know my designation. What an honor for someone whose only badge is that piece of junk you wear on your chest.” He took another step closer, his height and elegance making the space between them feel immediately unequal. “Tell me, scrap with temperament… do you really believe that rage of yours is worth anything down here? Do you think hitting walls is going to change anything? Pathetic.”
D-16 stepped forward, impulsive. His optics locked onto the seeker’s with an intensity that made something stir in Starscream’s spark. It wasn’t just rage. It was hunger. Hunger to be seen. To be understood. A raw vulnerability wrapped in fury.
Starscream felt the “click.” That small and dangerous interest he hadn’t expected.
“My rage is the only real thing in this pit of lies,” D-16 spat, his voice low and trembling with restraint. “While you and those above parade around with your clean cloaks and false smiles.”
Starscream raised a hand, the gesture elegant and mocking, and brushed a finger along the edge of the young miner’s badge. The contact was brief, but enough for a spark to jump between them.
“How adorable. Wounded idealism in a transformer who’s not quite a transformer (No T-Cog) so… young.” His wings moved slightly, vibrating with amusement. “You know? I once had ideals too. Then I learned that the universe rewards those who play, not those who shout.”
At that moment, Sentinel Prime’s hologram activated on a nearby console, projecting itself at full size. The leader of Iacon appeared with his usual arrogant smile, golden armor gleaming.
“Starscream, my dear nightingale,” Sentinel crooned, using the old nickname Zeta Prime had given him in another era. “Are you still wasting time in the depths? I thought I told you to supervise, not socialize with the trash.”
Starscream tensed visibly. His wings folded tightly against his back, but he kept the cynical smile.
“I was only… inspecting productivity, my lord.”
Sentinel laughed, a cruel and amused laugh.
“Of course, of course. Remember your place, little bird. Or I’ll have to remind you myself.” Sentinel’s gaze shifted to D-16, evaluating him with disdain. “And this one? A new toy? Have fun, but don’t break him too soon. Miners are expensive to replace.”
The hologram cut off.
The silence that followed was dense. Starscream remained still for a second, hands closed into fists barely visible under the cloak. When he spoke again, his voice had a more venomous edge.
“See, little miner? That’s real power. Not your fists against the rock.” He stepped closer, invading D-16’s personal space until the heat of their chassis almost touched. “You are scrap. I am… useful. There’s a difference.”
D-16 did not retreat. His optics remained locked on the seeker’s, intense, bright with rage and something else neither of them would name yet. The young one breathed agitatedly, his chest rising and falling hard.
Starscream felt that click again. Stronger this time. Curiosity. And a slight, dangerous heat in his circuits.
With a soft, elegant laugh, he stepped back.
“Try not to die before our next… conversation, little one. You might actually amuse me.”
He turned with grace, wings partially extending as he activated his turbines to ascend. But before disappearing onto the upper platform, he turned his head one last time. Just a second. His red optics met D-16’s across the distance.
And he smiled.
....
Two cycles had passed since the encounter in the mines. D-16 had not been able to get that sharp smile out of his head, nor the way Starscream’s wings had moved when looking at him. He worked with more fury than ever, but every time he closed his optics he saw those red eyes evaluating him as if he were an interesting… and defective piece.
An encrypted message arrived on his personal console that same night. Coordinates. An abandoned intermediate level. No signature, but the style was unmistakable.
*Come. Alone.*
D-16 hesitated only a second before heading there.
The abandoned energon warehouse smelled of stagnation and old crystals. Piles of half-empty containers cast long shadows under the emergency lighting. Starscream was already there, leaning elegantly against a pile, cloak perfectly arranged and an expression of aristocratic boredom.
“You’re late, little miner,” he said without looking at him yet, though his wings tilted slightly forward, betraying interest. “I thought your rage would make you run faster.”
D-16 stopped several meters away, his chassis still dirty from his shift. He contrasted brutally with the seeker’s impeccable figure.
“What do you want?” he asked directly, his voice hoarse.
Starscream finally looked at him. A slow, seductive, and cruel smile spread across his lips.
“To talk. Or rather… I want to see how long it takes you to break.” He separated from the wall and walked toward him with measured steps. “Because I think you need to talk to someone who isn’t another piece of scrap like you.”
D-16 tensed his jaw, but did not move. Starscream stopped in front of him, invading his personal space without touching him yet.
