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"Megatron!" Starscream's hammering at the door continued unabated despite his silence. "Get your aft out here and help me you piece of scrap!" Normally that would be enough to make Megatron retaliate, but he was well and truly stuck on the floor. Energon dripped steadily from the re-opened wound in his abdominal vents, mixing with the coolant and water leaking out of his frame. He could barely keep his hands and knees beneath him in the growing puddle of slick.
Their crash-landing had been relatively steady. No matter how much paranoia Megatron directed at the problem, he could find no way to blame someone for the fact that a piece of debris had come loose at just the right angle and just the right time to pierce his armour in one of its few weak points. No one on their ship was qualified to repair such a complex area, and Hook's reluctant attempt left something to be desired. 'The whole vent needs replacing' he had said. 'I don't have the equipment' he said. 'No sudden movements' he said.
Suddenly curling forward around the burn in his engines was right out of the question, but Megatron hadn't had a choice. One of the staples had torn free. He could see it below him on the floor, a little silver glint in a growing pool of pink. Megatron could have withstood any amount of pain. The boredom of laying in berth and waiting for his vent to heal was harder, but even that he could have survived.
It was the heat he couldn't control.
Another choking wave of need rolled up from his interface array, and he had to bite his fist to keep from screaming. At first it had just been desire, plain lust begging for a nice hard spike inside him. As he continued to ignore it, his body grew more insistent. He felt starved. Every day it got worse, and he didn't know how much longer he could fight it. It would be a relief now to give in, to fail. There was a single locked door between him and Starscream. Starscream with those turbines, and that face, and Megatron could only imagine what his array looked like. Probably modded to glow like a spark chamber. It must be as stunning as the rest of him.
Starscream would use it as an opportunity to manipulate him, maybe even kill him. If anyone found out - and Starscream would ensure they found out - his authority would be undermined forever. This was just a heat. However excruciating it was, it was temporary.
If Megatron had any proof it would help, he would have torn out his own array to be done with it.
"He's going to convert all our soldiers while you sit in there brooding!" Starscream screeched, followed by a sound kick to the door. "They're ASKING QUESTIONS. He's going to have them citing the Autobot code by sundown!"
Optimus fragging Prime.
The anger and hatred came as a relief after everything else. His hatred of Optimus Prime could have torn him from the grave.
It took another ten kliks, but Megatron managed to pry himself off the floor and out of the door, to find Starscream still sulking in the hallway. "Took your sweet time." His gaze flicked down to the gaping wound in Megatron's armour, probably taking in the mix of fluids trailing behind him. "That looks uncomfortable," he said with relish.
Megatron didn't respond. As long as he kept moving and stayed focused, he could control the worst of it.
Oh, he could smell Starscream, after all the time stuck in this ship without solvent or polish. The smell of oil and grease from a working engine, the smell of energon and rust that none of them had been able to wash away. All he had to do was admit the problem and Starscream would do the rest. He'd lunge at the opportunity for power and Megatron wouldn't be able to stop him. He wouldn't want to.
Every step down the hallway with Starscream trailing behind him was torture, but he'd been tortured before. He was good at it. The pain and the need faded into white noise. It was loud enough to drown out nearly everything but nothing could overpower his hatred for Optimus Prime.
Their two crashed ships had cleared swathes of the thick jungle that seemed to cover this planet. Surrounded on every side by undergrowth and wet bogs and unpleasant wildlife, both sides had decided that sharing the cleared land was the lesser evil. It was a large enough space that he had to trudge some way to reach Optimus, and the crowd of Decepticons who had no good excuse to be near him.
The soldiers on both sides scrambled to their feet at the sight of him, all Decepticons standing to attention, but Optimus only held out a hand towards a nearby seat. "We were talking about the old days," he said, as if it were that easy. "Many of your soldiers weren't around to see the Senate's many abuses of power."
"They could always read about them," Megatron growled. "Go back to your ship, Prime."
