Desiderata 2/?

[stainless]

Title: Desiderata
Characters: Megatron/Starscream
Verse: IDW? G1? I don't even know.
Wordcount: 2,200ish
Rating: MA
Warnings: Sticky, dub-con, some pretty intense sexual violence, D/s, BDSM. Don't sip the delicious, sexy Haterade if it doesn't agree with you.
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. In this chapter, Starscream travels to Kaon, ostensibly to finalize the negotiations that Megatron had left quite vague at their last meeting. Things get... a lot more exciting than that sounds. And a lot more violent.

Also on FFN : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7648576/2/

Thanks to the ever-awesome dogstar for betaing on Christmas Eve of all days.

Happy holidays all!

Part 1 is here. 

"Well, Megatron, I'm here," Starscream called, stepping through the door.

He twitched his wings, trying not to think about the soot staining them. The smoke of Kaon's factories billowed everywhere, rising too high to easily avoid. In the short time it had taken him to fly here, the gleaming white and red of his wings had deepened to dull gray and maroon.

To say nothing of how the stuff felt, clogging up his transformation seams, his intakes, his fans, anything and everything. The city choked him.

So did this room. He was a Seeker, built for flight. The towers and aeries of his home had high ceilings that gave their occupants room to fly or hover if they chose to. The ceiling here looked barely high enough for Megatron to stand without scraping his helmet against it. Starscream shivered, refusing to look up.

At least this room had windows. Though Starscream didn't much like the view. Clouds of soot hid the stars, and the only light came from the foundries and factories, a hot molten glow. He tore his gaze from them.

The walls bore no adornment, only a few light strips providing dim illumination. That didn't surprise Starscream. Kaonians built things strong and sturdy, but rarely went in for the elaborate adornment favored in Vos. Furnishings remained plain, with an occasional bold design.

The table bore one. Starscream smirked, recognizing the symbol immediately. Anyone who had seen Megatron fight in the Grand Arena had seen that logo painted on his frame, and on the frame of his teammates when he chose to fight alongside others.

Starscream looked up to see Megatron nod, one corner of his silver mouth upturned. "Welcome, Starscream." His optics glowed, twin points of flame. "Sit down."

Starscream vented a noisy huff. Sitting would stop the ceiling from threatening to close in on him, and he was sure Megatron knew it. But the chair in front of him, hard-backed and unwieldy, looked far too uncomfortable to bother sitting in.

Besides, his host had ordered him to do it.

He leaned against the table, splaying his fingers out on its surface as though he owned it. I am the Winglord of Vos, he thought. Not one of your peons slaving away in the foundries or dying for you in the pits.

Megatron's optics flickered once. Then his silver mouthplates set in a frown. "I see you've made up your mind, then."

"Made up my mind?" Starscream smirked. "I've come to Kaon, as you asked. That's all."

Megatron's optics flared brighter. "You did."

He raised a hand. Starscream could see that he held something in it, a thin rod of metal with a design on the end. Starscream's optics clicked as they irised wide and then narrowed, magnifying and focusing on it.

He nearly scoffed when he saw the design: Megatron's symbol, the same one carved into the table.

It's a branding iron, he realized, studying the tiny channels where stored energy would flow, heating it enough to sear the impression into metal. It was lifeless now, dark and cold, but Starscream shuddered as he looked at it, imagining it bright with heat and light.

You're prideful, aren't you, Megatron?

Megatron tossed the branding iron across the table with a careless gesture. Starscream snatched it up, glowering, daring Megatron to speak.

"Surely you realize by now that everything in Kaon is mine."

Starscream dropped the branding iron as if it had already burned him. It clanged against the table, one insignia striking another.

"I came here to discuss an alliance," Starscream hissed, grinding his dental plates so hard he spit sparks. "Not to offer the Air Command of Vos to you as a band of slaves."

"We've already had that conversation." Megatron rose to his feet.

Starscream stepped nimbly around the table, the wild hope crackling through his spark that Megatron would hit his head on the ceiling. That by the time Starscream reached Megatron's end of the table, the Lord of Kaon would only look like a fool.

But this building belonged to Megatron. And this was Megatron's city, a city of metalworkers and builders. They had probably built it for him, Starscream realized, his spark quailing as quickly as it had kindled.

Standing in the small room only made Megatron seem bigger. His tall, broad frame filled Starscream's vision. For a moment, Starscream had the panicked impression that the rest of the room was gone, entirely. That the great gladiator had shoved the table aside with his fists, or trampled it under his heavy, thudding feet.

Starscream twitched his wings, his processor working frantically. Don't be a fool. You're almost as tall as he is. In Vos, he wouldn't look so... impressive.

Didn't look so impressive, he reminded himself, trying to replace what he saw in front of him with the memory of Megatron's visit to Vos.

It didn't help. Remembering Megatron's visit meant remembering those black hands grabbing at his wings and twisting, slowly, deliberately, making Starscream's sensornet flare to protesting life.

He flicked them, trying to will away the ghosts of sensation sparking through them as he stared at Megatron. Ignoring the loud stall of his engines, he stepped closer.

Too close, apparently. Someone else might not have seen it, but he saw the gladiator flinch. He heard the roar of fans kicking on, too low-pitched to be his own.

"Have we?" he asked, throwing back his head and pouting, making his optics flicker just enough that they would shimmer in the dim light.

Then everything became pain, a sharp, pure shock that set Starscream's sensornet ablaze and blanked his optics white, the room swallowed in a supernova of light.

