Title: What do you like? (Что ты любишь?)
Author: Desire Legrand (aka Jazz)
Author's Beta: Ratchet
Translator's Beta (Russian-speaker): Skein
Translator's Beta (English-speaker): Deezaster82
Fandom: TF
Rating and Warning: M for sex and stuff, AU!G1, Galvatron/Starscream
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort.
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I do not own the story: it belongs to Desire Legrand, the author. Meanwhile I still do own the translation, beware.
A/N: a gift for -=Starscream=-
I have the permission to translate the story / Разрешение на перевод получено
Оригинал находится по ссылке ниже, но чтобы увидеть его, следует быть зарегистрированным на Transformers Porn.
www_diary_ru /~ tf-p o rn /p174673263 .htm
Нижнее подчеркивание заменить точкой, пробелы убрать.
The orange muzzle of the gun lowered slowly. Galvatron had been standing here, holding the seeker at gunpoint, for almost an astrocycle. The throne room resembled a waxworks exhibition: no one was moving, venting, or even blinking. Few managed to process what had just happened and even fewer of them recognized their ex-Leader, Megatron, underneath that purple chassis.
Few of them had recognized him thanks to those little traits of his features which usually escaped conscious notice. His step, gestures, words, his stare, his smirk… All of it came to Starscream in a flash and he knew instantly... which is why he didn't even try to defend himself. Even if he tried, he knew he wouldn't succeed; Galvatron would open fire before he could even think of making a move.
"Take him to the brig. Now."
No one dared disobey the direct order. It was simply unthinkable: Galvatron radiated raw, primitive rage. He acted upon his basic programming without realizing what he was doing. Cyclonus walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Galvatron didn't even stir, yet he visibly calmed down. Starscream ground his dentae: a sudden pang of jealousy (or anger?) left a slightly stinging ache in its wake.
The next days became a nightmare for the Seeker. He had been thrown into a narrow cell where he couldn't turn without scratching his wings. It was dark, cold, and silent. All he could hear was the anxious beeping of his energy-level sensors and the mad laughter, the curses or the shouts coming from neighboring cell. And it would have been pitch dark if not for the little red lights of the surveillance cameras. Starscream had never considered himself a "wuss" or a "wimp", but he felt a growing unease. He didn't know what the reason was. Think of it, it was probably the fuel shortage or the unpleasant neighborhood. The jet tried hard not to think about Galvatron or Megatron and, above all, about what awaited him.
Megatron was… He just was. Megatron was always there and Starscream was always beside him, as his air commander, his second in command, and also his lover. Not a beloved. A lover. Once upon a time there had been a strong attraction between them – it had risen and grown, but they had killed this feeling themselves, without allowing it to further develop. They murdered it with gunshots, exploding cities, drowned it in their enemies' energon. They were the High command, they had started this war, and they had no right to love.
Perhaps this was why he was seeking revenge on Megatron. Once, Starscream had tried to be faithful, he had tried to support his Leader in everything. Until he had realized that Megatron had begun to take his presence for granted. If Starscream was around or not – that was negligible for the Leader. All those warm feelings Megatron had drowned out with the War. That's when hatred had slowly started seeping into the Seeker's Spark until it flared there, fueled by bitterness, hurt, lack of attention. But why now... why this time? Why exactly that time, when the Prime had been killed and victory was within their reach? Maybe, he got afraid of what would happen after the victory? That Megatron would get absolute power and he, Starscream, would not be needed anymore. But why didn't he give his Wingmates a chance? Could it be that... that they had looked too much like him? Could it be the reason, really? All of this seemed to be a nightmarish delusion.
"If I cannot have you, Megatron, no-one can!" Starscream muttered mulishly. He had wanted to say it for a very long time. To justify himself.
"Don't you dare decide to whom I shall belong." Galvatron slammed his fist into the energon bars. High voltage lightning danced along the purple armor, but the Decepticon paid no heed to it.
Starscream. Starscream. The traitor. The seeker that killed him and therefore created him. The memory modules were glitching more and more. One by one, his memory files came to the forefront of his conciousness. They flashed across his inner vision and sank back into the darkness of his damaged processors. Who was he? What was he? Should he kill the traitor or shouldn't he? Traitors must be destroyed, no doubt. But something was holding him back, wasn't letting him shoot that Seeker on sight. At the same moment, pain flooded his processor. A pain that was strong, unstoppable and which was tearing him in half. Even electric shocks from the energon bars were nothing short of a gentle touch in comparison. No! This source of pain must be eliminated! Then everything will be over and done with. And the orange gun looked again at Starscream's face.
