weekly req response: Megatron/Sunstorm
Ask wicked3659 : I wrote this last night!!! Part of a kink request I'm working on this week. (Request is for Megatron to seduce all of the TFA Starscream clones to guarantee their loyalty).
Title: Seeker Smorgasbord, the first night
Pairing: Megatron/Sunstorm
Verse: TFA
Rating: NC-17
Warning: sticky.
For once, behind LJ cut (kink isn't finished but the whole kink isn't part of the request so I won't waste y'all's time with it).
Megatron sighed. Some duties of leadership were…unpleasant. Such as this, but it was, alas, time honored Decepticon tradition. Left over when he had the inclination-and endurance-for this sort of thing. To be honest, his resurrection in Sumdac Tower had been complete, yes, but he hadn’t really felt like…testing that equipment just yet. Nonetheless, the Decepticon forces were too scattered across the rim of the galaxy, and he needed a solid core of loyal warriors. Lugnut was fine, but he was only one. And not that bright, charitably speaking.
On the other hand, Starscream’s clones all seemed to share at least a large portion of his intelligence along with many of his other, more irritating, qualities. Megatron hoped that somewhere on some of the muddle of their thinly-formed character, he could imprint some form of loyalty to himself.
"Whom shall we try first?" he asked Shockwave. Another of his loyal warriors, but alas, only one. Megatron felt a surge of regret that Shockwave hadn’t been the one to clone himself. Then again, of course, Starscream’s motivation hadn’t been to pursue the Decepticon cause. Megatron enjoyed the delicious irony that if there was a mech extant who wanted to interface with him even more than Lugnut (if that was possible, that is, without violating the laws of physics) it was Shockwave. Shockwave’s antlers quivered with barely-suppressed emotion as he consulted his datapad.
"My lord, I might suggest Sunstorm? He appears to have inherited Starscream’s obsequiousness."
"Hrm." Well, for the first interface in ages, perhaps a little fawning wouldn’t be amiss. Certainly would obviate any possible…arousal errors. Megatron did not think it a character flaw to like hearing his subordinates recognize his obvious superiority. "What do we know about this one beyond that?"
"He’s the gaudy one," Shockwave said, a tad disapproving. His own coloring was much more subdued and, he thought, quite tasteful. "I suspect the nonstop compliments will grow tedious."
"I shall," Megatron smirked, "try to endure. Yes. Schedule him for this evening."
*****
Sunstorm fell to his knees as soon as he crossed the threshold and spotted Megatron. He scuttled along the floor, still on his knees, to get within what was presumably prime groveling range. Neat trick, Megatron thought. Others shall have to learn this.
"Oh Megatron, magnificent leader! It is an honor merely to bask in your presence! I am unworthy."
"You probably are," Megatron agreed. "But you are here to better prove yourself."
Sunstorm sat up, clasping his hands together rapturously. "No one else splits an infinitive with such bold disregard for Strunk and White! Truly you are an exemplary leader."
Megatron blinked. What? Did the mech just criticize his grammar? "Yes, well," he continued, a little more carefully. "You shall have a chance to prove yourself more worthy of my regard."
Sunstorm flopped to his belly, his cockpit ringing against the floor. "Oh, a lowly worm such as myself could never hope to be worthy in your eyes, fearless and puissant leader of all Decepticons."
Well, that sounded a bit better. Megatron did like a good adjective, particularly when applied to himself. Puissant. He liked the ring of that. "Are you saying you would not even like the chance to try to prove yourself?"
"Oh no!" Sunstorm genuflected. "I fear that I will only disappoint the paragon of virtue that is your mighty self."
As pleasantly obsequious as that sounded, Megatron nonetheless found himself getting impatient. Sunstorm was here for a reason. A very sticky reason. And Megatron wanted to get past the feeling out and into the feeling up parts. Especially the part about feeling up his parts. "We shall perhaps see about that." He leaned forward, hauling Sunstorm up by one shoulder.
"I am unworthy of this honor!" Sunstorm squeaked, as Megatron ran a skillful hand over the spread of one of his wings.
"Yes," Megatron sighed, "you probably are. But you’re getting it anyway." The yellow mech collapsed against Megatron’s chassis, kissing Megatron’s Decepticon brand cringe-ingly. Well, this was progress, at least.
"Oh!" Sunstorm gushed, between slurpy kisses, "You are a magnificent specimen! Perfect! So virile! So commanding!"
Yes, yes, Megatron thought, get on with it. To give the mech a hint, he dragged one of the saffron-colored hands to his interface hatch. Sunstorm licked his way down Megatron’s narrowed waist toward the panel. Much better, Megatron thought. A seeker, on his knees, between my legs. Yes. Very, very nice.
Sunstorm hesitated, his long hands stroking down Megatron’s thighs.
Megatron cocked his head aggressively. "Well, go on."
Sunstorm sucked in a breath, his optics wide and round as he reverently opened the hatch. "Ooooohhhhhhhhhh," he breathed. "Such a magnificent hatch!"
Megatron rolled his optics, but by this point, the flattery and his foreknowledge of how this was going to end (very stickily) were eating away at his patience. His spike’s lubricant leaked from around the edges of the seal. Sunstorm "ooooooohhhhhhh"’d again, tracing the edges of the cover until it retracted.
"That," the yellow mech proclaimed, "is the most resplendent spike I have ever seen." It crossed Megatron’s mind to wonder exactly how many spikes the little sapsucker had actually seen, but since things seemed to finally be rolling in the appropriate vector, he didn’t want to derail.
Until, of course, the jet seemed inclined to sit and stare at it-slightly cross-eyed-all day. The cool air stung the lubricant on the spike. "You may," Megatron said, waving his hand, lordly, "touch it." As Sunstorm extended one orangey hand to trace the under-nodes, Megatron nodded to himself. Yes. He was handling this one quite well. He knew this side of Starscream perfectly.
Without an invitation, proving to Megatron that he was definitely on the right track, Sunstorm bowed his head and took the spike into his mouth. Megatron gave a shuddering sigh, scraping his aft forward along the throne, spreading his legs. Yes.
"Is this," Sunstorm paused, "good enough?"
Well, it was until you STOPPED! Megatron wanted to yell. Instead, he said, "I need more of a…sample of your skills." He leaned back. "Impress me."
Apparently the right words. Sunstorm settled his mouth around the spike, working the lubricant into the spike’s complicated contours with his eager glossa. The fingers of one hand teased against Megatron’s valve cover.
Megatron grunted as his overload systems kicked on. It had been a while, and it took a few kliks for the nodes to warm up enough to hold a charge, much less let one build. The prickling sensation of the awakening nodes was indescribably good. He wanted to push the mech’s head down, but there was no point-he was doing a fine job as it was. And to be honest, Megatron just wanted to enjoy the sensation. It was always a fight when Starscream did this-a battle of wills, an awareness of the clever flyer’s devious mind thinking unpleasant thoughts. This, Megatron could simply lay back and enjoy.
And enjoy he did. He almost regretted the sudden bucking of his hips, the rush of transfluid through his spike-the liquid so hot it almost felt like it was burning against the newly resurrected tubes. Well, if this had been a test of his interface/overload systems, it was an unqualified success. He groaned as Sunstorm pulled up suction against the spike, pulling the last of the fluid out, before releasing the spike to lean his cheek against Megatron’s thigh.
"Do I meet your approval?" he asked. Again, those words from Starscream would have been painfully snide. These were almost painfully fawning. Megatron patted the mech’s head, wiping away with one finger a stray drop of transfluid. He could get used to this.
"That was…sufficient."