Toys

[stainless]

Title: Toys
Characters/Pairing: Megatron, Starscream, Megatron clone; Starscream/clone, Megatron/clone
Authors: stainless and meaisin_caoin
Verse: G1
Wordcount: 4,773
Rating: M for BDSM and spark-sex
Warnings: BDSM, spark-sex, intensely cracky crackiness ;-)
Summary: Starscream clones Megatron, programming the clone to serve his every desire. Unfortunately, Starscream utterly lacks common sense and doesn't bother to keep Megatron from finding out about it. M for spark-sex & BDSM.

Thanks to crimsonseastorm for beta reading.

Megatron tossed on his berth, irritated by the noise from the quarters next to his. He shouldn't have been hearing anything at all, but apparently the soundproofing fields in his rooms had shorted again. Or had been reversed entirely.

Probably the second, given how loud the sounds were. Even without the fields, nothing should have sounded like that. Skywarp, maybe, had hacked them, deciding that playing a prank on the Decepticon leader himself would be impressive enough to earn whatever punishment Megatron would mete out for it.

Or, considering that he recognized the particular voice he was hearing, perhaps Starscream had done it. Megatron's hands twitched as if squeezing some of the Seeker's cabling. It probably was you. Vain little glitch.

The shrieks he heard came from the quarters next to his, shrill cries that could come from no one but Starscream himself. And the Seeker was clearly not interested in recharging. He wailed and moaned in the throes of passion, screeching so loudly Megatron might have heard it even if the soundproofing fields had worked.

Over it all, Megatron heard the sound of metal striking metal in a rapid, erratic cadence. And, intermittently, another voice, quieter, rasping Starscream's name.

The tyrant snarled. Fun as it might be to listen to Starscream entertaining himself, right now Megatron needed peace and quiet. The cloning technology he'd thought would prove so promising... hadn't, and all he wanted was recharge. Or at least time to think. Surely technology like that had to have some use.

Starscream moaned again. Megatron gritted his dental plates. It was always so terribly annoying to listen to Starscream with someone else when he was already in a foul mood.

And, of course, Starscream just had to be getting louder. As did the impacts.

"Like that, do you?" Starscream screeched. Not particularly, he thought, seriously considering getting up and beating the damn fool until he quieted down.

"You want more," the familiar voice cried, rising in pitch. Once again, he heard the clang of metal striking metal.

That intrigued him, in spite of his irritation. From what the Seeker was saying, it sounded almost like Starscream was doing the hitting.

"Don't you, mighty Megatron?"

Megatron's fists clenched again, tight enough to hurt. What precisely was the brazen idiot up to this time? And who was with him? He could think of a few mechs disrespectful enough to think pretending to be Megatron just to fulfill some inane fantasy would be amusing. But he doubted that even the most unhinged members of his army would be suicidally stupid enough to actually do it.

"Please, Starscream, sir, I need you!" panted the other.

In a voice that sounded suspiciously like his own.

Megatron sprang to his feet, his optics flaring indignant crimson. Had someone copied his vocalizer's frequency? It would be easy enough, if that someone had stolen the – cloning technology –

"Starscream!" he roared, loud enough that if he could hear them, Starscream and his partner could surely hear him.

He raced through the door, which quite sensibly slid open for him immediately. He hastened down the hall and keyed in an override on Starscream's door. It, too, behaved sensibly.

That was almost disappointing. It denied Megatron the pleasure of tearing the damned thing open with his bare hands.

He found Starscream, apparently already bored with beating the large silver mech who now writhed beneath him. The Seeker's spark chamber was open, and eager light poured from it. The other whimpered.

What he could see of the broad frame squirming under his second-in-command looked exactly like his own. A helm shaped exactly like his crowned Starscream's partner's head. It clanged against the berth as its owner's head tilted back. The clone cried out, then stopped abruptly, seeing Starscream turn toward Megatron.

"Starscream," it pleaded, "please don't stop!"

"What precisely is all this?" Megatron asked, frowning at Starscream and ignoring his double. His cannon whined, glowing lavender as it charged.

Starscream's optics flashed in surprise as Megatron – the real Megatron – barged through his door, looking more than a little perturbed.

