Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers characters, robots, environments etc, etc. Any OC, robot or location not recognisable is mine.
Rating and Warning: M for abuse, torture, violence, gore. Sadism. Alcohol like stuff abuse. Drug abuse maybe? OOCness through the roof, OCs here and there, beware. My first real Non-Con ever, scary. Warning may expand in the future.
A/N: No A/N this time.
Beta: Proofread and made less sucky by Francesca Zatnik. Special thanks to you darling!
…- Azure Droplets, Crimson Optics -…
"See? I said it was going to be pretty." Jazz is pleased.
A strong hand grabs the seeker's left leg, lifting it for the hundredth time. His finger traces the new lines on the flyer's ankle. The streaks are finer then the streaks on the broad wings. The emblem is relatively small, but fitting on the long, slender legs. "Good idea." He murmurs, twisting the limb in the light for better inspection. He just as quickly drops it back on the table, continuing to unchain the newest member of the Autobot faction.
The clattering of the chains is only increasing the processor ache of the seeker. He groans pathetically, rubbing his now free hands over his optics. The saboteur is saying something, but that is lost when the Autobot begins to drag the chains over the floor. Their rattling is loud. Starscream off lines his optics, feeling the ache slightly lessens now that they are dark. He concentrates on his venting, trying to ignore the steady burn of his chassis. His wings have been branded on both sides, the appendages throbbing slowly. The burn has spread to his back, all the way across his back strut. Even though both ankles received only a small emblem, his entire legs feel like they are on fire. This torture has probably taken hours, while it could have been done under one. It's not a particular vicious punishment as known of the Autobots, but it was creative.
Jazz himself is in a particularly wonderful mood. Probably very pleased with himself for what he's done. As the seeker follows the saboteur through the confusing maze of the stronghold, limping greatly, the Autobot hums a tune. Actually humming, actually happy. When they pass a small group of other Autobot soldiers they scatter, sheer terror evident in their optics.
If they are afraid of the black and white Autobot when he's in a good mood, Starscream doesn't want to know how he will get when in a foul mood.
What the seeker can tell is that he is being led into the upper parts of the stronghold. The confusing lower corridors have shaken off their cold, eerie feeling of misfortune for a cold, white and unforgiving dread. Where the lower halls were silent, these vestibules are coming to life. There is more screaming from victims, more shouting from their tormentors. There is a soft, steady beat of metal hitting metal resonating, slowly increasing in volume as they near the source. The number of 'trophies' has dwindled in the main halls, but they have grown in gruesomeness. Starscream is starting to miss the body parts stapled and tied to the walls in the lower parts of the establishment. Here in the halls complete carcasses are bound to the walls, horribly mangled, long offline and deformed by the time spend hanging. The flyer looks back down to the spotless ground when they pass another body held up by razor wire and staples.
Had he taken time to look and remember, he would have recognised Longhaul.
They pass a set of doors, screaming coming from the inside, when Starscream is suddenly draws from his thoughts by a ghostly sensation. Azure optics look back over a shoulder vent, but so far he and Jazz are the only ones walking in this hallway. The feeling persists for a moment, and then diminishes when the flyer decides not to dwell on it. After a few silent moments the feeling returns, stronger than before, seeming to come from behind them again. It is truly as if there is another Transformer with them. A fleeting thought of the stalker Autobot Mirage crosses the flyer's CPU, but if he were following them, wouldn't Jazz be alerted? The presence is familiar, but Starscream still can't place it.
A screech sounding too close for comfort draws the flyer from those thoughts, before an even louder cry of pain follows suit, causing the seeker to drop his wings lower in anxiety. The saboteur is undeterred by the wails as he round a corner, barking at the group of Autobots grouping together. Instead of fully throwing themselves out of the way as they should the Autobot flyers actually swoon and huddle even closer, presenting their superior their latest catch. Jazz, completely uncaring he is greatly outnumbered one to five, grabs their leader by a wing and pulls it down, menacing promises flowing from his lips like water. Their wing leader, who Starscream recognizes as Silverbolt fans out his wings and hisses. The other four finally back away, one of them dragging a barely conscious and barely functioning Decepticon with them.