He shook his helm. "I was waiting for you," Optimus said. "Our scouts have sighted a ship. They appear to have crashed for the same reasons we did, but they may be able to make contact if they're using different communication systems than we are. Wheeljack thinks there are a number of advanced telecommunication systems that could cut through the interference."
Geomagnetic interference above this cursed planet was bad enough to make both ships almost entirely inoperable, with only emergency systems still functioning. Everyone with a hint of engineering capability was trying to repair the damage, but it was unlikely any of them were getting off this planet without help. Even if the other crashed ship couldn't contact help, they could be scavenged for parts. If they were hostile to the latter objective, all the better: Optimus would be more willing to cull the other ship if they fired first.
Megatron was in no condition to fight a pitched battle and Optimus would never agree to take the front lines to leave Megatron commanding the rear. He wasn't that stupid. If it came to battle, Megatron would have to use the seekers as a strike force and hope that put an end to things quickly. If it didn't... he could probably suppress systems feedback for as much as an hour, and deal with the blowback as best he could. That would have to be long enough.
"Very well," Megatron said, still refusing the offered seat. "The Constructicons cannot be interrupted in their work; every other combat capable mech should prepare for a war party."
Optimus narrowed his optics. "We haven't yet made contact with the other vessel. For all we know, they're friendly and in desperate need of assistance."
"It's all very well to hope, Prime, but we must prepare for the worst. Unknown forces are much more likely to be friendly once they see that hostility is unwise." His body chose that moment to remind him of his heat, as his valve and gestation tank seized up. The cramp pulled on the nearby wound and doubled the pain. It was all Megatron could do to remain standing and silent as the pain screamed through him.
When it finally faded back, he was braced with his hands on his knees and his teeth clenched, engine roaring with noise. And Optimus was... touching him. Just one hand, on his shoulder, helping him balance. Megatron stood up brusquely, shoving Optimus away from him.
"Come see Ratchet," Optimus said in a soft voice, as if Megatron were some sparkling in need of comfort. With his systems still recovering, Megatron couldn't bring himself to speak. He only waved Optimus away. "Please," Optimus said. "We need every mech we have right now."
"Save your concern for someone who needs it," Megatron managed to say. His voice was still rough and raw. "If you hadn't interrupted my repairs, it would be fixed by now." That was a blatant lie, but it might be enough to put an end to Optimus' fawning. "I will give you the remainder of the day to assemble your forces. Tomorrow morning, we're leaving for the crashed ship with a war party."
That was enough to distract Optimus for now. "We will do no such thing. I will lead a diplomatic party for contact, and you are welcome to join me."
Megatron scoffed. "By all means, leave your Autobots leaderless and outnumbered. I'll stay here and hope the aliens deal with you on my behalf."
This got the tiniest twitch of anger out of Optimus. The battle mask did a lot of work hiding his expression, but Megatron had had a long time to learn the microscopic details. "Are you intent on sabotaging our best chance of rescue?"
"I will not cooperate with strategies built on a foundation of martyrdom," he snapped back, "and if that means I have to sabotage you, I will."
Optimus' fist clenched by his side before he forcibly relaxed it. "You're incapable of compromise, even when it's in your own best interest. If the world will not do things Megatron's way, then the world must burn!" He took a deep vent in. "If you try to attack that ship, I will fight you every step of the way."
"Yet you complain that I am unwilling to compromise. I am only being practical; you are going out of your way to hinder our best chances at rescue for some flawed ideological sacrifice that ignores the big picture. You'd die trying to save one ship full of strangers, even if it meant losing this war." They had normally started hitting each other by this point in the argument, but Megatron would never win that fight. "We don't even know who they are. For all we know they could be Quintessons, or our rescue party, or they could all be dead. Why don't we find out who we're dealing with before you throw yourself on your sword?"
"Fine," Optimus said. "I will send-"
"As the only commander here with air troops, I will send-"
"Starscream, perhaps? I'm certain that Starscream will honour everyone's best interests!"
"Hey!" Starscream said from somewhere behind him, but they both resolutely ignored him.
"This forest is far too thick to drive through," Megatron growled, "and going on foot poses the perfect opportunity for scouts to be captured and interrogated."
