Sky and Ground

Noncon, dubcon, humil.



Yeah, Bayverse Megatron is not sexy. There have been TWO kerfluffles in fandom recently about pairing Megatron with Starscream and whether that relationship is abusive or consensual or what. I'm not feeding into it. This is my headcanon, and this is movieverse. Sorry. He's an abusive, sadistic fuck in Bayverse, no two ways about it. Hence, here.



*~*~*~*~*~





“This is…perfect,” Megatron purred, after Soundwave finished speaking. His chance, finally, to take down the Trine. He had kept them separated, easily, for ages. Needs of the war, needs of their specific talents were compelling enough to scatter the Trine across the galaxies of the war. But this was…handed to him, as though Primus himself had brought them together, under his optic, to be brought under his heel as well. Starscream’s insubordinations would end. He could take down the Investigator General’s branch by destroying one of its better agents. Three broken Seekers, open to his commands. Perhaps…perhaps he would order them to fight themselves to the death. Perhaps he would kill one while the others watched. Oh. Too many possibilities. Dizzying. He could hardly wait.



“Let us call them together,” he smirked. “Your information is accurate—Skywarp has interfaced, has sparked with Barricade?” He could already taste the Trine’s humiliation. A Trine that already was primed to collapse. Fighting amongst the members over this. So simple, such a small fulcrum against which to lean to bring the Trine down.



“Absolute confirmation,” Soundwave said, blandly. A soft rebuke—that Megatron should question anything he asserted. Megatron ignored that…for now. “On top of other…egregious acts of unprofessional behavior while on the course of his investiga—“ Megatron cut him short with a swipe of his hand.



“Such accusations are tedious to prove,” he said. “This…fast and certain. A sword, Soundwave, is always preferable to a virus.”



Soundwave opened his mandibles to protest, but thought better and bit down on his words, saying simply, “Yes, my Lord.”



“See them brought together in my chamber after shiftcycle. All of them.” It was hard not to chortle. “And if you like, you may stay to watch as well. This, I feel, deserves an audience.” But a select one.



**



Barricade felt his tanks roil in worry as he stared at the summons on his display. He’d been staring at it the whole second half of his work shift. So soon? He felt…unprepared. He didn’t even know what he was unprepared for. Megatron wanted to see him, after shiftcycle. This had never happened before. And he had just, maybe, kind of pulled things together with Skywarp: they’d spent the recharge cycle wrapped together. He’d woken up with his fingers locked down into Skywarp’s chest armor, the larger mech still blissfully asleep. Barricade had lain there for a decaklik drinking in the soothing sound of the recharging engines, the warm fuzz of their EM field.



He had wanted to forget, and for a while, he had. And even when he had remembered all that had come between them, it had felt…insubstantial. A fog blocking the view, but nothing more, nothing, in a way, real. What was real was the large body, the soft hum of the engines, the ebb and flow of the vent cyclers, the comforting weight on his frame. What was real was Skywarp.



He hadn’t dared to move, fearful of waking the jet, so he’d unlocked his fingers, slowly, carefully, and lay until he felt Skywarp start to stir on top of him.



“Hey, little spike,” Skywarp said, blearily.



Barricade gave a tentative grin. Skywarp did not online quickly after recharge and it had become strangely endearing to him. It probably made sense, with so many systems to online, but still, he didn’t want it explained. He liked it as Skywarp.



“Recharge well?”



“Yeah.” Skywarp leaned over for a moment, pressing Barricade against him before pushing away, suddenly, as if afraid he’d gone too far. “You?”



“Fine.” Barricade risked a little wriggle, feeling the cockpit shift under his chassis. Skywarp gave a smile, which faded quickly.



“Have any bad purges? Because of me?” Barricade followed Skywarp’s gaze. Oh. Lying like this, their spark chambers were separated only by their unretracted armor.



“No,” Barricade said.



“Good, because, you know, I was thinking maybe you’d feel trapped with me lying on top of you and you woke up and couldn’t get out and…I should shut up, shouldn’t I?”



Barricade couldn’t explain how or why he found the black jet’s weight anything but confining or trapping. It felt safe. Even last recharge. He smiled back, waiting until Skywarp’s smile blossomed again.



And things had seemed…all right. On the road to it, at any rate. But this summons…scared him. Like a premonition, a wet slap of fog, telling him that things will change for the worse.



**



Starscream loitered outside the command chamber. He rushed to Barricade as he approached, dropping swiftly to one knee. “There is no time, Barricade. Two things. One, give me your private freq.”



