CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
XXX
There will be brief explicitiveness with mentions of sex towards the end of the chapter. This is where things really escalate before tapering off again so . . . be prepared!
XXX
Jack was sitting at the dining room, sipping on some energon to stave off hunger, when Megatron visited next.
Not having slept all that much, the human elected to continue exploring, finding the massive foyer also had stairs leading up to the second floor, Jack wondering just how large this place was to require more than one staircase. He had also found the dining room, attached to the kitchen, the thing far too large for a single person to not feel lonely in. That was, perhaps, one of the oddest things about this place, though he assumed Megatron was also kept in mind when this thing was built: every room was far more massive than it had any right to be. The doorways were also quite wide, enough, he realized, for the tyrant to walk through without twisting.
His stomach flip-flopped. This was the perfect place to keep him, if he ever stayed for extended periods of time on the Nemesis.
If he stayed forever, even though Megatron promised to let him go.
The tyrant's footsteps drifted from the kitchen to the dining room, his large form pausing in the doorway as he surveyed Soundwave's handiwork. As per usual, everything was very elegant, with even a table spanning across one of the far walls for extra food to be placed there, if such a massive meal was to ever be prepared. He settled his gaze on Jack, who met him with a quiet sip of energon. He was consuming a much lower grade than Megatron expected, and he seemed to tolerate it well.
"Is that energon more to your liking?" The warlord inquired.
"Yeah, less overwhelming," Jack gently set the cube on a coaster, now more than ever aware any perspiration could damage the lavish materials. "I didn't realize there were different . . . flavors."
"Grades," Megatron corrected, walking closer to him, "the higher the grade, the more processed it is. Higher grades are considered more luxurious."
Jack looked down at the cube in his hands. "What kind is this?"
"Much lower than I anticipated," Megatron appeared amused, "Soundwave believed you would be more privy to the higher grades. I will correct this misconjecture."
"I'm sure I'll get used to it," Jack did not care for how he said "correct," as if someone was going to get punished, resisting the urge to almost laugh at the tyrant when he pulled a chair out, sitting heavily in the pure wooden seat. His forearms - or whatever the Cybertronian anatomical equivalent was - rested on the table, servos folded in front of him.
"Despite this, I suspect you do not wish to stay," Megatron tilted his helm, "but the question which remains is: do you plan to continue where we left off?"
Jack's gaze fell from his optics, some of the color leaving his cheeks as he thought. Megatron could see it in his skin and expression how things still bothered him, his internal fight appearing more intense than before. What frustrated the mech most was his lack of an EM field - if Jack wanted to fully explain his thoughts and feelings, it would have to be with his words; and as the warlord was well aware, some things were just too complex for mere words.
Finally, Jack looked back at him. "You scared me, Megatron. I lived each day in fear you would hurt me, or someone I cared about."
Megatron tilted his helm. "I assure you, Jack, as I have already done, I did not intend to harm you. It is why I refrained from seeing you so soon after I discovered what you had done."
Jack chewed his lip. "Would you have targeted my mom? Or my friends?"
"To hurt them is to hurt you, Jack," Megatron leaned forward a bit, causing his spine to straighten in apprehension, "something I cannot bring myself to do . . . not unless it pleases the both of us."
His cheeks flushed warmly at that, quickly banishing potential thoughts from worming their way into his head. The fact such words elicited a reaction told him enough about the direction they were going - the direction he wanted to go, even when common sense told him otherwise.
"I'm not really into pain," he said, wanting to kick himself for going down this path. Megatron's optics flashed, a quiet rumble betraying his satisfaction. Jack wondered if he thought he could not hear it, or if he hoped he would. "But regardless, how . . . how can I believe that? How do I know you aren't just . . . telling me what I want to hear, so I stay with you?"
Something passed across Megatron's face, too quick for Jack to decipher. "While it may be my nature to deceive, I have much more to lose if I attempt to manipulate you than to allow you to make your own decisions. Should you choose to walk away, Jack, then you will be returned to Earth and allowed to live your life in peace. Without me."
He said it so bluntly, and matter-of-factly, but it sent a lance through Jack's heart.
