Desiderata 4/?

[stainless]

Title: Desiderata
Characters: Megatron/Starscream
Verse: IDW? G1? I don't even know.
Wordcount: 3,7000ish
Rating: MA
Warnings: Sticky. Very sticky. Sticky enough that the sticky is a plot (insofar as there is a plot) point. Violence both sexual and non, D/s, BDSM. Don't sip the delicious, sexy Haterade if it doesn't agree with you.
Summary: Starscream has three days until he's branded with Megatron's symbol. Megatron's been conspicuously avoiding him in the meantime. Starscream is, predictably, Not Happy About This, and when Megatron finally deigns to drop by, he hatches a little plan...
Author's Note: Sorry this one took so long. This story is really my baby lately, and this particular chapter was a bit hard to make work. It's something of a quieter interlude in a story that's generally very full-on violent and intense and I wanted to be sure it changed the pace in a good way, not a bad one. I've also gotten some comments on characterization that have made me want to play a little more with that here. Some people wanted more about how Megatron sees things and how Starscream responds. I've tried to add that while keeping the sense that Starscream can't always tell just what's going through Megatron's processor. Trying to navigate that got tricky, but I'm glad for the experiment and I hope you all enjoy it.

I may tweak some bits in the next few days, also. Depends how I feel about it when I reread it after laying it aside for a day or two.

Also on FFN : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7648576/4/

Thanks to [Bad username or unknown identity:  ]for betaing this monster. It's nice to see you around!

Three days.

Starscream had three days.

He paced, his heels clicking against the metal of the floor. Catching sight of his wings reflected in the mirrored surface of the wall, he turned. His reflection scowled back at him, light glittering on his freshly polished frame.

True to his word, Megatron had repaired the damaged mirror. Like Starscream itself, it gleamed, as pristine as if nothing had ever happened.

He smirked, watching his reflection's faceplates curl into a twisted half-smile. He'd stayed in a standard set of quarters for a while. That room had been very different from this opulent one designed specifically for him, and he'd been eager to leave it. Well-made as it had been, the plainness of the décor had bored him. And the ceiling, of course, had been far too low.

He'd spoken to the crew that had repaired his room only briefly, a team of brightly-colored groundpounders. They hadn't seen fit to bother with him. Instead, they'd set to work immediately, assessing the damage, one mech finishing another's sentences as another hastened off for supplies. Only one of them had spared any attention for Starscream, a surly, big mech who scowled at the room, at the work, and even at his teammates.

"This room is completely ridiculous," he'd muttered in the Seeker's direction. "And Megatron's not the type. I wonder what exactly you do to keep him so interested."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Starscream had sneered back, and found himself face to face with the big mech's similarly large weapon.

It hadn't fazed him; he could easily paralyze the mech long before he could get a shot off. And given all that Megatron had done so far to win his attentions, Starscream was sure the gladiator wouldn't look kindly on the repair crew attacking him anyway.

In the end, the mech had stomped off, muttering something about how he'd expected better of Megatron, of all mechs.

Starscream grinned again. "All mechs have their weaknesses," he told his mirror, admiring the gleaming white of his wings and the bold red stripes decorating them.

He'd taken great care to keep himself clean, washing away the soot of the city frequently and polishing himself to a high sheen. He had no doubt that Megatron had noticed.

But he hadn't yet visited. He'd been busy crafting his latest speech announcing the alliance between Vos and Kaon.

Starscream twitched his wings. Damn you for taking so long, gladiator. Pretty words don't matter.

Everyone knew what was coming. Starscream visited Kaon so often for a reason, and every Seeker in every wing in Vos knew it. Megatron's perfectly crafted speech would do nothing but put words to the future everyone saw coming anyway.

Besides, they'd barely remember the speech. Not after everything else that would happen that day.

He flared out his wings, the memory of heat thrilling through the sensors there. He thought of Megatron's weapon, its chain wrapping around the thin white metal, tightening around it, the electrified links searing him.

But the next pain he felt there wouldn't come from the chain, or the spiked ball hanging from it, or the energy crackling through the weapon. It would come from something else entirely.

He shivered, remembering the branding iron that Megatron had shown to him on the night of that first visit. Of the symbol it bore. He'd seen that mark on everything here, from the doors to the walls to the plating of the mechs who passed him in the halls.

And in lower places too, scrawled on sidewalks or crudely painted on alleyway walls. Sometimes by fans of Megatron's fighting in the pits... and sometimes by the lost, yearning for a savior.

Starscream laughed. The only ones Megatron would save were those his war would temper.

The Seekers of Vos would be among them. Starscream had already made sure of that. His armies were ready for war, under whatever banner would bring them the greatest glory.

He preened, staring at his burnished reflection, at the wide, unadorned sweep of his wings. Then he froze, imagining the bright burning light of the heated brand and the lightning shocks of pain that would lance through his wings as it struck them.