Starscream's mouth open and shut silently before he successfully produced words. "Lord Megatron!" he began, vocalizer rasping, "I was simply fine-tuning the cloning technology. Given my scientific background I'm far more qualified to experiment with it than some other mechs... Perhaps by correcting your mistakes, I can actually make it useful for something."

The false Megatron continued to squirm against the berth and paw at Starscream. The Seeker brushed it off and casually positioned himself to block as much of Megatron's view as possible. Glancing down at his chest, he abruptly remembered his spark chamber was wide open, leaving nothing hidden. He hastily closed it, studiously ignoring the discomfort as heat from his swollen spark surged against its casing.

Wings still fluttering, he stood at attention and smiled sweetly at Megatron.

"Fine-tuning the cloning technology?" Megatron took a step closer to Starscream, looming over the Seeker. "That's certainly a worthy goal. But explain to me how exactly fine-tuning the cloning technology requires making such a hellish racket in the middle of the night."

He casually raised his arm. "And if you really have been using your brilliant, scientific mind to upgrade the technology, shouldn't you be proud to show me your creation, rather than standing in front of it?"

He smirked, watching the Seeker's wings click a rapid cadence of dismay. "Step aside, Starscream."

Starscream gave a thin, high giggle. "Mighty Megatron, you misunderstood! My experiments are not complete yet! Rest assured, I will personally present them to you when they're finished. Why would I have any reason to do otherwise?"

He raised his hands disarmingly, but stood his ground, staring defiantly down the raised cannon barrel. "In fact, you know, I have so much more – business to finish with the clone technology tonight that I would really love to get back to that. After all, the sooner I finish my experiment, the sooner I will be able to present it to you, Lord Megatron."

Grinning unctuously, he leaned forward and rested a hand on the side of Megatron's cannon. "So, mighty Leader, if you would be so kind as to let me finish what I've started here. I assure you, you needn't worry in the slightest."

"Allow you to finish?" Megatron growled. "Oh, I don't think so. Not when you insist on making enough of a disturbance to keep half the Nemesis awake."

He chuckled, remembering Starscream's open spark chamber, its bright light as it pulsed, overfull. It couldn't be pleasant at all for Starscream to be interrupted like this. "Surely your experiment can wait a few hours until the morning."

The clone howled in alarm. Megatron shuddered in disgust at his own voice making such noise.

Still, awful as the sound was, it gave him an idea. Forcing himself to put aside the anger seething through his spark, he rearranged his faceplates into a smirk.

"Or perhaps you're right for once, my Second. It would be terrible to leave your creation waiting like this."

He gestured expansively, optics flaring with mirth. "Go ahead and finish. I'll just stand here, out of the way."

"Finally learning some sense, I see," Starscream said, smirking. You'll be staying out of my way a lot more after this, he thought.

Starscream turned his attention back to the clone Megatron and slapped it across the faceplates.

"Pathetic, sniveling worm!" he said, drawing himself up to this full height and fanning his wings, "You should count yourself lucky that I deign to honor you with my attentions! Get on your hands and knees! Now!"

The clone obeyed, rising to all fours, aft facing Starscream. The Seeker smirked to himself. Just you wait, Mighty Megatron. He drew his arm back and landed a mighty slap in the center of the clone's aft. Unfortunately, being a clone of Megatron, its plating was thick and heavily reinforced. The plating of Starscream's hand was not, and the Seeker hissed in pain at the impact. He could feel Megatron's optics boring into his back and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. He leveled a few more slaps at the clone's aft; lighter slaps, so as not to scuff his own paint. The clone whimpered in obvious dissatisfaction.

"Clearly, you are not worthy of my touch!" Starscream snapped, "Get on the floor and lick my feet!"

"Yes, Starscream," the clone replied, cycling a sigh of eagerness or relief and hastening to as it was told. It began flicking its tongue over Starscream's shapely feet, and the Seeker started slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. It was... wet. Soft. Odd. Again he felt Megatron staring at him intently, and could've sworn he heard a faint chuckle as well. Conscious of his audience, Starscream lifted his head and theatrically spun to face Megatron, his faceplates set determinedly in a well-practiced smirk.