The seeker feared him no more. Over the passing millennia, he had aquired the habit of equivocating and begging on his knee-guards for mercy. Which he always had done. But now he was facing a different transformer. A very different one, in whom he could feel the former Megatron, but couldn't see him.
"Fire it, Master. There is nothing left for me. No Megatron. No Trine. No purpose."
Galvatron howled and fell to his knees, hands clutching the helmet. Starscream recoiled in fright, pressing his back against the wall. There, right in front of him, was a madmech from whom he could expect anything. But…
"Are you in pain, my Master?"
He was NOT his Master. It was of NO importance if he was in pain or not. It WAS just an impulsive reaction.
Blue fingers touched the protrusions on the new Leader's helmet. Starscream was now kneeling right behind the bars, with his hand shoved between them and still barely reaching Galvatron. The purple Decepticon slowly raised his head, catching those scarlet optics riveted on himself.
"Not... anymore." Galvatron did not move, looking at Starscream with a piercing gaze of his own. Trying to find anything familiar in the seeker's dark red optics.
Suddenly, the bigger Decepticon jumped to his feet and, in one swift motion the seeker's fingers slid down, his servo coming in contact with the sizzling energy bars. Starscream shrieked loudly, and leapt away, deeper into the cell. The scream left Galvatron wincing and... smiling, and that smile alone terrified the jet to the core.
Galvatron came every night. Sometimes he just sat there and looked at the seeker. Sometimes he argued with someone invisible. Sometimes he attempted conversing. Soon Starscream got used to the sudden outbursts of rage and learned how to soothe Galvatron. He only needed to touch the purple armor— and the raving Decepticon regained his composure, turning almost normal. At some point, the jet had even begun to recognize that one particular look: a hard, piercing stare of his Leader, promising the entire universe and a slow agonizing death — all at the same time.
"What do you like?"
"Flying."
"What more?"
"Nothing more."
"I said, more!"
"Power. Luxury. Attention. Admiration."
"What kind of mech was Megatron?"
And Starscrean told him. He started from the very beginning. Galvatron listened silently, then stood and walked away without a word. He did not come the next night. And the next. And the next.
The thought of being forgotten was maddening for Starscream. They had even stopped bringing him energon. Gradually, he cut off one system after another, until complete darkness fell upon him. It would have been so much better if Galvatron had shot him.
"Get up! Show me."
Starscream slowly came to his senses. His systems were calibrating and glitched still, his chassis felt uncharacteristically weightless and out of control. He sat up, looking around and pushing away someone's servos.
"...Where am I?"
"In my room. Now show me."
"Show you what?"
"Love."
The seeker went still. Then smirked sadly.
"I don't know what love is."
"You loved Megatron, so you will love me." Galvatron acted like a human brat, who demanded to see a ghost.
"I did not love Megatron."
"Then what did you do? Do the same you'd been doing with him. That will be enough."
"It makes no sense."
"My Master. Call me 'my Master'."
Starscream hugged himself and looked around again. Luxury surrounded him. The lavish berth, finished in real wood, not metal. Crystal druses, holographic pictures, some statues of electrum. Everything... utterly expensive. All utterly tasteless. Apparently, Galvatron hauled in everything he could get a hold on.
"I will, my Master. What exactly should I do?"
"Not so fast. There're still checkmarks to deal with," Galvatron fumbled a bit and fished out a datapad from subpsace. "Erm... the power, the attention and the admiration."
Starscream rebooted his optics in a blink, bewildered. It would have felt right for Galvatron to at least mock him, dismantle him and deactivate him. Surely not to record their conversations with the purpose of implementing the ideas mentioned. But who knows what was running through his processors.
"Well then, the power. I shall allow you to choose for yourself what to do. There, this will be the power. Now, the admiration... the admiration comes later. And the attention… I was attentive enough."
Starscream smiled. A little while later he could not bear it any longer and laughed outright. Galvatron lost his temper that very instant, but the jet grabbed him by the shoulders abruptly, shaking him.
"Oh, My Master! Everything will be the way it should."
If he has to please Galvatron for his own survival — he would do it. After all, his processor was in full order. Which means that, sooner or later, he would get free. After a short Q&A round they found out what Galvatron did remember about interfacing and connections, and the Seeker went straight down to business. The Leader opened up his armor and laid on the berth. Starscream sat on top of him, lips pressing along the broad chestplates, one hand ghosting over the tyrant's shoulders, chest, waist line, hip joints. What a perfect body. Heavy, powerful and hot. And so different. Had Unicron changed Megatron completely, or was some part of him still there?
