Epiphanies

[stainless]

Title: Epiphanies
Characters/Pairing: G1 Megatron/Shattered Glass Starscream
Verse: Well, it's set in G1-verse, but Shattered Glass Starscream obviously... comes from Shattered Glass-verse.
Wordcount: 3,400
Rating: M for BDSM and spark sex.
Warnings: BDSM, spark-sex, mind games, a few bleak bits
Summary: Shattered Glass Starscream gets caught in a rift between dimensions and finds himself in... a strange place he's heard of before. G1 Megatron discovers this new arrival, and decides he could be quite fun.

Thanks to meaisin_caoin for beta.

The newcomer flicked his white wings. Megatron stared as they moved, half intrigued and half curious. He'd seen similar movements before, but these were different from the wing-twitches he was used to seeing.

Those usually meant impatience. Sometimes eager impatience born of desire, and sometimes indignant impatience, a desperate need to do or say something.

These, Megatron guessed, were something else entirely.

"Starscream," he said, a grin spreading over his faceplates as he reached down to slide two fingers under the other mech's chin.

"S -- sir?" the other stammered, his whole frame twitching at the touch.

"Look at me," Megatron continued, gently tilting the Starscream's head up.

"I don't know you!" the other cried, suddenly vehement, shaking his white-helmed head.

"No, you don't know me," Megatron answered, his dark fingers tightening around the strangely pale chin. "But as long as you are here, you will obey me."

The other keened, a high, soft sound, and raised his head. Megatron's optics widened in surprise.

The optics staring back at him were pale, brilliant blue.

Megatron chuckled softly. It was a good thing the others had remembered to comm him before they'd treated this new mech too roughly. If they had done too much, this Starscream would be far too skittish for what he had in mind. He'd hastily informed the Decepticons who'd caught this flier that he was on his way and would handle the matter himself.

Then again, from what the others had told him, this young mech had handled himself very well against them, especially considering that they'd outnumbered him.

They'd hastily commed Megatron when the newcomer had identified himself as Starscream and asked about him. Whatever the circumstances, someone calling himself Starscream wasn't someone they particularly wanted to handle alone.

Megatron grinned again. The other shivered, twisting in his grasp. He loosened his hold. If those blue optics meant this Starscream was anything like the Autobots he knew, he would consider that grip violence. And resist it.

Starscream made another small sound. "Who -- who are you?"

Megatron reached toward one of the newcomer's wings. "You already know my name."

"Yes, sir. I know your name."

Megatron's fingers danced lightly along a red-tipped wing. Starscream shuttered his optics, his lip plates parting in a moan.

"And do you know where you are?"

"Yes --" the other mech gasped, pressing his wing into Megatron's hand.

Megatron curled his hand around Starscream's aileron and squeezed. "Then you lied to me just now," he rasped, curious, wondering how the other would react.

Starscream cried out again, his wing beating helplessly against Megatron's hand. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right." He hung his head. "Please -- please forgive me. I misled you."

His wing twitched again, violently. "I shouldn't have done it, even if --" He stopped.

Megatron's lip quirked with barely suppressed laughter. "Even if what, Starscream?"

"Even -- even if this where that other Cliffjumper came from. Even if you're --"

He stopped speaking again and let his head droop. Megatron growled a warning. Starscream's optics widened into bright circles of azure, but he shook his head firmly and said nothing.

"Cliffjumper? That irritating little red Autobot? Yes, I did hear he went missing some time ago."

"Please -- let go," Starscream panted, cycling a heavy sigh through his vents. "I was wrong, but -- you're hurting me."

Megatron chuckled again and loosened his grip. Starscream shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the last of the pressure on his wing.

"Better?"

"Y -- yes -- sir," Starscream answered. Megatron's optics flared. If this Starscream was anything like his, he was still clutching the aileron tightly enough to hurt.

"Now tell me. What is this about Cliffjumper?"

"We -- the Constructicons found him. He'd been to Iacon and they'd -- done something to him. He was badly damaged." Starscream clenched a fist. "That's what Optimus Prime and his goons do with someone when they're not happy. Even if it's one of their own."

Megatron traced his fingers along the white cheek he held. Starscream tilted his head, nuzzling Megatron's palm.

"But he wasn't one of their own, was he, Starscream?" He slid his hand over to the other mech's lips.

"N -- no --" the other answered, the sound of his cooling fans filling the empty space between them. Embarrassed, he squirmed, then gasped as his sore aileron pressed against Megatron's fingers. "He has -- red paint. And blue optics like us, and a red Autobot brand. And he says that where he comes from, Autobots are fair and just and brave. And -- he said -- he said that Decepticons are --"

He shook his head again. "I don't believe it," he said firmly. "I can't believe it. Maybe -- maybe the others were like he said. They laughed at me. They tried to be rough with me."