Megatron's lip plates quirked. He'd fought not to laugh as he watched Starscream's antics, but now, seeing Starscream give him that triumphant little smirk as though he'd just done something impressive, he couldn't hold it back any more. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Starscream glowered murderously at him. He shook his head, his frame still vibrating with the last of his mirth.

"Starscream," he said, "have you really been doing that all night?"

If so, it was no wonder he was frustrated now. From what Megatron had seen, he'd been wincing through the whole thing.

Strange. Starscream had sounded pleased before. Perhaps the novelty had worn off. Or perhaps his earlier guess had been right, and Starscream had hacked his sound-dampening fields and made those sounds just to infuriate him.

Or perhaps he'd been happy enough to play with his toy when Megatron wasn't around, only to be faced with exactly how much he wanted the real thing now that Megatron was here.

"Why don't you leave that to someone who actually has some idea what he is doing?"

Hands still on his hips, Starscream stood his ground. He leaned forward and narrowed his optics, suddenly oblivious to the squirming clone at his feet.

"I have a perfectly good idea of what I'm doing," he snipped, rankled by Megatron's laughter, "It's just that you had to show up and interfere."

He huffed an indignant sigh and absently moved his foot away from the clone and its awkwardly overzealous attentions. Wings twitching with agitation, he stomped over to Megatron. "So why don't you" – he poked Megatron in the chest – "go back to your quarters and leave me to my highly capable devices, hmm?"

Then two things happened at once. The clone, distressed that Starscream had snatched away its prize, crawled back over to Starscream's foot, its dark hands clutching for dear life.

Megatron, for his part, growled in reply and shoved Starscream aside. The Seeker fell heavily to the floor, the clone still holding his foot worshipfully.

Carefully ignoring Starscream, Megatron walked over to the clone and smirked down at it, making sure to hold its gaze long enough that it could read his intent. It twitched in indecision for a long moment. Then the hands clasped tight around Starscream's heel loosened.

"L – Lord Megatron?" it stammered.

Starscream sat up, rubbing a sore elbow, and scowled darkly at Megatron.

"You're interfering!" he shrieked, watching as the proceeded to grovel at Megatron's feet instead, "You're ruining everything!"

Summoning up as much dignity as he could, he rose up on his knees and addressed the clone. "You! Megatron! Get back here at once! I'm not through with you! Obey, right now!"

The clone froze, momentarily indecisive. Its head snapped from Megatron, to Starscream, and back to Megatron, who loomed over it, smirking all the while. Finally it turned its back to Starscream and pressed a kiss to the top of Megatron's foot. Megatron met Starscream's optics with a smug grin.

"Not fair!" he wailed. "Get back here!"

Having made its choice, the clone ignored Starscream so completely he might not have even been in the room. It opened its mouth and greedily laved Megatron's foot.

Megatron narrowed his optics. The tongue lapping at his foot felt pleasant enough, but there was something deeply unsettling about staring down at his own helm and writhing frame. Still, this was worth it, hearing Starscream pant and whine. He willed himself to relax and focus on the sensation, finally letting out a gravelly moan.

Starscream's wings clicked indignantly. Megatron chuckled, and the clone murmured something about being pleased to serve.

"Up," Megatron ordered, frowning in distaste.

Both the clone and Starscream hastened to their feet. Megatron spared a glare for the Seeker and then ordered the clone to bend over the berth.

That, too, was a bizarre sight, and one Megatron fervently hoped never to see again. It was so terribly, sickeningly wrong seeing his own august frame bent wantonly over, waving its aft in invitation. Even if he had ordered it himself. The energon in his tanks roiled.

Gritting his dental plates, he forced himself to think of Starscream. Of the terrible affront his Second had committed. Of the jealousy Starscream must feel now, after all the mischief he'd made tonight, seeing the clone get the punishment he both dreaded and longed for.

Megatron could hear the roar of Starscream's cooling fans, deafening now that no one was licking or moaning or screeching or pleading. His grimace shifted into a grin as he drew back his arm and gave the clone's aft a ringing slap.