Barricade balked. The only mech who had that was Skywarp and….



“Do not make me issue that as an order,” Starscream snapped. “We have not much time. If they even see us together, it could ruin everything.” Ruin everything what? Barricade was…confused. Still he rattled off the freq.



Starscream nodded briskly, logging the string of numbers. “Secondly and this is of vital importance. Whatever Megatron orders you to do, do it. Do not question, do not hesitate. Do not protest. You must obey him. Do you understand?” His optics blazed with intensity. Barricade nodded, dumbly. “Your devotion to Skywarp will not be served by defying Megatron here.” Starscream stood up, murmuring, “I rely on you: the Trine relies on you. Please obey.”



Barricade could only feel a swell of worry. This was too ominous. He couldn’t even form a question, standing there blank and stupid as the door whooshed open and Starscream strode inside, his movements already so different from what Barricade knew in private—a public gait, arrogance radiating from every movement. Before the door closed behind him, Barricade saw Starscream pause, his head revolving slowly, to take in the room. Deliberately provoking.



Trust him. Trust him as he trusts you. Barricade waited another few decakliks before he approached the door himself, enough that it was plausible that he had just arrived. He cringed—he only wished he were acting, and half so well as Starscream—as he realized he was the last to arrive, and not the only one. Starscream leaned insolently against one wall, arms folded, managing somehow to look ineffably bored, already. Skywarp looked agitated, his nasal ridge furrowing in concern as he saw Barricade. Apparently he didn’t know Barricade had been summoned, too. Thundercracker looked calm, but an angry sort of calm, one that is studying a situation for tactical advantage, coiling for attack. Barricade and he were…less than thrilled to see each other.



Even worse: Soundwave stood, triumphantly, by Megatron’s shoulder, one hand resting possessively on the back of Megatron’s command chair, his panels riffling with self-importance. All of Starscream’s mysterious and veiled warnings suddenly took a very ugly kind of shape.



Barricade had sat in many staff meetings where Megatron presided, but he couldn’t recall ever having this kind of focus, this kind of attention directed at him. He did not like it.



“Barricade,” Megatron acknowledged him with a nod. “Now that we are all here. It has come to my attention,” behind him, Soundwave puffed officiously, “that the IG agent in charge of this investigation has…shall we call them integrity issues?” Skywarp bristled. Thundercracker stiffened. Only Starscream seemed calm, his position never shifting from against the wall.



Megatron waited for more reaction. None of them obliged. Barricade, Starscream’s words echoing in his cortex, said nothing. Do not protest. Do not disobey. They were counting on him.



Megatron tilted his head at the lack of response. “Unsurprised, are you? Surely, Thundercracker,” he addressed the blue jet with an offensive intimacy, “you realize that Skywarp has been involving himself with ground-frames.” He smirked. He knew about Thundercracker’s prejudice, Barricade thought, then…oh, of course. From when Soundwave probed me. He forced himself still, not to shudder at the memory. Not to bow at his own helplessness, how he had handed a weapon to the enemy.



“I am aware of that,” Thundercracker said, stiffly. “It is a Trine matter.”



“Trines cede authority to a military commander,” Megatron retorted, smoothly. He had prepared for that objection. He seemed, Barricade thought, to be enjoying this. Thundercracker glared at Megatron, subsiding. Something echoed in Barricade’s processor. Yes. He’d read that. In those files Starscream had downloaded for him. He risked a look over. Starscream met his optics for a klik, then turned his face away, tapping one talon on his elbow. Almost an acknowledgement. “Furthermore,” Megatron said, tilting back in his chair, cocking his hips forward, “I understand, Starscream, that you have been acting above your station.”



Starscream lazily rolled his head toward Megatron. Deliberately provoking. Barricade felt a worm of fear flip in his tank. Why would Starscream demand his obedience and then act so insolently himself?



To draw the attention to himself. To bring it on himself, whatever Megatron has planned. The answer came to him in icy clarity.



“Have I?” Starscream drawled. “Examples?”



Soundwave fluttered his panels in irritation. “Now, for example,” he snapped.



“Now?” Starscream elbowed himself off the wall. “I’m merely asking for clarification. Though it’s nice that my accuser confronts me,” he paused, his optics flickering lazily at the command chair, and Megatron’s bulk, between them, “so directly.” Thundercracker shifted uncomfortably behind Barricade. He could swear he heard a soft voice whisper ‘shut up,’ warningly at Starscream.



“If this is the disrespect to which Soundwave has been subject in my absence,” Megatron said, coldly, “It has gone far enough. Barricade, step forward.”