"I . . . I thought you couldn't do that," He stuttered, "I thought . . . you would be too . . . possessive of me to let me go."
Megatron's optics blinked lazily as he gave him a mild grin.
"I do want you for myself," he replied, "and no one else. But to keep you against your will would only serve to turn you against me, and unless I intentionally manipulated you and your feelings, you would remain hateful towards me. That would be more despicable than allowing you to do as you wish, and accept that this - what is here between us - may not have been forged to last."
Jack stared at him, fingers fidgeting with the energon cube. Hundreds of thoughts swirled through his head, attempting to decipher Megatron's words and his own personal feelings about them.
He is willing to let me go because . . . he cares about me.
"I don't want to lie to my friends," he said, voice cracking with pain, "my mom. We uprooted our whole lives, our own identities, to hide from you. To undo all of that . . . it would be selfish, and wrong. I can't do that to her. It'll hurt her."
Megatron gazed at him. "What if she knew of me?" He asked.
The question was so point-blank Jack felt as if he had been shot in the chest, head snapping up to look at the mech in shock.
"She hates you," Jack said quickly, recalling the argument he had with his mother not all that long ago, when she had first learned of their involvement together. "And she . . . she has a lot to say about it."
"Her distaste for me is, admittedly, not displaced," Megatron mused, "as I am sure she despises the psychological stress I put you through, as you touched on. Among the more obvious reasons."
Jack swallowed, deciding now was a better time than any to address the topic. "She thinks I'm too young for this. I'm . . . barely seventeen."
Megatron tilted his chin up by a sliver of a degree. "We addressed this."
"We glossed over it, more or less," Jack shifted in his chair.
The tyrant folded his servos, picking up on Jack's unsaid desire to touch on the subject more. His chin rested against his digits as he gazed at Jack, bright red beams searing through him.
"Understand there is not just a species difference between us, but a cultural difference," he began, "do you understand the way Cybertronians . . . reproduce, for lack of a better term?"
Oh my god. Oh my god. Megatron is about to give me the sex talk.
He swallowed. "No, not really."
"When a new spark is formed," Megatron began, "it comes from the Well, or from one of the many 'hotspots' on Cybertron - fields which contain massive amounts of Allspark energy, and are capable of 'sprouting' sparks. These sparks, once collected by skilled specialists, are allowed to 'grow' into a frame. Within two Cybertronian weeks, one is considered a fully developed frame, an adult. From there, their mental maturity rapidly progresses as they integrate into society and learn their place amongst the others. Adulthood is considered fully achieved once the newspark has demonstrated a firm grasp of not only their own innate abilities, but become functional within the culture."
Jack carefully processed what he was saying. "So, in your eyes . . . I qualify as an adult?"
"Your involvement with the Autobots, your ability to navigate around and interact with Cybertronians on a near equivalent level is indicative of a higher mental maturity," Megatron confirmed for him, "Optimus Prime himself tasked you with protecting and using the Key to Vector Sigma, a burden no sparkling would be trusted to carry."
Silence fell again, the quiet only interrupted by the soft hum of Megatron's systems, which Jack realized was one of the only sounds produced in this home, outside of his own subtle biological noises.
"And yet . . . humans . . . we aren't like that," Jack was unsure what else to say.
Megatron's prolonged exhalation barely qualified as a sigh, Jack wondering if he was becoming annoyed with this back and forth. "Understand, Jack, I pursued you under the assumption you were an adult. As I stated long ago, you are considered the age of consent for your state of residence, which I mistook to mean you were considered aged enough to come to your own decisions about who you chose to be intimate with, or at the bare minimum forge a relationship with the potential for intimacy."
"It's . . . complicated," Jack rubbed the side of his face.
The warlord blinked slowly again. "Indeed." His helm tilted. "Of course, we could always address how such laws are unique to your . . . country, and differ greatly based on locale. However, I believe in this context, it is best to address it as it concerns your maternal unit."