His spark pulsed, its heat singing through his systems. Feeling it, he ran a hand over his own chest. His turbines whirled and he moved his hand lower, tracing the surface of his abdominal plating and pausing just above his hips.

"We will wear your brand for as long as we must, Megatron," he hissed. "But don't delude yourself. The city belongs to no one but me."

His hand slid over his pelvic plating, tracing the circle of his valve cover. His hips twitched automatically at the feel of his own touch - and the thought of the touch he really wanted instead.

He smirked, his expression playful. But his reflection's optics glittered, hard and cold. "And I won't belong to you for long."

###

"Well, that took you long enough," Starscream snapped, turning in response to the sound of the door opening. As before, there was no buzzer, alarm, or bell to alert him. "Did you finish your speech?"

His visitor nodded, sparing him a slight smile. His optics, as usual, were bright. "I am ready, Starscream. Are you?"

Starscream shivered, half turning toward the mirror. He snarled, wordlessly cursing Megatron. The big mech didn't miss much - he'd see Starscream trembling. He'd hear the sound of the Seeker's cooling fans, kicking on in response to his voice.

Starscream tossed his head, pointedly not looking at Megatron. "Vos knows what's coming, Megatron. What you say won't really matter."

Megatron growled, not at all happy that Starscream had turned his back, and stepped inside.

Good, Starscream thought, spite crackling through his spark, as Megatron spoke again.

"They are yours, Starscream. Do you care so little for their fate?"

"Of course I do," the Seeker hissed, twitching his wings as he took a step away from Megatron. "Far more than you do. As you said, the Seekers are my kind. Not yours."

As Starscream expected, Megatron followed him. He watched the gladiator's reflection come up behind him, saw Megatron reach for his wing an instant before he felt broad hands wrap around them.

Starscream arched into the touch. He wanted pain, the gladiator's tightening grip shocking the sensors awake, sending sensation singing through them.

He remembered Megatron's orders, the last time the gladiator had visited him here. I want you open. Whether I am using you or not. Whenever we are alone together. With a peal of mocking laughter, he slid his valve cover aside, watching himself in the mirror.

The fingers tensed, hard enough to hurt. Starscream bit his lip plates. You're not the only one who can play this game, pit fighter.

Megatron's frame rumbled. Starscream could feel the vibration through the floor. His lip plates parted in anticipation.

Megatron's hands twitched. Then his hand opened, slowly, leaving only his fingertips resting against the Seeker's wings, their touch unbearably light.

"You say you care for the Seekers more than I do," Megatron murmured, running his fingertips over the edge of the metal they held. Starscream fought to keep still. Damn you for making me wait so long, you ugly, rusting -

"That's only fitting. You are their Winglord, after all." Megatron's voice, unlike his touch, was harsh. "But I offer them a future you cannot. A chance to set this world ablaze, lit by the fires they rain down from the skies."

The gladiator's frame rumbled. Starscream felt it and shivered again. "They were built for this. Can you give it to them, Winglord of Vos, huddled in your spires back home."

"I could -"

Megatron laughed. Starscream cursed him, spitting sparks.

"You could what? Set Vos against all of Cybertron on your own? With no allies to protect or aid you? With no vision but your own desire fueling the flames?"

Starscream squirmed, twisting to spit his words at Megatron. "A future? Is that what you think you're giving us? Giving me? A place in your war, a war none of us asked for -"

That shot told. Dark fingers curled hard over Starscream's wings, their grip lancing bright bursts of pain through the sensors there. His spark whirling in triumph, the Seeker bit back a moan.

In the mirror, he could see the other mech's optics blaze, the bright orange-red of molten metal. "You made your choice, Starscream."

"My choice, yes -" Starscream panted.

"And yet you still find fault," Megatron growled, leaning down to snarl the words into Starscream's audio receptor. The Seeker tensed, his valve clenching.

"I -"

"But I will not damage you." The great hands trembled, clutching at Starscream's wings for an agonizing, blissful moment and then stilled. "Not now."

Starscream sputtered. You've attacked me for less, pit fighter. What are you doing? "Not - now?"

Megatron ran his fingertips along the edge of Starscream's wing. Starscream arched his hips, unable to resist the touch. It felt exactly wrong, ghosting along plating that had sang with pain just a moment ago. But that didn't matter. He needed it anyway.

"Not now," Megatron repeated. "I need you pristine for the ceremony."

To the Pit with the ceremony, Starscream thought. You've probably given me some minor dents already.

"I can't have you marred for that," Megatron was saying, his fingertips still dancing over Starscream's wing. "Not when Kaon and Vos alike will see me put my mark on you."

Starscream scowled. Then he grinned. Then I can do anything I want for three days. You just said you won't stop me.

