He rebooted slowly, a dreamy haze suffusing his systems. It felt good, and Starscream floated contentedly for a moment before his processor spat the same chilling knot of errors as before.
Were there less? He couldn't tell. But now, thinking of Megatron's hands on him, a jolt of heat raced through his interface systems, making his spike twitch in spite of its depressurized state and his valve clench tightly. Whether that meant his old memories had regained some of their color or only showed he'd succeeded in storing new ones, he liked it far better than the emotionless, confused glimmers he'd been barely able to access before.
As his processor cleared - or, better said, cleared as much as it was going to, given the damage - he could feel the sticky wetness of his own transfluid drying against his plating. He grinned, a cheeky little smile. He liked it there. It reminded him of his pleasure - and of the big mech who'd brought him here laboring only to give it to him.
He reset his optics to find himself staring directly at Megatron's spike, a rising sweep of thick gray metal. Fluid glistened at the tip, glowing faintly.
His grin only widened. The obviously pressurized spike only made it more obvious that Starscream had overloaded and Megatron hadn't. You've been holding yourself back all this time. That must be driving you insane.
Especially if you've missed me.
His hand slid down to the rim of his still-uncovered valve, remembering the feeling of Megatron's fingertips against it. Wisps of memory taunted him with the promise of being filled, sensors hidden deep inside him awakening -
Hmm, he thought with a smirk, maybe I do remember some of how it feels.
He circled it lazily, lightly, feeling the wetness of his own lubricant leaking from his equipment. It felt familiar, reassuring and exciting him all at once.
His fingertips stopped at a cluster of especially sensitive sensors near the top. Irising his optics open, he brightened them, staring first at Megatron's still-pressurized spike and then up into the big mech's optics.
Immediately, he felt the weight of Megatron's hand wrapped around his, stopping his movement cold.
"Brazen and greedy." The smirk on the silver face mirrored Staracream's own as Megatron lifted the Seeker's hand up, wrenching it away from Starscream's interface panel. "Or is that impatient?"
Starscream's dark faceplates curled into a scowl and he stared at Megatron's hand over his. He couldn't say he minded being interrupted, not when it clearly meant Megatron doing more with him, but grabbing him like that, as if he had the right -!
"So now what?" he spat, petulant. "You grab me by a wing and drag me into your berth? I'm sure you're tired of waiting."
Megatron chuckled. Starscream shook his head. He was beginning to hate that sound - all over again, if he didn't miss his guess.
"You are the one tired of waiting, Starscream," he said, the static lacing his raspy voice belying his words. Starscream fought not to snicker or sneer, hearing it. Especially since Megatron was letting go of his hand and staring greedily at his open valve.
Realizing Megatron's intent, Starscream laughed, not caring that the big mech heard it. He wrapped his hand around the helmeted head as it lowered.
"You're going to drive yourself mad," he purred, exultant.
The first thing Starscream felt was the press of heated lip plates against his valve. He thought they might have trembled. But that might have been Starscream's own pelvic plates shaking, pressing themselves against the big mech's face.
This wasn't much, yet. Just the feel of metal against metal and the tantalizing curl of Megatron's hands against his hips. He shifted, resisting, just to feel Megatron's grip tighten around him and hold him in place. It did, and Starscream's turbines whirled, his spark crackling with needy, nervous heat.
He felt Megatron's lips part and gasped, canting his hips, waiting, his valve gushing lubricant in response to ghostly touches he'd felt once, someday, before.
Then he felt Megatron's glossa touch the rim of his valve, and the memories blazed to sudden life, all at once.
Megatron's glossa moved on him, careful and deliberate, seeking sensor nodes Starscream himself had forgotten and finding them, unerringly. Starscream's free hand dug hard into the couch beneath him and he felt Megatron's laughter as the big mech's lip plates vibrated, humming through his systems with a light, pleased derision that made Starscream's systems only run hotter.
Starscream panted, his high voice cracking into static. That was the only thing he had left to remember. The sting of something piercing him, the fullness and bite as it stretched him. He could feel the sensor nodes in his valve, dormant for the moment, craving the thing that would force them to life again.
"At least put fingers in me," he snarled, gripping Megatron's head tight.