Starscream's optics widen in recognition when they fall on the mangled mess. He doesn't know the 'Con very well, but just seeing anyone he knows here makes the flyer's ember rise with anger. When one of the Aerialbots begins prying on the poor victim's body armor, trying to rip it off Starscream just reacts. The combiner is off and against a wall before he has time to screech with indignity, and their leader is soon kicking and screeching beneath the former Decepticon.
And then… they fall silent.
All of them.
Fireflight stops moving, having scrambled to his knees. The other three flyer's have gone completely silent, their wings dropping and their heads tilting. Jazz, who was looking absolutely murderous just a klik ago, does not remove Starscream from the pinned Aerialbot. Instead he salutes with a proud 'sir!', and Starscream knows Jazz is not saluting him.
Before the former SiC can turn around a powerful hand grabs him by the back of his neck, lifting him to stand straight, his claws shoot at the offending hand in reflex. The sheer power within the crushing grip wrenches a chocked wail from his vocaliser, the fingers of the broad hand wringing with merciless intent. The presence Starscream has felt earlier has returned full blast, and only now he understands who it belongs to.
"That was very low of you, seeker mine." His new bondmate rumbles, pulling the flyer closer to him. Starscream hates, hates, that nickname already. With newfound resentment he begins to struggle, making sure to kick the downed Aerialbot before the Prime pulls him back against himself, the flyer's back touching the larger mech's front. The floored seeker finally gets to his pedes, hissing furiously while he and his mates scurry down the corridor, dragging their now offline victim with them. They promise retaliation; something Starscream doesn't care for.
Hot air brushes over the side of his helm, his new mate leaning in close. "Enough." The deep baritone is accompanied by the sudden impact against the wall, knocking the air out of his vents. The seeker groans, blinking the static away. His ember churns painfully when Optimus presses his larger frame against his, the sudden heat bursting through his circuits in a latent desire to merge again. The flyer hisses and thrashes as much as he can, tanks churning when his ember flares with need for that of the other, in a blatant desire to be one again.
Obviously, the larger mech hadn't expected this reaction. Where he had been angered by his new mate's behaviour, he is now visibly amused and equally affected. He places a large hand above the seeker's cockpit. The sensor nodes under the fingers pop alive, starting to bombard Starscream's processor with notions about how wonderful the brush of digits feels on his heating metal skin. He tries to escape the feeling, to lean away. "We have no time for that now." His mate murmurs, drawing his hand lower and tracing a finger along a transforming seam on the flyer's hip, causing Starscream to shudder with rising arousal. His mate is a tease, pulling away from the seeker and grabbing his wrist, dragging the smaller mech with him. Jazz tags along, practically beaming when his master compliments him for the new brands. The mech's visor is gleaming a distinct red, and he keeps flashing the seeker creepy grins.
The three of them ascend a long set of stairs, entering a part of the stronghold Starscream wouldn't have imagined to fit the tastes of the gruesome Autobots.
White marble stretches from the floors to the high ceiling. The stone is reinforced, able to carry the heavy weight of the Transformers. Their footfalls, the heavy beat of the grounders and the high tapping of the much lighter flyer resonate from the hard walls in a constant echo. Stone pillars strengthen the ceiling, each and every one of them encrypted with the Autobot symbol. At the other end of the grand room is a set of great double doors leading outside. Near their entrance stands Ironhide, thick arms crossed and a dark look on his face. A quirk on the corners of his lips only helps to darken his expression. "You kept 'em waiting." He comments to their lord, and Starscream quickly learns who 'em' are. He hears a crowd go off beyond the double doors outside. He can hear the current SiC of the Autobots speak, earning another wave of cheers.
"It's time for some fun." Jazz speaks up. Now that they are nearing the doors, the roars are growing louder still. The Prime releases his mate's hand, brushing the same hand over the seeker's face when Starscream pulls a confused expression. He can see the victorious grin behind the facemask, he doesn't like it.