“Look at yourself. Covered in rust and dried energon. You stink of the mine. And still you look at me as if you had the right.” He extended a hand and, with deliberate slowness, ran two fingers along the edge of the young one’s chassis, right where the energon had dried in a crack. “Pathetic. Do you think you’re different from the others? That your rage makes you special?”
D-16 grabbed Starscream’s wrist with force, but did not push it away.
“I’m not your amusement, Starscream.”
The seeker laughed softly, a sound that vibrated between them.
“Oh, but you are. At least for now.” He freed his wrist easily and circled the miner, like a predator evaluating his prey. “Tell me, little rabid cyber-dog… how much longer are you going to snarl in the dark while Sentinel and his dogs like Darkwing trample you? Do you think your loyalty to the other miners means anything? I had loyalty once. Look where I am.”
D-16 turned to follow him with his gaze, optics burning.
“Then why do you keep serving him? You hate him. It shows in every word.”
Starscream stopped behind him. His warm breath brushed the side of the young one’s helm.
“Because I know how to play the game. You only bark. I bite when the time is right.” His fingers touched him again, this time on the lower back, an “accidental” brush that sent blue sparks jumping between them. “At least Sentinel pretends to be a leader. You only… snarl. Pretty, but useless.”
D-16’s rage exploded. He shoved Starscream against a pile of containers with a growl. The seeker let him do it, laughing even as his back hit the metal.
“I’m not your toy!” D-16 roared, pressing his forearm against the older one’s chassis. “I’m nothing to you!”
Starscream did not defend himself. Instead, his optics narrowed with dark pleasure. One of his wings brushed D-16’s side, vibrating.
“There it is,” he whispered, voice low and seductive. “That intensity. That hunger.” His free hand rose and gripped the young one’s chin, forcing him to look directly at him. “You’re a foolish wounded idealist, D-16. But there’s something in you… something that intrigues me.”
For a moment, the silence was filled only with their ventilators working faster. Starscream loosened the grip on his chin, but did not let go completely. His voice dropped even lower.
“Sentinel betrayed me. He turned me into this. Into his useful jester. He calls me ‘nightingale’ as if it were a pretty memory of Zeta Prime, just to remind me that I’m no longer any of that. He humiliates me because he can. And I smile, because I know that someday I’ll tear out his throat with my own hands.”
D-16 blinked. For a second, his optics softened. He saw the real pain beneath all that cynical arrogance. He saw the wounded seeker.
Starscream noticed it immediately. His expression closed like a hatch.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, pushing him back with controlled force. “Don’t you dare look at me with pity, miner.”
He turned him and pressed him against the containers, his taller, more elegant body covering D-16’s from behind. A more deliberate brush this time: his pelvis against the young one’s lower back, just enough for both to feel the heat and the static.
“You are inferior. We are not on the same level. We never will be.” His voice was a cruel purr against D-16’s audio receptor. “But you amuse me. And maybe… just maybe, I can teach you how to play.”
D-16 breathed agitatedly, the contact burning his circuits. For an instant, the rage and something far more dangerous mixed in his gaze.
Starscream pulled away abruptly, composing his mask of superiority.
“Go. Now. Before I decide you’re not even worth the effort of humiliating you.”
D-16 looked at him a second longer. He saw the crack. He saw how the seeker closed himself off. And still, that fierce gaze did not waver.
“This isn’t over,” the young one murmured before turning and leaving the warehouse, leaving Starscream alone among the shadows.
The silence lasted barely a few instants.
The warehouse door opened again with a hydraulic hiss. Sentinel Prime entered, without guards. His smile was wide, predatory.
“My dear nightingale…” he crooned, approaching from behind.
Starscream tensed instantly.
“My lord, I was just about to—”
He did not finish the sentence. Sentinel embraced him forcibly from behind, one arm around his waist and the other rising over his chassis. The contact was possessive, too intimate. Starscream tried to slip free with a subtle movement of his wings, but Sentinel pressed him harder against his own frame, laughing softly against his audio receptor.
“Always so restless, little bird. Finished playing with your new little miner?” His fingers traced the edge of a wing, pressing hard enough to hurt. “Remember who you really belong to. I want you in my chambers at dawn. We have… unfinished business, like in the old days.”
Starscream kept the cynical smile, though his body was rigid and his wings trembled with restraint and disgust.
“As you order, my lord,” he answered in a controlled voice.
Sentinel finally released him with a mocking slap on the side and left, leaving the seeker alone in the warehouse.