"Of course," Starscream purred, his optics brightening as he reached back to touch Megatron's plating. He heard a grunt of surprise. And suspicion, more than likely. Pit fighter though Megatron was, he had proven many times over that he was no foolish brute.

But on the heels of Megatron's gruff vocalization came another sound: the unmistakable roar of his cooling fans, lower and deeper than Starscream's own.

You have me where you want me, gladiator. But you're exactly where I want you now.

He turned, sharply enough to strain his own wing joint. It stung faintly, the jolt zinging through his systems. "But you must have come here for something."

Megatron chuckled, releasing Starscream's wing. "Yes."

Freed from Megatron's grip now, Starscream turned, falling gracefully to his knees in front of the larger mech.

Megatron stared down at him, a hard, severe expression. Starscream twitched his wings, wrapping his arms around Megatron's frame and drawing him closer. The metal under his hands was hot, and he could feel the vibration of Megatron's engines, a throbbing purr.

He leaned his head against Megatron's pelvic plating, smirking against it. The spike cover hadn't yet opened, and he looked up, equal parts impressed and baffled by the big mech's self-control. He ran his helm along the heated metal of Megatron's pelvis, opening his mouth to lick at the seams of the gladiator's spike cover. It slid aside with a hiss.

Starscream's spark surged, seeing the thick spike spring free. It wasn't quite what he wanted, no, not with his valve aching to be filled by something more than his own fingers, but it sent desire spinning through his systems anyway. Megatron had always grabbed him and taken him and used him. He'd never given Starscream a chance to show off his finesse.

Barbarian, Starscream thought, licking along its length and hearing a groan of approval above him. Maybe it's time you learn there's more to this than grabbing someone and ripping them in two.

He murmured as he moved, the response making his mouth ache for it, an echo of the yearning in his far too empty valve. But he wanted to draw this out, and moved back down again, chuckling with Megatron growled at his teasing and wrapped his hands, half fond and half threatening, around the Seeker's head.

Megatron made no move to guide him yet, waiting. Starscream chuckled, his glossa moving up its length again. Then he tilted his head to stare up at Megatron and, seeing the smoldering light in the other's optics, opened his mouth.

He was used to big mechs, but his valve was more forgiving than his mouth, the metal lining it more capable of shifting to admit them. Still, vorns of experience had taught him a few tricks.

And if Megatron wouldn't willingly hurt him, at least the gladiator's spike could burn going in. He shifted what he could and took it in with practiced smoothness. The hands wrapped around the back of his helm trembled.

Starscream began to move, Megatron's grip tightening around his head and pushing him down. The friction chafed the sensors inside his mouth, waking them with bright pitiless heat, and his valve pulsed in sympathetic response. With a choked gasp, he slid one hand off of Megatron's back, wanting to touch himself, to feel something, anything slipping along the sensors at its rim, then sliding inside.

You want obedience, don't you? Arrogant idiot. You should know you won't get it from me just because you promised to be kind.

Megatron growled a warning, one hand moving to catch Starscream's wrist, the other slamming the Seeker's head over him still harder.

Starscream gasped, thrashing. The cabling inside his wrist was delicate, and small enough that even if no one repaired him before the ceremony, the watching crowds might miss it. Megatron's engines revved in response. He thrust hard into Starscream's mouth, abandoning all pretense of letting the Seeker control their pace.

You still like my pain, Starscream thought, exultant as the thick spike scraped against the inside of his mouth. This is taking a toll on you too, Lord of the Pits.

Starscream relaxed, attempting to slide the plating inside his mouth open wider. It protested with feeble clicks, and Starscream wondered in a moment of fear and excitement just how that felt to Megatron, and how someone like Megatron might take his revenge.

Megatron snarled, his grip tightening. Starscream's spark crackled. He really might tear my wrist, the Seeker thought, craving the damage as a trophy - and as a sign that this mighty would-be warlord had finally lost control.

But Megatron only drove into Starscream harder, his thick spike filling every part of the Seeker's mouth with bruising heat as his transfluid flooded out of him. Starscream trembled, triumphant despite his still-untouched frame and wings.

Megatron would see this as an act of devotion. Starscream knew better. He had what he wanted - including the pain he'd craved.

But he wanted more. And he would make sure that Megatron knew it. As the gladiato pulled away, he leaned down, spitting the fluid in his mouth onto the floor - and, most importantly, onto Megatron's feet. The quicksilver puddle glistened, shining against the polished floor.

He barely had time to cry out as the hand around his head forced his faceplates down, pressing the sharp planes of his cheek plating into the puddle and against the floor beneath.

"Clean that up," came the rasping voice above him, still staticky after its owner's overload.

But no less threatening, not with the hand tight around his head and the clear threat laced through the unsteady voice. His mouth burning and his valve throbbing, Starscream did as he was bid, licking up the fluid on the floor and then moving to lave Megatron's feet.