Barricade complied, casting nervous, almost apologetic looks back at Skywarp. Who refused to meet his optics. Everything, gone. They’d woken up this morning with things maybe on the road to healing, and this was tearing a new wound. He said nothing—no one had asked him to say anything.



“You need some lessons in humility, Starscream,” Megatron said, toying with his own greenish talons, idly. His optics, however, were keen on the bronze jet, looking for resistance. Starscream tilted his head, optics drooping lazily. Deliberately not deigning to respond. Barricade felt awash with nerves. Starscream should really do something. Back down. Placate. Something. He felt Megatron’s optics hone on him—it felt like the one time he’d had a magnetic target lock nail him. An eerie sort of pulling at his armor. The optics flicked back to Starscream. “Suck his spike.”



Starscream’s bark of laughter drowned out Skywarp’s cry of protest, Thundercracker’s enraged hiss. “No.”



Soundwave’s optics glowed with a dark delight. “Insubordination,” he said, mildly. “Refusal to obey a direct order.”



“A direct order…to fellate a grounder.” He let the absurdity of the ‘order’ fill the room.



Barricade tensed. What was Starscream doing?



The cold optics of the Decepticon leader revolved to Barricade. “Apparently you think you’re worthy of spiking a Seeker. Prove it.”



“I—“ The warning Starscream had given him in the hall cut him short. He looked back, terrified, at Skywarp and Thundercracker. Skywarp’s optics were unreadable. Worry and anger and…something else. Betrayal? He turned unsteadily toward Starscream. His private freq clicked on.



//Good. Obey.//



//I…how?//



//Hit me.//



//What?!//



//Strike me, Barricade. I shall go down.//



//But…Skywarp…?//he could hear a helpless bleat in his voice over the comm. He edged forward. Starscream obliged by dropping into a crouch, as though waiting for an assault.



//Throw out your spoke weapon,// Starscream said. //Do not worry about Skywarp.//



//He knows?// Barricade felt a rush of relief. //He knows that you and I are…?//



//No. He cannot know. Or else his reaction would be…inauthentic. Strike me, NOW.//



Barricade couldn’t recover from the psychological shock before Starscream swung a long talon over his head. He ducked, barely, hearing the claws whistle as they sliced the air.



//Strike me!//



Barricade threw out his spoke weapon and flung it at Starscream. The jet danced back, but not fast enough—only Barricade noticed how he kept the one leg forward, almost drawing the blades to it. Sparks flew, metal sang. Starscream shrieked, and dropped to his opposite knee, clutching at the injury.



//Continue,//Starscream said. //Grab my helm.//



//I…but…,// Barricade’s optics flicked to Skywarp and Thundercracker. Thundercracker was shaking with rage; Skywarp looked ill. As ill as Barricade felt.



//Do it!//



Barricade’s talons grabbed for the helm. Starscream’s head went to Barricade’s interface hatch. Barricade tried to step away no no no no no but Starscream had slapped one of his hands, as if to stabilize himself, behind Barricade’s ankle. To any observer, it looked as though Barricade had jerked Starscream’s head there authoritatively.



//Open the panel.//



Barricade complied, knowing the worry and terror showed on his face. He heard a sucked-in vent from Megatron. Starscream’s free hand came up, clamping Barricade’s to the back of his head, pushing himself toward the panel. //Say something.//



//Like what?//



//Am I going to have to do everything?// A hint of frustration in the voice. Barricade felt a glossa trace the rim of his spike cover. Despite himself, his sensor net fired on. //Say ‘do it.’//



“Do it.” Barricade heard his voice squeak. Thundercracker snarled, held back by Skywarp. Did Skywarp know what was going on? Had he figured it out? Please, Barricade thought, please may he know I wouldn’t actually….



Starscream made a whimpering sound as the spike released itself. He turned his face to one side, the spike sliding along his cheek chevrons. “Megatron, this is a travesty,” he said. He tightened his grip on Barricade’s hand on the back of his head.



“The only travesty,” Megatron said, “is how long I have let you go unchecked.” He nodded at Barricade. “Continue.”



Barricade hated this. Everything about it. Skywarp. Thundercracker. The other witnesses. Starscream, kneeling between his feet. He hated most of all the feeling of his systems responding as he felt the mouth close over his spike. //I’m sorry,// he whimpered, desperately.



//Do not apologize, Barricade. And,//a startling flash of the jet’s normal humor, //perhaps you might try to enjoy this? I have heard I am beyond competent.// He felt the glossa tickle almost playfully along his spike. How could Starscream be so…teasing? How could he not be disgusted, humiliated?