Prowl speaks up one more time, taking a moment's pause as the Autobot overlord steps through the grand doors, drawing a loud roar of his subordinates. "My fellow Autobots…" Starscream casts his optics to the ashen floor, realising this speech is probably just the beginning. The seeker vents a quiet sigh. It has been so long since he last felt this utterly hopeless. "The Decepticon filth has been eradicated." The Prime receives more cheers. Eradicated. There really has come an end to the war. The Decepticons had been fighting a losing battle for so long, but although Starscream had known the end was coming, it felt unreal to have it thrown in his face like this.
Megatron has been gone for weeks – he just disappeared.
Another ghost of a sensation runs over the seeker's frame; one of warm, rich energon and oil dripping down his claws. The flyer shudders the feeling away, feeling nauseous even though his tanks are empty. He and Megatron had never been on the best of terms, both pigheaded and proud, but the silver gladiator had always been a Decepticon first. He had given them a reason to fight, and hadn't given up even in the final days of the war. It was in Megatron that the Decepticons found the leader they needed. To have lost him like this, without a chance to even aid their Commander as he was butchered by the Autobot overlord was a harsh blow dealt to all of them.
Megatron had lost contact with Soundwave when the bombs were dropped on the Decepticon stronghold. The towers toppled and collapsed, taking the communication with other hiding places and bunkers of the 'cons with them. For all Starscream knows, the stoic mech is offline as well. A shame and a loss, Soundwave was a good mech, even if he kept to himself and showed no emotion whatsoever. He only seemed to care for his own six creations, but he was loyal to Megatron. If their TiC has been offlined as well, there is no one next in line to take command over the Decepticons. From those who are left anyway.
There is no link with his trine. It is as if it blocked from both their ends. It is said that when a trine member dies a flyer will know by the pain in their ember, but Starscream hasn't felt any pain yet. Perhaps Thundercracker and Skywarp are still alive. They were out on patrol when the bombs were dropped. In the chaos Starscream has lost them. It could have been because of his bonding with Prime that the pain is quelled. With his trine dead, he has lost next to everything.
"Those who are enslaved will…" The seeker turns his head over his shoulder. His optics darken in anger when they fall on the twins. Sunstreaker catches his gaze and makes a crude gesture, while his twin doesn't move at all. Bumblebee is standing off to the side, almost hiding behind one of the pillars. He has been staring at Starscream, just staring, and the seeker can see the wheels and cogs turning in his little head. The bot may be very small, he is also one of the more violent ones. Where other bots are cruel on a continuous level, Bumblebee remains to himself but can explode in a fit of rage and violence. The small bot suddenly tenses and presses himself against the pillar when Jetfire walks past him. They have no immediate quarrel with each other, but if the large former isn't pleased with the way you look at him, he will come after you and the results are never pretty. The giant fans out his wings, looking even bigger then he already is - more intimidating then he already is.
When Starscream turns his head further he sees who it is the giant is glaring at. Ratchet is standing on the other side of the room, openly challenging him, taunting him, trying to get any kind of reaction out of the larger bot. As Starscream sees it, there will be a day when one of them will kill the other, and it will be a slow and painful death.
Hound is standing close to First Aid. Rumour goes they are bonded, but it may be just that. Red Alert is standing close to Ironhide, Mirage and Jazz, just as intent as everyone else in the room to listen to the speech of their overlord. Almost every high ranking officer of the Ark, the largest Autobot battle ship, is present in this room.
The seeker is pulled out of his thoughts, literally, when Jazz grabs him by the upper arm again. He is a little surprised when the other Autobots move as well. "We are entering an era of glory." The Autobots press through the open double doors and onto a grand balcony. The flyer's optics widen in utmost shock. The sheer number of Autobots below is unbelievable. Bots from all shapes and sizes are screaming with victory as their overlord is giving his speech. With them, the skies are filled with many, many more bots hovering high above the ground. Starscream can barely see past their numbers to see the grey and green sky. "We will take flight and claim the universe once more. We will become Gods." More screams are emitting from the crowds practically surrounding them. "The pathetic Decepticon cause has fallen." On cue, Jazz shoves the seeker forward, nearly slamming him into the side of the Prime. The large mech wraps an arm around the seeker, holding him and showing the flyer to the many Autobots.
