Megatron's test

Megatron called Starscream back as the Decepticons were filing out of the audience chamber. Starscream felt his central core tighten like it had snarled a hose. “Yes, my lord?” he said.
“Come here, Starscream.”
“Yes, my lord Megatron.”
“You have led in my absence, yes?”
“As best I could,” Starscream kept his eyes on the floorplates.
“You probably suspect that you are a better leader than I. Don’t you?”
“N-no, my lord.”
Megatron looked askance at him. “I do not believe you.”
“My lord?”
“Prove yourself to me, Starscream. Prove your loyalty.”
The snarled hose in Starscream’s core burned. “I have always been loyal to you.”
Megatron lunged forward, hooking his fingers under one of Starscream’s chest plates. “It has been millenia, Starscream. You know what I want.” He pushed the jet to his knees.
Starscream’s hands shook. Megatron revelled in the light tremoring touch they made against his interface panel. “Yes,” he said. “You do know what I want.”
Starscream shot a look back over his shoulder toward the door. Megatron hooked his chin with one finger. “Never mind anyone else. Mine is the only opinion you should care about.” Starscream eased the access hatch open. “Mine is the only pleasure you should strive for.” Megatron looked down at Starscream. Primus it had been ages. Starscream’s new form was even more alluring—exotic, strange—than ever. But the personality was the same—that same spark of rebellion in need of constant stifling. “Please me, Starscream,” he purred. He pulled the jet upward, fastening his mouth over the jet’s. He could feel the sudden intake of air, a tremor running through the jet’s entire frame. Desire? Repulsion? Megatron didn’t care. Just the magnitude of response aroused him. He stroked his fingers over the jet’s body, the long struts, the powerful jets, the taut, slender thighs. His Starscream.
He pushed his interface module up, poking Starscream in the chassis with it. The jet closed his fingers around it almost absently, stroking it gently. As if it hadn’t been millennia since he’d done this. For a moment Megatron burned with envy—perhaps Starscream had taken another. Or been taken by another. Then, no. Starscream would have learned the rules of someone else’s pleasure. This was just exactly as Megatron remembered it. As he wanted it. Starscream pulled away from the kiss, slowly, Megatron nipping at his glossa. The jet looked down, opening his own access hatch. Megatron hissed at the sight. His hips rose off the chair almost of their own will. Starscream hesitated for a long moment, before attaching Megatron’s module to his access port. Megatron held his eyes, burning with desire at the way the jet’s eyes widened at the contact. Oh, it had been too long.
He felt his datastream pulse hard into Starscream’s port, thick and insistent. The jet shuddered at each pulse, his labial plates separating slightly. Megatron watched as the jet’s glossa licked shyly around his mouth. He wanted to kiss the jet again, but wasn’t in the mood to ask for it. He’d teach Starscream again how to do what he wanted. And it had been so long. Maybe he was more demanding than usual.
He grunted in time with his datastream, feeling the responding energy ripple of Starscream’s field, concentrated through the access port. He wasn’t going to be able to hold out for much longer. He heaved Starscream into his lap, sinking his teeth into the jet’s shoulder armor. “You little whore,” he said, tenderly. “You want this as much as I do.” The jet quivered, his face stinging with the insult. Megatron laughed, kissing along the jet’s jawline with light, soft kisses. The jet’s body relaxed, and Megatron felt his datastream slipping further into Starscream’s energy field. He groaned. Not yet.
He pulled himself back, by sheer force, squeezing down on his own datastream til the pulse was thin and thready. Starscream writhed on his lap, aroused, but powerless. “Not yet,” Megatron muttered. “You don’t want me bad enough.” The jet gave a frustrated whimper, kneading his talons against Megatron’s arms, trying to coax him into overload.
“Not…yet!” Megatron let his datastream pulse once, and hard, into the jet. The jet shot upward, his spinal structure erect. His limbs trembled. His ventilation came in sharp, fast bursts. His hands reached down, fumbling for his own interface module, his talons reaching out to contact Megatron’s access port.
Megatron slapped his hand away. Starscream looked up, shocked and hurt. “No,” Megatron said. “Prove your loyalty to me, Starscream.” He let another pulse through his module, then another. Then another. Faster and faster until, with a groan and a clutch of Starscream’s thigh that dented his armor, Megatron rolled into an overload. He could feel the datastream pulse with his own raw energon, releasing into Starscream’s access port. The jet squirmed on his lap, against his thighs, in frustrated agony. Without contact with an access port, his own overload couldn’t happen. Judging by the frantic writhing, Megatron’s own overload was driving him crazy. Megatron barely managed to hold onto the fringes of consciousness during his overload, just to see this frustration on the face and body of his second-in-command. Let him suffer, he thought, roiling on his own release. Let him remember who is in charge.
He disconnected his module from the jet’s port roughly, with one thumb, flicking his fingers against Starscream’s painfully aroused module. He smirked at the jet’s surprised pain. He saw his own energon from his overload leaking around the jet’s access port. Had his overload been that intense? It had felt that hard. He felt a surge of pride that his overload was too much for Starscream’s little access port.
The jet squirmed again. Megatron roughly folded the jet’s module up and fastened the hatch closed. “Remember,” he said, roughly. “My pleasure is what matters. More than your own. Do not challenge me, or you will wish this is the worst I put you through.”
Something like tears sparkled in the jet’s optics. “Yes, my lord.” He said, meekly.