"Good Things Come" Megatron/Motormaster
Title: "Good Things Come"
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei
Rating: R
Pairings: Motormaster/Megatron; implied Motormaster/various others.
Warnings: Mentions of dubcon; power imbalance (enthusiastic consent regardless).
Summary: From the moment Motormaster awakened, Megatron wanted him.
It was some half a Terran year after the Stunticons' creation that Megatron first sought out Motormaster for interfacing. He'd wanted to the first time he'd laid optics on the mech, at his awakening, and time had only increased his admiration for the determined, powerful, and fiercely loyal warrior he had added to his ranks. But he waited, the hint of what one might call ethical sensibilities eclipsed by the preference to have Motormaster as something closer to an equal in berthplay---of a certainty, Megatron enjoyed teaching (and overwhelming) less experienced mechs, but Motormaster did not fit that archetype at all.
And so Megatron waited, and watched, and listened to reports of his behavior while Motormaster somewhat ineptly figured things out with his own team. And for long months contemplated having someone give the mech a shove in the right direction---one-way pleasure and the simple careless use of a subordinate might be a superior officer's perogative, but it spoke of carelessness and lack of skill for it to be all someone knew of interfacing. Luckily fate intervened before Megatron had to, in the form of Breakdown of all mechs having enough of a crush on his commander to take the initiative and share what the rest of the Stunticons had long since figured out. Megatron watched Motormaster get it, like an I-beam to the helm, from the security monitors in Soundwave's quarters, and had to pause the remainder of the vid three times to push Soundwave up against the nearest wall.
More progress was made as Motormaster let himself be seduced by others outside his team, first by Vortex, then by Onslaught. Vortex, of course, would get off on practically anything you threw at him, so Megatron didn't put much stock in the mech's very-obvious delight in his new paramour; Onslaught was another matter, with a reputation for demanding skill from his interface partners, and Megatron was about ready to call that good enough when he received reports that Motormaster had gone and seduced an Autobot, his opposite number Silverbolt no less, and done it well enough that Silverbolt had come back for more.
Megatron had smiled, upon hearing that bit of news. Technically, fraternizing with the enemy was forbidden; practically, he found it more useful to accept it so long as loyalty was uncompromised. He'd learned early in the war that making an issue out of it led to defections and occasionally, depending on the size of the issue, devastating suicide attacks from whichever paramour he hadn't executed. Not that he expected Motormaster to fall in love with an Autobot, but it had happened before and his army was not large enough to throw away lives on principle.
Besides, it was excellent evidence of maturity on Motormaster's part, that he could take initiative and be a confident and effective lover, and Megatron sought out Motormaster that very breem, ostensibly to discuss some finer points of strategy involving the Stunticons and Menasor, but his demeanor shifted, and he interacted with the Stunticon commander as someone who was subtly interested.
Motormaster, sharp mech that he was, caught on that something had changed, even if he wasn't sure what. But then, the Stunticon had admired Megatron since the day he was created, and Megatron did not doubt that some hint of desire for him had already settled in Motormaster's processors. He praised Motormaster twice in the course of discussion, and watched the mech glow. It was clear in Motormaster's posture, in his energy fields, in the way his optics shone on his commander, that he understood what had the potential to be offered, and that he would be a worthy partner.
--------
"Motormaster."
It was three local days after Megatron's decision, and the Decepticons were well-charged and happy in the celebratory aftermath of a successful raid. Motormaster was strutting around like a groundpounder version of Starscream because he'd landed a blow on Optimus Prime and knocked him to the ground hard enough to bounce. It was quite attractive, on Motormaster, and Megatron had been watching him subtly for about a joor now, until people began to pair up, trine up, or group up and leave the party for more private celebrations. Megatron made sure to get to Motormaster first, and Motormaster looked up at the sound of his name.
"Yes, Lord Megatron?"
Megatron stepped close. "Join me?" It was---barely---an invitation, the questioning inflectionslight enough to be easily missed. But Motormaster did not miss much from his leader, and the warmth and interest and charisma with which Megatron imbued the words would have made an effect on the densest of mechs. In any case, there was no doubt that Motormaster was willing.