Starscream remained motionless for several seconds, hands closed into fists. A slight tremor ran through his wings.
“Damn you…” he whispered into the void, not knowing if he meant Sentinel, D-16, or himself for feeling that dangerous curiosity he could not extinguish.
....
The following cycles became a slow and dangerous addiction.
Starscream did not seek out D-16 in an obvious way. At first they were “casual encounters,” as if fate (or his own sick curiosity) placed them on the same path. But both knew it was not coincidence.
The first time after the warehouse was in extraction tunnel 47-B. D-16 was finishing his shift, servos aching and chassis covered in a thin layer of rust and dried energon. He was walking with his head down when he heard the characteristic hum of descending turbines. He looked up just as Starscream landed elegantly a few meters away, cloak waving softly.
The seeker looked him up and down, one eyebrow arched.
“You still look like scrap, but at least you no longer smell only of desperation,” he commented in a mocking tone, though his optics lingered longer than necessary on the young one’s agitated chest.
D-16 tensed, but did not retreat.
“What do you want now?”
Starscream smiled with that slow seductive way he was already beginning to know too well.
“Boredom is dangerous for me, little miner. And you… are the most entertaining thing I’ve found in a long time. Come. Play with me.”
D-16 hesitated. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew Starscream was superior, manipulative, and dangerous. But that same arrogance, that cruel elegance, pulled at something inside him.
“Fine,” he finally growled.
The first “test” was a race through the unstable secondary tunnels. Starscream proposed the challenge with a sharp smile: whoever reached the abandoned platform on level 9 first won. D-16, impulsive by nature, accepted.
They ran.
The seeker flew low, wings folded to maneuver in the narrow spaces, laughing every time D-16 jumped over debris or dodged hanging cables. The young miner used his brute strength and knowledge of the mines to compensate. The artificial wind lashed their faces; the hum of turbines and the pounding of feet against metal filled the tunnel. At one point, D-16 stumbled. Starscream slowed just enough for him to catch up, deliberately brushing a wing against his shoulder.
They arrived almost at the same time. D-16 gasped hard, chassis hot and ventilators working at maximum. Starscream had barely a slight glow of effort on his armor.
“Not bad for a miner without a T-Cog,” the seeker said, approaching with slow steps. He extended his servo and, with feigned contempt, wiped a trail of energon running down D-16’s cheek. The touch was deliberately slow. His fingers lingered, tracing the line of the jaw to the edge of the helm. “You’re still inferior… but you’re starting to interest me for real.”
D-16 breathed agitatedly, optics fixed on the older one’s. The contact sent sparks through his entire system.
“Why do you do this?” he asked in a low voice.
Starscream did not answer immediately. Instead, he leaned a little closer, until their chassis almost touched.
“Because I want to see how long you last before you beg.”
They did not kiss that time. Starscream withdrew with a soft laugh, leaving the young one frustrated and with his spark beating hard.
...
The encounters became a dangerous routine. The next day, Starscream found him near a forgotten surveillance terminal. He challenged him to hack a minor piece of data: only guard shift information. Nothing that put the structure at real risk, but enough to feel the adrenaline.
While D-16 worked at the console, Starscream positioned himself behind him, body pressed to his back, whispering into his audio receptor.
“Slower… yes, like that. Good boy.”
His hands ran down the miner’s sides, “correcting” the posture, adjusting a loose panel on his shoulder with fingers that lingered too long. Every brush was calculated. Every word loaded with double meaning. D-16 trembled, divided between the rage and a desire that grew with each encounter.
“You’re a fool if you think this is equality, little one,” Starscream whispered in his ear when they finished the successful hack. “I am High Guard. You are a miner with rage and nothing more. But you amuse me, as much as a cute little pup.”
D-16 turned abruptly. Their faces were centimeters apart. The young one raised a hand and grabbed the seeker’s cloak, pulling him.
“Then stop playing and do something real.”
Starscream smiled with cruelty. His wings vibrated visibly. He pressed his body against D-16’s, pelvis against pelvis, letting him feel the growing heat. One hand lowered to the edge of the young one’s abdominal plate, brushing right along the sensitive line where the most intimate zone began.
“Not yet,” he purred against his lips, almost touching them. “I want you to beg me first… D-16.”
He pulled away again at the last second, laughing while D-16 cursed in frustration.
...
The most intense test came when Starscream received information that Sentinel and Darkwing would come down to inspect the intermediate levels that same night.
