(no subject)
Title: Worth the Worry
Series: G1
Rating: M, for vague semi-violent robot sex.
Pairing: Octane/Starscream
Thanks: apathocles for being subjected to the typo-riddled draft (though not as a beta, so all mistakes are mine alone).
Word count: 2,701
Notes: It's set after 'Ghost in the Machine', so Starscream has his own body back. Also, I kind of... squeeze canon until its head pops off a little. Um :(
Not the first time, Octane wondered if he had completely taken leave of his logic circuits.
He had just started to get his life back in order after Galvatron had destroyed his spaceship, ejected him from the Decepticons and put a bounty on his head - utilising the vast personal network he’d built up over the vorns and doing what he always did: putting himself to good use finding random spare parts and cheap energon sources until most of his clients had come to consider him indispensable. Annoying and demanding, but ultimately too useful not to shield from Galvatron’s reach. He was confining himself to the periphery at the moment, but, he thought, sooner or later, he’d get back in contact with Sandstorm and maybe one or two other Autobots, and then things could really get underway…
He’d been coming back from negotiations with some know-nothing periphery-dwellers when he’d encountered a badly-damaged Transformer, drifting in space and barely online. Usually he’d just ignore such a thing, but something about this one made him look twice.
Starscream.
The last time Octane had seen Starscream, he’d been inhabiting the body of Cyclonus, and the pair of them were on the run from an enraged Galvatron. He’d never expected to see him again. Let alone looking so… corporeal.
Curiosity was usually a foreign concept to Octane. Get in, get the job done, and get out. It was a philosophy that so far had only slightly let him down. Nonetheless, he suddenly found himself near-overwhelmed with it. Mechanisms couldn’t come back from the dead. It just wasn’t possible. However, he reflected, if he’d ever met anyone who was capable of overcoming odds of infinity to one, it was Starscream. Even when survival wasn’t an option, continuing certainly seemed to be.
Starscream’s story had come out in dribs and drabs - if it had been anyone other than Starscream, Octane would have flatly refused to believe them. There was only one mech alive with the impudence and sheer bloody-minded gall to even conceive of such a scheme - double-crossing Unicron, of all the entities in the galaxy - let alone actually attempt to pull it off.
As far as getting his body back was concerned, Octane thought, Starscream had actually been completely successful. Protecting it from Galvatron once he had it… slightly less so. It was the small details that Starscream always seemed to come undone on.
Octane knew the shift roster on Junk well enough to know which dormitories would be empty and when, so he’d carried Starscream in, easily overridden the laughably simple security mechanism, and placed him in a free recharge birth. The next time he’d returned, he’d found Starscream awake, his housing open, attempting to repair his damaged guidance system. The pain must have been excruciating, and the work awkward to perform, but Starscream jerked himself backwards away from him when Octane had reached out to help.
“I can do it myself,” Starscream snarled, connecting the last of the wires, and shuddering as the damaged systems came back online.
Octane had watched him for a few moments. “Is there anything I can get you?” he finally asked.
Starscream had stared up at him, suspicion and bottomless mistrust written deep into his features. “Energon,” he finally answered, and then, after a moment, “and some replacement wing struts.”
Old buddies. Now, as he touched down on Junk, his cargo bay filled with an energon delivery, Octane had to wonder if Starscream actually knew the meaning of the word. This was, Octane reflected, the second time he’d extended a helping hand to Starscream at a not insignificant cost to himself. He wondered if, in the end, it would turn out to be worth the worry.
“Where have you been?” Starscream demanded as soon as Octane appeared in the doorway of the Junk dormitory. Octane tossed the energon cubes he was carrying onto the floor in front of him before answering.
“Where have I been? Do you even know the favours I had to call in to get another spaceship after Galvatron blew the last one up?” Octane asked. “The fact that I’m even here at all is miracle.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like here,” Starscream complained. “Every day, four walls… I don’t have enough energy to go far. I don’t have enough energy to fly.” Starscream reached out for the energon, and greedily began drinking it down.