Optimus nearly did hit him at that, but he was too accustomed to Megatron making the first move. "Your paranoia knows no bounds!"
"My paranoia has proven justified time and again." However, his paranoia did agree with Optimus on one subject: sending Starscream or his supporters would be very unwise. Starscream was not beyond allying with an enemy if it gave him an opportunity to seize power. "If we must send foot soldiers, we'll send a small, capable force."
Even that generous offer appeared too much for the fragging Prime. "We are endeavouring to be discreet and unthreatening," he insisted, even though that was decidedly not Megatron's goal. His optics narrowed a little, getting that look he did whenever he thought he had one over Megatron. "We'll go together. Just the two of us. That will leave our bases as equal as they currently stand. You and I are surely capable of facing any threat we encounter."
He was playing Megatron's ego, as he often did. Knowing that he was doing so did little to stop Megatron responding. "Fine. I'm ready whenever you are, Prime."
Optimus held up a hand. "It's the middle of the day, and this planet is hot enough. It can wait until morning." He didn't quite hide a glance at Megatron's damaged vents, but he kept his mouth shut.
Any day before now, Megatron would have chosen to get it over and done with before he got any further into his heat. Now, the fresh leaking from his wound made a strong argument for waiting just one more night. It would give his nanites a chance to stop the energon flow. "If you insist." He gave their crowd of onlookers a stern glance, and the Decepticons scrambled to find something useful to do. Even some of the Autobots made themselves look busy.
He had nothing else to say to Optimus that wouldn't start a brawl, so he turned on his heel and went back to his room.
It was another long off-cycle spent laying on his recharge slab. The prospect was as bad as any he'd faced, but so far he'd faced it for six consecutive nights. He still wasn't sure whether this was better or worse than trying to occupy himself among the night shift. In his room, he could at least give in to the ebb and flow of agony. Out on the ship, there were sometimes distractions. But either way, if he never recharged, people would notice. The crew already knew something was wrong but they hadn't realized the severity of the problem. Even Starscream's snooping hadn't uncovered anything, as far as Megatron could tell.
The next tug of need had him curling up on his side with a muffled groan. Every time it happened, his gut clenched and pulled on the wound. He had to drag in a staticky vent through his teeth and force his body to relax. If he reacted to the pain, it would only get worse. He had to let it wash over him.
He rolled onto his back with a loud vent out. Let it go. Pain and lust were nothing: they were the firing of ancient circuits, the impulse of a body that cared only for the propagation of its kind. This was only a message from some long-dead creator, trying to tell him what he already knew: that his body was an impermanent, breakable thing. He didn't have to listen to the ravings of a messenger who had already been heard.
For a moment, he had it. He could hear the silence behind the noise, the calm of deep water beneath a storm. He was his body's master, not the other way around. Lulled by exhaustion and relief, his attention slipped, and his cables clenched, and the pain caught him entirely unprepared.
The scream broke out of him before he could stop it. He slammed his fist into the berth, biting down on his lip as the pain raged on. And then the lust in its wake. Totally insensible. Unstoppable.
He could scarcely react to sudden moment in the room, and the dark shape on his bed. Reflex alone caught his attacker by the throat, and Ravage hissed a warning and swiped at him.
Megatron let go with a growl and forced his body to relax again. Ancient circuits, raving messenger, deep water, etc. Measured vents in and out forced his systems back towards neutral. Finally he could speak. "How long have you been in here?"
Ravage paced around the berth uneasily, tail flicking in the air. "A few days." Primus, he must have seen everything. Evidently Megatron' distress showed on his face because Ravage snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. It's nothing I haven't seen before."
"Primus. You're worse than your master."
A wary paw stepped onto Megatron's lap. "Did you think Soundwave turns the cameras off every time someone opens their panels?" Step by step, the weight of a small body settled onto Megatron's chest, studiously avoiding his wound and overheated modesty panels. "You were entirely unremarkable." He settled in on the top of Megatron's chest, laying down with one leg hanging off the side.