It made sense, from a logical standpoint. His mom was terrified for him because of the implications of Megatron, a much older mech, hanging around Jack. Even thinking about it left Jack uneasy, however he considered the loss of translation when it came to humans versus Cybertronians. It reassured him to know Megatron had mistaken him for a full adult, meaning he had not pursued him because he was younger, though that had been established long ago when one read between the lines. He wanted Amicus' descendant, and that happened to be Jack. There was no other initial reasoning.
This reminded him of another problem he had to address before he could agree to anything with the Decepticon.
"You're still the enemy," he cringed as he said it, "who wants to take over my planet - our planet. I . . . She would never approve, and would keep trying to convince me to stay away. Her not knowing . . . would be better."
The warlord hummed, considering what Jack told him. "A pity, as it would make courting you much easier."
Jack felt his stomach flip-flop, shoving the feelings down. He ran his fingers along the energon cube.
"Why do you want to try again?" He asked, voice quiet, "I . . . I'm not a replacement for Amicus. I'm me, Jack, and I can't be anyone else. I betrayed you, something he would never do. I thought . . . because of that, you wouldn't want me again. Once you realized I'm not Amicus, why would you want me?"
Metal creaked against wood as the dictator shifted.
"Initially, I pursued you with the intent to make you a replacement - a literal carbon copy, if I could manage it," he rested his servos against the table. "Yet I have found that what I had once desired from him, I crave from you. You plague my thoughts with far more frequency and intensity than anything or anyone else, and I realize my feelings have become more than simple desires. I began to pursue you, Jack, because you felt like the perfect fit of a missing piece I did not even realize I had. It is because you are not Amicus. I want you."
The pair shared an intense stare, Jack trying to process what it all meant and ignore the deep shivers in his spine. He was seduced, and without much of a fight.
How much of that was also the other way around?
The dictator shifted, his metal softly clicking together as his laced digits became undone.
"I did, admittedly, break our agreement by ceasing my visitations for so long, and unexpectedly," his optics trailed from Jack to the cube of energon which sat between them, "as it was my side of the deal to visit nightly, without fail. As such, I will not protest should you desire to truly leave us behind. But this conversation has led me to believe our contract is no longer the only thing keeping us together."
Jack swallowed, feeling his left fist tighten, fingernails digging into his skin. "I can't call it love," he replied softly, not daring to look the Decepticon in the optics, "but I did - I do - have feelings. And I can't let them go. I don't want to, even though . . . I can't . . ."
He felt like an idiot unable to articulate his words, yet Megatron merely sat there and allowed them to spill forth, his expression betraying nothing.
"If I continue, I only put us right back at square one," Jack continued to ramble helplessly. "I have to keep you a secret, I have to live each day wondering if my mom, my friends, will find out. And if they do, then I . . . I'll just betray their trust all over again, and this time, I would be stuck somewhere you could never find me, even if I wanted you to. They're already probably freaking out right now, knowing I'm here with you. Nothing . . . I can't be normal after this."
Red optics blinked lazily, gazing at him and tracing his features. The young man was lost, trying to keep his grip on the conversation at hand while thousands of other thoughts ran through his head. He wished there was an easy solution to this, but he could not find any. Either way, he was leaving with guilt eating away at his heart - either leaving Megatron, or once again betraying what little trust the Autobots had.
The dictator's chin jutted out slightly. "I will ensure your release is . . . inconspicuous," he promised, "and you may give the Autobots any silly excuse they will believe."
"I'm sure the legs will be enough to convince them you roughed me up a little bit," Jack huffed, shifting the limbs and grimacing as they ached. The pain medicine was helping immensely, though that did not stop his knee from throbbing, his ankle protesting every time he tried to turn it around in its cast of gauze and medical tape.
A mild smile graced the tyrant's derma. "Unless Vince informs them of your poorly executed heroics."
Jack felt his cheeks burn, sensing something else behind the name as Megatron thrusted it his direction. "I . . . we're not a thing," he said quickly, realizing rather swiftly what the Decepticon might be thinking, "we've never been a thing. I'm honestly surprised he stuck around to try and help me. But . . . he's not anything. Barely even a friend."
A tilt of the helm sent goosebumps across his arms. "He seemed rather protective of you for any mere friend."