The clone howled in pain and clawed at the berth. Starscream gasped; Megatron had hit hard enough to leave a shallow dent in its plating. His own aft jumped in response, knowing full well how strong Megatron was and how those hands felt slamming into his plating.

Without sparing a second glance at Starscream, Megatron began to beat the clone in earnest, his hand falling across its aft and thighs with wild abandon. Starscream fell unusually silent as he watched the clone thrash and cry out at each impact, watched its aft leap back to meet Megatron's hand. Megatron's optics glowed brightly and he frowned in concentration as his hand came down again and again.

Starscream's plating grew hotter as he stared at the bizarre scene before him. His aft was practically tingling in sympathetic sensation and he absently rubbed at his spark casing, the energy within pulsing hotter and more insistent. Surely Megatron would tire of this any moment now, and turn his attention to Starscream, where it belonged.

But Megatron kept at it. Starscream whimpered pitifully as his spark casing burst apart again, no amount of his meager self-control able to hold it together this time. He could scarcely believe how unfair this situation was; the clone wasn't even capable of appreciating what was happening. Not in the way he could.

"Megatron!" he whined loudly, squirming, "This is absurd. Profoundly unfair! You're ruining my experiment and –" Ignoring me! He quickly cut his vocalizer before those last two words made it out.

Megatron chuckled darkly, admiring his handiwork. As long as he focused on the dents his hand had left in the dark plating of the clone's aft and tried not to think too hard about exactly whose it looked like, this was... pleasant.

Its reactions had been pleasant, too. Starscream had no doubt patterned its programming on his own responses. As long as he ignored the voice those responses were delivered in, it was easy enough to imagine he was doing all of this to Starscream instead.

With the added bonus of hearing the real Starscream's pleading and whimpering as Megatron denied him.

And the other sound he'd heard just a moment ago, quiet behind the thunder of his rising and falling hand, but still unmistakable: Starscream's chest plates sliding apart.

Remembering it, the tyrant's spark lurched in his chest and he reached out to stroke the dents he'd left in the clone's aft. It shuddered violently. Megatron's cooling fans roared.

"Get on the berth," he told it, his vocalizer hitching. "Now."

It hastened to obey, sliding its chest plates apart without being told to.

Megatron leaned down to stare at it. Starscream yowled. Megatron's own chest plates cracked apart, his spark's light pouring forth from the thin seam, illuminating the clone's plating. Seeing the brightness of Megatron's spark, Starscream hissed in frustration. Surely Megatron wasn't planning on... interfacing with the clone. Not when Starscream himself was in the very same room with his own spark bared and whirling frantically with need.

At that moment Starscream realized he had moved closer, unconsciously obeying the order Megatron had given. There wasn't room on the berth for both him and the clone, so he hovered anxiously to the side, staring hotly at Megatron as he climbed on top of it and straddled it. Oh, Starscream knew how that felt, having Megatron's heavy, solid frame pressing down on him, pinning him helpless and open. He raised a hand and traced around the edge of his spark chamber, the energy within flaring painfully hot with need.

"Megatronnn – !" he whined again, and reached out to paw at Megatron's shoulder.

Megatron's spark surged in response to Starscream's plea. More eagerly than the tyrant would have expected, he looked down at the clone's open chest.

Not being a proper Cybertronian, the thing didn't have a spark, just a glowing coil of energy that shone a brilliant white. Megatron had never seen one of these things with his own optics, but he recognized it as the kind of storage coil most pleasure drones came with. Since a drone had no spark to capture or reflect the energy of its partner, it would hold stored charge the other gave off and loop it back in imitation of a proper spark-merge. Finally, it would release a mass of this stored energy in one intense burst, simulating overload and hopefully provoking overload in the other.

But Megatron had never felt the need to make use of a pleasure drone – and had never quite done things that way with Starscream anyway.

Starscream had built this clone to let him turn the tables. Which meant that it was probably programmed to do exactly what Megatron himself made Starscream do: to receive as much spark energy as it could, to swell and surge with what it took in until it all burst free in a violent consuming imitation of an overload.

Megatron smirked. That was fine with him.

Besides, the white heat it held was Starscream's anyway.