He all but beamed, glowed, smiled, optics wide and bright, and he bowed his head as though acceding to an order, which Megatron supposed for all intents and purposes it might be, such did Motormaster value his Lord's wishes. He would have acceded and been happy to if Megatron had chosen months earlier to use him as he did his teammates, and Megatron suspected he would have gotten off on it and been somewhat confused. The thought caused his lips to quirk into a smile, and then he met Motormaster's gaze and put all such details aside, beckoning the mech to come with him as he led the way to his own quarters.
Once the door was closed behind them, Motormaster knelt beside the berth.
Megatron looked down at him and wondered who taught him that. Certainly not the Autobot . . . ? He looked down at Motormaster, admiring the mech's form and strength and discipline until Motormaster looked up, a hint of uncertainty in his optics, but also admiration, burning desire, and an eagerness to please. Megatron smiled warmly. "Unnecessary," he said, offering Motormaster a hand. "Unless you wish it?"
Motormaster obviously hadn't thought that through; his optics blazed and his face registered surprise for a long moment. "I . . . will offer whatever you wish, sir."
Megatron's circuitry heated at that. "Maybe later," he said. "Think on it." He made a gesture with his outstretched hand. "For now, I want my greatest warrior in the berth with me. Not my subordinate."
Motormaster smiled, gratified, and took the initiative, stepping closer to Megatron and wrapping arms around him. Kissing him. Megatron purred as he kissed back, all the heat of six months' suppressed desire making its escape.
Yes. A competent and certain and decisive lover, that was what Megatron had wanted and what he had waited for. As they fell into the berth and Megatron lost track of up and down, who was on top, and everything else but what Motormaster was doing to him and what he was doing to Motormaster, he smiled, sharp against Motormaster's neck cables. Some things were well worth waiting for, and never more than in the moment in which he first had them.
Motormaster's overload blazed against his sensor net like an exploding sun, and his own rose up within him and burst supernova-like in its own right, and Megatron thought of nothing but pleasure for a long, long time.
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei
Rating: R
Pairings: Motormaster/Megatron; implied Motormaster/various others.
Warnings: Mentions of dubcon; power imbalance (enthusiastic consent regardless).
Summary: From the moment Motormaster awakened, Megatron wanted him.
It was some half a Terran year after the Stunticons' creation that Megatron first sought out Motormaster for interfacing. He'd wanted to the first time he'd laid optics on the mech, at his awakening, and time had only increased his admiration for the determined, powerful, and fiercely loyal warrior he had added to his ranks. But he waited, the hint of what one might call ethical sensibilities eclipsed by the preference to have Motormaster as something closer to an equal in berthplay---of a certainty, Megatron enjoyed teaching (and overwhelming) less experienced mechs, but Motormaster did not fit that archetype at all.
And so Megatron waited, and watched, and listened to reports of his behavior while Motormaster somewhat ineptly figured things out with his own team. And for long months contemplated having someone give the mech a shove in the right direction---one-way pleasure and the simple careless use of a subordinate might be a superior officer's perogative, but it spoke of carelessness and lack of skill for it to be all someone knew of interfacing. Luckily fate intervened before Megatron had to, in the form of Breakdown of all mechs having enough of a crush on his commander to take the initiative and share what the rest of the Stunticons had long since figured out. Megatron watched Motormaster get it, like an I-beam to the helm, from the security monitors in Soundwave's quarters, and had to pause the remainder of the vid three times to push Soundwave up against the nearest wall.
More progress was made as Motormaster let himself be seduced by others outside his team, first by Vortex, then by Onslaught. Vortex, of course, would get off on practically anything you threw at him, so Megatron didn't put much stock in the mech's very-obvious delight in his new paramour; Onslaught was another matter, with a reputation for demanding skill from his interface partners, and Megatron was about ready to call that good enough when he received reports that Motormaster had gone and seduced an Autobot, his opposite number Silverbolt no less, and done it well enough that Silverbolt had come back for more.