“And I have enough on my plate without my clients finding out I’m skimming some off the top for a Decepticon outcast,” Octane said, watching as Starscream drained the first cube and started on the second.
“I need more than this if I’m going to get back to Chaar to overthrow Galvatron,” Starscream muttered.
Octan groaned. “Vector Sigma. Not this again.”
Starscream glowered at him. “I’m just taking back what’s mine.”
Octane snorted. “Believe me, I heard all about it from Astrotrain,” he said. “You aren’t going to overthrow Galvatron. I don’t think anyone is. At least, not while he’s carting those two sycophants around with him everywhere he goes. You pretty much just have to try work around him.”
Starscream was for once silent, flicking off his optics as the energon seeped its way through his system.
“Anyway,” Octane started again, “do you honestly think any Decepticon is going to follow you? They wouldn’t even back in the old days, and things are different now. We’re not in charge of Cybertron anymore, you know. And you saw your marker in the crypt. That’s pretty much the general consensus on you. Not to mention,” he added as an afterthought, “you’re supposed to be dead.”
Starscream was silent for a short time longer. Octane noticed with mild disbelief that a smirk was starting to crawl its way across his face. The energon absorbed, Starscream brought his optics back online and turned his head to look at Octane.
“Then why are you here?” he finally asked. “Obviously not everyone remembers me as being as bad as all that.” His smirk got bigger. “Or is this personal?”
Octane snorted again. Regardless of whatever deluded fantasies Starscream kept himself occupied with in between energon deliveries, Octane had hardly been prostrating himself with grief during his absence. Sure, there were certain things he missed about Starscream’s company (conversation was conspicuously absent from the list), but he was not one to shed tears over comrades lost. Until he met Sandstorm, Starscream and Astrotrain had probably been the closest things Octane had ever had to real friends - but it was a distant and mutated cousin to the kind of friendship that would ordinarily be classified as ‘healthy’. Friends, in Starscream’s case, with rather spectacular benefits. Octane looked away from him. That was a part of his memory banks he hadn’t delved into for a very long time.
“Think whatever you like,” Octane said, making to go. He had things to do, people to see. Life wasn’t easy when you were on Galvatron’s blacklist, not to mention the number of people who would be out for an explanation if he didn’t get their deliveries to them on time. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” Starscream said. Using the recharge berth to support himself, Starscream got slowly to his feet and crossed the room to him, reaching forward to lightly touch Octane’s chestplate. “I’ve… missed some things about not having a body,” he said. “I didn’t forget about you.”
Octane had to fight back the urge to laugh. Starscream never got any less transparent, and Octane simply knew him too well not to recognise when he was just rolling out yet another weapon in his not inconsiderable arsenal. Whatever Starscream had been plotting during his excess of free time on Junk, Octane was fairly sure he wanted no part in it. Octane had no doubt what Starscream would stoop to if he thought it would get him onside for his schemes. For a moment, Octane contemplated simply walking away and leaving Starscream to his wrack and ruin on Junk.
Still… Primus knew it had been a while, and it wasn’t as if he enjoyed being reduced to third-rate roboporn…
“Come on, Octane,” Starscream murmured, tracing the edge of his armour with his fingers, “it’s just… a bit… of fun.”
Octane, against all of his better judgement, didn’t pull away. He found himself remembering things he hadn’t thought about in hundreds - thousands - of vorns: trying to keep quiet (well, he had tried, at least) in the confined space of a disused storage cupboard, the fact Starscream had taken off the minute he detected a whiff of opportunity from Megatron, and the four million years of silence that had followed. But mainly, he remembered how very, very good Starscream had been at this sort of thing. He shivered slightly.
“You’ll use up all your energy,” Octane pointed out.
“Well, get me some more,” Starscream said.
Well, thought Octane, at least he had tried.
He was sure he saw that smirk get bigger, and jumped suddenly as Starscream, running a light electrical charge through his fingers, slid them over the Decepticon insignia that still graced Octane’s chest. “Still haven’t gotten rid of this, I see,” he said.
