Title: Instinct

Author: Eiseedoesit

Rating: M

Pairings: Predaking/Megatron; Optimus/Ratchet

Warnings: Mpreg

Special thanks to: Andromeda Prime, Jeegoo and most of all Kem. Kem who through her diligence melted my cold heart towards Opt/Ratch, and through one very long convo spearheaded what started as a drabble into a full-blown fic 3 What will I ever do without these 3? ^_^


He never expected this. Not for a second in his long, arduous lifecycle did he ever entertain the thought that he, Megatron, Slag-maker, Lord of the Decepticons, would ever carry.

And the thought that the sire would be a creature long believed to be extinct... the notion in itself sounded like a complete lunacy. Such things were born of careless whims of thought, a flash of wild imagination. An image for laughs.

And at times, when the world was still and silent, Megatron would do just that. Laugh.

For that's what should be done, right? For what else could he do? The sparkling within him, already full and prominent as a gentle mound, had come too close to his spark to terminate.

The carrying protocols had corrupted him. They still did, and they would continue to until the day either he or the sparkling expired. His frustrations faded out, replaced by the bits of data that told him of the sparkling he nourished, of the sparkling's movements, wants, and needs. The protocols overrode the codes so deeply ingrained in him. His focus shifted,his memories and desires blurred until they bled together in his mind. It was disorienting, terrifying. The moment he realized his willing submission...that terrible instant where he welcomed the beast's advances struck fear through the core of his choatic spark. Control was always the greatest measure of power for him. But now even that faded. His servos were open, ready to give and receive what the sire of his sparkling demanded on him.

It was humiliating. How could one night, drunken and dark with high grade and loneliness, lead to this unexpected life within? He remembered it more that he dared to admit, knew enough to acknowledge his part in it. The beast had taken him, how many times that night Megatron could not remember.

What he did know was that he never resisted. Not even when Predaking took him so violently he tore and bled. Not even when his valve, thighs, and berth were coated by the Predacon's transfluid. Not even when their sparks met in the burning air, bare, raw, and wrought with anger and fury.

It wasn't the heat of pleasure or even comfort that they shared. It was something else, something dark, sad, and distant. Far from love yet necessary just the same.

Megatron didn't understand it then, why he didn't protest Predaking's advances. Nor did he understand it now.

A deep, impatient growl rumbled from behind him. Hot, wet, breath rushed against his neck, the thrill of it spreading across his back.

The Decepticon warlord remained still as he rested on his side, both arms trying to cover the swell of the sparkling so peacefully sleeping. His heavy frame was slack and motionless even as the body lying beside him stirred. And what a formidable body it was, massive, strong, solid, large enough to encompass his frame. It unnerved him the first time he saw it, towering and looming over him and his mechs. Now he was almost grateful for it. It was a steady source of heat, a shield against the cold that cast a constant shadow to hide in. But such things he could never admit.

His optics opened slightly, still hazed from slumber. The floor of his berthroom was dark, eerie streaks of ghostly light glimmering on the metal. There were stains still there from their last coupling mere hours ago. And Megatron shuddered to realize that it did not repulse him. A gasp left him, shallow and rolling as he felt the predacon pull him closer, sighing at the hot, sticky breath salivating against his neck, leaning into the greedy claws exploring the seams of his carrying frame.

Megatron said nothing. He never did. It was Predaking's duty as sire to the sparkling to supply his lord with enough transfluids to ensure a safe gestation. And the beast was more than eager to fulfill that responsibility.

"My Lord…"

Predaking's digits traced the line of his master's jaw, caressing downwards to the neck cables that pulsed beneath his breath. A thick tongue, wet and hungry, swept along that strong, silver neck, lapping up the coolant that misted between them. Predaking bit down gently. Even then Megatron could feel his own spark-beat emanating, thumping against each bite.

We are both killers.

The fact was always present, yet instead of retreating Megatron opened himself more, shifting to grant Predaking the access he sought. How many sparks were crushed by those claws? How many optics did he see fade as heat fled from the husks of his former enemies?

The predacon's servo swept quickly over his chassis, his spark flaring when for a brief moment, Predaking pressed against the Decepticon sigil.

And this.

Megatron's breath hitched as the massive claw inched down, cupping the swell of his belly

This newspark will be a killer as well. Fierce. .

It was ironic really, how the new life buried within was brimming with violent, battle-yearning coding. Not even sparked and already the sparkling was destined to inflict death.

The warmth of the predacon's servo against his abdominal plates was strangely comforting, yet the longer it lingered the more restless the field around them became, stirring and burning with energy.

Predaking's fingers slid down, slowing brushing against the hot, straining panel.

"Open,"

The command was low, a growl against Megatron's face.

The warlord obeyed, his panel sliding back, his legs spreading was a timid move, one that did not seem to satisfy the predacon.

"Let me assist you," Predaking's deep voice trembled against his neck, "My liege,"

Megatron's intakes drew heavy, hard breaths as the Predacon's digit slowly dipped into his valve. His legs parted further at the touch, though the motion didn't ease the pain.

"You are tight. Hot," The voice whispered above him, "As always, Lord Megatron."

Those digits pressed deeper in, sliding against the thick folds.

