Sticky Response Pt 3
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Stories that were started here continue here.
FIC: Continuity - Title (optional) - Characters - brief Kink (please include the entire thing on every part you post and for every comment!) and put Ch# or Pt# at the end. Note any major squicks or kinks in the header as a courtesy to the ( Read more... )
Stories that were started here continue here.
FIC: Continuity - Title (optional) - Characters - brief Kink (please include the entire thing on every part you post and for every comment!) and put Ch# or Pt# at the end. Note any major squicks or kinks in the header as a courtesy to the ( Read more... )
My idea is that Starscream harbors a secret crush on Megatron, and after another failed mission, the Decepticon leader berates Starscream and angrily beats his SIC for his failure. He then orders Starscream to leave the room only to feel unwell a few seconds later. Primus intervenes and puts the Decepticon leader into the POV of a Megatron figurine Starscream keeps in his quarters, completely immobilized and helpless to watch Starscream. He learns through the other's masturbation to him how much his SIC feels about him and after waking up in his own body again, goes to pay a visit to Starscream~
I've changed it a bit (with requester's permission, and thank you again!), because I couldn't think of how to pull off the part where Megatron's in the figurine. But Starscream having fun with the figurine (and Megatron finding out about it) is another story. AND THEREFORE THIS. Here's the first few bits. More coming throughout the day and possibly the weekend if my muses are slow about finishing this thing.
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Starscream twitched a dented wing. It ached, but the movement sent a bright jolt of sensation zipping through the sensors there that soon faded to a warm, electrical glow.
He cursed, muttering to himself. Primus knew he didn't mind pain, but this was rapidly becoming ridiculous.
He'd felt sure, long vorns ago when all this had started, that Megatron had understood. Had known what his provocations meant.
Oh, he meant every word of his criticisms. Megatron could be spectacularly stupid at times, and someone had to remind the old fool of his failures. Since Starscream was apparently the only Decepticon intelligent or brave enough to do so, the job fell to him.
But he'd known very well that Megatron would punish him, and guessed well enough how a former gladiator from the death pits might go about it. And Megatron was nothing if not cruel. More than once, he'd heard the unmistakable sound of the big mech's cooling fans roaring to life as his fists crashed into the thin metal of Starscream's wings or his hands tightened over Starscream's shoulder vents.
It was a bit more than even Starscream could enjoy, but that hadn't bothered him. Not at first. He'd known very well how attractive he could be. And although Megatron would never admit it, Starscream had noticed Megatron revise his plans more than once, altering this or that detail based on his second's suggestions.
Although Starscream had begged and pleaded and groveled - and, yes, been annoyed, because damn it all, that hurt! - he'd secretly exulted in it. His spark had wheeled in triumph and his turbines had spun in eager expectation. He'd felt certain that someday, once Megatron had finished venting that cruelty on him, he would -
He clicked his wings angrily, glad for the burn it elicited. It matched his sour mood. There was no use in thinking about that now. If Megatron hadn't noticed in hectovorns, well, the oblivious idiot wasn't going to suddenly start now.
Fuming, he crossed his room in a few long strides and threw open a storage closet, rummaging around until his hand closed over the object he sought.
It was crudely made, welded awkwardly together from pieces of plating Starscream had managed to tear off of Megatron during their endless, violent arguments. Although his scientific training had made him precise, and his careful study of every micron of Megatron's frame had given him a near-perfect blueprint for the miniature, he'd had little patience for careful work. It didn't matter, really, what the figurine looked like.
Only what it represented.
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The figurine's optics flickered and then flared to life, glowing a bright reddish-orange.
Starscream shuddered at the brightness, imagining that the piercing glow was his lord's gaze, staring as greedily at its handiwork as Starscream had always hoped he would.
Starscream hadn't been able to find any lights in exactly the proper shade; the red of his lord's optics was as unique as their bearer. But this was good enough.
Oblivious fool Megatron might have been, but at least his little toy knew it should properly adore him.
Twitching his wings again and shuddering at the sting, he carried the figurine to the edge of his berth and laid it there with an almost reverent gentleness. He slid a hand over it once, savoring the pits and dents in the metal because they were real, because they were scars, because they were his.
Then he stepped back, striking a salacious pose. He ran his hands lightly down his sides, spinning his turbines and licking his lips as he tilted his hips toward the small, silent figurine he imagined was watching him.