He'd seen that when he came in. But he would have known it even if he hadn't. Somehow, he could sense it: some resonance, some frequency, some pattern to the tendrils lancing out from it, some tang in the air it electrified. Something he knew, as he knew himself.

It wasn't enough – not nearly enough, this little sliver of what he wanted, not with Starscream right there, panting and open for him, the whole room crackling with that familiar signature.

But it would do.

Oh yes, it would do.

Turning his head to grin at Starscream, Megatron slid his own chest plates apart.

Starscream stared hungrily into the light pouring from Megatron's open chest. He could clearly see his Leader's spark now, swollen and surging, tendrils of energy licking out in search of completion. In search of him. His own spark flared painfully hot in response. He moaned as he pinched and squeezed at the delicate wiring around the edge of his spark casing, heightening the sensation. The heat of his spark burned the plating of his fingers, and he shuddered.

"Megatron, yes, please –" he panted, arching his back in anticipation, "Enough of your little games!"

"Games, Starscream?" Megatron asked, his voice strained as energy rushed through his circuits and collected in his spark. "You are the only one playing games. If you – if you don't know why I'm doing this – then you're not paying attention."

The clone sighed in anticipation, its faceplates glittering in the light of Megatron's spark. Starscream cursed it.

Megatron turned back to the clone, staring at the dazzling sliver of Starscream's essence inside its chest. Tiny tendrils of lightning arched toward him from the storage coil, seeking to reach him.

He roared his answer as a bolt of light poured from his spark to spear the heart of his facsimile. The clone gave a violent shudder and moaned, keening in Megatron's own voice, then wailed in frightened surprise at the force of the energy flooding it.

Starscream watched, beside himself, as Megatron unleashed a torrent of energy into the clone's false spark. He shrieked in indignation; how could Megatron prefer that... thing to him? The clone writhed under Megatron, not reciprocating, not participating, merely receiving, and Starscream wondered how Megatron could possibly be pleased with it. He certainly seemed pleased, at least, judging from the sounds he made.

Oh, the sounds... Megatron's roars and grunts of pleasure and the loud of whirr of his cooling fans stoked Starscream's arousal higher. The Seeker dug his fingers hard into the wiring around his spark chamber and twisted, moaning louder at the little sting of pain this produced. It wasn't near enough to take the edge off his desire, and certainly did nothing to ameliorate the humiliation of watching an object receive what was rightfully his.

Megatron could hear Starscream behind him, could feel the hot air from his turbines and vents wafting over himself and his clone like a benediction. He growled, feeling it, and the clone cried out his name, a strange echo.

And over it all, Starscream's pleading. His frame shook, gripped by a sudden overpowering desire to wrench himself off of this ridiculous toy and force Starscream to the floor.

But he would learn something from that, as much as he pretended never to learn anything. And what he'd learn from it would be the exact opposite of what Megatron needed to make him understand.

Besides, this wasn't unpleasant, his energies bursting into something that could barely hold him, the ghostly half-sense of Starscream still there to receive him, the sounds and heat of Starscream just beyond them, waiting, wanting.

There was a faint scraping sound, and then the Seeker yelped. He was probably hurting himself while he watched them. Megatron chuckled. The clone made a quizzical noise that became a cry as another dart of energy seared it.

Megatron growled, the white light pouring from him, clutching tight at the clone's arms, scoring deep lines into the thick plating. It thrashed and then stilled, finally determined to accept him with dignity. Its mouth opened in a cry of false desire, its optics staring up at him, intense and hungry.

The connection he'd made to this – thing – wasn't nearly as intense as a real bond, but he could feel Starscream in the energy he'd left behind, faint hints of what the Seeker had been feeling as his own spark's heat shot into the clone: amusement, mischief, confusion, a petulant lack of satisfaction.

If this had simply been Starscream offering himself, Megatron might have laughed. But now he pressed his frame closer to the clone's, close enough that the metal of their plating screeched as it scraped together, and forced the energy in faster.

The storage coil glowed with searing heat. The clone lay still, heat vibrating through its every circuit, as Megatron ground hard against it. It made a small noise, a soft rasp, as if it understood, and then the energies it had stored, Megatron's and Starscream's alike, laced through one another in an endless war of need, burst forth from it in a white ring of heat.