The silver mech turned away as Preadking's lip plates came down on his face. Instead, the beast kissed his broad shoulder, nipping and licking along his back. The predacon was patient, incredibly so. And his slow, soft kisses sent uneasy shudders down Megatron's spine. Just as his fingers spread shock and pleasure through his valve, drawing out thick, viscous fluids with each twist and turn.

Megatron's servos dug against the metal floor, his breath hitched and heavy. His optics closed, mouth tight and drawn in as he kept himself composed.

Predaking's digits curled inside him. He gasped, the sound louder than he feared, his voice fading into a wail, then a sigh.

"That's it. Come my Lord. It will ease our joining," Predaking slid his fingers along the folds, digging against the sensitive nerves, "Wet for me."

Megatron's spark twisted, tight and burning from the gentle motions. It was a luxury he was rarely given.

Heavy smoke, suffocating hallways, crooked cells littered with the broken and dying. The strike of the slaver's whip and the stench of exposed innards. The quick flare as blazing sparks feathered into wisps of light, cold and still by the crush of his servos. Those were the gifts of Kaon. And gentleness did not survive there.

How could it be then, that he would receive such gentleness from a creature more savage than anything that vile city could spew out of the pits? And it unnerved Megatron, this biting uncertainty on where this gentleness was born from.

Instinct. He told himself constantly. It was nothing but instinct. Just the creator protocols to protect the carrier and promote the survival of the newspark. Nothing more.

And this willingness, this Primus-damned urge to open himself…

Instinct.

His optics rolled back, vocalizer straining as Predacon's hot mouth grazed along his outstretched neck cables.

Just instinct.

His faceplates flushed, his vents releasing a huff of strangled breath.

"You, my Lord-"

Predaking's voice rumbled all around him. The larger mech leaned down, kissing the side of the silver mech's rugged mouth.

"Are most generous," Predaking's spark was burning, scorching. Megatron could feel the heat of it spreading through the back of his armor.

And he could feel his own life force responding to it, twisting and smoldering, so full and aching he feared it would burst.

He was rolled carefully on his back. The great beast was above him, those large claws spreading his knees apart, slipping andtracing the path of the leaking fluids back to where they seeped from.

His intakes hitched, strangled and uneven as Predaking's breath fell heavily against his face.

It should have repulsed him. A small part of him, tucked deep inside in spark, still was. The rest of him however, only reached out to bring the predacon down against his aching body.

"I will not harm you,"

Megatron laughed, the sound bitter and cold. The beast did not mind, did not know that his words mirrored a promise made and broken by another long ago.

Megatron replied by turning away from Predaking's attempt at a kiss. The predacon settled on kissing along the silver mech's neck cables instead. Megatron responded fervently, shutting his optics as his legs spread further at the predacon's touch.

As the spike slipped slowly inside his entire frame shuddered, fright and excitement coursing through him. He lifted his hips, wrapping his legs around the predacon's waist as much as he could and meet each thrust with a cry of deep pain and raw pleasure.

Instinct

The lord of the Decepticons shook as he focused on the word, blaming it for how he trembled and fell into Predaking's every motion and kiss.

All instinct.

The memory of Optimus...of Orion Pax crept into his consciousness.

Of how careless they both were before. How passionate and thoughtless they were in the blind love they held for each other.

The memories left him empty, starving…

Predaking tore him again. Megatron begged wordlessly for more, writhing even as he bled. The pain would make him forget. And Megatron, the great lord of the Decepticons, wanted nothing more than to forget.

Instinct

Megatron gasped, cursing and crying as he slammed his body against Predaking, reveling in the raw, blind agony. He felt a gentle claw cradle the swollen belly. Such an odd gesture for a beast so violent and sparkless. Yet he welcomed it just the same.

Protocols. Programing. Carrying cycle. Siring drives.

A brilliant flash of blue filled the darkness.

Let me feel it.

He felt Predaking's mouth along side his face, kissing him roughly, possessively. Megatron turned away, riding the sire of his unborn sparkling til all that encompassed him was searing pain and shooting pleasure.

Let me forget...


"You know how to make up for lost time Optimus."

The Prime was pulled away from his memories. He looked down at the smaller mech, smiling gently as his sparkmate's servos spread across his chassis. They laid tangled on the ground, the dim lights overhead flickering silently as they touched each other's frames. The distance apart had taken it's toll. And that tension and yearning all but burst as soon as Optimus entered the base once more. And by Primus, of all the welcomes and greetings he received, this was by far the best.

"We need to rest," Optimus said, "Especially you."

He took his mate's hand and kissed it softly, the warm sensation filtering through both of them. He felt a tug on their bond, a wave of desire and affection.

"I need more of you."

Skilled fingers touched his spike. He moaned into a kiss as his mate stirred him in every sense, his spark beating furiously at the careful, deliberate caress.

"Ratchet…"

"Will you deny me now?"

The Prime glanced as his servo brushed over the medic's abdominal plating. The swell was there, small but undeniable. His spark soared as Ratchet laughed.

"The sparkling will be safe."

Ratchet leaned back, allowing his legs to fall apart, the scent of his heat and need drawing Optimus in.

"You trust me on that?" Ratchet said, smiling as Optimus' massive frame inched closer to him.

"On everything,"

Optimus kissed him, the motions slow and sweet. The memories of Megatron fled from him, the coldness of it vanishing from the heat of the mate in his arms.


TBC if interest persist. Please read and review :)