A shudder ran through the big mech's frame as he moved, and he grinned against the heavy plating, his glossa sliding over old nicks and scars - and the grime ground into them by vorns of living in this city.

The taste of it - even the thought of it - repulsed Starscream, Winglord of a city where everyone kept to their towers in the untouched and clear skies. And yet the Seeker found himself thinking, again, that the soot-stains suited him, sanctifying his scars with the blessings of darkness and war. He moved to lick along Megatron's other foot, humming against its surface in an eager half-moan as he lapped up the last traces of the other mech's emission.

Then the hand at his neck drew him up to his knees again. He let it, his systems cracking with charge, an unbearable heat roiling through his empty valve.

Megatron's hand slid over his cheek. It stung, tracing over scratches left there when Megatron had slammed his head down.

"So you did mark me," Starscream murmured, his optics flaring.

"So it would seem," Megatron answered, chuckling, sliding his fingertip over to Starscream's lips.

Starscream thought of biting, but even that slight touch made him tremble. "Please," he said instead. "Touch me - something - somehow."

Megatron's engines revved, a quizzical, amused sound.

"You heard me," Starscream snapped, turning his head away and rising to his feet.

"My valve has been empty for days. I want you, pit fighter. Your fingers. Your hands." He seethed, cursing himself for his own lack of foresight. He'd been so glad to take advantage of Megatron's uncharacteristic gentleness that he'd only made things more difficult for himself in the end.

Megatron chuckled, grabbing Starscream and scooping him up. "Are you so eager for me now, my Winglord of Vos?"

Starscream shivered. Yours? he thought, hissing and then calming again. He had agreed to this, after all, and long before now.

"Yours," he repeated, his voice soft, as Megatron carried him over to the berth and laid him down on the cloth-covered surface, far too gently. Then he felt Megatron slide him down, forcefully enough to make him squirm again.

When he felt the other mech's lip plates brush against the rim of his valve, he snarled. That isn't what I meant, he thought, hissing a curse. Then he felt Megatron's glossa against the sensors there and he twitched, his hips bucking as the sensation raced through his sensor net.

Damn you to the Pit, he thought. It felt good, charge building in his systems - but left him as empty as ever.

Megatron was far from tender. His hands gripped Starscream's hips, freezing the Seeker in place as he murmured against the dripping valve around him and licked at the sensors there, fast and pitiless, the building charge rising to an intensity Starscream had never felt, not from this, not without something inside him, rending and tearing at him, cleaving his insides in two -

He pressed against Megatron's mouthplates, wanting more and wanting this over, this horrible wonderful awakening that raced through him everywhere but where he wanted it most. Even Megatron's glossa inside him would be something.

But the gladiator remembered to deny him that, even as he growled against Starscream's valve, lapping at the lubricant oozing from it with obvious and fierce relish. Starscream keened, struggling to move, to grind himself against that accursed mouth, so despised and so much needed, but the hands held him fast, digging into his hip plates with a maddening spike of pain that felt so good that the next swipe of the big mech's glossa over the sensors at his rim undid him completely.

He shuddered hard and overloaded, howling, a wordless curse and cry of thanks all at once.

Megatron scoffed, a rumbling sound that made Starscream twitch again to hear and feel it both. Chuckling as Starscream trembled with aftershock, he rubbed his lubricant-smeared faceplates against one of Starscream's thighs.

"I hate you," the Seeker spat.

Megatron grinned. "Do you, now?"

"You know what I wanted, you dirty, rusting brute."

"Calm yourself, Starscream." Dark hands moved to the Seeker's wings. He twisted away, not wanting any more of these damnably light touches.

Megatron shrugged and withdrew. "Very well, if that's the way you choose to behave."

His optics brightened, glowing embers set in the silver of his face. A jolt of errant charge ran through Starscream's systems at the sight. The Seeker whined, overstimulated and still aching for what the gladiator had denied him.

Laughing, Megatron spoke again. "Don't worry. You'll get what you want - after the ceremony."

The big mech's mouthplates set in a grim line."I will claim you then. Not now."

Starscream glared, his optics flaring bright, enraged crimson.

But you already have, he thought, tossing his head to keep himself from confessing it. I'm already yours.

"Fine," he spat. It was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

Megatron nodded, smirking. "Until then," he answered, wiping the last of Starscream's lubricant from his faceplates before turning away.

Until then, Starscream thought, watching the doors iris open for Megatron. He raised an arm, aiming his null ray.

But Megatron hadn't fully turned his back, even as the doors slid open for him. He'd done that only once, and Starscream hadn't taken that shot.

All right, Starscream thought. But I will have what I want from you, Lord of Kaon. Here, and anywhere else. Everywhere else.

His dark faceplates curled into a smile. If Megatron wanted to make that difficult, that was perfectly fine with him.