"Do you like this, Mighty Megatron?" he crooned, his turbines whirling loudly as his fingers moved on his own plating, lingering over the dents that Megatron had left there earlier. "Do you like seeing me on display for you?"
He slid his hands lower, canting his hips toward the figurine and tracing the circle of his spike cover, savoring the heat there. He stepped closer, licking his lips.
He hesitated as long as he could stand and then reached out again, his finger twitching as it found the proper switch.
The figurine's interface panel slid open obediently, a miniature spike springing free from it.
"Oh," Starscream whispered, "you do like that, don't you?"
Constructing the figurine's spike had unfortunately been a matter of guesswork. Starscream had never seen the thing. But if the rest of Megatron's frame was any indication, it would be large like the rest of him, and thick enough to stretch deliciously going in.
Starscream had proportioned his figurine ridiculously. Because it wasn't fair that he hadn't seen it, and the thought excited him.
And for one other reason, of course, though he hadn't reached that part of the ritual yet.
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He moved slowly at first, wanting to give his obligingly captive audience a good show. His spike was long and curved gracefully upward, bands of red and white metal alternating along its surface. He knew that the few mechs he'd granted the privilege of seeing it had found it as pretty as the rest of him, and he wanted to make the most of it.
But as his gaze shifted to meet the frozen stare of his toy, he couldn't help but pump himself faster. The makeshift optics, never leaving him, burned bright, and as he pumped himself harder he could almost imagine his figurine's faceplates moving, shifting into a greedy, mocking smirk.
"For you," he panted, narrowing his optics into slits to better lose himself in the illusion. The orange lights were pinpricks of flame and suddenly he knew nothing but heat and light and the dream of his lord watching him. A long shudder wracked his frame and he shrieked as his transfluid burst free, covering the small effigy of Megatron in silver, sticky ropes of it.
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He floated for long moments in a sated, sleepy haze, little electrical pulses crackling through his interface equipment. His valve cover slid aside and he traced it with one finger, murmuring with pleasure.
"You never disappoint me," he whispered, smirking at the figurine bedecked with his emission.
Cycling a sigh of satiation, he leaned over and lifted his prize in one hand. His own optics shone now, gleaming with hunger, as he wrapped a hand around the figurine and brought it to his lips.
He pressed his lip plates to it and opened his mouth to lick at the stain he'd left, shuddering at the taste of his own fluids against the metal. It had come, after all, from Megatron's real frame, wrenched from his lord's body during their little power struggles. Starscream nuzzled it with his lips and tongue, reveling in the roughness of thousands of tiny dents and scars.
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That was maddening, but Starscream wasn't doing this just to make himself overload again. With a whimper, he slid his finger out again. He'd save that for Megatron, if he could stand to do it. And if the thick-bolted fool would ever, ever, ever learn to take a slagging hint.
He kissed his toy, tracing a path to the Decepticon insignia he'd branded into it. It was crude, crude and uneven, because he couldn't find a branding iron small enough. His tanks roiled in distaste at the thought of the imperfections. But it was worth it to sear the symbol into his toy, just as it had been seared onto Megatron's own chest, so many hundreds of vorns ago.
And into his own wings. He arched his back and flared them out, feeling a sharp spike of pain through the sensors there. But now, after his overload, with his effigy of Megatron pressed to his lips, he felt nothing but elation. His valve spasmed and he gasped, his glossa slipping down to one of his figure's arms.
Sadly, he'd found no light source adequate to representing the lavender energy that roiled through his Leader's weapon as it charged. Unlike the figurine's optics, its cannon didn't glow with light or hum with heat. Still, Starscream sighed as his glossa curled around it, dipping into the makeshift barrel.
Wouldn't this feel good, Mighty Megatron, he thought with another shudder, if I were doing it for real?
He licked his way down the figure's abdomen, his turbines whirling at his own taste, but he left the prodigious spike alone for the moment.
That was for last.
His mouth slid over the broad legs, one and then the other. He sucked at the figurine's feet, taking them all the way into his mouth, imagining planting kisses on a much larger set of feet. Perhaps he would do it in a rare show of loyalty, finally confessing after so long what he'd really meant by all the needling. Or perhaps Megatron would shove him down, snarling, fed up with the endless provocations, and order him to lick -
Cycling a heavy sigh, he slid his way back up to the one place he'd left alone.
"Is this what you want, Leader?" he purred, sliding his glossa over the figurine's spike.
