Fic: Disable
Author’s Note: I hope that this was adequate. The lack of dialogue was a stylized decision - I hope that doesn’t blow up in my face horribly. As always, it is up to the readers, and the requestor. I hope you like this. Megatron/Bluestreak pairing.
Written by Spotlight_Noa
Willful Denial
~I took a step outside an innocent heart~
To say that Bluestreak knew exactly why his tryst with Megatron began would be a lie - it was just something that happened. One moment, things were simple, straight-forward, black was black and white was white. The next moment, everything melted together into a confusing haze of morality versus selfishness. It wasn't exactly a gray area - it was a disgusting, twisted mix of right and wrong that didn't correlate together properly. It was unnatural. It reminded him of Iacon - same city, same streets, same Autobots, but nothing more than a twisted, distorted reflection of something that should have been beautiful but wasn't anymore.
Bluestreak could remember waking in Iacon, staring at a gray sky - smoke had veiled the stars entirely, and Bluestreak remembered feeling small and insignificant. Strangely, that hadn't bothered him, not really. He wanted to be small, to disappear where no one could find him.
Iacon had been destroyed. Everyone told him there was nothing he could have done. It's true, there was nothing - Iacon crumbled and all the Autobots could do was lay there and watch as everything that one built began to fracture and fall apart. The buildings around Bluestreak had been cracked, smoking, leaning unsteadily inward as if everything wanted to cave in right on top of him.
It kind of felt like that now.
~~~
~This night will hurt you like never before~
Bluestreak did not consider himself unique by any means, nor did he consider himself depressed. Despite everything he remembered (mostly, he tried not to think about it), he never believed he needed special treatment or coddling. Bluestreak reminded himself that all the Autobots suffered. He did not let himself spend every day thinking of Iacon, nor did he spend his restless nights trying to recall the way the dust and the soot had obscured his vision after so long, making him feel like he was dying. He did not let himself remember the way everything started collapsing and how he just laid there, hurting and alone, feeling the remains of Autobots he knew and others he didn't pressed against him. If he thought about it too long or too hard, he felt his spark chamber might fracture apart just like the buildings had. They seemed so strong once, but everything became fragile when the Decepticons were there to contrast it.
Decepticons were powerful - there was no denying that. Ironhide and Cliffjumper talked big at times, and maybe some of the Decepticons were cowards, but they were still stronger, and they were still winning. Cybertron belonged to them now. The only thing to do now was keep going, and maybe watch everything break apart just like before.
Whatever the case, giving up was never an option.
The Autobots said that Bluestreak was lucky. First he survived Iacon - and he did, and he never regretted that - and then he survived being stuck alone with Megatron for three whole solar cycles.
It had been unfortunate - a mission gone wrong. Battles on Cybertron were always more complicated than they were on Earth. There were always ways to get trapped, to get lost, and Megatron and Bluestreak had done just that. A raid on energon gone wrong. Bluestreak felt almost Decepticon stealing energon, really, after how long the Autobots had been beating down the Decepticons for doing just the same thing back on Earth. He didn’t much like the shift in roles.
Bluestreak had fled downwards, under the surface, and before long he and Megatron were lost. Both too proud to admit this, they continued.
It wasn't as stable underground as they pretended it was. As they descended deeper into Cybertron, both willfully ignored how old and weak the metals here were. A few badly placed shots, and suddenly the ground crumbled beneath them and they were falling. Megatron was too startled to engage his thrusters. Bluestreak was already convinced he was going to get killed, and it was better to go this way than to let Megatron kill him himself.
But, the fall didn't kill him. Hurt, but it didn't kill him. Bluestreak came online only a cycle later.
His rifle was smashed to pieces. A shame - not only because it had been a gift to him many vorns ago, but because Megatron was still functioning, and Bluestreak was now utterly defenseless. When Bluestreak roused himself, he found Megatron in a pathetic state - legs damaged, knee joints broken, thrusters almost obliterated. Megatron was perfectly conscious - the cannon upon his arm was aimed at Bluestreak.
'Repair me,' said Megatron. 'And I might let you live, Autobot.’
~~~
~I'm going down so frail and cruel~
Bluestreak had been frightened - it was that simple. There were no heroics when you were lost and cold, when you only wanted to go home and see something familiar. This place was dark, dank, and Bluestreak would have done anything to make things right again. If repairing Megatron meant he could go home, then he would do it - and he did.
Megatron was surprisingly docile while being repaired. That didn't stop Bluestreak from wincing every time the Decepticon shifted, at least at first. Bluestreak did talk, however - talked about nothing at all while Megatron quipped at him impatiently. Every passing cycle, Bluestreak relaxed a little more. There was a point in conversation, in meaningless banter, where Bluestreak was able to forget things that bothered him. By the time he needed his first recharge cycle since their fall, he was at ease - there was no good reason for it, he just was.
Maybe talking about nothing was just his way of coping with something like this. Maybe that was why he was still able to laugh and joke so soon after Iacon's destruction. Maybe that's why everyone liked him - he could make it all go away just by absorbing himself in conversation.
