Threshold: PG (sexuality)
Inspired by art by tench. The picture: http : / / tinyurl . com / 8xqaf2l (you will need to remove spaces to access link)
A/N: No specific point in time. Somewhere mid-season, I guess.
There were dozens of eyes, he'll remember that. All of them void of life and soul. Blasphemous things that should not be. All those eyes, filled with blood lust and hunger. They could have easily overpowered him, their shattered fingers itching to tear apart flesh and armor. Nothing but mindless violence and the desire to kill and maim and destroy. The sounds they made were unnatural, those of mechs suffering in the Pit itself. Gaping, drooling maws, untamed beasts lurking in the shadows where their eyes shone best.
Yet, they did not move. Remained in the darkness, lingering, tip-toeing the very edges of obedience and mutiny. It was the will of another that kept them at bay. Their Master, who might have frightened Starscream more than all these monsters. Large, silver talons curled around Starscream's shoulders. Metal dented, and the undead grunted at the mouth-watering sound. Starscream fell slack, his knees buckled, forcing himself to a half-stand. He was terrified, and any attempt to hide his fear, he knew, was utterly in vain. So he did not bother to try.
The heat of Megatron's spark - irradiated with the same mock-lifeforce that fueled these zombies - was pressed to the Seeker's back. Grinding carelessly against armor. Starscream swallowed. He kept his head forward, bowed. Said nothing. The tyrant did not seem to mind, however. Besides the soft grumbles and hum of his systems working overtime, he was equally silent. Rolling against his subordinate as his audience of undead slaves watched, restless, famished. Starscream breathed, his body swaying up against the larger one practically poured over him.
Megatron worked hard circles into his shoulders before hands dropped down twitching arms. Slipped along the Seeker's midsection to grope plating. It shivered beneath his hand. "Your fear," the tyrant whispered hot against the back of Starscream's audiol, "is almost potent." His violet optics flicked up to meet the compliant but uneasy glares of his slaves. "They can smell it. Like wild animals. It's quite a thrill, having such power over their hunger when it is this immense."
Starscream grit his denta. Claws scraped along his hips. Nothing too deep, however. It was then that he realized - Megatron was, in a way, being gentle with him. Very odd, considering their position. It was as if he had no choice in the matter. That if he could not tear his subordinate apart or use violence, he could utilize fear in its place. It was working, too. Starscream wasn't trying to hide his terror, though he made no sound. Occasionally groaned, but not from fear.
One hand slipped up Starscream's chest. Rested against plating that protected his encased spark. It was beating rapidly against its tomb. Thrashing wildly. Megatron's systems flushed and he shivered. His fingers curled, pawed, but Starscream kept armor closed. It might have angered him, but Megatron did not fight. He wasn't forcing, he wasn't demanding, and for a moment, Starscream wondered if this intimate exercise was not entirely done to scare him.
Megatron rested his face to the back of Starscream's helm. "I could rip your spark out," he grumbled, voice full of acid and something indescribable. Flattened digits against the chestplate, to feel more of the pulsing, horrified spark. "I could turn you into one of these." Below, ragged fingers curled around one of Megatron's legs, optics peering with intrigue up at its master. Owlish, fearless, hungry. Megatron's hand retracted from Starscream's chest, and the Seeker clutched a hand to it, as if to protect it. "All your pride, your treachery and your lies - gone. You'd be nothing but a hollow shell, swearing complete, undying loyalty to me. You would not fight with me, and you would gladly die if I so wished it."
Megatron's threat, however, almost felt empty.
Starscream grunted as the spark pushed between his wings. Talons gripped his shoulders, and he was so close to falling. The radiant purple blinding his eyes. The growls and whines of the zombie soldiers growing closer. "Such a fate..." Starscream croaked. Megatron nuzzled his face against the Seeker's helm, optics closed. "... Would be," he swallowed, "worse than... death."
The tyrant grinned. He couldn't help but chuckle. "You never cease to amuse me. Whether you intentionally mean to or not." A purr rumbled in his throat. A howl in the distance. "Perhaps..." He did not finish, however. Reached overload, and energy tainted with the blood of Unicron slipped beneath Starscream's plating. His spark thrummed and he almost collapsed. A hand tightened around him, keeping the Seeker upright. He heard a grunt, and then, one by one, the eyes of the starved creatures disappeared and their inhumane noises fell silent in the distance.
Starscream decided not to ask Megatron what he was going to say before he overloaded. He was positive it was best Megatron never finished.
END
CLOSE TO ROMANCE I GUESS?