Another round of roars follow as the tyrant takes a few steps forward, holding the jet's much smaller frame in front of his own, presenting him to his blind followers. Starscream can feel the thousands of optics landing on him, on the hideous symbols freshly branded on his wings. His systems hiccup with the stress, causing him to fall very still as the larger Autobot holds him. "We have no more enemies." The seeker feels cold fear grip at his ember, making it summersault in his chassis. "The universe lies there for the taking." His mate's strong arm snakes around his thin waist, possessively pulling Starscream flush against his chassis. "And take it we shall."
Starscream then decides it will stop. It has to stop. This ridiculous war, this Primus forsaken faction, everything. Bringing total destruction to their home planet, destroying countless other planets and civilisations and reigning victorious over the Decepticons is not enough. Even though the Autobot faction rules the greatest part of the mapped galaxy they are still hungering for more.
He just needs a plan.
Thinking, however… has become a little difficult. The music is loud and obnoxious. Starscream has never heard something like this, and secretly hopes he never will ever, ever again. A guitar begins wailing a solo, a high, wailing screech that has his audio receivers ring. The keening is overruled by the roar of a crowd already filling the throne room. The large arm encircling his slim waist draws him possessively closer to the larger black and red chassis. It makes walking that much more difficult, but his mate doesn't seem to care as he victoriously drags the smaller mech towards his throne, followed by his entourage. Autobots part left and right, cheering and roaring as their lord passes. The stench of high-grade and processed energon is overpowering, and Starscream feels like retching.
The walk to the Prime's throne becomes even less durable then it already was when claws rake over the flyer's already sensitive wing, causing him to screech with ache. The whole appendage flares up when the fresh brand is assaulted, causing him to stumble. Starscream glares at the seeker that just cut him, but his glower is met with a stare of mocking glee.
Another grope at his wing, and three more at his aft later and he's finally pulled out of the crowd again and up a short step of stairs to the throne. The Prime lowers himself onto his pedestal, dragging a now protesting seeker onto his lap. The highest ranking Autobots seat themselves around them, several of them breaking out the high-grade.
Only three kliks later one of the cubes is sent flying, colliding with the back of Ironhide's helm and shattering in a cascading of bright glitters. The old mech is less than pleased, but instead of trying to find the perpetrator he slams his fist into the face of the closest mech he can reach for no apearant reason, Ratchet goes tumbling down the short stairway, crashing into several other bots. They begin to cheer when the Autobot medic flails back up.
Obviously Ratchet doesn't know who punched him in the face to begin with, because he lunges at Prowl, who was standing next to Ironhide. They start to fight, or rather, the strategist begins pummelling the smaller medic. Their comrades are forming a circle around them, screaming and betting on how long Ratchet will be taking a beating before he goes ballistic. All of that happens at the feet of their Commander, and Optimus just laughs and caresses the side of his seeker's neck with a tender hand.
The fight… or beating… ends as quickly as it starts when a loud, guttural roar makes several bots jump at a now frantic medic. It takes six very big Autobots to drag the Hatchet off and away from their strategist, and the medic soon latches to a random mech's arm and quickly rips it off. The reactions of the Autobots is just astonishing the ex-Decepticon. Several of them are quite upset, having lost a bet. Two bots, the Terror Twins, are exultant to have won those very same bets. Prowl, looking like he has been run through by an army of enemies is back on his feet with some help, ripping out a strand of cables protracting from his nearly severed left arm. The appendage nearly breaks off as he does so, and is pretty much useless now. Deep welds in his armour plating are trickling energon. If his shield hadn't been as sturdy as it is he could well have been offlined by the smaller medic.
Instead of making a big deal out of it he accepts an energon cube from Ironhide and chugs it down, coughing once when the burning liquid causes some great discomfort to the internal damage he just suffered. From then on he acts like nothing happened to begin with. Other Autobots are flocking around the badly damaged strategist, congratulating him on surviving one of the Hatchet's fits of fury, which seems to be quite an achievement. At first Starscream is greatly confused by all this, until literally half an Autobot soldier is thrown through the air and lands in the audience, where the remains are torn apart by several more gleeful bots. The medic was dragged off through a door leading into the stronghold left of the throne room, and judging by the sounds of bloody murder, Ratchet is still going at it in the hallway.