The young man quivered. "And you seemed a bit aggressive for a human-hating warlord."
Denta flashed. "Yet they all knew of my trysts, did they not?" Megatron challenged, "if I remember his comment correctly: I am not leaving you with the ex?"
Flinching slightly, Jack did not know if he was blushing or pale at this point, or a sickly mix of both. "I never mentioned you being an . . . ex," he said carefully, "but I told them you visited . . . and that I liked it."
Megatron's expression shifted ever so slightly. He appeared to be regarding Jack in a new light, a different angle, something the human was unsure he cared for. It always seemed to either be one or the other: he loved it, or it made him wildly uncomfortable. Either way, the feeling was far more addictive than he wanted to admit. The burst of excitement across his chest was a tingle he never could let go of.
"And yet you feel you need to stop, for the sake of those close to you," he stated.
It hurt, hearing it hurt almost worse than Jack realizing Megatron was not going to return to him many nights ago.
"I want to be selfish," his eyes were hot with unshed tears, "but I can't."
Wood creaked as Megatron shifted, moving such that Jack thought he was going to stand. Instead he merely leaned forward, his servos resting on the arms of the chair in which his human guest sat, Jack feeling his heart skip a beat.
"Then will I make that decision for you?" Megatron questioned, not as close as he could be, but close enough for Jack to feel his pulse in his throat. "If I decide whether we continue or not, the blame will be placed on me regardless - from you, from your Autobots, your mother. Your heart will not have to choose because it has none - is that what you want?"
An easy way out. A coward's way out.
"No," he said, feeling his fingers twitch with anxiety. "Because I need a choice. I need to feel like it is, or . . . it will be just like before."
Vermillion optics narrowed, though they were less angry, and more attempting to puzzle out what Jack meant.
"Did you feel as if you had no choice before?"
"Well, yeah," Jack admitted, "it was either be with you, or watch my family get hurt. But you won't do that now . . . right?"
More creaking, the dictator closer by another few inches. Jack felt his traitorous breath hitch in anticipation, his lips tingling as burning spiraled through his gut. Servos gripped the arms of his chair, effectively trapping him. His heart fluttered deeply within him, a pleasant thrill running through his veins.
"I swear on my spark, no matter the outcome of your decision, I will not harm your mother."
Jack noticed quite distinctly he specified his mom, however he knew asking to spare the Autobots, or even Arcee specifically, would cause far more snags. Even if Megatron had no interest in killing her, she would most certainly attempt to end him. It was an unfair balance, though Jack could easily argue his mother would do anything to offline Megatron if she was able.
The choice was his, he realized as silence fell between them. The discussion was over, and it was the time for him to come to his decision. Would he plunge himself back into the abyss, or withdraw back to the safety of the light around him?
A claw brushed his skin as Megatron readjusted his position, Jack unable to deny the feelings it pierced through his body. He could walk away, never see Megatron again as he lived out his normal, human life.
Life, he understood, without the Autobots every time he could manage because of the fear for his life. They would stay distanced for his protection, the friendships he forged to slowly fade away with time, and maybe, he thought painfully, to be forgotten. He did not want to forget, nor did he want them moving on without him. The young man could no longer imagine a life without the Cybertronians, their impact having begun long before Megatron's entrance into his personal life.
It was a selfish thought, and yet Jack was beginning to tire of being selfless. He just wanted to be happy. And here, at least, his lies would not have to be so thickly woven. Even if Megatron visited, he would not have to worry about Arcee being planted in his garage. He would not see the Autobots every day and have to pretend everything was fine.
More than anything, he wanted to feel whatever it was that he did with Megatron, when those claws wrapped around him and touched him, eating at his sanity with every breathless kiss. No one else could give him that, as shameful and fulfilling as it was.
He couldn't imagine anyone else making him feel this way. Not even the human love interests he had left behind.
"I want to be selfish," he repeated, voice wavering. He still fought with himself, warring between what he should do, the right thing, and what he wanted to do. "I shouldn't. But I want to."
He already knew what his decision would be, as painful and destructive as it was. They both did, eternities before this conversation had taken place.