For a while they just lay there in silence. Megatron's processor unfortunately lingered on the concept of Soundwave watching him self-service: an unpleasant distraction but a distraction nonetheless. Ravage's engine had a pleasant rhythm to it as it rumbled against his chest. "You're not normally apart for this long," he found himself saying.
"He'll be okay. He's got Laserbeak and the others." A neat little deflection.
"I was thinking more about you." It wasn't the sort of thing they normally talked about. If Ravage could be relied upon for anything, it was silence. But in the quiet of the night and the haze of his body's overtaxed systems, Megatron found himself seeking out some comfort. "I'm accustomed to being on my own. That is one challenge in situations like these which I don't normally need to consider."
Ravage made an indistinct noise in the dark above Megatron's chest. "It's not that different from surveillance. There's a reason he sends me instead of the others." Many reasons, in the case of Rumble and Frenzy. He felt the weight on his chest shift, as Ravage stood up and circled around before lying down again. Fidgeting, perhaps, in his own way. Megatron was content to let the silence return, but after a few more seconds Ravage added, "I do miss him. I just... got used to it."
"One grows accustomed to many discomforts in war." An old limp, grit in the joints, badly filtered energon, uncomfortable slabs, the sense that you were never truly safe, the fear that everyone was trying to kill you, loneliness, self-doubt. It was no wonder that so many mechs were driven mad. You went out and you saw the worst of everything that life had to offer, you saw mechs melted screaming to slag, you saw your friends blow their brains out rather than face another day, you saw your own engine parts scattered across the battlefield, and then when you were back in so-called safety, there was still no comfort to be found. Nowhere to recover, nowhere to hide. No time or space for weakness. Of course mechs turned to religion or drink, no wonder they lost their minds. Any reprieve would be welcome.
"You know what I do when it gets really bad?" Megatron made an inquiring noise, not wanting to interrupt him. "I sneak into Starscream's berth and take videos of him snoring."
Whatever had been expecting, it wasn't that. The laughter that rumbled through Megatron's body hurt but he couldn't care. Even when drops of cleanser rolled out of his optics, the laughter continued. "Do you really?"
"Really. He snores like a freight train." Megatron had been stuck beside a recharging Starscream on a few occasions, when exhaustion overrode distrust. The vain glitch probably just needed to get some fans re-aligned and it would go away, but for that to happen he'd need to admit he snored. "Do you want a recording?"
Another chuckle bubbled out of him and the wound leaked a little. "I don't think the situation is quite that dire." He slowed his vents with some effort. "But thank you."
"Don't mention it," Ravage said, so sincere it was nearly a threat.
Megatron didn't get any more sleep that night than he had on the others but the time passed faster nonetheless. It was the first night since the crash that Megatron gave in and curled up on the berth. Every cable clamped around his burning core helped a little, for a time, and every time he lifted his head he could see glowing optics keeping watch over the door. When he finally gave into exhaustion and stretched out again, Ravage returned to his side and drifted into recharge. Each of them safer in the other's company.
Eventually the hour drifted over to the next day, and then it was late enough that Megatron could get up, wipe the coolant off his armour, and begin his day.
The foliage around them hid the first few hours of dawn, buying them some blessed moments of less sweltering heat as the two of them set out. Megatron let Optimus lead the way from the start. Hacking through the undergrowth was hard, weary work, and Megatron had no interest in tiring himself out. Eventually the sun got high enough overhead to beat down on their makeshift trail, and then there was nothing either of them could do but turn up their fans and trudge onwards.
Optimus looked behind him for the hundredth time, to find Megatron still lagging behind as he had been all day. This one appeared to be the last straw. He shoved some plants aside with a grunt of effort or irritation, and sat down heavily in the bush. Enough trees remained overhead to provide him a little protection from the sun.
"We're having a break," Optimus said, in the same stern voice he always used. There was just the slightest edge to suggest his temper reaching its limits. Despite the injury to his pride, Megatron slumped down beside him.