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He shuttered his optics, his processor spinning with fantasies. He imagined the fluid as Megatron's own, spattered there after his Leader had brought himself to overload, staring at Starscream's provocative display earlier. Then he imagined the fluid as the lubricant from his valve after Megatron had pounded him, then bid him clean it up with his mouth and glossa.
And then there was the simpler fantasy: Megatron's thick, hard spike driving into his mouth, over and over.
Perhaps Megatron would be flattered, knowing what Starscream had wanted for so long. Perhaps he would be gentle - as gentle as one could expect from him, anyway. Finally knowing Starscream's secret, he would be flattered into forbearance, petting and caressing the wings he'd so carelessly abused.
Or perhaps he'd be as cruel as he always was, grabbing the back of Starscream's helm and shoving his head down, denting the metal of his mouth, stretching it wide with his no doubt impossible size, as his other hand twisted at wingtips and ailerons and anything it could reach.
Starscream's hips tilted, pressing the rim of his valve hard into his free hand. He wouldn't penetrate himself again - not now, not when he could so easily lose himself in the fantasy that someday he might really have a chance - but the feel of Megatron against his mouth and the thought of Megatron inside him was too much, entirely too much, and he needed another overload and damn the consequences.
Of which there would, of course, be none. But you don't need to think of that, do you? he reminded himself.
Grinning with a fierce, impish delight, he rubbed hard at an external sensor node, imagining Megatron bursting in on him. Right now, just like this, with his hand at his valve and his cobbled-together effigy pressed to his lips.
His valve pulsed hard and he shuddered as the overload hit, his cry of ecstasy muffled by the metal.
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Thanks so much for taking this on, by the way. <3
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Thanks for the delightful prompt. Starscream with a Megatron doll (or would that be a toy, like the Transformers toys we have? I wonder if it transforms! XD) is the cutest thing imaginable.
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Megatron stared, optics wide, at the scene playing out on the security monitor in front of him. When Soundwave had informed him that Starscream was up to something, he'd expected to discover the Seeker scheming in the secrecy of his quarters, plotting his latest ridiculous takeover attempt.
Soundwave had been evasive about exactly what he'd caught Starscream doing. Megatron had pressed him, to no avail. That had irritated him, of course, but it hadn't worried him much. He was an old mech, leader of his faction for hundreds of vorns. Very little surprised him any more, especially not from Starscream. He'd dealt with the volatile Seeker's schemes for almost as long as he'd led the Decepticons. Whatever it was Soundwave felt so oddly shy about, Megatron had been sure he could handle.
And yet nothing could possibly have prepared him for what he'd discovered Starscream doing.
His glitched little fool of a second had been prancing in front of a mere toy, crooning to it like some sort of brazen pleasure drone, saying things he'd never once thought to say to the very mech that cobbled-together idol represented - !
Megatron's frame rumbled, every part of his chassis vibrating with indignation. Starscream's fingertips had lingered over the dents Megatron's beating had left as if he enjoyed them. As if the only thing the hotheaded little fool had felt in response to Megatron's discipline was pleasure, not shame and contrition. As if Megatron had somehow done it all for him!
It was unthinkable.
And if all that weren't demeaning enough, Starscream had followed up his ridiculous vamping by taking himself in hand and overloading all over the disgusting little figurine.
Which Starscream had, if Megatron didn't miss his guess, cobbled together with spare bits of Megatron's own armor!
And yet, Megatron thought, thinking of Starscream's bright blue hands wrapped around his spike, his turbines whirling as he moved, his crimson gaze fixed on the toy he'd made as a stand-in for Megatron himself.
Megatron's own spike, pressurizing rapidly, thudded against its housing. Starscream had whispered something, the moment before his fluid burst free.
Something that sounded almost... reverent.
And then there was his glossa, wrapping itself around the metal of the figurine - Megatron's own metal, if he was right about where Starscream had gotten those bits of armor plating - sliding over every groove and scratch and dent. Moving with the kind of thorough devotion he would have expected from Shockwave or Soundwave, not his endlessly rebellious second in command.
His spike cover slid open all at once and he looked down at his rebellious equipment, glaring. Pleasant as it was to think of Starscream willingly submitting, he'd known the mech for hectovorns. If Starscream had ever intended to offer himself to his Leader, surely he would have done it by now.
And Megatron had certainly waited for it, staring hungrily at Starscream's twisted form after laying him low, waiting for oaths of fealty, prostrations, shy kisses proving the younger mech's devotion -
There is no point in such idle fancy, Megatron chided himself sternly, wrenching his optics away from the monitor.