He pushed the energon aside, reaching for Megatron, and had he not known any better he would have thought the tyrant fell into his arms. Servos shifted to grip the back of his chair, elbows draping around curved spikes as familiar metal pushed itself against his lips. He let everything melt away, wanting to think of nothing else as a possessive touch lingered on his waist, another cupping his face to eventually work into his hair with vigor.
Fingers touched seams in armor, tracing along back struts in nonsense patterns. Ravenous digits twisted in his hair, forcing a gasp from them as his head was tilted back, aggressive derma taking everything they could find. He let him, knees parting with prickly pain whilst the warlord pushed his way through to get as close as possible.
Jack floundered, servos scooping him into strong arms by the back of his legs and waist. Electricity raced through his body as he was placed in the most dangerous, and simultaneously safest, place in the universe.
Megatron held him in his lap, exchanging another short kiss before working his way down his neck, derma laying claim to the line of his jaw, heated vents along his jugular leaving him shivering. He felt his chest rise and fall with staccato breathing, minute tremors weaving through the nerves of his body. Trails of tingles were left in the wake of the digits which caressed him, once again working into his hair with uncharacteristic tenderness.
He was cradled against a broad chest once the Decepticon had his fill, sucking in breaths as if he submerged in an ice bath. His mind was in a tizzy, screaming about how wrong this was, how nothing could just be fixed with a simple kiss, yet Jack pushed it away. It took almost genuine effort to do so, because it was certainly not his nature, but he insisted - even if it was just this once. The young man indulged in his desires because he yearned that which they had lost.
The human let loose a shaky breath, each one in tandem with the beat of his wild heart.
Nothing was said between them for a long time, Megatron taking this moment to reacquaint himself with the demarcations of Jack's body. They never strayed farther than before, though it still was enough to keep his fingers tingling with adrenaline. The light throbbing of his knee and ankle were the furthest thing from his mind, his head tilting back to beg for more touches from the digits in his hair.
His bangs fell back, and a feral growl jerked him from his reprieve.
"What is that?"
At first he feared it was something he had done, Jack snapping his gaze towards red optics. Megatron was not focused on him, however, but rather along his hairline. His fingers reached up, touching the scar which transversed his skin as he realized the conclusion the mech had drawn.
"It's a scar," he said lamely, mind still racing on how to explain.
"And who," Megatron seethed, "gave it to you?"
"No one," Jack replied quickly, sitting up a little bit, "I- I fell, and hit my head on a dresser."
Digits brushed his hair aside, thumb running across the imperfection. The tyrant still appeared unhappy, Jack facetiously wondering if he was angry about marring his pretty face, or if he did not wholly believe what the human was telling him.
He continued, though his voice was a touch quieter. "It was the night you didn't come back. I . . . I was so scared I couldn't even sleep. And when I finally did it was for a couple hours, max. So when I stood up, my blood pressure dropped, I passed out - and I hit the dresser."
There was silence as Megatron processed what he was told, his red optics slowly drifting to look down at blue eyes. Jack felt a thumb caress his cheek, a shifting of arms drawing him ever closer to a silver frame. Foreheads touched and his breath hitched, heart fluttering in his chest.
"Is it selfishness, Jack, or are you afraid of provoking my wrath?"
The question was asked quietly, but without an underlying growl warning Jack to choose his next words wisely. It was a genuine inquiry, waiting patiently for the answer which hesitated at the tip of his tongue.
A little bit of both.
"I know I can say no," he murmured in return, "you've shown me you can stop when I ask; like in Egypt, when it was too much too fast. But you still scare me, Megatron, because . . . well, you're you."
A smile ghosted against his skin.
"All the more reason for you to know I will never allow harm to befall you," he assured, "from myself or another."
His head tilted up as derma connected with the hot vein of his neck, thoughts spinning uncontrollably. When an involuntary groan escaped him his cheeks flushed, burning bright red as he wondered if Megatron was doing this on purpose. More kisses fluttered across his jugular, Jack's hand curling behind his helm in a small attempt to wordlessly tell him to ease up.