Instead of avoiding the risk, he decided to use it to heighten the tension.
He found D-16 at the end of his shift and, without giving many explanations, grabbed his arm and dragged him toward a narrow crack between two large abandoned energon deposits.
“Absolute silence,” Starscream ordered in a low voice, pushing him against the back wall.
D-16 was about to protest, but the seeker pressed his entire body against him, covering him completely. The space was so narrow there was no way to separate. Chassis against chassis. Legs intertwined. Starscream’s armor, still fresh and elegant, against D-16’s dirty and hot one.
The voices approached.
Sentinel and Darkwing passed only a few meters away.
“…that nightingale thinks he can play at being rebellious,” Sentinel said with contempt. “I keep him because he’s useful, but if he gets too insolent, I’ll remind him exactly what his place is beneath me.”
Darkwing laughed coarsely.
“And the miner I saw him with earlier? Another toy for your little bird?”
“Probably. Starscream always had… low tastes.”
The laughs slowly faded.
Inside the hiding place, neither of them moved. Starscream trembled with contained rage, but also with something more. His spark beat hard against D-16’s. His ventilators worked fast, sending hot air against the young one’s neck. His wings, pressed against the wall, vibrated visibly.
D-16 turned his head slightly. Their lips almost brushed.
“He hates you…” he whispered.
“And I hate him more,” Starscream answered, voice hoarse. His hands rose along the miner’s sides, gripping possessively. “But right now… I can only think about how easy it would be to break you right here.”
He lowered one hand and slid it between both bodies, deliberately brushing the lower zone of D-16’s chassis. He did not reach the interface, but the contact was so intimate and prolonged that the young one let out a stifled sound.
Starscream smiled against his audio receptor.
“Feel what you provoke in me, miner. And think about this the next time you’re alone in your berth.”
They stayed like that for several minutes after the voices disappeared, breaths mixed, sparks jumping between their armors. Starscream was the first to separate, though it cost him more than he wanted to admit.
“Go back to your shift,” he said, voice still hoarse. “And dream of me tonight… because I’ll be thinking of you.”
D-16 watched him leave, wings extended and elegant stride. Frustration, desire, and a dangerous loyalty mixed in his spark.
He knew he would return.
Because the game already had them both trapped.
....
The punishment was brutal in its humiliation, though controlled in its violence.
Darkwing was waiting for him at the end of the shift, flanked by two guards and several miners who watched in silence. He did not give long explanations. Only a vague accusation of “data leak” and “insubordination.” D-16 knew it was because of the small thefts Starscream had asked of him. The foreman did not need real proof; the word of one loyal to Sentinel was enough.
They dragged him to the central plaza of the mining levels, an open space where the workers finished their shifts. Darkwing forced him to kneel in the center while a small crowd gathered.
“This is what happens when a little miner thinks he can play above his level,” Darkwing announced in a loud voice.
The first blow was a punch straight to the chassis. D-16 growled, but stayed upright. The second hit him in the abdomen, knocking the air out of him. Then came the kicks: precise, to the legs to make him fall, to the sides to leave deep bruises in the armor. Energon began to drip from cracked joints. Darkwing grabbed him by the helm and forced him to look at the other miners.
“Look at them,” he growled. “They know their place. Why don’t you?”
D-16 spat energon onto the ground.
“Because some of us still have dignity.”
That earned him another hard blow to the face. He fell to the side, optics flickering. The pain was intense, but the worst was the humiliation: dozens of gazes, some with pity, others with fear. Darkwing lifted him by the arm and gave him a final kick in the back before leaving him lying there.
“Let this serve as a lesson.”
When everyone dispersed, D-16 dragged himself to a secluded gallery, leaning against the cold wall. His chassis burned. He breathed with difficulty.
Starscream appeared almost an hour later. His elegant footsteps echoed in the silence. Upon seeing the young one’s state, his wings tensed and he dropped quickly.
“Idiot…” he murmured, kneeling in front of him. His hand trembled slightly before carefully touching a bruise on D-16’s chassis. “What did they do to you?”
D-16 lifted his gaze, optics full of fury and pain.
“You…” he growled, pushing him weakly. “All of this is your fault. Your damn games! Your ‘tests’! I’m not your toy, Starscream!”
The seeker remained silent. His wings lowered. The mask fell completely for a few seconds.
He stood and walked a few steps, giving him his back.