Octane shuddered. “It’s useful in places where news travels slow,” he managed to get out, leaning slightly into Starscream’s touch. He reached forward and ran his fingers over the clean surface of one of Starscream’s wings. “Yours are gone, though.”
Starscream laughed softly. “You could say I’m back to my old self again,” he said.
Running a finger down the edge of Starscream’s wing, Octane made a small, derisive noise. “Starscream, you are far from that.”
Octane, at the bottom of his memory banks, could recall the first time he’d met Starscream. Megatron, if nothing else, had had a talent for spotting the latent potential in others, and recognising Octane’s ability to sell mud to swamp monsters, he had sent him on information collecting missions. Less frequently, he’d been sent to scout for possible Decepticon recruits (both assignments had come to an abrupt end when Megatron had discovered just how much information Octane was keeping to himself).
Octane had once spent a few days hanging around university campuses, keeping an eye out for science students who showed any hint of promise and who could be convinced to put their research to work for the Decepticon cause. He’d encountered Starscream in a campus bar, and after a few hours of getting him paralytically drunk and expounding on the all the unique research opportunities he’d get, looked as if he’d made a sale. That was until some great hulking white moron had turned up and dragged Starscream home, casting dirty looks at Octane over his shoulder as he did so. At the time, Octane had been mildly annoyed. Megatron was breathing down his neck over some missing energon, and a good recruitment may have been enough to redeem himself. The fact that Starscream had shown up again not fifty meta-cycles later had done his ego, if not his standing with Megatron, a great deal of good.
The height difference was still an issue - Starscream had to stretch to reach Octane’s face, before raising his hands hold Octane’s head and pulling him down, forcing his back to curve, and deepening the kiss. The pose was awkward, and after a few moments Octane broke away, straightening himself.
“You couldn’t have asked Unicron to make you a little taller?” Octane asked.
Starscream smirked up at him. “So sit,” he said, putting his hands on Octane’s shoulders and pushing him down. Octane drew his knees up as Starscream knelt between them, pushing Octane’s back to the wall, and leaning in to kiss him again. Octane’s hands rested on Starscream’s waist for a moment for a moment, before travelling upwards to stroke the roots of his wings, and Starscream gasped into the kiss, arching his back and pressing the yellow glass of his cockpit against Octane’s midsection.
Slowly, almost tentatively, Starscream’s fingers probed the edge of Octane’s armour, sliding into the small gap between his chest and midsection, and stroking the exposed circuitry. There was a look in his eyes that Octane had never seen before - one of… if Octane hadn’t known any better, he would have said sadness. Softness.
Octane had known Starscream in pretty much all of his moods, but until now he had not known ‘gentle’ was in his repertoire. This wasn’t what he remembered, wasn’t what he wanted. The Starscream he had known back on Cybertron had been angry, angrier than anyone Octane had ever known. He’d never directly asked Starscream why he had decided to enter the Decepticon fold after all. He had, however, heard rumours - Octane always heard rumours - and he also knew a thing or two about what the Decepticons had gotten up to on earth, including the unearthing an old friend of Starscream’s somewhere down there. Skywarp had been fairly bursting to tell him how that had gone down the next time he’d had shore leave on Cybertron. And Octane was certainly not above sticking his fingers into wounds he knew to be still open if it would get him what he wanted.
“Who was that lunkhead you used to keep up with?” he asked casually, as Starscream ran his fingers down the joints of arms. “Always had his head in the clouds. Whatever happened to him?”
Octane suddenly found himself shoved backwards into the wall, both Starscream’s hands on his shoulders, and Octane fought to contain a satisfied groan as his wings clattered against the cold metal. “Do not” talk about him,” Starscream growled, looking straight into Octane’s eyes, all playfulness, all softness was stripped from his face, and replaced with pure menace.
Octane bowed his head in feigned submission, to hide the smile that was threatening to creep across his face, and feeling smug in the knowledge that even after all this time he could still play Starscream like an astroharp and hit exactly the right notes every time.