A moan tore from Barricade’s mouth, involuntary, as the jet—who was better than even he unmodestly allowed—sent a delicious cascade of signals through his sensornet. Barricade felt his head tip back, optics drifting closed, shutting out Megatron’s smirk, Soundwave’s triumphant sneer, Skywarp’s…unreadable response. Only the sensations from his spike shimmered through his systems, as though he were a helpless instrument in Starscream’s handling. Oh Primus, it felt good, and the resistance, the quelling of desire from his too-acute awareness of witnesses built the overload slowly, but powerfully, until it ripped from his sensornet with a cry almost of pain. He felt Starscream swallow the rush of transfluid in neat little gestures, his glossa licking along the spike daintily.



Starscream pushed away, defiantly, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, the barbs scratching across his faceplates. “Abased enough for you?” he sneered at Megatron. Barricade’s hand dropped to his side, his body quivering from the overload, and the sudden renewed awareness of his audience. Skywarp. Oh. He couldn’t even bring himself to imagine Thundercracker’s response. And Megatron’s was…too vile. He hated himself. Hated his interface systems. Hated that he had obeyed Starscream. Did the jet really have his interests at all at heart? Why, how had he ever trusted him?



But…why would Starscream subject himself to this humiliation, then? Nothing made sense. None of this made any sense.



“No.” Megatron’s voice held an icy amusement. “I think the grounder should take you.”



“No,” Barricade breathed, stepping back. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.



//Barricade.// Starscream’s voice was warning.



“Amusing compunction, Barricade,” Megatron said. “It was more of an order than a speculation.”



Barricade froze again. This. No. He couldn’t. His optics flew to Skywarp. Megatron chuckled. Soundwave sneered, “Oh, little grounder, does it bother you that the IG agent will watch you spike someone not him?”



Yes, Barricade thought. He almost melted with relief as he heard another ping on his private freq. //Starscream telling you what to do?//



//Yes. Sorry. Hate it.//



//Why?//



//Ruining everything. Want you.//



//Listen to him. He knows how to handle Megatron.//Skywarp sounded a bit doubtful, but…it was what Barricade needed to hear.



//Okay.//



//Defy him and he can offline you,// Skywarp added, softly. Like Barricade didn’t have enough to worry about. //Survive. Stay safe.// The baritone voice melted something icy and hard in Barricade’s systems. Oh. Skywarp.



“Take him,” Megatron said, simply.



Barricade blinked an apology, and pushed, gently, at Starscream’s shoulder. The jet made a show of falling back on his aft, legs spread.



//Yes,// Starscream said. //Excellent. Continue.//



//Don’t want to.//



//Neither of us have any choice in this, Barricade. Obey and we can overmaster him yet. Make it a game and it will not injure you.//



Barricade stepped closer. “Retract,” he ordered. Or tried to. His voice crackled at the command—the ludicrous discomfort of it all. Starscream retracted his valve cover, dropping back to his elbows. It was a demented flashback to that time in the refectory, Starscream goading him onward. He dropped to his knees between the bronze thighs, his spike only half pressurized. He pushed back against the jet’s bronze chassis, leaning forward onto him, his spike slipping into the valve. He gasped as the valve cinched down on the spike, Starscream smiling goadingly at him. “This has gone far enough!” Starscream protested, one hand feebly pushing at Barricade’s shoulder tire.



“Take him.” Megatron repeated.



Starscream’s optics narrowed into lines of hate. //Play with me this way, if the other was not to your liking.//



//Isn’t play.//



//Immaterial.// Aloud, Starscream sneered, “Let us see what you have. I suspect it is not worth my time.”



Megatron leaned back, enjoying.



Barricade frowned, but obediently snapped his talons around a rib strut. “Shut up,” he said. He rocked his hips into the jet’s, his body remembering other times, other places. He felt his spike respond to memory with a wash of lubricant. //Relax, little spike,// Skywarp’s voice filled his audio like honey. //If it helps, I think you’re so fraggin’ hot right now.//



Barricade quivered.



//Skywarp,// Starscream said. //You are distracting Barricade.//



//I am getting him motivated.//



//He does not need assistance in that department.//



//Too bad. He has it. Now, Barricade.// The voice grew sultry. //Will you listen to me?//



//Yes.// No hesitation. He was Skywarp’s.



