Title: Prodigal
Characters: Megatron/Starscream
Verse: TFP
Wordcount: 2900ish
Rating: MA
Warnings: Character death, sticky, size kink, maybe dubcon (anyone else it would be. These two, though, I don't even know. HENCE I WARN, FOR SAFENESS.)
Summary: I really like Dreadwing. But a friend pointed out that he's in the way of Megatron and Starscream reunions, and... well. This happened. Starscream returns to the Nemesis, gets his rival out of the way, and offers Megatron a deal and some gloriously sticky sexytimes. M for sticky, size kink, character death. I regret nothing. Starscream doesn't know what regret is.
Also on FFN:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8180875/1/
Thanks to
randomramblings for beta.
"Why, hello, Megatron." Grinning, Starscream slid his talons free from the abdominal plating of the mech he'd just stabbed.
Starscream's victim clutched at his wound as if trying to hold back the flood of glowing blue energon leaking from his wound. For a winged mech, he was massive, his plating strong and durable. But that meant nothing now; Starscream's claws had bitten deep, and the mech knew it.
He tilted his head up. His optics flickered, struggling to meet Megatron's. "My lord - " he gasped, his voice staticky with pain. "This traitor -"
"- Will be dealt with," Megatron answered, the cannon atop his arm already trained on Starscream, crackling with heat as it charged.
The broad golden face cracked into a smile. Dreadwing's optics flared brightly again and then dimmed, fading to lifeless blood red. "Then I have - done what I ought -"
Energon leaked from the holes Starscream's claws had pierced in his abdomen, flowing over the mech's hands as they trembled and then stilled. The stain glowed a faint neon blue as it spread outward on the floor.
Megatron spared a nod for Dreadwing. His new first officer had been far from perfect... but he had served with dedication and loyalty. Of all the mechs that he had given the honor of serving at his side, Dreadwing was the only one who hadn't sought to doublecross him when he wasn't looking.
Or, Megatron mused, sometimes when he was. He turned back to Starscream. There was no time to mourn Dreadwing now. Not when he finally had Starscream cornered.
And Dreadwing had, at the last, led Starscream to him.
He fired, the bolt of energy lighting the hall with searing lavender light. He aimed low, a warning shot that Starscream could easily evade. Optics flaring hungrily, he waited for Starscream to change, his lithe form shifting and screaming into the air as it zoomed away from the shot.
He had missed that sight, the easy confidence as Starscream danced away from certain death.
But instead of the show Megatron had hoped for, Starscream merely threw himself against a wall as the bolt of energy raced by, screeching in pain as the edge of it caught one of his wings.
Megatron's frame lunged forward before his processor had time to recognize what he was seeing. The two mechs slammed into the far wall, Starscream thudding into it with a high, staticky shriek. He heard something rattle and felt the Seeker fall against him, the thin frame lifeless for a moment, knocked offline by the force of the impact.
And on the heels of it all, a thought. "You couldn't have evaded that, could you? You can't fly."
That thought sent fear crackling through his processor, a sliver of error he didn't know how to correct. That was wrong. Starscream had always managed that move before.
But then their chest plates scraped together, and Megatron felt the heat of Starscream's spark, crackling beneath the plating there, heavy with indignation and defiance. Megatron's fanged mouth curled into a smile.
Starscream's optics flickered as he raised his head, shaking slightly as he struggled to reboot properly. "Don't - you need me - left it - only I know where -" His voice died in a hiss of static and his head drooped again.
"The Apex armor," Megatron murmured. He'd wondered why Starscream would show up without it. It made its wearer nearly indestructible, and granted him physical strength far beyond the usual. If Starscream had meant to come back here and challenge Megatron, it made no sense to return without it.
Which meant that either Starscream had been forced to abandon it... or that he'd come here for another reason entirely.
"Yes," Starscream hissed, his faceplates clicking softly as they arranged themselves into a smile. Megatron felt thin fingers skirr over his back. Seeking weaknesses no doubt.
"Whatever you may think of me these days, Megatron," the Seeker purred, "you need me to help you find it."
Megatron's hands moved to Starscream's wings and pulled. Starscream thrashed, his sharpened fingertips digging hard into Megatron's back. The wounds stung, and Megatron shifted, relishing the heat. Megatron had been a gladiator, and his frame still bore the thick armor of a fighter from the pits. Starscream couldn't do to him what he'd just done to Dreadwing.
Not now that Megatron had flattened him into a wall, anyway.
Megatron's optics moved to look at Dreadwing, studying the still frame and the luminescent pool below it. He felt his spark whirl with hot anger. The big flier had served him well, all things considered. His failures were setbacks, not the kinds of disasters that a disloyal second could so often cause.
And Decepticons as loyal as Dreadwing didn't fly in every day.
"You snuck onto my ship and killed my first lieutenant to tell me you want to help me? Somehow, Starscream... I don't think I believe you."