“Everything in Iacon is a power game, D-16,” he began, voice low and bitter. “I was loyal to the Primes. I believed in a better future. And Sentinel betrayed me. He humiliated me publicly, turned me into his jester. He touches me, calls me ‘nightingale’ as if I were his pet… while he plans how to keep me under control. I hate him with every circuit. And still I pretend, because it’s the only way to survive.”
He turned, optics bright.
“And then you arrived. Young, rabid, full of the idealism I lost long ago. I humiliate you because you remind me of what I was. I provoke you because I need to feel control over something. Because if I don’t control this… then I’m still just his broken bird.”
D-16 looked at him, breathing with difficulty.
“Then don’t use me the way they used you.”
Starscream let out a bitter laugh and approached. He lifted him against the wall with controlled force.
“Too late.”
The fight was fierce but brief. D-16 pushed and struck with rage. Starscream blocked and responded, until the blows became desperate grips. The seeker opened his lower panel, revealing his already wet and gleaming valve. He took D-16’s hand and guided it there.
“Feel what you provoke,” he whispered.
D-16 inserted two fingers, moving them inside the hot, tight valve. Starscream moaned, hips moving against his hand.
But soon the seeker took total control. He freed D-16’s hard, dripping spike and positioned himself over him. He lowered slowly, impaling himself centimeter by centimeter with a long, trembling moan. Starscream’s valve was hot, wet, and extremely tight, contracting around the young one’s spike.
“Frag…” Starscream gasped, beginning to move. He rose and fell with a dominant rhythm, controlling every deep descent—“…so hot inside me.”
D-16 growled, hands gripping the seeker’s hips hard while being mounted against the wall. Every movement was deliberate: Starscream rolled his hips, squeezed the internal muscles, rubbed sensitive points inside his own valve against D-16’s spike.
“You’re mine now,” the seeker purred, accelerating the rhythm. One hand tangled in D-16’s neck, holding him possessively. “Say it.”
“Yours…” D-16 gasped, thrusting upward to meet every descent.
Starscream moaned louder, valve contracting rhythmically. The wet sound of their bodies joining filled the gallery along with sparks and uncontrolled ventilators. The seeker leaned in and bit the young one’s neck while riding faster, deeper.
“Harder,” he demanded. “I want to feel you to the bottom.”
D-16 obeyed, thrusting upward with force. Starscream threw his head back, wings fully extended and trembling. His valve grew even tighter, lubricant dripping down D-16’s spike.
The seeker’s orgasm came first: a stifled cry, valve contracting violently in spasms around the spike, blue sparks jumping between their chassis. The pleasure dragged D-16 seconds later. He buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural growl, filling Starscream’s valve with hot, abundant pulses.
They remained joined for several minutes, trembling, breaths mixed. Starscream rested his forehead against D-16’s, still impaled, gently contracting his valve around the still-sensitive spike.
“This is what I am,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “Cynical. Wounded. Cruel. Do you still lov—…desire me, Miner?”
D-16, exhausted and with his chassis full of bruises and pleasure, looked him in the optics.
“Yes… I still want you, but someday it will be me who makes you beg.”
Starscream smiled weakly, a tremor in his wings.
“We’ll see.”
...
The place was one of Iacon’s best-kept secrets: an abandoned observation platform on the upper levels, hidden behind ruined structures and accessible only by a precise jump or expert wings. From there, the city shone like a sea of cold lights and golden towers. Sentinel Prime ruled from the center, but up here there was only silence, artificial wind, and distant stars.
Starscream arrived first. He leaned against the railing, lighting a pure energon cigarette. The blue smoke glowed faintly as it left his lips while his wings moved lazily with the breeze.
D-16 appeared shortly after, climbing with effort. He still had visible bruises from the previous punishment, but his gaze was as intense as ever.
Starscream did not turn immediately. He took a long drag and spoke in a soft, dangerous voice:
“I knew you’d come.”
D-16 approached until he stood beside him, looking at the city.
“Is this also part of your game? Bringing me here to feel superior while you look at Iacon as if it were already yours?”
Starscream let out a low laugh and finally looked at him. His red optics shone with a mix of cynicism and something warmer.
“Maybe. Or maybe… I underestimated you, D-16.” He took another drag and exhaled the smoke to the side. “I thought you were just a rabid miner with pretty optics. But you keep coming back. You keep looking at me as if you wanted to destroy me, fuck me… love me… at the same time. That… intrigues me.”