Starscream is pulled out of his thoughts when a seeker approaches the throne, holding an unopened energon cube in his claws. Optimus notices their new company and doesn't respond other then taking another swig from his own high-grade. The former Decepticon is unsure how to respond when the larger, but definitely younger seeker offers him the cube instead of his tyrannical overlord.
With raised black wings the seeker closes the distance, stopping next to the throne and lowering himself out of respect. He is still holding out the cube, slowly fluttering his wings like a butterfly. The larger seeker begins clicking his claws against the side of the throne, the sounds meant to grasp attention but overruled by the loud music. Not that the new flyer cares much, still staring at the seeker seated on his lord's lap. Black wings move lazily on their hinges, folding back almost upright on his back strut, and then fanning forward to frame his body, settling back into their default positions for several kliks before sweeping backwards again in a slow, appealing display of temptation.
An invitation. Starscream remains motionless, slowly getting angry.
The connection with his trine was severed during the final attack on the Decepticons. Starscream knows that the chances that his mates are still online are next to nothing. At least, that is what he keeps telling himself. It hurts less to know that they have joined the All Spark once more. That Primus has welcomed them into Valhalla, and that they are not in stasis lock in some horrible Autobot dungeon or the ruins of one of their former bases.
Without a second glance he snatches the still offered cube from the other seeker's claws and throws the cube to the side and onto the floor, its glowing contents splattering over the already messy ground and the peds of several bots. The black winged seeker doesn't seem to be bothered at all. He slowly backs away from the throne, and the soft smile on his lips is far worse than if the seeker had been insulted and angered by Starscream's actions. His rather childish action has him mate rumble with soft laughter. "Not hungry?" He sarcastically asks, emptying his cube and dropping it off to the side. Starscream twists his head to glare daggers at his mate, who is unaffected.
"Wipe that look off your face or I will do it for you." Starscream wills his claws into fists, about to retort when he is pulled into the other's face by the back of his neck. Optimus' iron grip cuts off several energon lines and dents others, causing the flyer's back to go rigid with pain. "That is much better, love." He winches in pain, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.
The Prime chuckles again, wrapping his arm around his younger mate's waist and pulling him closer. Starscream yelps when he nearly smacks into the large chest. He tries to wriggle out of the strong hold, getting absolutely nowhere, due to the arm hooked beneath his right wing, it's claws digging into the seeker's backstrut to keep him in place so they remain chest to chest.
The seeker shudders when the larger bot draws a free servo down the side of his frame, his sensors flaring in cold arousal. The feeling travels straight down to his interfacing equipment and his whole frame goes ridged. "You enjoy that." Another stroke down his side, striking sensitive wires and sensor nodes. With a gasp the flyer tries to stop the other, twisting himself in an awkward position just to get a hold on the hand teasing him. He suppresses a groan when the free hand brushes the delicate underline of his wing, setting it ablaze with feather touches.
"Stop it." Hissing only earns him another amused chuckle. Lips attach to the seeker's neck, suckling and kissing awfully gentle. The fingers on his wing slowly trace circles around the fresh brand. They are cool to the heated area of the emblem, even soothing, and Starscream may have found it pleasant if he hadn't been in this mess. He gasps when Prime places the flat of his hand against the burned symbol, his touch very cool and absolutely wonderful. "You are warming up to me again." The larger mech purrs seductively, brushing his lips over the jaw line of his mate.
Several mechs around them stop, dozens of blazing optics gliding their way. If it hadn't been for the two seconds of silence in the music, none of them would have heard the sharp sound of the slap that just transpired. One of them begins to laugh, a shrill, pitched cackle. Then another follows with a deep rumble, almost pleasing if one would ignore the sadistic undertone. With them a third and a forth follow, and their numbers rise until everyone who had heard and or witnessed is laughing with merit.