It only took a few kliks to regret not clearing his own patch of bush The heat was pouring out of Optimus' vents, and Megatron still had his own vents clamped down. He couldn't tell if the heat signals were coming out in other ways; he thought his chemoreceptors were picking them up in his coolant, but it was hard to detect his own smell. On the occasions when he'd been around other mechs in heat, they had usually been dumping chemical signals in every direction, flooding their surrounds. The smell of it was more truly intoxicating than he ever expected.
During in his own few heats, that was his favourite part. The need was debilitating, and excruciating in its weakness. The fragging itself was good - when you were starving, any fuel was sweet - but easily forgotten. The power of it, though: that would never get old. He had heard that many mechs found it frightening to be so furiously wanted by mechs whose processors were trying to forget about consent. But no mech consumed by lust could threaten him. When he was in the full of his heat, he could let the smell of it flood out of his vents and crush the mechs around him into submission, the way an army would. It was his first taste of ruling his surrounds by power of presence alone. For a time he could have anyone and anything he desired.
Too bad that doing it here would ruin everything. It would get a spike in him for a few hours, but who knew what it would cost? With his own soldiers or the Autobots, it would be as good as rape. With Starscream, it would be a flashing target on his back. With Optimus... he looked at the mech sitting stoically beside him, and wondered. With Optimus, he was never sure of anything.
"I can spare some coolant, if you're running low," Optimus said, turning his helm to meet Megatron's gaze. "Your fans sound..." He reset his optics. "Why are your vents closed? Do you honestly think I'm looking for weak spots in your armour right now?"
Megatron nearly snarled at him like a beast. "My frame is my own concern, Prime."
"It will become my concern if I have to carry you back to base. If you're so uncomfortable in my presence, I can find somewhere else to rest." It wouldn't help. Any idle breeze could carry the scent. Even if it didn't, he'd be drenched in the chemicals by the time his vents closed up again. Megatron stayed silent, turning his gaze back towards the uninspiring tangle of vines across from them. In a few hours, the sun would be low, and they could continue more easily. The sight of a blue hand in his peripheral vision was enough to make him lunge out, but Optimus dodged his grip to land a hand on his chest. He retracted it with a flinch, shaking his fingertips in the air. "Something's wrong," he concluded aloud.
"Really? I hadn't noticed!" It wasn't as if his radiator was threatening to explode in his fragging chest. "Save your worry for yourself."
Optimus stared at him, bewildered. "What does any of this accomplish for you? If your wound is that bad, you could simply have come to Ratchet. It is in all our best interests to work together. Isn't it? Am I missing something?" And then, curse him to the bottom of the slagging pit, his optics widened. He reached out again for Megatron's chest, and Megatron didn't have the energy to fight him off a second time. Beneath the scorching heat of his armour, his engine was running hard. His fuel tanks were swollen beneath his breastplate, his vent covers were trembling with effort, and every drop of fluid his engine could spare was being shed over his armour to cool him. Optimus pulled his hand back slowly this time, and something like shame seemed to force his gaze down. "You're in heat?"
Curse him to the heat death of the universe. "Thank you for intruding on my privacy," he said, just to hurt Optimus however he could. "I would appreciate it if you just sat in silence for the next hour."
"I'm sorry to intrude," Optimus said, "but you should have told me something. I am relying on you in this situation; I cannot do that with you deceiving me at every step."
"I can do what I must," Megatron growled. "That is the only truth that matters."
"Should I take your word for that? Would you take mine, if our positions were reversed?" Neither of them needed that question answered. "We can go back to base today and try again when you're feeling better."
How could he not have worked that part out yet? "I'm not going to 'feel better' in a day, or in a week. Unless your medic has something to stop a heat in its tracks, I'm not going to get better until we get off this planet! The sooner we finish this, the better. For everyone."
The battlemask nearly hid Optimus' stunned look. It took him a klik to respond. "How long have you been ignoring it?"
"Twelve days." If only he had been ignoring it, rather than suffering through every second.
"By Primus," Optimus whispered. "Your engine's going to fail. You do realize that?"