Starscream slid lower, kissed the smooth thigh and took the connector nozzle between his lips. The connector was a garish orange. The seeker mentally shuddered and turned off his optics. And realized that he still could not make himself do it. Half-raising, the jet slid his own cockpit open.
"Plug in, my Lord."
Galvatron awkwardly plugged his connectors into the seeker's ports and went still — in all probability, he had no clue what to do next. Starscream began to cycle energy through their wires, all the while explaining to Galvatron which kind of energy exchange Megatron preferred. Galvatron listened to him, and repeated each of the seeker's actions obediently. Soon the scarlet optics of the new Decepticon leader flared brighter.
Either Megatron never gave everything he got, or Galvatron turned out to be more powerful, but the impulses this new leader was now sending into the seeker's systems played havoc in them. Starscream was not in pain, but he became completely disoriented and overpowered by Galvatron who began to use the jet's systems as his own. He moved the wing flaps, increased the energy exchange intensity and the systems' resistance simultaneously. It felt as if Starscream was getting rolled under a heavy hydraulic press. His own frame went totally out of his control. The first static discharge rolled off him, from the wingtips down to the engine chamber. The wave hit hard. The jet could not hold it in, he cried out, and that blew Galvatron's processor clean off.
Starscream had never experienced anything like that. The pain, the pleasure, the energy that swelled inside of him to the verge of bursting, the heavy, powerful pressure — all of this swirling together into a tight whirl and spilling out in crackling arcs of electricity. And Galvatron showed no intention of stopping — the power of his capacitors was enough to fuse some of their plugs connectors and ports together and to blow out all the safeguards in Starscream's circuits, thus sending the jet into a cascade reboot. But even a temporary shutdown of the seeker was no hindrance to the tyrant.
Their interfacing lasted several astro-hours. The seeker rebooted, dropped offline and onlined yet again over and over with the sudden pulses piercing through his systems. The exquisite torture by pleasure was both exciting and frightening . A mere astro-second was enough for Galvatron to overload and the tyrant continued, relentlessly.
It was only after another of Starscream's reboot lapse which lasted longer than an astro-minute, that his Leader decided to stop. By then, the flyer's vision had gone very blurry, he couldn't feel his body and was hardly aware of what was happening to him. Spooked, Galvatron dashed around the room, alternating between grabbing his helmet and kicking knick-knacks in his way. It took some time and effort to calm him.
Starscream was falling in recharge with the feeling of another's Spark energy under his palm. In the morning, he was greeted with the sight of energiris, ethereal flowers of Kalis, a couple of energon cubes and a short note sitting beside his berth: "This is the attention and the admiration."
He was not allowed outside, but still, it was way better than a cell. That same evening, Galvatron came back and, as soon as he set foot on the threshold, he ordered the seeker to open his armor.
"Let the interface begin!"
"No, it will not begin, my Master."
"WHAT?!"
"I… cannot do this. Not with that."
"Do you not like the size?" Galvatron opened his armor and looked at his interface unit. It was truly kingsize.
"The size is fine. But I can't!"
"YES YOU CAN!"
"But it is ORANGE! LIKE A CARROT FROM EARTH!" Starscream's voice rose to a shriek. Galvatron flinched, not expecting such a reaction, and peered at his connector again. The observation showed no counter-evidence to such a loud statement.
"So what do I do with this?"
"Repaint it. That's easy."
"Well, I shall repaint it at once. But then interface will happen!"
"Yes, it surely will, my Lord. And one more thing... I wanted to ask you of..."
"WHAT?"
"Can I refurbish this compartment? It is too... luxurious."
"Agreed. And what do you think about the attention and the admiration? Is that sufficient? "
"Quite sufficient, my Master."
Hearing the angry stomping down the hall, Starscream could not help but smile. After all, Unicron had failed to destroy Megatron. His Megatron was still there, deep inside of this unbalanced madmech's Spark. Very deep. But now, it was his footsteps that rang across the hall. And yesterday it was none other than his optics that had gazed down at the seeker.
Turning a corner, Galvatron stopped and leaned against the wall. Deep inside his processors a voice whispered, a very familiar voice. This voice demanded to kill the seeker, then begged not to. Driving the voice away, the Decepticon shook his helmet. He couldn't understand why, every time he looked at Starscream, something flipped inside of him, something that felt a lot like a disgustingly Autobot desire to love.
The End?