Starscream is shocked. He stares at his free servo, the claws tainted with energon. His optics then glide to the four fresh welds scarring the overlord's face. The cuts are clearly deep, overflowing with half processed energon leaking down a strong jaw line, down the cabling of a throat and disappearing in between and beneath transforming seams and other crevices of the tyrant's armour. The bleeding is vehement, already dripping down onto the throne and pooling slowly. Around them, the laughter and merriment is dying out, making place for expectant anticipation.
"I have been yielding enough." The last thing Starscream thought his unwanted mate would do is laugh at the flyer's lashing out. He nearly jumps when the hand recently caressing his wing returns its affections, ghosting over the sensitive sheet of metal. Fingers curl around the junction between the flyer's wing and his back, forcing another shudder out of the smaller mech.
Starscream braces himself against the other's chest, trying to get a grip on the hand kludging his wing. With every klik that passes the seeker becomes a little more terrified, knowing exactly what the other mech is planning. More kliks pass as he locks optics with his mate, unable to keep the pleading out of them, until a warning flashes in the back of his processors. A warning about great damage and agony. The sensations begin at the back of his helm, slowly curl downwards into his back strut, spreading out into both his wings. The throb grows stronger in his damaged wing, spreading outward like wildfire.
Thankfully everything goes black after that.
Hours pass until his self-repair system pings. His systems begin to reboot, some twice due to the new repairs, while others are immediately running at full blast. His vents are cycling air harder then they should, his ember chamber is rerouting energon to his wings and legs, and bizarrely, his ember is contracting and expanding in slow, strong beats running in sync with the rest of his body.
With a groan he moves his head slightly, scraping it against something solid. The scent emitted by his 'pillow' is strong and daunting; he can't help but nuzzle into it. His body is a bit stiff from being in the same position for too long, but the chassis he is sitting against is warm and inviting. The metal is running hot beneath him, thrumming in slow pulses in sync with the throbbing of his ember. Gasping as he becomes fully awake, the seeker nearly knees his mate in the face when the larger mech buries thick digits in a transformation seam in his upper leg. Protests and insults are lining up on his lips, but Starscream has trouble activating his vocaliser when the other continues stroking the deep seam, matching the caresses with the beat of his ember.
It takes several kliks of recollecting himself before the smaller mech begins to struggle as much as he can while sitting on his mate's lap. All the seeker manages to do, thanks to a grave lack of energon, is wriggle about the place a bit, pleasing the larger mech tremendously if the craving rumble of strong engines is any indication.
Suddenly all of the other gears click in place. Why he is feeling so slagged, why he is overheating and why his ember is pulsating in his chest with strong, even beats. The flyer hisses, grabbing the offending hand with his own, and pulling it away. There is a moment of salvation on his humming systems, until his mate uses his other hand, which is wrapped around the flyer's lower back, to press claws into crevices on the seeker's slim hip. The wave of pleasure has the seeker squeal and jolt, shuddering in the other's lap when the Prime continues to wriggle his fingers in between the plating of his hip.
If Starscream could he would have slapped the other mech again, but Optimus would probably break his other wing too if he did that. He cannot afford to lose more energon then he already has. They are both covered in it because of the gashes on the Prime's face and his own broken wing. Starscream, seated on the other's lap is at least partially spared from the slowly drying substance, but his mate is covered in it, not having bothered with wiping his face even after the four strokes on his face closed on their own. His chest and abdomen have smears all over them from the contact with the seeker, dripping down the Autobot Lord's hips and crotch plate and onto the throne, even so far as dripping over the edges of it.
No one seems to be bothered by the spilled energon, processed or not. The floor is littered with it, along with small gears and wires leading up to full blown body parts and even deactivated bodies. Shattered glass from energon cubes is everywhere, sparkling with moisture, both energon and fluids one doesn't want to recognise.
A somewhat displeased murmur from his mate draws the flyer's attention. Optimus seems slightly unhappy with Starscream's distraction, but that mood too fades like snow for the sun when the smaller mech reverts his attention back to Optimus, and begins his attempts at struggling again.
"Sick frag." The flyer hisses through clenched jaws, trying to push the other's skilled hands away.