Megatron shrugged. "I have faced death a great many times. Not once have I allowed my command to fail because of fear." He met Optimus' gaze, and realized that he still didn't understand. Were the Autobots that different from them? Was it just he and Optimus who differed? Or was Optimus simply blind to the truth, in this as in so many things? "If my soldiers see me failing in their moment of need, they will do one of two things: they will give up, or they will turn on me. Starscream will certainly make his move at the first sign of weakness, and in this condition I cannot be sure I will defeat him. The weaker I am, the more I must appear to be strong. Surely even you know that."
That damned pity in Optimus' optics, so often directed at him. He hated it more than he hated anything else about his enemy. "Most mechs have several heats throughout their lifetime. Even Primes. Even Megatron. It is not a sign of a weakness."
"It doesn't matter what I think. I don't have the strength to correct those who will not listen to reason."
Finally, Optimus seemed to give in. He slumped back against his tree trunk, and joined Megatron in staring at the plants.
"If you allow me to help you, no one will ever know. You have my word." Megatron turned to stare at him, for once rendered genuinely speechless. Optimus met his look calmly. "You will have to trust someone eventually. Whether you decide now or in another twelve days, my offer will stand. Either way, I suggest we return to base once your strength is recovered. We must reconsider our strategy."
Then he turned back to the pitiful view.
Megatron continued to stare at him. His jaw tensed to avoid hanging slack and stupid. The small part of his mind that still had reason was stuck on the phrase another twelve days. He wouldn't last that long. In the battle between his will-power and his body, his will was likely to win, but dying of engine failure was no great alternative. "The heat got to you, didn't it?" he finally managed to say.
"Perhaps," Optimus said with a shrug. "You're doing an admirable job keeping it under control but you do smell... different." He took a very measured vent in. "I feel confident in saying that my reason remains intact."
Even with the screaming need inside him, even with the ache in his panels and the crushing relief of someone finally knowing, Megatron might have been able to hold out. Every day there was a chance, however slim, of rescue, and he could have resisted at least until tomorrow. He could have held out a little longer, considered all the variables, come up with a plan in case things went sour.
If it had just been anyone else.
"I'm going to open my vents," he said. "After that, I expect it will be very difficult for either of us to change our minds. Are you certain?"
Optimus held up a hand for him to wait. "As inconvenient as a heat is, I don't imagine a sparkling would be much better. Do you have a contraceptive?"
"Do you honestly think I'd give you a chance to spark me up, Prime? I've had my seals installed, like any responsible mech. Don't you worry your pretty little helm." After this, he was getting his damned gestation chamber ripped out, frag what the medics said about it. Shockwave had the right idea when he called the chamber 'an inefficient use of frame space.' He could probably fit an extra power cell in there instead. "Any other pointless questions?"
This kind of relentless antagonism tended to wear on Optimus' temper, which was exactly why Megatron persisted with it. The prime sighed and let his battlemask snap open. "Go ahead."
Megatron hesitated for one last second, waiting for one of them to change their mind, and then gave in to the first of his body's demands. His vents creaked after so long in unnatural positions, and a worrying amount of smoke came out with the first wave of hot air. He was occupied for the following seconds by waving the smoke away and checking that nothing in his engine was actually on fire. When that job was done, he looked back at Optimus, to be reminded of the one thing he liked about being in heat.
Optimus took a deep, shaky vent in, dragging more of Megatron's vented air into his own systems. His lips trembled as he tried to speak. "That's- I had forgotten-"
Please, Megatron's body begged him. Now. Him. Please. "Come here," Megatron growled, and opened his interface panels. He was shoved hard down onto his back, Optimus on top of him. It felt incredible already, just to be mechandled and touched, after all this time. Optimus buried his face in one of Megatron's open vents, dragging down more of the fumes.
"You have no idea how good you smell," Optimus rasped. "Primus." He braced one arm beside Megatron's chest and stroked up Megatron's thighs with the other, collecting lubricant on his fingertips. "I could just put my spike in your right now, couldn't I? No prep, just," he trailed off as he looked down at his hand. "Look at you."
