The look on Starscream's face when he entered Megatron's office, the Lord Protector mused, ought to be illegal.
Anticipation, happiness, pride, wariness, lust, mischief, and just the slightest touch of fear all expressed themselves clearly on the Air Commander's delicate, perfectly crafted features, and the end result was stunning. Megatron had entered recharge remembering Starscream whimpering and arching into his digging claws, and come online remembering Starscream writhing beneath him as he pinned the Seeker down by resting his weight on his wings; he had come to his office and found a new chair replacing the one he'd accidentally landed on and that brought to mind the state of mind he'd been in when he'd smashed it, specifically so over-pleasured that he hadn't noticed the chair until afterwards. And now Starscream was here, standing to his usual flawless attention and looking at Megatron with ithat/i expression, and Megatron was lucky he didn't have anything that desperately needed to get done right now because there was no way in the Pit he'd manage to concentrate on anything besides Starscream.
Cancel that---he did have something that desperately needed doing right now. Starscream.
The Lord High Protector, whatever else anyone might say of him, was no procrastinator.
"Come here," he said rather curtly, rounding the desk to meet the other mech halfway. Starscream did as ordered, twisting lithely out of ramrod-straight attention to smoothly move towards Megatron; Megatron reached out with no warning and yanked the Air Commander's chestplates apart, pulled him closer, and ground their sparks together with all the strength he had.
Starscream keened at the top of his vocalizer, shuddering, wrapping his arms tightly around his commanding officer, and collapsed against Megatron, leaving the stronger mech to hold them both up while he scraped his smooth burnished faceplates against the Lord Protector's sharper ones.
Overload quickly overtook them both; neither of them noticed when they hit the floor.
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In the office directly below the Lord High Protector's, three academy students were interrupted from glaring death rays at each other by a shuddering crash from above.
The smallest of the assembled mechs looked up dispassionately, and then back down, the tiniest hint of amusement visible if one looked hard. His brother, slightly larger, looked up and grinned wickedly. The third student, antagonistically facing his smaller classmates, shifted his optics toward the ceiling with very little change in expression.
The instructor behind the desk didn't bother to look---he'd heard significantly more last night, and the only interest he had in the situation was the possibility that the ceiling would collapse. He hoped it would; if the Lord High Protector and his lover crashed through the floor, he could go off to the shooting range and blow things up while the place was repaired. He debated weakening the ceiling with a well-placed laser bolt or three to up the odds of that happening.
Until then, however, he had students to discipline. He slammed both cannon-laden arms down onto his desk to regain their attention, and was faced in a nanosecond with a slightly apologetic but otherwise expressionless look from the smallest student, a vastly amused smirk from his partner in crime, and a glare of utmost loathing from their larger adversary. Business as usual.
He managed to get about a third of the way through his mostly hypocritical lecture about how fighting was wrong when he was interrupted, loudly this time, by more caterwauling from above, at a volume which actually surpassed last night's concert from the same source. He wondered who the Lord High Protector was interfacing with, and whether he could drop a hint that they keep it down without getting his head removed from his shoulders. Blast it, Prowl was the only student he'd had in a vorn who didn't roll his optics or smirk upon hearing lectures against fighting from the most cannon-happy 'bot on Cybertron, and Prowl didn't get into trouble that often; why'd Megatron have to spoil it today?
He continued over the racket, noticing another two sentences in that he'd lost the attention of his other students, the larger of whom had returned to giving the ceiling the same hateful glare that he gave everything else. Barricade, meanwhile, was technically looking at him but Ironhide was fairly sure that most of his attention was up a floor. The warrior-in-training wasn't looking amused at the concept of Ironhide lecturing against fighting, so either he was paying more attention to Megatron's highly-audible sex life than he was to what Ironhide was saying or he was simply tuning Ironhide out. Knowing Barricade, however, it was undoubtedly the former.
A scream that was most certainly not the Lord High Protector echoed from above; Prowl winced, Barricade shivered, and Ironhide, frustrated, dropped his lecture in mid-sentence to inform Prowl and Barricade they were dismissed, then sat down and went back to his paperwork, leaving the oblivious Bonecrusher still scowling up at the ceiling wishing its painful demise. The weapons instructor turned part-time military advisor bit back a laugh at the prospect of night falling and himself going home before Bonecrusher noticed he could go. It would serve the hateful little slagger right.