"No. I killed that fool because I don't like him." Starscream grinned. "And because he doesn't deserve what's rightfully mine."
Megatron snickered, the anger seething through him dimming to a bright, sharp amusement. "So that's what you want."
Starscream's smirk matched his own. "Why, Megatron, surely you know me better than that."
The Seeker's wings twitched in Megatron's hands. His silver head tilted forward, stopping just in front of Megatron's face. "I want everything."
Before Megatron could react he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up to encircle Megatron's helmet as their mouths met.
Megatron shuddered, his hands clenching tight over the thin plating of Starscream's wings as heat surged through his systems. By now he'd almost forgotten this, almost forgotten the feeling of Starscream's small frame against him, desperate and hungry, the fragile plating of the Seeker's wings pressed into his hands.
He twisted Starscream's wings, hard. The Seeker shrieked into his mouth, a cry of protest or of welcome.
His spike thudded against its covering, driven by memory alone.
Remember that Starscream betrayed you, he told himself, wrenching their mouths apart and letting go.
Starscream fell heavily, landing in a twisted heap at Megatron's feet. The warlord stared, intrigued. "Either you mean what you say," he murmured, his spark flaring with bright heat again at the thought, "or you really can't fly."
Starscream glared up at him, his optics gleaming. He scrambled to his hands and knees.
Megatron chuckled, his spark pulsing hard at the sight.
He willed himself to be calm. If he played this right, he'd get what he wanted from Starscream on both counts. But whatever toll Starscream's wanderings had taken on his frame, the Seeker would never have come here without a plan. He probably knew very well how Megatron felt, seeing him again after so long.
"That's why you left the armor, isn't it? Dreadwing's bombs blew a hole in the ice and, since you couldn't fly out of the way, you fell through it. To the bottom of the sea."
"Dreadwing is a fool who likes explosives too much. His bombs could never have harmed me, not when I was wearing that armor."
Megatron grinned down at Starscream, his mouth a crescent of fangs. "No, of course not. But how were you supposed to get back to the surface?"
Starscream snarled.
"Which it isn't," Megatron finished. "Which meant wandering around at the bottom of an alien planet's sea until you thought of a solution. Or grew bored and decided to come back up."
Starscream crawled toward Dreadwing's frame, his useless wings clicking. Whether he meant to do more violence to it or thought he might find something useful, Megatron never knew. As soon as the Seeker heard the whine of the cannon re-energizing, he froze, a scowl of rage twisting his silver faceplates.
"But there's one thing I still don't understand. Why come back here? Surely you don't believe that after all you've done - betraying me, leaving, sending an army of clones to try to kill me - I'm going to show you mercy."
Starscream tilted his head. "You need the armor. I live until you get it. Unless you'd rather I tell Optimus Prime where to find it."
"Until I get it." Megatron's massive frame vibrated with laughter. "But what then, Starscream? Once I have it, what exactly is supposed to stop me from killing you?"
Starscream lifted his head, his fearful demeanor gone, a smile spreading over his faceplates. "Oh, I'll think of something. I always do."
Megatron's optics flickered. "After all that has happened between us, Starscream... you're actually desperate enough to tell me the truth?"
Starscream moved again, his frame swaying enticingly as he crawled toward Megatron, his optics never leaving the Decepticon leader's face. "I'm not the only one who's desperate," he murmured, his glossa stretching out to lick his lip plates.
"Tell me, Megatron," Starscream went on, wrapping a hand around the warlord's broad leg and sliding it upward, "who else would be worthy of the job you gave Dreadwing? Knock Out is intelligent but lazy, Airachnid betrays you as often as I did -"
"Soundwave is as loyal and intelligent as ever."
"Soundwave?" The word was a harsh cry. "But Soundwave is - he never - eh." Recovering his composure, Starscream tried again, sliding ever closer to Megatron. "That is - do you really think he's suited for the job? He's loyal and capable, as you say, but he has enough to do already. Do you really think he can do all of his spying - including on most of us - and all the duties of a first lieutenant?"
Megatron was silent, his frame humming. Starscream wrapped himself around the bigger mech's leg, his chest pressed against the plating of Megatron's knee so that Megatron could feel the heat of his spark behind it. Megatron's cooling fans kicked on, a soft, purring roar.
Starscream looked up - directly into the lavender brightness of the cannon still trained on him. He shivered once and ignored it. "Besides, it would be like promoting your shadow."
"True enough," Megatron answered, the words rough as he bent down to touch one of Starscream's wings. His spike cover slid aside, slowly, as if compelled by Starscream's words or by the feel of the wing in his hand.
Starscream's optics gleamed, sharp with hunger as he watched Megatron's spike emerge. "I knew you'd see sense eventually."
His valve cover slid aside, as slowly as Megatron's spike cover had, and he pressed its rim against Megatron's leg so that Megatron would feel the wetness there. "I knew you'd realize that only one mech belongs at your side."