His answer was a growl that rumbled through the sensitive rim of his valve, and a quick dart of Megatron's glossa inside him, a tantalizing lick that did just enough to stir the sensors there.
He ground his hips hard against the plating of Megatron's face, trying to force the glossa deeper. He whimpered at the feeling, a high, staticky whine.
But it still was nowhere near enough.
"Why?" Starscream's voice was a grating screech. "What do you think you're trying to prove?"
Megatron growled against him and the glossa withdrew entirely. Starscream froze, his processor spinning with thoughts of revenge.
But Megatron apparently wasn't done with him yet. The glossa extended again, laving the cluster of sensors on the rim of Starscream's valve.
Heat flared through Starscream's systems. He cursed, howling and shaking his head, half craving the pleasure he felt building in his systems and half wanting to will the overload away until Megatron took him properly, damn it.
But Megatron growled against him again, and he felt strong arms grip at his hips, forcing him to stillness as the glossa moved against him, pitiless despite its seeming gentleness. Signals zipped through his sensornet, inexorable and real and alive, and he ground hard against Megatron's lip plates, wanting more, faster, now.
He felt Megatron's grip tighten again, as greedy as he felt, and the overload crashed over him before he could remember to fight it.
###
"Get up," rasped Megatron, the scratchy voice cutting through Starscream's post-overload relaxation.
His optics flickered in irritation. He wanted more, yes, and he wanted it now. But he didn't want to move to get it.
And why should he, anyway? Megatron had held back while he brought Starscream to overload twice. Surely all he could manage would be to plunge into Starscream's waiting valve, already slick from their earlier activities.
Pain flared in his wing. He felt the metal buckle and dent as a hand tightened around it, pulling him up. Strangely enough, it almost felt good, a sharp spike of intensity playing counterpoint to the lazy spell of his pleasure.
Had Megatron intended that? Some distant part of Starscream's mind told him he shouldn't be surprised. But all the same, if those strong hands tensed any harder, the haze filtering through his systems wouldn't be enough to transmute it.
And Megatron had threatened to drag him inside.
Long before he'd spent cycles tending to Starscream's pleasure and neglecting his own.
So far, this little session had certainly shown that the big mech could be patient. What happened when that patience ran out?
Starscream's wing shook nervously. The grip clenching it tightened, pitiless and inescapable as a vise. Agony lanced through Starscream's sensor net and he howled loud enough to see Megatron wince.
He allowed himself only an astrosecond to gloat.
"Let go, you overgrown fool!" he yelped, forcing his wing to stillness in the hopes it would calm his tormentor down. Or hurt less, anyway. "It's not like I'm not going to follow you!"
His petulant promise to follow was rewarded with a rich, rolling chuckle and just enough slack in the grip on his wing to cool the burn there to a slow simmer. His valve spasmed in some combination of greed and aftershock
He let the big mech haul him up, moving just enough to catch his legs under him and take most of his own weight. The casual strength in Megatron's massive shoulder, grabbing him like a toy or doll, set his spark whirling with some emotion that felt half like fear and half like urgency.
He craned his neck, trying to tilt his head far enough to get a good look at Megatron, the cabling in his neck tensing as it stretched. No doubt that massive spike was still fully pressurized, aching from the long wait.
Starscream wasn't sure which he wanted more: the sight of such obvious evidence that the mighty gladiator wanted him, or the opportunity to look from that obvious evidence to its owner's optics and offer his most contemptuous grin, knowing that all of Megatron's vaunted self-control had only fueled his need.
###
If possible, the recharge area was even plainer than the main room. As before, the tiles of the wall gleamed gray, and as before, light shone from strips on the walls and ceiling. These were especially bright, bathing the room with an incandescent, orange glow, and the tiles of the far wall were reflective. Starscream preened as Megatron half-led, half-dragged him in.
His reflection looked strange. He'd noticed it before, catching sight of unfamiliar curves and angles of his plating. And was it his imagination, or did the glass over his chest plate look like it was on a hinge that could - open? He queried his databanks and discovered that yes, for some strange reason, he could shift it aside if he liked.
Why he would do that, he had no idea yet. The thought sent a shudder of disorientation through him, tainted with a faint echo of disgust and a twinge of sensory memory. Had he had some kind of parasite - in there? He shivered again, so hard that Megatron mistook it for eagerness and curled his fingertips into the plating of Starscream's wing, sending a flurry of sensory signals through the aching metal of the wing.