He looked down at the blaster in his hand, smiling as if he'd just remembered he was holding it. "I didn't want to hurt them, but I -- stopped them."

Megatron smiled back. "Oh, I have no doubt you did."

"But then you came and -- and called them off," he finished, brushing his lips against Megatron's fingers. "They laughed again and said you'd deal with me, and I was afraid." He shuddered. Megatron's own cooling fans roared to life.

Oh, I plan to, he thought, his optics gleaming again. But not until you're ready for it.

Not that it seemed that would take long. Apparently all Starscreams had that in common.

"You're -- you're not like Optimus Prime at all," the newcomer said.

Megatron's frame rumbled as he ran his fingers along the other's lip plates. Then he lowered his hand. The other whimpered.

"Is that so, Starscream?"

"He's crazy. He says he wants the galaxy, but honestly I think he just wants to watch it burn." The young mech's mouth set in a grim line. "He kills Decepticons and laughs. He probably kills his own and laughs, too, when we're not looking. Just because he thinks it's funny when Cybertronians die."

Megatron let go of the aileron he'd been holding. Its owner let out a deep sigh. Megatron's spark whirled in his chest, bright and strong, its energy crackling as it spun.

The tyrant laughed, rich and resonant. Starscream drew back, surprised.

"And I suppose your kind have appointed yourself Cybertron's protectors." His faceplates twisted in disgust.

Quickly recovering himself, Megatron ran his fingers along the aileron. His grip had dented it, and Starscream gasped as dark fingers traced the sore spots.

Then he scowled. Megatron heard the sound of the blaster charging, and Starscream's azure optics flashed with purpose. "It's not funny, and maybe Cliffjumper was right. Maybe I shouldn't be here at all."

Megatron growled, grabbing at the wing in front of him and giving it a hard wrench. Starscream howled, tossing his head. Then he gritted his dental plates and raised a trembling arm, his blaster fully charged and aimed at Megatron. "Let me go."

Megatron raised his own arm almost lazily, his cannon humming loudly as it powered up. Starscream stared, his blue optics impossibly wide.

"Mirror universe or no, I should think you'd know better than to threaten me, Starscream."

Starscream shook violently. He stared into the violet glow of Megatron's cannon, unable to look away. "I don't belong to you," he said, his voice soft but determined, his light frame still shaking. "Let me go."

With a snarl, the tyrant twisted the wing under his hand again. Starscream cried out, his back arching, and then fell silent. He cycled air heavily through his shoulder vents, panting from the pain.

"Everything here belongs to me," Megatron answered.

Starscream looked up again, his optics flickering at the brightness of the lavender light filling the barrel of Megatron's cannon.

"He doesn't know where you are, Starscream," Megatron continued, his voice low and gentle. "He isn't coming."

White wings clicked, a desperate cadence. "He will! He'd never abandon -- !"

"No, I don't think he would. But he obviously doesn't know what happened yet, or he would be here already. And he won't find out. Not until we are finished here."

Starscream tossed his head. "How do you know?"

"The rift you came through is still open. Even Shockwave and Soundwave together could not close it."

"Then he'll find it," the younger mech answered, his jaw set in a firm line.

"Not until I let him. They couldn't close it, but they could hide it." He smirked. "Anyone scanning for it will find such high levels of interference they might end up looking in a neighboring galaxy."

"You bastard!" Starscream wailed.

"Am I?" Megatron's spark pulsed hard within his chest. He let go of Starscream's wing and grabbed for the arm that held Starscream's blaster, pushing it down. "I don't doubt he will come for you, if you haven't left yourself before he unscrambles the signal. And I have no intention of getting in the way when that reunion happens."

"If I haven't left? Why let me go when you're done?" Starscream's free hand moved to Megatron's cannon. He bit back a cry at the warmth under his hand. Megatron's optics narrowed at the sensation and he cycled a ragged pant.

Starscream's fingers traced along thin seams. He stared into the roiling lavender energy, fighting not to flinch. "Why -- why bother talking to me at all when you could just shove me down and force me? That's what an Autobot would do."

Megatron sighed, forcing himself to focus on the other's words. "Because that would ruin you, and that would be a waste." He pushed down hard on Starscream's arm, and the blaster slowly lowered. "I want to use you, not destroy you."

With a strangled cry, Starscream opened his hand and let the blaster fall. It clattered to the floor. Starscream stared at it blankly, as if he had forgotten what it was.

"Down, Starscream," Megatron said, his optics flaring with light.

