Desiderata

[stainless]

Title: Desiderata
Characters: Megatron/Starscream
Verse: IDW? G1? I don't even know.
Wordcount: 1,400ish
Rating: T
Contains: Violence, sexual tension (nothing explicit), hints of D/s.
Summary: Megatron has come to Starscream in Vos, seeking allies in the coming war. Starscream isn't impressed - but can't get a remark his visitor made out of his mind.
A/N: I'd asked some fandom folks on my friends list over at my LJ to give me prompts if they wanted holiday fic. shaaraseeker gave me the completely amazing prompt "Starscream - Just what I wanted." She thought this would probably lead to crack. But something like that deserved an entire fic, dammit. ^_~

GODDAMN HAVE I MISSED WRITING THESE BASTARDS.

Also on FFN : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7648576/1/

Thanks to the ever-awesome femme4jack for beta.

Part 2 is here. And much higher rated than Part 1.

Starscream stood at the window, twitching a bent wing, staring.

The lights of Vos glittered, the tops of the towers shining brighter than stars.

Jolts of pain shot through his injured wing. He remembered hands, big, black, and solid, grabbing at the plating there and twisting hard.

"I have everything you want, Starscream."

He hadn't expected the rasp in that voice. He'd expected something loud, loud and rumbling, shaking his internals with its very sound. He'd expected the violence to come from the words, not the hands that had grabbed at him like they already owned him.

"You don't," Starscream hissed out the window, spitting the words. "I'm not yours, Megatron. Even if you claim Vos, I won't be." He paced, his thin heels clicking against the metal of the floor.

He remembered how it happened. He'd come up with a cutting little remark, just like he always did. He'd taken particular pride in this one, in fact. As far as he could tell, it wasn't even a lie. "So, Kaon's chief barbarian flies to Vos, begging for allies in his pet war."

Then, there'd been nothing but pain. The bigger mech had slammed him onto the table, making every sensor in his back flare with agony and his processor spit a cascade of alarms.

He'd known that his visitor liked wings. But that had happened later, when Starscream tried to get up, the big, black hands grabbing for them as soon as Starscream lifted his torso off the table.

He'd expected more savagery, the hands ripping at the delicate plating beneath them, rending and tearing. Some of that had happened, the grip around Starscream's wings tightening, the plating buckling as it dented.

But then the hands had wrenched at him, twisting slowly, with practiced, patient finesse. Starscream hadn't known whether it hurt less that way or more, the sensors screaming, torn to life by the hands on them, the hands that hadn't stopped, wouldn't stop, wouldn't rip and rend and then be done.

Starscream had said nothing, cycling heavy pants through his vents and fighting not to whimper. The agony flaring through his sensornet had torn even his words away.

Or so he'd pretended. He could have come up with something. There was always something, and he always knew how to find it.

But for once in his life, he'd wanted to listen more than he'd wanted to speak. What could Megatron say for himself now? The big mech had come to Vos hoping for an alliance. Instead of negotiating, he'd attacked the city's ruler. He'd acted just like the savage his detractors said he was. Like a mech fit for nothing more than the deathmatch arena he'd risen out of.

Starscream had smirked, waiting, wanting to know just what a beast from Kaon's pits had to say for himself after losing control.

"I have everything you want, Starscream."

Starscream's engines stalled, just as they had then. It made no sense. He'd expected Megatron to threaten him, to treat him like most of the arena mechs treated the opponents they bested. He'd expected gloating, the great gladiator laughing in his face. He'd expected scorn. Most losers in the Grand Arena never walked or drove or flew out again.

Instead, those words, whispered into his audio receptor, like a secret. Or a seduction.

"Is that how they do it in Kaon?" he mused aloud, still staring at the lights outside the window. "By ripping one another into scrap like they do in the Grand Arena?" He sneered, but his wings moved again, a bright line of lightning zinging through his systems.

"You could have said anything you wanted, gladiator," Starscream murmured. "You could have cursed me for not agreeing to your terms. You could have threatened me until I agreed to them immediately." He grinned. "Not that I would have kept my promise."

"You could have killed me," he called out the window, as if he wanted the whole city to hear it. His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, becoming his familiar, audio-splitting shriek. "Right then and there. Me. The Winglord of Vos."

I have everything you want...

What did it mean? Megatron had a war, or would, once his plans came to fruition. Crude plans, by Starscream's standards. What did Vos want with his war? If he won, he would control everything the Senate did now, but he'd have to win first.

And for that, he'd need Vos.

"You're wrong," Starscream screeched, looking out the window, seeing nothing. "Vos has always stood alone. The Senate can't touch us. What makes you think whatever you put in its place ever could?"

His optics glittered with a hard, cold light. "It's you who need us, Megatron - not the other way around."

If Megatron won, he would have power.

He would rise, all of Cybertron behind him, the fury of the pits and the drive of a single purpose behind him, awakening to claim anything before him and crush anything that wouldn't yield.

Starscream looked out at the lights, imagining them deepening to red, the fierce color of flame, of molten metal. He thought of the stars, hidden from view by billows of black smoke.

Will he come for Vos, if I refuse?

He hadn't threatened it. He hadn't said anything, not after that one whispered sentence. He hadn't even asked Starscream to think it over. He'd rasped those words and let go of Starscream's mangled wings.

Then he'd stood up, as calmly as he'd entered, and turned toward the door.

Starscream grinned, fighting down the same chuckle that had threatened to undo him then. He raised an arm, power cycling through his weapons systems, his null ray glowing brightly as it energized.

Now he aimed it out the highest window of the highest spire on Cybertron.

Then, he'd aimed it at his visitor's retreating back.

It had been a perfect shot. He hadn't needed his targeting computer to tell him that. It had anyway, confirming everything.

"I should have fired," he muttered, scowling. "I should have shot you, Megatron, right then and there."

I should have killed you while I still had the chance.

His spark seized at the thought, still with sudden terror.

You knew I wasn't going to, didn't you, Megatron?

You turned your back on me - because you knew I wouldn't -

It was a perfect shot - you knew - you knew I -

"No!" he howled, too loudly. He threw back his head and wailed, over and over. His frozen spark pulsed hard with each cry, as if only his screams powered it.

"It's you who need me - Megatron -" he gasped, slumping against the windowsill, his hands reaching out to steady himself as the lights of Vos's towers blurred before his optics into smears of light. "Not the - other way -"

"I can still kill you," he whispered, his optics brightening, his blue hands digging hard into the window frame as he pulled himself upright again. His wings throbbed, but the pain had dulled, a heavy, leaden memory of agony.

"I'll do what you ask of me," he chuckled. "You have everything I want, self-styled Lord of Kaon. And joining you will give me the opportunity to take it all away from you."

His optics glowed, bright as the lights of the towers. His faceplates settled into their usual smirk and his spark whirled in his chest. "Never turn your back on me again."

I won't, answered the darkness around him.

Starscream threw back his head again and laughed. "I'd never give myself to you if I thought you would," he told the empty room... and the presence that had followed him into it.