Starscream moaned at that, watching his own optics glitter with want in the mirror.
Like everything else, the berth was spare, but Starscream noticed with avid approval that it was also large.
He was in the middle of contemplating whether or not it would be comfortable when he felt strong arms lift him and deposit him on its surface, roughly enough that the impact thudded through his back and wings.
He squirmed, half in fury and half in desire.
Above him, Megatron's optics burned, twin pinpricks of bright flame. The thick silver spike jutted out from his pelvic plating. Fluid dripped from the tip. Starscream stared, licking his lips, wondering what it tasted like. He'd known once, he was sure of that, and hints of the memory taunted him, faint blips of sensory data flickering through his processor.
I want - he thought, but Megatron already had his hands around Starscream's hips and was pulling him to the edge of the berth, his silver mouth closed tight with concentration, save for a tiny smirk tugging at one edge.
Starscream shuttered his optics. He thought of resisting, simply because he could, but the dark hands pulled him effortlessly and there was nothing he could have done about it anyway. And even the satiation of two overloads, one after the other, did nothing to dull the intensity of his need. His valve clenched hard, furious to find itself empty. He spread his legs wide, spitting a curse at Megatron for not going faster still.
Then the hands on him moved, wrenching his thighs apart further, the sting in his joints racing through his sensornet like a sudden strike of lightning. He grabbed at the edges of the berth, clenching tight, as he felt the blunt weight of Megatron's spike pressed against the rim of his valve.
He rocked his hips, wanting Megatron to hurry, and succeeded in doing nothing but pressing his sensors against it, the flurry of sensation making him whimper.
He felt Megatron grab at his hips again. The big mech chuckled once, his optics flaring as he stared down at his prize.
Then, with one great thrust, he drove himself to the hilt into Starscream's waiting valve.
Starscream threw back his head and wailed as Megatron entered him, the hidden sensors lining his valve ablaze all at once as the thick spike stretched and filled him. Even he could never imagine feeling so much, his valve shifting around its invader, his frame itself opening and opening -
Maybe I can't, he thought suddenly, pushing back onto the spike invading him and whimpering anew as Megatron drove into him, the hands at his hips pushing him onto the thick spike all the harder.
His spark pulsed heavy and overfull, his processor filling with images, touches, invasions, brutal pleasures overlaid one over the other until he shook his head, overwhelmed.
He looked up at Megatron, staring at the bright light in the gladiator's optics. Maybe - maybe I'm remembering what it was like before.
That thought made him reach up to touch Megatron's abdomen, feeling the heat there, the faint vibration of the motors tucked inside the big mech's powerful frame.
His hand curled around Megatron's side, as possessive as the spike inside him.
I remember you.
He opened his mouth wide and laughed, a trilling giggle that ended in a plea.
A hand moved to his wing. He gasped out encouragement again, his vocalizations laced with static.
This time Megatron wasn't gentle. The big hand wrenched at an aileron, grabbing and twisting. Starscream shrieked, but somehow by the time the scream had left his mouth he felt only pleasure, a fierce consuming fire, and the throb he felt in the dented plating was a thousand memories flickering to life inside his processor.
And the ache it would leave him with would be proof of a new memory, stored and safe where no one could take it from him.
"Harder, you fool," he hissed, wanting his valve to ache the way his wing did, so that after Megatron was done, even the hidden parts deep inside him would bear witness to what had happened tonight.
Megatron wasn't vulgar enough to laugh out loud as his partner had. But Starscream could feel it, all the same, a thrumming rumble from deep within the big mech's frame as he drove into Starscream full force, heedless of the damage it might do to the thin lining of the Seeker's valve.
Starscream spread his legs wider, the metal of his valve shifting to better admit Megatron as the hand moved on his wing again, fisting tight, the knuckles digging hard into the dents.
You're close, Starscream thought, his spark whirling with triumph at the proof of how badly Megatron wanted him.
Then Megatron rammed into him, too forcefully even for his fully open valve, and he keened, wild and mad, not sure whether it was pain or pleasure setting every sensor in his valve ablaze. His vision fuzzed again, this time not with static but with white, consuming light. He gritted his dental plates, holding back, willing himself not to let go until Megatron came inside him, washing his burning insides clean.
