Handle it

After "Punishment" and "Comfort." Ugly as always.


Starscream braced himself. He’d promised Barricade he could deal with Megatron. That he would. That Megatron would never lay another digit on the smaller bot. Promised more than he could deliver, probably. But he had to at least try.

Megatron sat at his control chair, staring idly at a monitor. The jet crossed over to him, feeling his capacitor flutter. At one time he would have considered that flutter attraction. Now he knew it for what it was.

He folded his arms around his leader’s neck, from behind, resting his cheekplate against Megatron’s audio receptor. Megatron’s hand closed over his arm. “Starscream,” he said. “What brings you here?” He rubbed hard fingers against the barrels of the jet’s chain guns.

“I just haven’t…uhh…seen you in so long.”

Megatron grunted, dubious. He turned his head, pulling the jet into a kiss. Starscream felt himself resist, forced himself to relax into it. It was only a kiss. It wasn’t so bad. He felt Megatron’s glossa explore his mouth with a strange eagerness. Almost like he desired the jet. Starscream ventilated, his glossa gently returning the exploration. This wouldn’t be so bad.

Megatron pulled him around the side of the chair, still locked in the kiss. His hands grabbed at Starscream’s jet mounts, pulling them with not…quite…enough pressure to hurt. Starscream slithered to the floor, his hands drifting to the other’s interface hatch. Megatron broke the kiss, grinning, leaning back.

“I see what this is about,” he said.

The jet looked up, sharply. “What is it about? Nothing? I merely…desire you.”

Megatron merely grunted, relaxing his hands by his sides. Starscream traced the edges of the hatch with one talon. He watched as the Seeker popped the catch, slowly, glancing up at him, shyly, almost nervously. He ran his hands along the module, watching the ready lights track his touch. Megatron’s ventilation caught. “You may,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Starscream uncoupled the module and watched Megatron’s eyes as he coupled it into his access port. His torso quivered at the contact. Megatron sighed, feeling his datastream pulse against the jet. Normally he had to force this kind of behavior from the jet. He didn’t doubt Starscream had some motive, some favor, perhaps, behind this sudden show, but for right now, he found it enjoyable. For once, not having to hurt the jet to get what he wanted. He was about to question the jet as to his real motives when Starscream leaned over, and tentatively, shyly, licked at his access port.

He groaned. The jet looked up, measuring his reaction, and then settled himself more closely, probing the access port more boldly.

“Starscream,” Megatron growled. The jet looked up. “What do you want?”

“I? I want…I desire you.”

Megatron’s hand clutched at the jet’s shoulder, enough that the metal whined under the pressure. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

“Barricade,” the jet squeaked, dropping his eyes. As if to make up for it, he swirled his glossa around the port again.

“Barricade?” Megatron released his grip from Starscream’s shoulder, but didn’t remove his hand. “Are you jealous?”

Starscream didn’t answer. He shifted uncomfortably, both from the question and Megatron’s datastream building up a wall of desire in him. He knew this would hurt. He was ready for this. He had promised Barricade. He would do what he could. And this, he could do.

He nipped daintily at the sealing collar. Megatron stretched out his legs, arching his back. “One thing you are forgetting, Starscream,” he gasped. “If me touching Barricade makes you do this, how is that going to make me not want to hurt him again?”

The jet’s look of shock and confusion was just what pushed Megatron over the edge into overload. He groaned, his hands clutching at the jet’s wide shoulders. Starscream trembled, his whole sensor net stabbing pain at him as his own desire raced through his system, unable to find outlet. He dropped his head against the other bot’s thigh, in defeat. Everything he’d done, even this pain. For nothing. If anything, Megatron would go after Barricade more now. Why had he done this? This was surely his fault. He had wanted to protect the smaller bot, and he had only made it worse. Stupid, stupid Starscream.

Megatron rolled out of his overload, his hands stroking at the jet’s face. Starscream lay unmoving. “Starscream,” he said. “You want me to leave Barricade alone.”

“Yes,” the jet said, dully, not moving his head.

“There’s something you can do,” Megatron whispered. Starscream looked up. “Do what Barricade does.”

The jet shook his head, pushing back. Megatron grabbed him by an ear finial. “I won’t lay a finger on him again. Once. Do it.” Starscream felt his eyes burn along his cheekflares. He knew this wouldn’t just be once. It was…disgusting. He couldn’t. And not with...for…Megatron.

With a sound like a sob he uncoupled his module. Its ready lights were green and it nearly ached to touch it from Megatron’s overload. He held it in his hands for a long moment, considering. He reached out his glossa, tentatively, to touch it. He quivered at the sensation.

Megatron ventilated loudly, his eyes glowing. “Yes,” he said.

The jet squeezed his eyes shuttered closed, licking at the end of his module. The feeling was terrifying and humiliating and somehow soothing. He wrapped his glossa around it, nervously, feeling Megatron’s eyes burning at him. He squeezed the module’s head, his glossa probing at the inner node. He shuddered. He squeezed again.

“In your mouth, Starscream,” Megatron said. “I want to see it.”

Starscream felt his optics burn, but he pulled the module into his mouth, feeling the datastream pick up its pulse. His glossa was more agile than before, with Barricade. Now he had feedback. He was no Barricade, he merely squeezed at the module until the datastream built to a fiery overload, his eyes gritted shut, but still not able to shut out the knowledge, the vision, of Megatron, leering over him, revelling in his humiliation. The overload poured down his throat, cool, vainly attempting to soothe the aching burn of his shame.

“Starscream,” Megatron murmured. The jet made a soft sound in his throat, moving to unwrap his module and tuck it away. He kept his eyes closed.

“Starscream,” Megatron said. “Look at me.” The jet forced his eyes open. Megatron stared down at him, labial plates parted. He didn’t know why Megatron wanted him to look at him; he couldn’t see the mix of shame and lust on his face, the combination that was intoxicating and power to Megatron. “I won’t touch Barricade again.” He pulled the jet into a fierce kiss that ground their labial plates together. “But I will touch you.”

Starscream trembled.