~~~
~Old lies, they die harder~
There was a point - Bluestreak wasn't sure when that was - where Megatron decided that the Autobot's fingers nimbly slipping into his wiring was more arousing than painful. Bluestreak found himself, quite suddenly, pressed against Megatron.
He should have felt more surprised than he did, or maybe angrier, but his ability to feel anything at all seemed to temporary fail him. Bluestreak only froze, and suddenly Megatron was kissing his neck and licking wiring deftly with his glossa, biting him until it hurt and then repeating the process. Bluestreak had squirmed, but had not torn away. The threat of being killed was still there, of course, but there was something else - something indefinable - that went well beyond lust.
Not love, because not in a million vorns could Bluestreak (or anyone, for that matter) love someone like Megatron. It was nothing close to that. But there was something, a wonderful denial that allowed him to believe that maybe he was the one manipulating Megatron, and that it wasn't the other way around.
Bluestreak hadn't been willing - but he hadn't been unwilling. Even damaged, Megatron was more powerful than he was, and Bluestreak's half-hearted, wearied attempts at escape had eventually stopped. Hands pinned above his head, Megatron pressing against him until his headlights cracked from the strain, Bluestreak could do very little except endure.
~~~
~I’m in love with my lust~
Nothing Megatron did for his own satisfaction was pleasurable. Bluestreak endured, and tried to think of something else - anything else - but he was unable to talk or to distract him or pretend this wasn't happening. He thought of Iacon instead, and the way the buildings had bent inward, twisted and distorted, as if they might fall and crush him.
The invasion of Megatron's spark into his own wasn't pleasant, or warm, or anything else that an interface should be.
Sated, Megatron had rested against him, his internal humming with pleasure, his plating loose as the build up of heat escaped him. Bluestreak's hands clenched uselessly, and he squirmed, trying to coax the Decepticon off - Megatron didn't move.
In truth, the actual interfacing part was easy to endure.
Megatron smirked down at him, sliding down towards Bluestreak's opened chest plates. Hazily, Bluestreak attempted to reason out what Megatron intended to do beforehand - it still sent a shock through his body when he felt Megatron's glossa begin to trace his spark chamber.
Bluestreak's penchant for volume seemed to be prevalent while in ecstasy. Every lick and nip elicited moans, each louder and more wanton than the one before it. He arched, squirmed, pleaded in an incoherent way that made his spark twist with both embarrassment and immense arousal.
Every cry seemed to spur Megatron on further, the licks and kisses growing firmer, more bold, until the inevitable overload washed through Bluestreak's overheated systems. The ecstasy made him forget, more than talking did, more than menial distraction. It made everything disappear.
Bluestreak's hands were released, and he clutched at Megatron, his face burying against a broad shoulder. There was no need to pretend - he couldn't even think, and it was unnecessary to lie to himself when he felt like this.
He slipped into recharge easily, and deeply, and did not rouse until his pleasure had utterly abated.
~~~
~Greatest thrill
Not to kill
But to have the prize of the night~
If there's one thing that's true about war - or at least, their war - was that as long as the tyrant survived, everything would repeat itself in some way. It wasn't that much longer before Bluestreak and Megatron encountered one another. Another attempt to steal energon - it wasn't that the Autobots didn't have any for themselves, just that it became harder for Megatron to secure Cybertron if his supplies were being devastated. Many Autobots were running these missions, most on their own. Most didn't get caught, and the ones that did usually managed to slip away somehow. None of them, except for Bluestreak, had run into Megatron - and he’d done so twice now, no less.
Megatron had been alone - Bluestreak was pretty sure that Megatron had been specifically waiting for him.
Megatron was, quite unashamedly, smug.
Bluestreak didn't plan to fight - there was no reason, and he knew well enough that he wasn't strong enough. He retreated as quickly as he could, but even his alt mode did not prove helpful in the twisting, tight turns of the city. A practiced shot across his bumper, and Bluestreak had to turn left to avoid it - and Megatron kept doing that. Warning him, but not hitting him directly.
Bluestreak knew he was being herded, but unless he wanted Megatron to get a clear blast, he had no choice but to go the way he was being forced to go.
Bluestreak was cornered - of course he was cornered. Transforming to bipedal mode, Bluestreak backed himself up against a wall. He didn't know why he wasn't calling for back-up - there were Autobots that were ready to jump in when he needed them, yet he did not call.
Megatron had him where he wanted him - and honestly, where Bluestreak wanted to be. Megatron didn't want to kill him. Bluestreak knew that, because Megatron liked the control he had over Bluestreak - he liked any kind of control, really.
It was easy to forget he was just an amusement to Megatron when the Decepticon pinned him against the wall and viciously took his spark again. This time, Bluestreak didn’t simply endure - he allowed himself to feel it, to experience the pleasure and the heat of Megatron’s spark in his own. He clutched, and pleaded, and succumbed entirely.
When the bliss overwhelmed Bluestreak again, he forgot everything he knew he should remember, forgot to be afraid of the things that he should. He recharged easily, and awoke alone.