"I highly doubt you want me to stop." The tyrant whispers in his audio receiver with only the slightest hints that he has been drinking a lot. Hours must have passed as the seeker 'recharged' before the Prime decided it would be fun to molest his mate in public.
Optimus places his large hand on the heated metal above the seeker's cockpit. Starscream jerks sharply and groans before he can control himself, the mere touch causing his ember to expand with desire. The larger mech pulls the smaller one closer, effectively trapping the lighter flyer's right arm. The left one can't do much more then grab the servo dragging lower, setting sensors ablaze along the way down. "No!" Starscream tries to stick to hissing, knowing that stronger sounds might attract the attention of others in the room. His mate doesn't seem to care at all about that, but Starscream does, and the last thing he needs now is more spectators.
This whole ordeal is humiliating enough without anyone watching.
His screech of anger is swallowed by the other forcing their lips together as the hand between his legs forces his interfacing panels apart. Starscream tries to bring his legs together, his last resort but he cannot stop the Autobot's hand from moving along the heated rims of his port no matter how hard he tugs at the wrist. His ember wrenches again, causing a tremor to rattle through his body. The smaller mech jerks his head back with a hiss when the other bites down on the soft material of his lower lip. Sharp dentas attach themselves to his throat, latching onto skin. "Sick… perverted glitch…!" Starscream chokes out a groan when his mate runs his deft fingers over his port, beginning a steady rhythm perfectly in sync with the beating of his ember. As the seeker writhes, he notices the other is affected by the same beating of their souls.
Freshly bonded embers need time to grow in sync with the other in order to establish a solid bond. This requires many merges, in which both bots will enter a so called heat cycle that allows their embers and whole chassis to synchronise with the other, causing more merges with shorter intervals of rest, causing a full bond to be established more quickly.
If he could, Starscream would have fought the other mech much more to avert any of this. It is humiliating enough that the larger mech was able to start his engines while he was out cold. Now it is all adding insult to injury when his CPU begins drawing up old memory files of times when he was actually in love with this psychopath, and how there was once a time he dreamt Optimus doing these exact things to him. The seeker shudders again when his mate increases his pace, stroking his port with long, firm caresses that has every sensor in his body aflame. Lubricant is only intensifying the feeling of pleasure, letting the Prime violate him with ease.
"You are loving this." The larger mech murmurs against his neck, kissing and biting. He rakes his free hand over his seeker's hip again, teasing wires and drawing a long moan from his mate which has him quiver with want. The Prime groans when the smaller mech begins pushing against his hand, revelling in the erotic sight right here in his lap. Completely lost, the younger mech moans shamelessly, possible spectators forgotten, releasing the wrist of the hand pleasuring him and hooking his claws on the back of his mate's helm, pulling him closer to ravish his mouth. Glossas fight each other, pushing and licking and tasting every inch of the other. The seeker groans, pushing his hips more firmly into the other's expert hand and matching the stroking with thrusts of his own.
When his mate suddenly groans, a deep baritone vibrating with lust, he nearly loses it as his arousal shifts to new heights. "Beautiful… Mine…" Had Starscream been in any better state of mind he would have berated himself for finding his mate's voice sexy. 'If only he'd keep talking,' ghosts through his processors. The seeker convulses once, feeling his end approaching fast. Scattered thoughts drift back to his mate's voice, about him speaking in that same, wonderful deep tenor until the thoughts of his mate groaning in pleasure overthrow those. The larger mech buries his face in the crook of the flyer's neck, biting down hard on the cables and drawing energon. "Seeker mine." The growl, possessive and needy and dominating has the flyer's very core tremble and he loses himself in pleasure. His mate groans as the seeker moans without restraint, convulsing on the larger mech's lap in the aftermath of his overload.
Shaking, it takes time before the younger mech comes down from his pleasured high. His ember finally has a chance to calm down somewhat, still pulsating but not nearly as powerful as it did at first. It doesn't calm down completely because his mate is still in a state of want, not having found release yet.
With embers still aching for each other Starscream tries to pull himself together before he is assaulted with dreadful emotions. Horrible as all he can think about is how badly he wants to merge with the larger mech again.
How he's fallen from grace. Hard.