Starscream fell to his knees, his hands clutching gratefully at the big mech's thighs.

Megatron wrapped a hand around Starscream's head, tight enough that Starscream gasped. The tyrant frowned, expecting to be told off for it, but Starscream only murmured "Thank you, sir" and pressed his face against the warm metal of Megatron's thighs, his lips tracing along the pits and scars there.

Megatron's spark lurched, and he cycled a heavy pant through his intakes. Starscream paused and looked up at him, the pale blue optics gleaming.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered again. "My Leader would never allow me this."

Megatron's hand moved to Starscream's neck, his fingers winding in the cabling there. "W -- what? He --?"

"Nn -- he never -- lets me -- ah!" Starscream threw back his head as Megatron squeezed the cables he held.

His fans roared. "I -- I call him 'Mighty' in front of the others. That's -- that's all he'll permit, because it boosts morale. But he doesn't like it."

Megatron's other hand moved to his visitor's chest. He could feel the warmth there, heat from the other's spark licking blindly outward. But its way was impeded by the plating holding his spark chamber closed, and it could only bury itself in the dark metal.

You'll open for me soon, he thought, his own spark crackling as it wheeled hard inside his chest.

"Doesn't like it?" The tyrant's frame rumbled with laughter. "But you were built for this."

His hand moved from Starscream's neck to his back, guiding him down. Starscream lowered himself to the floor and pressed a kiss to Megatron's feet.

Then he looked up, his pale face twisted into a wry frown. "I try to tell him so. He smiles, and laughs, and -- holds me --" The young mech's engine stalled. "I -- sir, I don't know if I can --"

Megatron's hand clutched tight at Starscream's back, the metal under his fingers denting. Starscream panted, determined to take the pain.

You're learning, Megatron thought. "Go on," he said.

"He -- he is happy with me. I know because when I -- when I offer him my ember I can feel -- what he feels. But he doesn't like this. He reminds me that all sentient beings have the same worth, that none is -- greater than any other. But -- but I --"

"But you don't believe it. Do you, Starscream?"

"I -- I don't know. I believe that the Autobots are wrong. Twisted. Evil. What Optimus Prime does in the name of his 'Imperium' is -- is --" His wings fluttered in indignation. "Even if some are less worthy than others, no one, no matter how wretched, is worthless enough to deserve that!"

His optics shone. "I believe in the Decepticon cause --"

He stopped, his optics flashing in dismay. "I mean in our cause. I would fight for it even without him. But --"

"But you are his," Megatron finished for him, his hand tracing the dents he'd left in the plating there. Starscream whimpered.

"Yes."

Megatron shook his head. "And he has no idea what to do about it. What a shame."

His hand wrapped around Starscream's helm again, forcing the young mech's head back down to his feet.

"Lick," he ordered.

Starscream cycled a long sigh and then pressed his mouth to the warm plating of Megatron's feet. He traced his lips and tongue along the metal, seeking out seams and running lightly along them.

Megatron gasped, clutching hard at his back, and Starscream shuddered, a violent tremor wracking his light frame. Whether from pain or passion or relief, Megatron couldn't tell.

Starscream whimpered, moving to Megatron's other foot, his hands wrapping tight around Megatron's legs as he laved the metal in front of him.

Megatron's spark lurched hard in his chest and his hand twitched. Starscream mewled softly, his tongue tracing along a seam in Megatron's ankle and then up his leg.

"Nn -- Starscream --" he murmured, his hand still grasping tight at the other's back.

Starscream peered over his knees. "Sir --" he stammered. "I want --"

Megatron wrapped his other hand around Starscream's body, hauling him up to kneel in front of him. He could see a thin line of amber light where a hairline crack had formed between Starscream's black chest plates.

An interesting color, Megatron thought, letting his own chest plates crack open in return.

Starscream reached out a hand toward the light pouring from Megatron's chest. Then he stopped, waiting. Megatron nodded once, and Starscream pressed his hand to the plating there, gritting his dental plates at the burning warmth under his hand.

Then, letting his hand fall, he slid his chest plates apart. The sphere floating in the center of the chamber -- ember, Starscream had called it -- glowed a fierce amber, red mists swirling around it. As Megatron watched, it pulsed with heat, flaring with a bright yellow light.

"For you," Starscream whispered, inclining his head.

Megatron's optics gleamed with curiosity and hunger as his own chest plates flew apart. Starscream stared, the orb of white light in front of him illuminating his pale face.

"That's not like ours," he said, frowning. "I don't know if --"

Megatron chuckled. "It doesn't matter. You're Starscream. There is no way -- in this universe or any other -- that interfacing could kill you."