D-16 turned completely toward him.
“Stop talking in circles. What am I to you really? A toy? A distraction? Something you can break when you get bored?”
Starscream put out the cigarette against the railing and stepped closer until their chassis brushed. One hand rose and caressed the young one’s cheek with surprising softness.
“I want to break you… and I want to fix you,” he admitted in a low voice. “I want to see how far that loyalty of yours goes. I want to see how your idealism breaks when you understand that this world does not reward the good. And above all… I want to feel that someone truly sees me.”
The kiss that followed was charged, deep, and possessive. Starscream took control immediately, pushing D-16 against a nearby column while their tongues tangled. His servos ran over the young one’s chassis with hunger, opening panels and caressing sensitive joints.
D-16 responded with equal intensity, gripping the seeker’s hips and pulling him closer.
Starscream’s armor fell piece by piece with elegance. First the cloak, then the upper plate. D-16 imitated him with less grace, revealing his more robust and young form. When both were almost bare, Starscream pushed him gently until D-16 was sitting against the ground, with a view of the city.
The seeker straddled him.
“Look at me,” he ordered in a hoarse voice.
He lowered slowly onto D-16’s hard, hot spike, impaling himself with a long, trembling moan. His valve opened around the thick length, hot, wet, and extremely tight. Starscream threw his head back, wings fully extended as he descended to the bottom.
“Frag… so deep,” he gasped, beginning to move. He rose and fell with slow, controlled movements at first, enjoying every centimeter.
D-16 growled, hands gripping the older one’s hips hard, leaving marks on his frame.
“Starscream…”
The rhythm gradually increased. Starscream rode with dominant elegance, rhythmically contracting his valve around the spike, rolling his hips to rub every sensitive point. Every descent produced wet, obscene sounds that mixed with their moans and the wind of the height.
“You’re so young… so hot inside me,” the seeker purred, leaning in to bite D-16’s neck. “Do you feel how I squeeze you? How my valve wants all of you?”
D-16 thrust upward, meeting every movement. His optics were fixed on Starscream’s face: the way his wings trembled, how his lips opened in silent moans, how his valve dripped lubricant down the spike.
The vulnerability arrived in the middle of the pleasure.
Between deep thrusts, Starscream rested his forehead against D-16’s, voice broken.
“No one had ever made me feel… seen. Everyone sees the traitor. The jester. Sentinel’s broken little bird. But you… you look at me as if I could be more.”
D-16 held him tighter, penetrating him with slower but deeper thrusts.
“I never had anyone,” the young one confessed between gasps. “I lost my family in the mines. I only had loyalty to the others… and now I have you. Even if you’re dangerous.”
Starscream let out a trembling laugh that turned into a moan when D-16 hit an especially sensitive point inside his valve.
“Then let’s be dangerous together.”
The rhythm became wilder. Starscream rode hard, valve contracting tightly around the spike. His wings vibrated violently. D-16 held him by the hips, thrusting upward with all his youthful strength.
Starscream’s orgasm came first: a stifled cry, valve clamping like a vise in rhythmic spasms, blue and white sparks jumping between their frames. His hot lubricant covered the spike and D-16’s thighs.
The young one came seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and filling the seeker’s valve with hot, abundant jets. Both trembled together for a long minute, deeply joined.
After the climax came unexpected tenderness.
Starscream did not rise immediately. He remained seated on D-16, valve still gently contracting around the half-hard spike. He rested his helm on the young one’s shoulder and, for the first time, let his wings close around both of them in a protective gesture.
“Come, play with me…” he whispered against his neck, voice hoarse and almost affectionate. “But don’t expect to win, D. Because I don’t plan on losing either.”
D-16 held him tightly, looking at the lights of Iacon in the distance.
“I don’t want to win,” he murmured. “I just want this to be real.”
Starscream did not answer. He only tightened the embrace.
For now, that was enough.
...
Sentinel’s suspicion did not take long to become a carefully prepared trap.
Everything exploded four cycles after the night on the high platform. Starscream was urgently summoned to the leader’s private chambers. What he did not expect was to find D-16 already there, on his knees in the center of the room, held by two elite guards. The young one had a fresh cut on his lip and recent bruises; he had clearly resisted.
Sentinel was seated in his large armchair, with a golden, predatory smile. The light of Iacon entered through the windows, illuminating his gleaming armor.
“My dear nightingale,” he said in a honeyed voice, using the nickname like a weapon. “And you’ve brought your pet. How sweet. I thought I told you your toys stayed on the lower levels.”