Megatron flung his head back as it caught him in its wake, thrilling through his systems. His spark pulsed, overfull and heavy, and to his own surprise he shuddered once and overloaded, white light blanking his optics, surging through him, and pouring from his open mouth.

Starscream dimmed his optics against the flood of blinding light from Megatron's spark. His entire body shuddered in sympathetic pleasure as he watched Megatron's frame jerking in overload and the clone squirming beneath him. Starscream's spark burned dangerously hot and swollen, the edges of its casing starting to glow faintly from the heat trapped there. It was searing and agonizing and not nearly enough. Surely now that Megatron had had his fun with the clone, he'd get his hands on Starscream. His wings twitched uncontrollably as he imagined Megatron grabbing and twisting them.

"Mmm, Lord Megatron –" he whimpered, "Please –"

Static flickered in Megatron's optics as his systems reset. He narrowed and then widened them, not wanting Starscream to see. He climbed off the berth, sneering at the clone as he watched the storage coil's glow fade to amber and then to red. He had no use for this ridiculous toy any longer, and seeing it stare after him with his own face only made him angry now. His weapons systems hummed as he diverted power to his cannon. It felt good, power thrilling through him, filling the emptiness left by his overload.

The clone heard the sound, and its optics widened. Then it caught sight of Starscream, spark bared, twisting his wings in obvious frustration. It twisted to face him, supporting itself on one broad arm, its chest still obscenely open. "Sir," it called, "I –"

It never finished. A bright bolt of lavender light flared from Megatron's cannon, engulfing the storage coil, and with it most of the wiring of the hapless clone's chest.

With an odd sense of satisfaction, Megatron watched his own mouth open wide, bellowing in protest and anger, his own optics flickering in desperation as they fought to stay online.

It was a waste of energy to fire again, the sort of failure of self-control that Megatron would punish any of the others for. But he did it anyway, the cannon's fire enveloping the clone's whole torso in heat and light, the berth beneath it blackening as Megatron watched.

His faceplates cracked into a tight, cold grin as the light in the clone's optics dimmed and went dark, its helm clanging against the ruined berth as it twitched and then was still.

The clone's blackened remains smoldered as Starscream gaped in shock and unmitigated desire.

"You – you ruined it," he whimpered. The words lacked force, laced as they were with panting. He could feel the heat radiating from Megatron's cannon and smell the tangy ozone of energy and burnt metal. It was so, so tempting to reach for Megatron's cannon and run his hands over that hot metal, to kneel and taste the tantalizing remains of power around its rim. But he summoned his final thread of self-control and remained where he was, feeling a certain unease at Megatron's uncharacteristic coldness. Megatron never ignored him so thoroughly. There was always a harsh reprimand, humiliation, beating... Starscream whimpered again and couldn't help himself. He reached out and ran a hand over Megatron's cannon, shivering as the metal there warmed his plating.

Megatron shuddered, feeling familiar hands trace along the sensitive seams of his weapon. Biting back a snarl, he forced himself to stillness, and then pushed the Seeker away. Starscream wanted this to end with pleasure. It would not. Not when the Seeker had literally constructed a mockery of his authority.

Some things were games. Things like this were not.

Refusing to look at Starscream, he marched to the door. It slid open as he passed and he walked through it, his posture perfect, his optics staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard, expressionless line.

Starscream was stunned into silence as he watched Megatron's icy departure. Megatron didn't spare him so much as a single glance as he strode from the room, cool and infuriatingly collected, as if Starscream weren't even there at all. As the door slid shut behind Megatron, Starscream slumped dejectedly onto his rather charred berth. He scowled acidly at the blackened remains of the clone before shoving it onto the floor in a fit of pique, as if everything that just happened had be its fault. He sighed and leaned back on his hands, willing his frame to cool down. His spark was still too swollen for his casing to close. Primus damn that bastard! he thought, glaring at the door through which Megatron had exited.

There was simply no way Megatron could have possibly been satisfied with the clone. No way at all. He reassured himself with this thought as he lay back on the berth, attempting to piece his dignity back together. You'll be back, mighty Leader, Starscream thought smugly. You'll be back.