He narrowed his optics, his spark crackling and wheeling as energy raced through his circuitry, collecting there. It pulsed hard, overfull, and he caught one last look at the bright azure optics in front of him and the orange thing at the center of Starscream's chest, shining and strange --

-- and then the energy tore from him, ripping free from his frame so violently it burned him, lancing in a flood of heat and light toward the other.

Starscream threw back his head as the bolt of energy hit him, keening a high cry of need. The ember blazed golden as the energy filled it, gleaming, impossibly bright.

Megatron growled. Starscream wailed.

More. Please.

Starscream could not have spoken, not when his mouth was open and he was already crying out, but Megatron sensed the words through their bond, just as he would have with his own kind. He roared and complied, the energy pouring from his spark anew, a bolt of fresh lightning to kindle Starscream's flame.

"Megatron," Starscream gasped, and then came a string of words, all deference and confession and pleading and need, and those must have been real words, and he must really have heard them, because everything was flashing gossamer and golden in his vision and he felt the burst of flame and heat as Starscream overloaded --

-- as he did a moment later, the energy he'd poured into Starscream bursting free again, the world around him flaring white as it exploded outward, a ring of white light bursting from a red-hot core and catching him in the blast.

###

Static flickered across his optics. Someone lay sprawled and inert at his feet. He reached down, wanting to feel the thin, white plating under his hands.

As he touched it, the one with him stirred, making soft sounds as his wings clicked. Then the visitor looked up, his optics blue and bright.

"Thank you, my lord," he breathed.

Megatron shook his head to clear it, and then reached down to guide the other back up to his knees.

"You're welcome, Starscream," he answered, smirking. "I rather enjoyed that. As I'm sure you noticed."

A smile flitted across the other's faceplates. His wings twitched again. "Yes, sir. I'm glad that I could please you."

Then he turned away, his head drooping. "But what happens now? I'm lost. I'm far from my home and -- and you're not him."

Megatron sighed, reaching out to caress the other's chin. "Look at me."

The young mech shook his head. "I -- I've been unfaithful." The exposed ember in his chest flared in sudden anger. Megatron's fist clenched, and he growled a warning.

Then the other turned back to look at him, his pale face twisted with regret, and he knew that Starscream's anger was aimed only at himself.

"Maybe I should stay here," Starscream continued, his wings drooping. "Maybe I -- maybe I belong to you, since you understand."

Megatron shook his head. "I don't think so, Starscream."

"Sir?" Starscream frowned, his optics dimming.

"You said that the Autobots in your universe seek to conquer the galaxy."

"Yes," Starscream answered, flicking his wings.

"You told me that you agree with -- with your lord -- that this is unjust, and worth fighting against."

"Yes."

"You say that I am not like them, and from what you tell me, I agree that I am not. But, Starscream, some of my aims --"

"-- are the same as theirs," Starscream finished, his voice flat, his wings limp at his sides. "I know. Cliffjumper told me."

Megatron caressed the young mech's chin. "Could you be mine, Starscream? Could you dedicate yourself to the Decepticon cause -- to my cause -- knowing who and what I am?

"If you could, I am sure I could find a use for you." He chuckled, his red optics shining. "You are resourceful, intelligent, and loyal. Any leader, in any universe, has reason to value these things." His hand moved to one of Starscream's wings, his fingers dancing along its edge. "And you make quite a pleasant surprise."

"But," Starscream interrupted, shivering at the touch.

"But I meant what I said when I told you I wanted to use you, not ruin you."

"I could live with what you are," Starscream answered quietly, raising his wings. "You said it yourself. You understand what I'm built for. My lord does not."

"No, you couldn't," Megatron answered. "You said you are not the kind to lie. Don't begin by deceiving yourself."

Starscream gave a small, choked cry. Megatron waited a moment and went on.

"And there is more for you to consider. I used you -- and I thoroughly enjoyed it. And I would certainly do it again. But I already have a Starscream."

The young mech gave a strangled gasp. "I --"

"Could you stay here, turning against all you hold most dear, knowing that you are nothing more than an enjoyable diversion?" 

Starscream's hands clenched, painfully tight. "No --!"

Megatron nodded slowly, his optics gleaming, a pitiless crimson. "Yes, Starscream."

The young mech buried his face in his hands. "Then I really don't belong here."

"No," Megatron answered, running his hand along Starscream's wing again and then drawing it away. "Close your chest and clean yourself up. Soundwave will transfer the coordinates of the rift in a moment."

His faceplates twisted into a wry little smile. "Go home, Starscream. Go home and save your world. If you can."

"Yes, sir," Starscream answered, his vocalizer hitching. Slowly, he rose to his feet.