Megatron had smiled, upon hearing that bit of news. Technically, fraternizing with the enemy was forbidden; practically, he found it more useful to accept it so long as loyalty was uncompromised. He'd learned early in the war that making an issue out of it led to defections and occasionally, depending on the size of the issue, devastating suicide attacks from whichever paramour he hadn't executed. Not that he expected Motormaster to fall in love with an Autobot, but it had happened before and his army was not large enough to throw away lives on principle.
Besides, it was excellent evidence of maturity on Motormaster's part, that he could take initiative and be a confident and effective lover, and Megatron sought out Motormaster that very breem, ostensibly to discuss some finer points of strategy involving the Stunticons and Menasor, but his demeanor shifted, and he interacted with the Stunticon commander as someone who was subtly interested.
Motormaster, sharp mech that he was, caught on that something had changed, even if he wasn't sure what. But then, the Stunticon had admired Megatron since the day he was created, and Megatron did not doubt that some hint of desire for him had already settled in Motormaster's processors. He praised Motormaster twice in the course of discussion, and watched the mech glow. It was clear in Motormaster's posture, in his energy fields, in the way his optics shone on his commander, that he understood what had the potential to be offered, and that he would be a worthy partner.
--------
"Motormaster."
It was three local days after Megatron's decision, and the Decepticons were well-charged and happy in the celebratory aftermath of a successful raid. Motormaster was strutting around like a groundpounder version of Starscream because he'd landed a blow on Optimus Prime and knocked him to the ground hard enough to bounce. It was quite attractive, on Motormaster, and Megatron had been watching him subtly for about a joor now, until people began to pair up, trine up, or group up and leave the party for more private celebrations. Megatron made sure to get to Motormaster first, and Motormaster looked up at the sound of his name.
"Yes, Lord Megatron?"
Megatron stepped close. "Join me?" It was---barely---an invitation, the questioning inflectionslight enough to be easily missed. But Motormaster did not miss much from his leader, and the warmth and interest and charisma with which Megatron imbued the words would have made an effect on the densest of mechs. In any case, there was no doubt that Motormaster was willing.
He all but beamed, glowed, smiled, optics wide and bright, and he bowed his head as though acceding to an order, which Megatron supposed for all intents and purposes it might be, such did Motormaster value his Lord's wishes. He would have acceded and been happy to if Megatron had chosen months earlier to use him as he did his teammates, and Megatron suspected he would have gotten off on it and been somewhat confused. The thought caused his lips to quirk into a smile, and then he met Motormaster's gaze and put all such details aside, beckoning the mech to come with him as he led the way to his own quarters.
Once the door was closed behind them, Motormaster knelt beside the berth.
Megatron looked down at him and wondered who taught him that. Certainly not the Autobot . . . ? He looked down at Motormaster, admiring the mech's form and strength and discipline until Motormaster looked up, a hint of uncertainty in his optics, but also admiration, burning desire, and an eagerness to please. Megatron smiled warmly. "Unnecessary," he said, offering Motormaster a hand. "Unless you wish it?"
Motormaster obviously hadn't thought that through; his optics blazed and his face registered surprise for a long moment. "I . . . will offer whatever you wish, sir."
Megatron's circuitry heated at that. "Maybe later," he said. "Think on it." He made a gesture with his outstretched hand. "For now, I want my greatest warrior in the berth with me. Not my subordinate."
Motormaster smiled, gratified, and took the initiative, stepping closer to Megatron and wrapping arms around him. Kissing him. Megatron purred as he kissed back, all the heat of six months' suppressed desire making its escape.
Yes. A competent and certain and decisive lover, that was what Megatron had wanted and what he had waited for. As they fell into the berth and Megatron lost track of up and down, who was on top, and everything else but what Motormaster was doing to him and what he was doing to Motormaster, he smiled, sharp against Motormaster's neck cables. Some things were well worth waiting for, and never more than in the moment in which he first had them.
Motormaster's overload blazed against his sensor net like an exploding sun, and his own rose up within him and burst supernova-like in its own right, and Megatron thought of nothing but pleasure for a long, long time.