Starscream stopped short, his wings rigid against his back. He maintained his composure, but his circuits burned.
“My lord, this must be a misunderstanding. I was only…”
Sentinel rose slowly and approached. He ignored D-16 completely at first. He placed himself behind Starscream and embraced him from behind in a deliberately intimate and humiliating way, one arm around his waist while the other servo ran down his thigh.
“I’ve heard very interesting rumors,” Sentinel whispered against his audio receptor, loud enough for D-16 to hear everything. “That my favorite little bird has been letting a miner fuck him in dark corners. That you moan like a whore when he impales you against the wall. Is that true, nightingale?”
Starscream tried to slip free with a subtle movement of his shoulders, but Sentinel pressed him harder, pressing his pelvis against his rear and brushing a hand along the edge of his lower panel.
“Only… passing amusement,” Starscream answered, voice tense but controlled. “Nothing that affects my loyalty.”
D-16, from the floor, trembled with contained rage. His red optics burned as he watched Sentinel manhandle Starscream in front of him.
“Let him go,” the young one growled, trying to rise. A guard struck him on the shoulder, forcing him to stay kneeling.
Sentinel laughed and looked directly at D-16 while continuing to press Starscream against his body.
“See, little miner? He has always been mine. I broke him first. I made him beg when he was loyal to Megatronus. And you… are just a cheap replacement.” His hand lowered further, brushing directly over Starscream’s panel without opening it, only to humiliate him. “Want to see it? I can remind him of his place right here, in front of you.”
The tension in the room was suffocating. Starscream breathed agitatedly, pure hatred in his optics. D-16 was about to explode.
In an act of pure impulsiveness and fierce loyalty, D-16 freed himself from one guard’s grip with a brutal elbow to the chassis and lunged forward.
“Don’t touch him, damn you!” he roared, impacting Sentinel with all his weight and strength.
The blow did not knock the leader down, but it made him step back several paces and release Starscream. The guards immediately piled onto D-16, striking him and pinning him to the ground. Even so, the young one kept struggling, optics fixed on Sentinel with real defiance.
Sentinel blinked, surprised, then let out a slow, dangerous laugh.
“Well… the miner has guts. You’ve impressed me, scrap.” He looked at Starscream, who was now free but visibly tense. “Maybe he is worth a little more.”
There was a long, charged silence. Sentinel adjusted his armor and stepped back.
“This time I forgive you, nightingale. Both of you. But watch your pet carefully. The next time he interferes in my affairs, I’ll melt him into scrap in front of you. And then I’ll remind you exactly who rules here.”
When Sentinel and the guards left, sealing the door, the silence fell like a dead weight.
Starscream quickly knelt beside D-16, helping him sit up. His hands trembled slightly as he checked the new wounds.
“Idiot… impulsive… brave idiot,” he murmured, voice hoarse. There was real pride mixed with fear. “That could have killed you.”
D-16 looked at him, breathing with difficulty through the pain.
“I chose. I chose you. I’m not going to stay watching how he humiliates you.”
Starscream helped him stand and took him to a hidden room on the intermediate levels, a small, safe space he used for his plans. Once inside, he closed the door and pushed D-16 against the wall with a fierce, possessive, and desperate kiss.
The kiss lasted minutes. Hands running over chassis, wings wrapping around the young one, sparks jumping between them. When they separated, Starscream rested his forehead against D-16’s.
“I planned to use you,” he confessed in a low voice. “Feed your rage against Sentinel. Turn you into my weapon to overthrow him. But now… I don’t want to lose you. This became real. Too real.”
D-16 grabbed his cloak and pulled him closer.
“Then don’t use me only as a weapon. Use me as a partner. Let’s keep hating… but together.”
Starscream smiled, that sharp, seductive smile that hid so many things. He kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. His hands ran down the young one’s body with tenderness mixed with possessiveness.
“We’ll take revenge together, D-16…” he whispered against his lips, softly biting the lower one. “But don’t expect to surpass me easily. Because this time I’m not sure I want it to end either.”
Outside that room, Iacon shone under Sentinel’s yoke. The mines remained full of contained rage. The High Guard murmured in the shadows. And between two very different frames—a cynical, wounded seeker and a young, idealistic miner—something dangerous, fragile, and addictive had been born.
The game and the revenge had only just begun.
And neither of them was willing to surrender.
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