Author's Notes- Hi, hope you all had a lovely Christmas :-).

Special thanks to iwanita for her input.

Warnings- Non-con in uncensored version, hints at it here.

Bold- Comm link.

Italics- Thoughts/memories/link speak.

Pairing- Rung/Tarn

Disclaimer- I do not own Transformers or its characters.

Verse- IDW-MTMTE.

Units of Time: Astrosecond- 1 second, Klik- 1 minute, Cycle- 1 hour, Orn- 1 day, Decacycle- 1 week, Meta-cycle- 1 month, Solar cycle- 1 year, Vorn- 1 million years.

Unbetaed.

All mistakes are my own.

Hope you all enjoy it.

Sessions

'Your addiction seems to have de-developed over a long- please- period of t-time. I would s-say- no, no don't- it manifested due to pressures of lea-leadership. Please, stop.'

'I think not, our session is scheduled to last several orns yet, and we have still to get to the root of the problem. Continue.'

Shining with fluid, Rung's optics drifted closed. Two. 'Your dependency is down to your need to… to feel control which you- please, please, please don't- sometimes- ahh- lack due to the occasional inability to locate people on y-your List. Also, the sheer number of designations upon it increases the stress you feel looking for them- don't hurt them, please- and-and the sense that the task you have been bur-burdened with is one without end.'

'Ah you speak of my lack of control then beg my mercy in the same vent. Do I truly seem to lack power here, doctor?'

Three.

'N-no,' Rung gasped, frame shuddering, 'but I was not alluding to our- uhhhuh- current situation. And when this e-ends, you will carry on your search, and though you may do so for the rest of your function and unlikely as it is, you know there is a chance you may never find another mech. May never cross off any further designations. You- ahh, uhh- will lack control then, won't you?'

'Then we would hunt your kind in the meantime,' a low voice purred, 'and I believe our current situation is very relevant, wouldn't you agree? Your friends are mine to do with as I please and you, my bright spark, will provide almost endless entertainment. I'm sure the others will enjoy your company as much as I am.'

'K-killing Autobots would not contribute to completing your task,' Rung carefully avoided the thought of his friends. It would not do for the psychiatrist to be the one to break down. 'You would derive minimum satisfaction from it and your dependency would increase- I beg of you… What do you intend to gain from this?' He asked desperately, engines turning over in borderline panic, 'you portray no desire to overcome your addiction, why then do you torment me?'

Soft music began to play, trickling through the room.

'My dear doctor, I do believe you may have answered your own question. After all, you have done much damage to Lord Megatron's cause; you know I must punish you for that. Teach you the error of your ways… Do not fear though, we intend to keep you alive for some time to come. I in particular want to see that lovely spark of yours pulse to my tune.'

Rung's sight briefly whited out as his spark flared at Tarn's unspoken command, his systems requiring several kliks to reboot. '… He asked too much of mechs, too much of you,' he forced out, 'he drove mechs insane, his own soldiers and his enemies. Worsened previously manageable glitches to the point of driving poor people to self-deactivation. He has done so much harm Tarn.'

'Harm which would need not have happened if the way preceding ours had not been so corrupt, had not attacked mechs on a self-indulgent whim.'

'Is not t-torturing mechs the way you do decadent?' Rung whispered, 'it is an act you take pleasure in, isn't it? One you spend a hedonistic amount of time doing?'

A crook and a twist. 'Punishing the guilty, the treacherous, is not the same as attacking random Cybertronians.' Four.

Rung screamed, writhing beneath Tarn's far larger frame. 'You punish those who disagree with you,' he spoke painfully hoarsely, 'is that not the same?'

Tarn pulled Rung from the coverlet and against his metallic body, chassis to chassis and all but spark to spark, his four digits sliding from the smaller mech's sopping valve. 'Our cause is necessary, theirs was not. That is the difference my sweet doctor. Now, I do think that is enough for the moment, time for your first of no doubt many lessons.' One arm wrapped around the psychiatrist's shoulders while the other enclosed around the Autobot's quivering waist.

Rung shuddered as a strong pressure was applied to his thoroughly prepared and sensitised valve. 'D-don't, don't do this…' He breathed into the musician's neck, 'pl-please.'

Censored to fit TOS

'My dear pet,' Tarn purred softly, 'you cry most endearingly.' Running the side of a digit down Rung's faceplate, he rubbed away the optic fluid dripping down the thin plating. Holding Rung tightly, he swept a servo over the smaller mech's chassis. From the moment he had read the words 'brightest spark' in the files of the Lost Light's CMO, he had known he had to have this one, such a pretty, rare little thing to call his own if only for a while. For as long as the Autobot provided entertainment, then Tarn would snuff out that light, make the universe that much darker. Sinister glee danced in his spark as Rung's field became saturated with anxiety and spark-deep sadness.

Hugging the smaller mech to him in an imitation of genuine affection, he laid Rung down and placed a thick blanket over the shaking form. The psychiatrist stared up at him, two pools of glimmering sapphire pleading with him desperately. Pressing a digit to Rung's quivering lip components, Tarn's optics glowed sadistically back. 'Now, now… remember your place. I will return later with energon for you, until then I would suggest you rest and recharge. After all, I may bring back some of the others so that they may… become acquainted with you properly.'

Rung's helm slumped onto the soft pillow, crying silently in defeat and grief. Tarn gave him a parting pat on the faceplate and turned to stride from his berthroom. As he contemplated the possibilities of having three traitors in his custody, his spirit was further buoyed by his pet doctor's muffled sobbing drifting after him.

Poor soft-sparked little Autobot…

Tarn chuckled, loud enough so that the doctor would hear him, and exited his quarters, locking them with barely a pause. Rung would learn, he had every confidence in the mech…

And he would enjoy being the doctor's teacher.

Thanks for reading and please review.