"Do it," Megatron said, straining through clenched teeth. His hands had found their own way to Optimus' body. The strength in his arms, the weight of his engine block, those chrome stacks. They were built more like each other than most mechs they met, but it was a pleasure now to map the differences. There wasn't a single part of Optimus that Megatron could wrap his hands all the way around. He was thick and strong and heavy, pinning Megatron effortlessly against the dirt. "Optimus-" no, that wasn't right. "Prime."
Optimus hummed an acknowledgement without looking away from Megatron's valve. "That is my name." He slid one thick finger between the lips of Megatron's valve. "Just a little longer." Megatron was ready to argue until Optimus looked back up at him. He wasn't used to seeing his face uncovered like that. "You can do that for me, can't you?" His finger pushed inside Megatron with no resistance and was quickly joined by a second.
Megatron's chest heaved with the effort of dragging cool air into his vents. "Do it quickly."
Now Optimus' gaze was wandering all over him, drinking everything in. "Your fuel tanks," he murmured, looking down at Megatron's chestplate. Each seam around the edge of the plate was cracked as far as the hinges would allow. At first, Megatron had only intended to vent some extra heat that way, but once opened, he realised how much pressure the chestplate had been putting on his backup tanks. They were swollen with fuel as his frame prepared the resources to manufacture a sparkling, and straining painfully against his armour.
Still, removing the plate entirely was a needless risk. It would be a stupid thing to do. "If you just frag me," Megatron snapped, "I'll take it off." Personally, he'd never seen the appeal, but enough mechs seemed to have a fetish for them. Maybe some time when he wasn't gagging for Prime's spike, he could take the time to get a feel of his fuel tanks and find out what the fuss was. No, that... also wasn't right. This wasn't that kind of fragging. There wouldn't be a next time. A third finger, still barely stretching him, but now at least he was deep enough to hit Megatron's ceiling nodes. "Oh frag," Megatron groaned, and overloaded.
"I never imagined you to be this easy," Optimus murmured somewhere above him, as Megatron's audials came back online.
The overload barely gave Megatron a second of relief from his heat. It was enough to clear his head. He shoved the Prime off him with a grunt, flipping them in the dirt. Now he was free to do what he wanted. "Open your plates before I tear them off."
"Your chestplate first," Optimus insisted. Megatron considered making good on his threat, but then Optimus reached out to rub his anterior node and said, very convincingly, "Please?"
Megatron unlocked the clasps holding his plate in place and tore it carelessly away, letting his aching fuel tanks spill out. Normally they were the ordinary dark grey of all his mesh. Now, swollen with energon, mesh stretched thin, they were nearly purple. He had a moment of horror, realizing exactly how much he looked like a piece of shareware, but then Optimus' plates snapped open. His spike was long and thick and beautiful: a thing of glory. If they put a photo of that spike on recruitment posters, Autobots would outnumber Decepticons ten to one.
Shame that Megatron had no patience to properly appreciate it. He rose up on his knees until he could comfortably slide his valve over the head of that thick spike. One slow roll of his hips was all he had patience for before sinking down.
Their combined groans filled the jungle as Megatron's valve slowly engulfed each straining inch of Optimus' spike. If he weren't in heat, Megatron was sure the stretch would hurt. Instead it made him feel perfectly full.
When their plates finally clinked together, and Megatron's valve was stretched to its limits, he paused to enjoy the moment. Optimus looked suitably awestruck beneath him, staring hungrily up at Megatron in all his glory. And there was a lot of glory to behold, as Megatron rose up on his knees and his frame worked fluidly with the motion. He almost envied Optimus the view.
Optimus grabbed his thighs, fingers digging in hard, and Megatron sunk back down. Even the second time, the unflinching press of the spike inside him made Megatron groan. His valve clamps squeezed down with pleasure, making it all the more intense, and Optimus' moans joined his own.
His injured vent flared with pain every time he moved. It was so harsh and deep and overwhelming that at times it nearly broke through the need whiting out everything else. But then Optimus repositioned his grip to hold onto Megatron's hips, adding his own strength to the rise and fall, and nothing else could ever possibly have mattered. Who cared if his legs were half numb or his hips couldn't move the way he wanted?