"At my side?" Megatron answered, raising his foot and shaking Starscream off. The Seeker fell to the floor again. This time he caught himself, landing gracefully on all fours.
"Maybe so, Starscream. But you have quite a bit to prove before that ever happens again."
"Oh, I will. Just as soon as you let me," Starscream answered, his sultry tone souring into a petulant hiss.
"That won't be for a long time, my dear Starscream," Megatron answered, stepping behind him, a broad claw reaching out and pushing the Seeker's head to the floor.
Starscream yelped in indignant surprise. The hand let go, and Starscream's frame tensed, ready to leap to the attack or to flee. Then he froze, feeling the all-too-familiar heat of the energized cannon pointed at the back of his head. "What do you think you're -?"
"You'll begin at the beginning," Megatron answered. "As the student who came to me all those vorns ago, eager for power and glory. And pleasure, if I'm not mistaken." He snickered, staring at Starscream's open valve and the lubricant seeping from it even now. "You killed to impress me then too, as I recall." He looked over at Dreadwing's body, smiling.
"I begin as -"
"You begin as no one. You lead me to the Apex Armor. Then, if you give me reason enough not to kill you right there, you rise through the ranks as any other might. If you manage that, perhaps then you can have what you really want. But for now - you are nothing."
"You're insane!" Starscream howled, snarling into the floor. "I never would have - I don't want - this is an outrage! You of all mechs should know what I deserve!"
"Yes, Starscream," Megatron answered. "I know exactly what you deserve."
"You can't - you can't harm me - if you do - you'll never know where the Apex Armor is! I'll never tell it to you then."
"Starscream," Megatron answered, "didn't you hear me say I know full well it's at the bottom of the ocean, where Dreadwing's bomb blasted you? I have enough information already. But I don't have all I want. That alone is why you're still here."
His voice crackled, thick with static, as he brought his spike just outside the rim of Starscream's valve and held it there. "Now, do I kill you, or do we finish this? That is the only choice you have."
Starscream's vocalizer clicked, sharp wordless noises coming from it. Then he tilted his head, smirking up at Megatron as best he could with his faceplates pressed into the floor. "Finish it. We both know there's only one way for this to end."
"Indeed," Megatron snarled, shoving his spike deep into the warm, wet heat of Starscream's valve in one mighty thrust
Starscream shrieked as it entered him. He could feel the rim tearing, energon welling up from the cuts, and the delicate metal lining his valve denting as Megatron's spike slammed into him, giving him no time to shift around it.
The fit had always been tight, even in those long-ago days when they'd done this all the time, and his valve had opened by instinct, the plates sliding apart to better accommodate Megatron's size. Megatron's broad frame was built for heavy labor, and modified for the gladiatorial arena of Kaon. Starscream was small and light, built for agility and speed. Few mechs of such disparate frame types would even try this in the first place.
And even back then, Megatron had been careful. Harsh, yes, but aware of the strain, and slow enough to burn but not to rend. This - this was different. Megatron had intended it to be.
He felt the liquids pooling between them , lubricant and energon both, and roared, a wordless cry of triumph. Starscream keened, a high, frantic sob, and Megatron's free hand grabbed at his hip, pressing them together as he moved again.
The plating lining Starscream's valve clicked as it worked frantically to pull apart, to open, to ease the burning as Megatron tore at him. He gasped, a thin whine of static, as he finally felt his valve iris open, even that tiny measure of relaxation making him tremble in relief.
Megatron's claw tightening around Starscream's head as he felt the Seeker - his Seeker, lost and found again, at least for the moment - open for him. He drew back, slowly this time, giving Starscream a moment to adjust before driving in again.
Starscream cried out again, a wail of rage that became a moan as Megatron filled him again and again. Beyond reason, beyond understanding, beyond hate or love or bargains or devotion, he pushed back, pressing himself onto the invader filling him.
The claw gripping the Seeker's hip tensed, digging into the plating there hard enough to draw energon as Megatron felt Starscream move with him.
"You belong to me," he rasped, his voice soft. "After all this time, you still belong to me."
He pulled back, withdrawing all but the tip of his spike, trembling as he waited, static fuzzing in front of his optics as his spark pulsed hard in his chest, as eager as the rest of him to dive into that warm heat again and -
"Finish it," Starscream panted, the once high voice now a ruined crackle of static. "Please - Megatron - master. Please -"
Megatron threw back his head and bellowed, the wordless cry of a victor in the pits, and slammed his spike into Starscream in one great motion, heedless of anything but the need seething through his spark and the voice that had called out to him, earnest in its desperation.
His spike twitched once, and then he felt his transfluid burst free. His processor blanked white and he knew nothing but the wheel of flame that was Starscream's valve, tightening around him, fearless and insatiable, just as it always had been.
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