Just a little bit more…
Are you sure, Octane transmitted via their internal commlink, that you remember how to do this?
In response, Starscream laughed far back in his throat, before winding his free hand around one of Octane’s horns, forcing his head back, and biting hard on the lower edge of Octane’s mouth.
Primus, Starscream… Octane transmitted, before winding one arm around Starscream’s waist and opening his mouth wider to accept Starscream’s kiss.
***
Later, they both lay recovering on the floor, Starscream’s fingers running lazily down the side of Octane’s chest, attempting to coax the last few sparks of pleasure from his circuitry. The comfortable silence did not last long.
“When I go back to Chaar to defeat Galvatron -” Starscream started.
“If you go back,” Octane interrupted. Starscream ignored him.
“When I go back, I trust I can count on your support?”
Octane rolled slightly, trying to get Starscream off his wing. He had absolutely zero confidence in Starscream’s ability to successfully pull off such an endeavour, but at least it might mean he himself slipped a few rungs down Galvatron’s priorities list. Besides, anything that might serve to make Galvatron even slightly unstable on his perch would certainly come in welcome.
Besides, there was something deeply appealing about keeping Starscream - a former Decepticon leader (no matter how brief his tenure), ex-Air Commander and a mech who had overcome Unicron - trapped on Junk, hungry, and waiting for his return. He wondered how much Starscream wouldn’t do to secure his supposed help in getting to Chaar.
Octane pretended to think about it.
“Well, of course,” he eventually said. “I have things I want to do, and Galvatron is making it impossible to get them done.” That part, at least, was the whole truth.
“Good.” Starscream obligingly shifted, settling further down Octane’s side.
Silence followed. Both of them turned their heads slightly away from each other, tiny smirks tugging at the edges of their mouths, for the moment at least lost in their own private plots.
The end.
Stay tuned for part two! In which Starscream convinces Octane to let him tie him up, then nicks his spaceship and laughs at how vanilla his porn is.
NB. Part two will never actually be written. I am very lazy :(
Concrit always welcome.
Series: G1
Rating: M, for vague semi-violent robot sex.
Pairing: Octane/Starscream
Thanks: apathocles for being subjected to the typo-riddled draft (though not as a beta, so all mistakes are mine alone).
Word count: 2,701
Notes: It's set after 'Ghost in the Machine', so Starscream has his own body back. Also, I kind of... squeeze canon until its head pops off a little. Um :(
Not the first time, Octane wondered if he had completely taken leave of his logic circuits.
He had just started to get his life back in order after Galvatron had destroyed his spaceship, ejected him from the Decepticons and put a bounty on his head - utilising the vast personal network he’d built up over the vorns and doing what he always did: putting himself to good use finding random spare parts and cheap energon sources until most of his clients had come to consider him indispensable. Annoying and demanding, but ultimately too useful not to shield from Galvatron’s reach. He was confining himself to the periphery at the moment, but, he thought, sooner or later, he’d get back in contact with Sandstorm and maybe one or two other Autobots, and then things could really get underway…
He’d been coming back from negotiations with some know-nothing periphery-dwellers when he’d encountered a badly-damaged Transformer, drifting in space and barely online. Usually he’d just ignore such a thing, but something about this one made him look twice.
Starscream.
The last time Octane had seen Starscream, he’d been inhabiting the body of Cyclonus, and the pair of them were on the run from an enraged Galvatron. He’d never expected to see him again. Let alone looking so… corporeal.
Curiosity was usually a foreign concept to Octane. Get in, get the job done, and get out. It was a philosophy that so far had only slightly let him down. Nonetheless, he suddenly found himself near-overwhelmed with it. Mechanisms couldn’t come back from the dead. It just wasn’t possible. However, he reflected, if he’d ever met anyone who was capable of overcoming odds of infinity to one, it was Starscream. Even when survival wasn’t an option, continuing certainly seemed to be.