Still, a part of his processor whispered, that is a far better use for Starscream's glossa than his usual litanies of sarcasm and insults..
Megatron's optics widened. If Starscream did mean it -
Grinning, he tapped a button on the console. Once the monitor went black, he pressed a finger to another button, this one on his own chest. "Megatron to Starscream."
"What is it now, Leader?" a familiar voice screeched back, all signs of relaxation gone from it.
"I require your presence immediately. We have matters to discuss."
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"Starscream," Megatron answered, his voice a gravelly purr. "I know exactly what you've been doing."
A shriek answered him, its high pitch stinging his audios. "Then you - you've been spying on me! Violating my privacy!" Megatron heard the rapid clicking of Starscream's wings, a sure sign of agitation and distress.
How would moving his wings feel, post-overload and sore from the dents Megatron's rough treatment had left there? Megatron cycled a heavy pant, not caring whether or not the Seeker heard it.
"And would I have needed to spy on you if you'd bothered, once in millions of this planet's years, to inform me of your feelings instead of shrieking pointless complaints at every turn?"
"I - I - how dare you -!"
"Instead, you waste your time pestering me and resort to some pathetic little toy you cobbled together out of whatever you could find!"
"Take," Starscream murmured, his rasping voice barely audible.
"What are you going on about? I can hardly hear you."
"It's yours, all right?" Starscream hissed. "Every plate of it. Torn off you when you've repaid my constructive suggestions with violence and attacked me! Because of course you're too slagging dense to see what's right in front of you, you thick-bolted, rust-eaten, obsolete excuse for a -"
Megatron chuckled, sparing another glance for his spike. It stood fully erect now, fluid glistening at its tip. "You're on your way right now."
The only response was another screeching howl, followed by a burst of static and a loud click as the comm link died.
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"Matters to - what - I was just there a cycle and a half ago! Surely I couldn't possibly have done anything between then and - " Starscream's vocalizer sputtered, and his voice faded out in a fuzz of static.
"Starscream," Megatron answered, his voice a gravelly purr. "I know exactly what you've been doing."
A shriek answered him, its high pitch stinging his audios. "Then you - you've been spying on me! Violating my privacy!" Megatron heard the rapid clicking of Starscream's wings, a sure sign of agitation and distress.
How would moving his wings feel, post-overload and sore from the dents Megatron's rough treatment had left there? Megatron cycled a heavy pant, not caring whether or not the Seeker heard it.
"And would I have needed to spy on you if you'd bothered, once in millions of this planet's years, to inform me of your feelings instead of shrieking pointless complaints at every turn?"
"I - I - how dare you -!"
"Instead, you waste your time pestering me and resort to some pathetic little toy you cobbled together out of whatever you could find!"
"Take," Starscream murmured, his rasping voice barely audible.
"What are you going on about? I can hardly hear you."
"It's yours, all right?" Starscream hissed. "Every plate of it. Torn off you when you've repaid my constructive suggestions with violence and attacked me! Because of course you're too slagging dense to see what's right in front of you, you thick-bolted, rust-eaten, obsolete excuse for a -"
Megatron chuckled, sparing another glance for his spike. It stood fully erect now, fluid glistening at its tip. "You're on your way right now."
The only response was another screeching howl, followed by a burst of static and a loud click as the comm link died.
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Heheheheh. I love this. So much. <3 You've written Starscream and Megatron so in character. And poor Soundwave. XD I bet it really threw him off to witness that.
Looking forward to the next part!
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And the whole idea of it being unrequited on both sides and their bickering being all about never confessing their feelings to one another and getting in their own way is hilarious and I'm glad you prompted it with the idea of Screamer having a secret crush. You're awesome <3
And yes, poor Soundwave. I'm sure he was all "Query: ...............WTF?"
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I have so many ideas involving Starscream and Megatron, I just never have the time to write them. Ha! But, I do not regret leaving this idea here for others to write. Like in this case, just seeing it brought to life is enough to enjoy.
Thanks again for taking it and I really look forward to an update. C:
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I don't think the pairing is overdone at all. If anything I think it's underdone. It's really tough to find anything recent that isn't written by the same handful of people. Which is not bad, but I wish more people would write for them.
You should write some fic!
And I'm really glad you like this take on them. It's more cracky than most stuff I write, but I'm having a ton of fun. <3
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And I really wanted to write something, but I've just been so busy with work and classes. :C
You write them so very well. It's been a joy to read. <3
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