His hands scrabbled blankly over a surface, crawling over the shape of something in relief. His fingers found an object, long and thin, and curled over it.

The handle of the branding iron, he realized. He shoved me onto the table, like before.

Static fuzzed in front of his optics, resolving into a helmeted head, its optics glowing red. He couldn't yet make out the expression on the silver face.

But the optics burned him. He slid away from them, his turbines whirling. Hands stopped him, grabbing at his wings, at his sides, at the delicate glass over his chestplate. He screeched, dropping the branding iron and reaching out to push Megatron away.

His hands beat against the thick plating of Megatron's chest. The gladiator grunted, but stood immovable as the walls of the room around them. Starscream tossed his head, shrieking.

Megatron reached out and grabbed one of the Seeker's wrists, catching and holding it. Then he bent it backward, slowly, his faceplates twisted into a mocking smile. "Reminding me to finish what I start, Starscream?"

Starscream's cry faded into a whimper, then a broken moan. He'd expected the brutality. Megatron had risen to power from the gladiator pits of Kaon. That gave him all the more reason to respond to Starscream's baiting with cruelty and anger.

But these measured words made Starscream's spark seize in his chest. An angry monster wouldn't bother speaking to him. An angry monster would take what he wanted, snarling all the while.

That, Starscream had prepared for. That, Starscream had come here hoping to find. He could have flown to Vos battered but gloating, satisfied that he knew exactly how to make the upstart warrior from Kaon completely lose control.

Instead, Megatron had answered him with measured words and measured violence alike, as if he'd known very well that Starscream would goad him and then would resist. As if he found those things entirely natural - and entirely irrelevant.

Megatron let go of his wrist. His arm fell to the table with a clang, lifeless but for the twitches of pain still flickering through the sensors there.

"I hate y -" Starscream snarled. Megatron leaned down and pressed his mouth to Starscream's, swallowing the words.

Heat pooled in Starscream's valve and it twitched, convulsing around nothing. He reached up to wrap his uninjured hand around Megatron's helmet and draw him deeper into the kiss. There was no tenderness in his gesture, only a fierce defiance compelling him to take whatever scrap of control he could find. Megatron laughed into his mouth.

Starscream's cooling fans roared, and he panted, air gusting hard from his vents. Then Megatron drew away again, Starscream still biting at his lips.

Megatron stared down at him, the light from the strips on the walls gleaming a reddish-gold against the silver of his plating. The many scars and scrapes on the gladiator's frame glittered, catching the light and holding it.

Megatron smiled. Starscream sputtered, seeing no contempt in the expression. Instead, it was a gesture of appraisal - of looking over what he had caught and approving of his find. As Starscream watched, Megatron's spike cover began to slide aside.

He held back for that long? Starscream marveled, feeling his own valve cover move in answer, lubricant already beginning to leak out as it opened. In a last gesture of rebellion, he willed it to close, the gears controlling it grinding loudly as it froze halfway open.

Megatron scoffed, a wordless sound, and reached down to grip the half-closed valve cover.

Starscream froze. "You can't - you won't - you wouldn't -" he stammered, knowing the thought of Megatron walking away now was worse than what would happen now if he didn't.

Megatron didn't hesitate. His fingers tightened around their prize. Then, with a sudden, violent twist, he ripped the cover of Starscream's valve off entirely.

Starscream's hips bucked as agony shot through the sensors around his valve, his movement a tortured parody of passion. He felt energon well up from the rim of his valve where Megatron had torn his cover away.

He shook his head, a wild gesture that had entirely lost its meaning. He heard the clink of metal hitting metal - his cover, tossed aside, a piece of worthless scrap. He felt Megatron's hands around his legs, pulling him to the edge of the table, and then a new stab of pain through his hips as Megatron forced his legs apart.

Then the pain tore through every part of him as Megatron entered him. Starscream's hips twitched again, automatic, feeling the spike cleave him. He was no stranger to big mechs, to their spikes stretching him so impossibly open he had to partially transform his valve to better accommodate them. But the wound Megatron had already made stung on top of it all, making his every movement burn twice over.

The Seeker's spark whirled, crackling with the heat of it, and he hissed and spat as Megatron drove into him again and again. He felt wetness trickling out of him, lubricant from his valve and energon from his wound. He whimpered, cursing both for not easing the pain or cooling the heat building in his systems in spite of it.

Megatron's frame rumbled, a low, deep vibration he could feel above him and within him and all around him. He moaned, gasping, bucking back onto Megatron's spike because there was no way to fight this fire but with the answering fire of his own surrender, no way to resist his own dissolution but to give in to it.

"Finish it -" he gasped, defeated. He knew what it meant to say it, to confess it, to make his lip plates form the words and to hear them in his own high voice.

Megatron's laugh became a roar as he pulled back and thrust into Starscream again with all the force and fury of the pits. This was what Starscream had expected, had hoped for, had come alone and unescorted to Kaon to find. He threw back his head and shrieked, every sensor in his valve aflame.

The spike filling him froze, twitching once. Then Megatron's transfluid flooded him, the burst of heat searing the wounds and dents it had made. He felt his valve clench hard, gripping its invader. Starscream was sure it must be painful.

He liked that thought. He wanted it to hurt the one who hurt him, to give him some small measure of revenge.

He smirked as his processor blanked white, satisfaction suffusing his systems as his frame trembled in aftershock.

Everything in Kaon is yours, Lord of the Pits, he thought. But be careful what you claim.