Starscream’s story had come out in dribs and drabs - if it had been anyone other than Starscream, Octane would have flatly refused to believe them. There was only one mech alive with the impudence and sheer bloody-minded gall to even conceive of such a scheme - double-crossing Unicron, of all the entities in the galaxy - let alone actually attempt to pull it off.
As far as getting his body back was concerned, Octane thought, Starscream had actually been completely successful. Protecting it from Galvatron once he had it… slightly less so. It was the small details that Starscream always seemed to come undone on.
Octane knew the shift roster on Junk well enough to know which dormitories would be empty and when, so he’d carried Starscream in, easily overridden the laughably simple security mechanism, and placed him in a free recharge birth. The next time he’d returned, he’d found Starscream awake, his housing open, attempting to repair his damaged guidance system. The pain must have been excruciating, and the work awkward to perform, but Starscream jerked himself backwards away from him when Octane had reached out to help.
“I can do it myself,” Starscream snarled, connecting the last of the wires, and shuddering as the damaged systems came back online.
Octane had watched him for a few moments. “Is there anything I can get you?” he finally asked.
Starscream had stared up at him, suspicion and bottomless mistrust written deep into his features. “Energon,” he finally answered, and then, after a moment, “and some replacement wing struts.”
Old buddies. Now, as he touched down on Junk, his cargo bay filled with an energon delivery, Octane had to wonder if Starscream actually knew the meaning of the word. This was, Octane reflected, the second time he’d extended a helping hand to Starscream at a not insignificant cost to himself. He wondered if, in the end, it would turn out to be worth the worry.
“Where have you been?” Starscream demanded as soon as Octane appeared in the doorway of the Junk dormitory. Octane tossed the energon cubes he was carrying onto the floor in front of him before answering.
“Where have I been? Do you even know the favours I had to call in to get another spaceship after Galvatron blew the last one up?” Octane asked. “The fact that I’m even here at all is miracle.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like here,” Starscream complained. “Every day, four walls… I don’t have enough energy to go far. I don’t have enough energy to fly.” Starscream reached out for the energon, and greedily began drinking it down.
“And I have enough on my plate without my clients finding out I’m skimming some off the top for a Decepticon outcast,” Octane said, watching as Starscream drained the first cube and started on the second.
“I need more than this if I’m going to get back to Chaar to overthrow Galvatron,” Starscream muttered.
Octan groaned. “Vector Sigma. Not this again.”
Starscream glowered at him. “I’m just taking back what’s mine.”
Octane snorted. “Believe me, I heard all about it from Astrotrain,” he said. “You aren’t going to overthrow Galvatron. I don’t think anyone is. At least, not while he’s carting those two sycophants around with him everywhere he goes. You pretty much just have to try work around him.”
Starscream was for once silent, flicking off his optics as the energon seeped its way through his system.
“Anyway,” Octane started again, “do you honestly think any Decepticon is going to follow you? They wouldn’t even back in the old days, and things are different now. We’re not in charge of Cybertron anymore, you know. And you saw your marker in the crypt. That’s pretty much the general consensus on you. Not to mention,” he added as an afterthought, “you’re supposed to be dead.”
Starscream was silent for a short time longer. Octane noticed with mild disbelief that a smirk was starting to crawl its way across his face. The energon absorbed, Starscream brought his optics back online and turned his head to look at Octane.
“Then why are you here?” he finally asked. “Obviously not everyone remembers me as being as bad as all that.” His smirk got bigger. “Or is this personal?”
Octane snorted again. Regardless of whatever deluded fantasies Starscream kept himself occupied with in between energon deliveries, Octane had hardly been prostrating himself with grief during his absence. Sure, there were certain things he missed about Starscream’s company (conversation was conspicuously absent from the list), but he was not one to shed tears over comrades lost. Until he met Sandstorm, Starscream and Astrotrain had probably been the closest things Octane had ever had to real friends - but it was a distant and mutated cousin to the kind of friendship that would ordinarily be classified as ‘healthy’. Friends, in Starscream’s case, with rather spectacular benefits. Octane looked away from him. That was a part of his memory banks he hadn’t delved into for a very long time.