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Megatron woke Starscream up with the shockstick, applying it none-too-gently to the Seeker's right wing. Starscream shot out of recharge with a speed rivaling that of sound and a sound that was decidedly gratifying to the Lord Protector---but Megatron's amused delight at that was suddenly interrupted, in the manner that a trickle of water might be interrupted by a flash flood, at what he'd missed noticing when he'd gotten the idea.
Starscream, lying flat on his back, was unable to move without pressing himself further into the shockstick.. He was held prisoner by his own wing, which was held fast to the floor of Megatron's office by the shockstick, whose intense charges Starscream was also unable to escape; any attempt to move would force Starscream's wing harder against the shockstick and increase the powerful sensations, and that in turn would make it harder if not impossible for Starscream to make his body cooperate enough to get free---and meanwhile the intense mix of pain and pleasure the shockstick produced would be even more powerful---a fitting self-performing punishment (reward?) for trying to get away.
The implication surged through Megatron's processors like he'd jammed the shockstick into his own CPU, and his charge level skyrocketed as though he'd pressed the thing into his spark. He settled for pressing it harder against Starscream, arcing it across the wing, keeping the Seeker pinned firmly to the floor. The delightful irony of the Air Commander being kept on the ground by his wings caused another spike in Megatron's charge level that put him on the verge of overload. Again. Already.
Primus, this was fun.
Speaking of imminent overload, Starscream was probably almost there as well, having likely come to the same realization about his position and the consequences of trying to escape, and, knowing Starscream, gotten off on it.
Megatron twisted the shockstick, caressing the wing almost gently while dialing up the intensity slightly, and realized that Starscream was begging, pleading, screaming, and had been for some time now. Probably to be let free of the shockstick's influence, although none of the noises he produced resembled coherent speech enough for Megatron to be quite certain.
The Lord Protector calmly shifted the shockstick to the other wing; Starscream shot up the instant it came off the first wing and retreated back to a prone position just as fast when it contacted the other. Megatron scanned his subordinate's systems, watching the charges build up towards overload . . . almost . . . almost . .
Megatron removed the shockstick just as Starscream's charge level was about to hit critical.
The frustration, need, and fury present in the garbled electronic scream the Seeker emitted were music to Megatron's audios, and he stepped back and purred, reveling in his own near-overload as much as Starscream was frustrated over his. He sat back lazily in his chair, appreciating the pleasing spectacle of his beautiful Seeker writhing on the floor, and offlined his optics for a second, relishing the sound of him.
Mistake.
There was a split-second whine of jet engines; something crashed into him and he found himself flat on his back, the chair crushed under him and the Air Commander on top of him, yanking his chestplates open; the realization that he was suddenly helpless for Starscream to toy with now flashed through his consciousness, and that thought at his current arousal level just barely tipped him over the edge into overload; a nanosecond later he felt Starscream's spark against his own and the universe descended into a mad rush of searing pleasure all the faster and all the harder.
He didn't notice the silence when his audios offlined in self-defense, or feel the nearest leg of his desk crumple when he flailed and hit it; above him Starscream shuddered and he certainly felt both that and the sudden increase in weight that pressed their sparks even harder together. Then the pleasure took both of them offline with their sparks still touching and he slid into blackness and felt nothing, Starscream above him doing the same.
Acting to prevent significant damage, both of their systems brought failsafes into play---a discharge circuit engaged in each massive body and acted as an escape valve for the energy of their sparks; both blue embers faded into inert dormancy, powering down and leaving Megatron and Starscream not in recharge but in stasis lock, the wreckage of Megatron's desk, its contents, and its morning clutter of work all resting on top of them, the shockstick, still activated, crackling slightly next to them on the floor.
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The other leader of Cybertron pressed the doorchime of his brother's office for the fifth time, frowning as he still received no answer. The security scanners and Megatron's support staff both stated plain as day that the Lord High Protector was in his office, but he wasn't answering his internal comm and he wasn't answering his computer and he wasn't answering his door, either. Meanwhile, the paperwork Optimus carried was high priority to the last datadisk and required the Lord High Protector's attention immediately. Finally deciding that he'd waited politely as long as he justifiably could, Prime entered Iacon City's primary override code into the keypad.