He felt the thick spike freeze inside him, still enough that he could feel every sore spot in the inside of his valve ache, a dull throbbing pain. He shuttered his optics and whimpered.
"Please -"
With a rumbling roar, Megatron slammed into him one final time. Hot fluid burst free from the spike inside him, a balm and a promise and a benediction.
The white light burst before his optics, a flame scouring him clean.
I remember you, he thought again, losing himself, knowing spark-deep it wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.
###
"Starscream."
There was no indulgence in the voice. No consideration for his weariness. Or for the cold chill in his processor as he hit that block of errors, by now at once familiar and terrifying.
Or for the soreness in his wing and valve.
"Megatron," he growled, flicking his wings in irritation and hissing at the pain. What was it he'd been thinking about wanting this brute to damage him again? Right now those "mementos" he'd so desperately wanted felt like falling apart.
He slid into a half-sitting position, wincing exaggeratedly. "Isn't it early, even for you?"
The words came out laced with bitter static. Half because he suspected that it wasn't, and half because the gaping hole in his memory meant suspecting was all he could do.
"I have an army to lead," Megatron answered.
Oh yes, that, Starscream thought, all the more annoyed for not remembering much of that either. He still remembered flame, and flying, raining death and destruction down on mechs on the ground, some running, some driving. He bit his lip plates to keep himself from retorting aloud. He didn't mind irritating Megatron, of course, but being too flippant about war wasn't wise.
Not when Megatron's enemies were his enemies, and his enemies were the ones who'd done this to him. He had revenge to take.
Megatron regarded him coldly, no expression at all on the silver face. Starscream twitched his wings, regardless of the dents. A mocking smirk would at least have been an acknowledgment of what had passed between them, of how intense it had felt -
He snickered at himself. We do this all the time. Why should he even notice?
But the chilled feeling that made his spark seize in indignation wasn't the idea that Megatron hadn't felt the same way he had.
It was the thought that Megatron had felt all of it, exactly as he had, and wasn't acknowledging it for some reason of his own.
How often have I recharged here, in his quarters? Starscream thought suddenly, violently, jolted by an insistent need to know the answer to that question.
It was a stupid question - wasn't it? They'd been berthmates for a very long time. Of that, he was certain now. The shadowy, sensual echoes of black hands and scarred silver at the edges of his mind stretched back hundreds of vorns. That much of the data, he could access, faint hints like peripheral vision.
And if they had been berthmates for that long, surely he'd recharged here. Surely.
Hadn't he?
Something cold seized at his spark, contracting it tight, at the thought that he didn't know. That there was more than a hole in his memory.
He wondered why he cared. He'd had never been particularly interested in anyone's trust. Not unless he could use it for something. Why should it matter whether Megatron trusted him? He had what he wanted, and he hadn't needed the big mech's trust to get it.
Still, that feeling churned through his spark, cold and unsettling. And Megatron certainly wasn't helping. He stood still as a statue or a drone, something built of lifeless metal, only the burning optics hinting at life.
Starscream studied him, scowling. His plating, though dented in places and pitted with scars, gleamed, pristine, no stains or smears of paint hinting at what had passed between them.
Starscream looked at the light caught in the scratches and licked his lips, brazen and blatant. If Megatron didn't want to admit what he'd just been doing, well, Starscream had no qualms about throwing it right back in his faceplates.
"An army. Of course." He twitched his dented wing, slowly and unmistakably, gasping at the pain, so loudly there was no way for Megatron to miss it. "How foolish of me to forget."
"And you," Megatron went on, "have a medical team to meet with."
The frozen lip plate shifted, and Starscream's spark flooded with warmth and relief to see the easy, amused contempt on that severe face again. "If you've fully rebooted after your recharge, I suggest you find your way to the washracks."
His gaze swept over Starscream, taking in the dents his hands had left, the transfluid and energon and lubricant smearing Starscream's glass and thighs and valve, still uncovered and obscenely open.
"Unless you want to go before the medics looking like that," the big mech finished.
Starscream laughed, rising to his feet with languorous slowness. Mockery laced with obvious lust, he understood.
That, he could easily handle.
"Oh, but shocking them would be so much fun, mighty Megatron," he called over one shoulder, already crossing the room.