“Think whatever you like,” Octane said, making to go. He had things to do, people to see. Life wasn’t easy when you were on Galvatron’s blacklist, not to mention the number of people who would be out for an explanation if he didn’t get their deliveries to them on time. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” Starscream said. Using the recharge berth to support himself, Starscream got slowly to his feet and crossed the room to him, reaching forward to lightly touch Octane’s chestplate. “I’ve… missed some things about not having a body,” he said. “I didn’t forget about you.”
Octane had to fight back the urge to laugh. Starscream never got any less transparent, and Octane simply knew him too well not to recognise when he was just rolling out yet another weapon in his not inconsiderable arsenal. Whatever Starscream had been plotting during his excess of free time on Junk, Octane was fairly sure he wanted no part in it. Octane had no doubt what Starscream would stoop to if he thought it would get him onside for his schemes. For a moment, Octane contemplated simply walking away and leaving Starscream to his wrack and ruin on Junk.
Still… Primus knew it had been a while, and it wasn’t as if he enjoyed being reduced to third-rate roboporn…
“Come on, Octane,” Starscream murmured, tracing the edge of his armour with his fingers, “it’s just… a bit… of fun.”
Octane, against all of his better judgement, didn’t pull away. He found himself remembering things he hadn’t thought about in hundreds - thousands - of vorns: trying to keep quiet (well, he had tried, at least) in the confined space of a disused storage cupboard, the fact Starscream had taken off the minute he detected a whiff of opportunity from Megatron, and the four million years of silence that had followed. But mainly, he remembered how very, very good Starscream had been at this sort of thing. He shivered slightly.
“You’ll use up all your energy,” Octane pointed out.
“Well, get me some more,” Starscream said.
Well, thought Octane, at least he had tried.
He was sure he saw that smirk get bigger, and jumped suddenly as Starscream, running a light electrical charge through his fingers, slid them over the Decepticon insignia that still graced Octane’s chest. “Still haven’t gotten rid of this, I see,” he said.
Octane shuddered. “It’s useful in places where news travels slow,” he managed to get out, leaning slightly into Starscream’s touch. He reached forward and ran his fingers over the clean surface of one of Starscream’s wings. “Yours are gone, though.”
Starscream laughed softly. “You could say I’m back to my old self again,” he said.
Running a finger down the edge of Starscream’s wing, Octane made a small, derisive noise. “Starscream, you are far from that.”
Octane, at the bottom of his memory banks, could recall the first time he’d met Starscream. Megatron, if nothing else, had had a talent for spotting the latent potential in others, and recognising Octane’s ability to sell mud to swamp monsters, he had sent him on information collecting missions. Less frequently, he’d been sent to scout for possible Decepticon recruits (both assignments had come to an abrupt end when Megatron had discovered just how much information Octane was keeping to himself).
Octane had once spent a few days hanging around university campuses, keeping an eye out for science students who showed any hint of promise and who could be convinced to put their research to work for the Decepticon cause. He’d encountered Starscream in a campus bar, and after a few hours of getting him paralytically drunk and expounding on the all the unique research opportunities he’d get, looked as if he’d made a sale. That was until some great hulking white moron had turned up and dragged Starscream home, casting dirty looks at Octane over his shoulder as he did so. At the time, Octane had been mildly annoyed. Megatron was breathing down his neck over some missing energon, and a good recruitment may have been enough to redeem himself. The fact that Starscream had shown up again not fifty meta-cycles later had done his ego, if not his standing with Megatron, a great deal of good.
The height difference was still an issue - Starscream had to stretch to reach Octane’s face, before raising his hands hold Octane’s head and pulling him down, forcing his back to curve, and deepening the kiss. The pose was awkward, and after a few moments Octane broke away, straightening himself.
“You couldn’t have asked Unicron to make you a little taller?” Octane asked.