//Push him down, harder. Take your right hand and dig the talons into the elbow joint.// Barricade refused to question. He obeyed. Starscream gave an unfeigned gasp, the valve clutching at Barricade’s spike as the sensation of pain ricocheted through his systems. Starscream splayed on the floor, quivering. //Spike him. Hard on the in-thrust, a little slower pulling out.//



Barricade complied, and Starscream began writhing, helplessly, incoherent little whimpers coming from his vocalizer, his long talons giving light, frantic pinches to Barricade’s arm tires. Barricade felt his spike leap to full pressure, lubricant oozing along the length, the warm hot sounds of Starscream’s whimpers inflaming him almost as much as Skywarp’s deep, sensual voice.



//Good,// Skywarp breathed. //Pull his thigh up over your shoulder—it’ll help hide you from Megatron.//



Starscream obediently lifted the thigh, letting Barricade scoop it easily off the ground, his talons tracing into the strange pools of the jet’s markings. Starscream shivered, moaning, his spine undulating on the floor. Megatron’s optics were ablaze, drinking in both the spectacle of the jet’s wanton arousal and the humiliation he thought he was wreaking.



“Please,” Starscream begged, thinly, his optics wild, his hips surging up to meet Barricade’s begging for the spike to take him, his armor sleek over Barricade’s thinner plates. Barricade bent lower over the jet’s writhing body, his one hand tangling in the jet’s struts, his mouth eager on the framing of the cockpit. “Please! I can’t—“ whatever Starscream was going to say, whether real or feigned, got swallowed up in the sudden thrash of his frame, his vocalizer dropping to staticky keening, the valve trembling against the spike.



Barricade felt the overload almost ambush him, a high cry torn from his vocalizer, as he flung his body forward onto the bronze armor, trembling as his sensornet blazed up bright and hot, leaving him momentarily stunned, deaf, blind, closed off to everything other than the electrical storm raging across his net.



//So hot, little spike,// Skywarp murmured. //I missed watching you overload.// Barricade trembled deliciously just at the words, and what they implied. He melted against the bronze jet, himself shivering in a wash of sensation, until he felt the frame tense. He was shoved back, roughly, his spike yanked from the valve as he fell back and saw Megatron’s hands close around Starscream’s helm, hauling the jet over onto his knees, thrusting his own spike into Starscream’s mouth.



“You enjoyed that too much,” Megatron snarled. “You shall be punished at my hands.” Behind him, Soundwave glittered, riveted.



//Part of the plan? Tell me this is part of the plan.// Skywarp’s voice was tense, worried. Barricade shook his head. He didn’t know.



Starscream was silent on comm, as Megatron thrust his spike into the jet’s mouth. This wasn’t like with Barricade, where Starscream had had playful control, teasing and working at the spike’s nodes. This had no skill, no delicacy about it—simply power, domination, more than sensation, as Megatron drove the jet’s face hard enough against his spike housing for the metal to ding. Barricade bit down on a sympathetic whimper. He’d…had this happen to him, had this done to him, felt a spike intruding in his mouth, bruising his glossa, ramming against the back of his intake, forcing him to gag, to whine helplessly. He curled up, without even knowing what he was doing, into a helpless, trapped ball, ensnared by his memories.



Megatron roared, and jerked his hips back, tearing the spike from the jet’s mouth, the transfluid spraying all over the jet’s helpless, surprised face. Barricade squeaked in horror and shame, helpless. Trapped. Useless. All over again. What had Starscream’s plan been? Not this. It could not have called for this. Nothing about the look of horror and humiliation on the jet’s face said it was part of a plan, part of an act, and the fact he kept his comm shut firmly down filled Barricade with dread.



“Polluted,” Megatron said, as if by explanation. “Disgusting whore.”



From behind Barricade, a trembling roar built and Barricade barely had instinct to duck aside, flattening himself to the floor, as a blue blur rocketed overhead, launching itself, intent to kill, at Megatron. For long moments there was a fierce struggle—Barricade could not see, coward that he was, flat against the floor and shaking, but when he dared look up, Thundercracker’s throat was gripped in Megatron’s greenish claw.



“An assault on your ranking commander, how very novel,” Megatron said, forcing his tone, though the deep gasps of venting told that the struggle had been harder than he wished to admit. “Your loyalty, Thundercracker, has always been…problematic. And now you have oh so conveniently overstepped. The penalty is, of course, deactivation.”



Barricade looked, panicked, toward Starscream. This couldn’t be the plan. Couldn’t be how the jet had envisioned it going down. He heard a horrified suck of air behind him, Skywarp. And Starscream, in front of him, face dripping with silver and mortification, simply sagged to the floor, defeated.