The next thrust was faster, and then the next, and Megatron found himself driven by the undeniable urge to ride Optimus hard and feel that spike split him open again and again and again. Megaton's spike jutted out from its housing to drip prefluid down onto Optimus. The pleasure was more than Megatron could have hoped. It flooded his every sensor each time he thrust down onto the spike, until he couldn't even hear the noises he was making. He still couldn't look away from Optimus spread out beneath him.
He passed another easy overload that way and slumped forward onto one arm even as he tried to keep his pace.
Optimus made a small sound of effort and sat up, holding Megatron in place with one arm so they were both upright. The heat rolling off their engines was trapped between them. Air shimmered, coolant steamed, their fans roared. Optimus got a handful of one of Megatron's fuel tanks and pushed it up uncomfortably so that he could dip down and suck a mark into the mesh. All the while his hips kept up a steady rolling pace that ground his armour up against Megatron's anterior node. Another sucking kiss, with a moan this time, and overload tore through Megatron. This time, thank Primus, Optimus followed him. His transfluid was scalding and thick and everything Megatron needed. His valve clenched hungrily around it before even a drop could escape.
Some time must have passed because he found himself on his back in the dirt, with energon dribbling from his vent, and Optimus still nibbling on his fuel tanks.
"You're hurt," Optimus eventually said, though he didn't move his mouth far from his prize. "Do you think it's been enough to satisfy the heat?"
Megatron dragged his fingers through his leaking vent and examined the energon. It didn't have much to tell him, other than yes, he was definitely leaking.
He pushed his weary limbs into motion long enough to pull Optimus back inside him.
They fragged until Optimus was shaking above him, and their fluids made a pool of mud under Megatron's back, and both of them had emptied every tank they had. There wasn't a drop of lubricant, transfluid, or coolant left in Megatron's body. Even his fuel levels were beginning to drop - so at least he'd be able to get his chestplate back on.
And then Optimus decided to clean up his mess. Megatron ground out two more shuddering overloads on the Prime's face.
By the time they actually got their panels closed and their armour on, Megatron could scarcely stand. Without constant screaming need burning him up, the pain was easier to manage. Pain he knew. Still his knees were weak and the cables beneath his torn vent were struggling, making it all the harder to stand or move. Optimus put a firm hand around him and said not a word as they staggered back the way they'd come.
It took them much longer coming back, so that it was dark in the forest when a pair of blue optics and a grumble stopped them in their tracks. Megatron would have been content to keep on walking, but Optimus came to a creeping halt. "I didn't think we were expected," he said meekly.
"Don't give me that," Ratchet said. "You smell like my berth in med school."
That was the sort of thing that both of them should have thought of before returning. But it didn't explain why Ratchet was waiting for them. "Someone saw us." Frag, he sounded bad. Maybe the doctor could spare him some fuel.
"Ravage," Ratchet said, voice rich with distaste, "said you'd both be needing medical attention. Delightful to see that he only opens his mouth to lie."
The little traitor. He'd done the right thing. Megatron couldn't go back to base looking and smelling and sounding like this.
"Megatron does need medical attention," Optimus said.
Ratchet threw a wipe into Optimus' face on his way past. "Don't say anything. The less I know the better." He knelt in front of Megatron with a grunt and transformed a torch out of his hand to examine the wound. "What hack job- never mind, I know which hack job. You could have done this better yourself." He gave one of the staples a firm tug and Megatron stifled a groan as it tore free. Ratchet handed another wipe up to Megatron. "Wipe yourself off; you're coming to the medbay."
He ought to resist. He'd be surrounded, at his weakest, and accepting help from the Autobots. And he was really, really tired of being in pain. It would be such a relief to be in slightly less pain. To get a solid night's recharge. He had a crashed ship and a mutinous second and an idiot prime and a useless planet to deal with. "I suppose I did give you the best frag of your life," he managed to say to Optimus. "The least you could do is have your medic fix the damage." They both looked at him incredulously, but Megatron was immune to such things.