Starscream smirked up at him. “So sit,” he said, putting his hands on Octane’s shoulders and pushing him down. Octane drew his knees up as Starscream knelt between them, pushing Octane’s back to the wall, and leaning in to kiss him again. Octane’s hands rested on Starscream’s waist for a moment for a moment, before travelling upwards to stroke the roots of his wings, and Starscream gasped into the kiss, arching his back and pressing the yellow glass of his cockpit against Octane’s midsection.
Slowly, almost tentatively, Starscream’s fingers probed the edge of Octane’s armour, sliding into the small gap between his chest and midsection, and stroking the exposed circuitry. There was a look in his eyes that Octane had never seen before - one of… if Octane hadn’t known any better, he would have said sadness. Softness.
Octane had known Starscream in pretty much all of his moods, but until now he had not known ‘gentle’ was in his repertoire. This wasn’t what he remembered, wasn’t what he wanted. The Starscream he had known back on Cybertron had been angry, angrier than anyone Octane had ever known. He’d never directly asked Starscream why he had decided to enter the Decepticon fold after all. He had, however, heard rumours - Octane always heard rumours - and he also knew a thing or two about what the Decepticons had gotten up to on earth, including the unearthing an old friend of Starscream’s somewhere down there. Skywarp had been fairly bursting to tell him how that had gone down the next time he’d had shore leave on Cybertron. And Octane was certainly not above sticking his fingers into wounds he knew to be still open if it would get him what he wanted.
“Who was that lunkhead you used to keep up with?” he asked casually, as Starscream ran his fingers down the joints of arms. “Always had his head in the clouds. Whatever happened to him?”
Octane suddenly found himself shoved backwards into the wall, both Starscream’s hands on his shoulders, and Octane fought to contain a satisfied groan as his wings clattered against the cold metal. “Do not” talk about him,” Starscream growled, looking straight into Octane’s eyes, all playfulness, all softness was stripped from his face, and replaced with pure menace.
Octane bowed his head in feigned submission, to hide the smile that was threatening to creep across his face, and feeling smug in the knowledge that even after all this time he could still play Starscream like an astroharp and hit exactly the right notes every time.
Just a little bit more…
Are you sure, Octane transmitted via their internal commlink, that you remember how to do this?
In response, Starscream laughed far back in his throat, before winding his free hand around one of Octane’s horns, forcing his head back, and biting hard on the lower edge of Octane’s mouth.
Primus, Starscream… Octane transmitted, before winding one arm around Starscream’s waist and opening his mouth wider to accept Starscream’s kiss.
***
Later, they both lay recovering on the floor, Starscream’s fingers running lazily down the side of Octane’s chest, attempting to coax the last few sparks of pleasure from his circuitry. The comfortable silence did not last long.
“When I go back to Chaar to defeat Galvatron -” Starscream started.
“If you go back,” Octane interrupted. Starscream ignored him.
“When I go back, I trust I can count on your support?”
Octane rolled slightly, trying to get Starscream off his wing. He had absolutely zero confidence in Starscream’s ability to successfully pull off such an endeavour, but at least it might mean he himself slipped a few rungs down Galvatron’s priorities list. Besides, anything that might serve to make Galvatron even slightly unstable on his perch would certainly come in welcome.
Besides, there was something deeply appealing about keeping Starscream - a former Decepticon leader (no matter how brief his tenure), ex-Air Commander and a mech who had overcome Unicron - trapped on Junk, hungry, and waiting for his return. He wondered how much Starscream wouldn’t do to secure his supposed help in getting to Chaar.
Octane pretended to think about it.
“Well, of course,” he eventually said. “I have things I want to do, and Galvatron is making it impossible to get them done.” That part, at least, was the whole truth.
“Good.” Starscream obligingly shifted, settling further down Octane’s side.
Silence followed. Both of them turned their heads slightly away from each other, tiny smirks tugging at the edges of their mouths, for the moment at least lost in their own private plots.
The end.
Stay tuned for part two! In which Starscream convinces Octane to let him tie him up, then nicks his spaceship and laughs at how vanilla his porn is.
NB. Part two will never actually be written. I am very lazy :(
Concrit always welcome.