"I don't want to walk away," he tried again, wanting to ensure his thoughts came across coherently, swallowing another gasp, "not because I'm scared of what will happen if I do, but because I-"
Allspark, he was losing his mind, feeling like a fish out of water as a servo drifted to readjust his leg, lightly cupping the back of his knee. Jack felt like a puddled mess, wondering when he had become some hapless, touch-starved harlot.
"I need this," he finally managed to choke out, "I need you."
Oh, what a treacherous thing to say. To need something was to die without it, and while Jack did not believe he was so dramatic, it certainly felt like he was clinging to the warlord for his life. They exchanged another kiss, hungry as the first, Megatron's sharp dentae brushing against his clumsy lips in a deadly tease.
How many weeks had he told himself he would not come crawling back to the Decepticon? How many ways had everyone told him this was wrong, toxic, dangerous? Talking to his therapist, he could certainly see why any sane person would run as far away as possible. One should never fear someone they love, or think they love.
If he was being honest, though, not being afraid of Megatron was perhaps equally as stupid of a move. And as their kisses wiped the last of his sanity from his conscious mind, he found he was perhaps safer here than any other place on the planet.
This time he tilted his head back on his own volition, Megatron taking the invitation with unrivaled eagerness to scrape fangs against his skin. Ravenous derma moved along the curve of his trachea, the grip around his waist tightening as the servo shifted to his front, talons wrapping around the flesh of his thigh to lock him in place.
"A-ah!" Jack gripped him, fingers holding on to the armor of his back. A glossa slipped to caress the skin of his collarbone, a new low for the warlord which left him reeling. His body spasmed, free hand grabbing onto the servo holding him, taking his breath away with a simple touch. Sparks flew where they were intertwined, the human struggling to regain his composure as he realized things were going much further than he ever allowed before - except now, he hardly seemed bothered by it. Sure, the new sensations were startling . . .
But he liked them.
Foreheads touched and he was panting, the intense gaze of the Decepticon keeping him in place. The young man struggled to take deep breaths, fingers curling around the thumb caressing his inner thigh.
Amused expression drifted across Megatron's faceplates, mild yet still very obviously present.
"Too much?"
Jack closed his eyes. "I don't know. Probably. But I want more."
He heard the grin slowly growing in the mech's voice. "You rarely expressed such eagerness before."
The observation earned him a small glare, Jack not appreciating the reminder. He was supposed to hate this, to not want to revel in the exclusive attention he received from the Decepticon. But his heart refused, casting aside what little worries festered in his mind with soothing assurances.
Megatron would not hurt him - not unless he requested it.
"There's this saying," he finally said, "absence makes the heart grow fonder. Even though I was terrified of what you would do to me . . . I suppose it's a relief it's this."
Megatron gave him a feral grin, glittering red optics flickering as he leaned in to nuzzle his face against his temple.
"I can do more, should you desire it."
Spine stiffening, his thought process briefly crashed as the proposition registered in his consciousness. Given the hints the warlord dropped throughout their establishing relationship, he was fairly certain he knew exactly what he was offering. Apprehension crept in his periphery, able to imagine how awkward things could get if he missed the translation; or he was correct, and Megatron tried to do something too advanced for his vestal partner.
Jack swallowed. "I'm . . . not so sure I can handle that yet."
An optic ridge quirked up in twisted amusement. "Is there something to fear?"
"Pain," it was the first thing which came to mind, the human elaborating, "it would hurt, and I'm not exactly keen on feeling miserable during the whole thing."
He swore the tyrant was trying his hardest to not laugh at him, probing further with a question.
"What will hurt?"
It was unclear if he was being purposefully obtuse, or if the Decepticon was honestly curious as to what he was referring to. Regardless, Jack elected to be deadpan about it, unsure if he would actually shock the mech with a vulgar suggestion. Surely not, given his hinted history.
"Sex, Megatron," two things he never, ever thought he would put the same sentence, "sex will hurt."
Sharp dentae flashed in a grin. "So you are familiar with it?"
Savage heat raced from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck, Jack floundering to stammer out his answer. "N-no! I've, uh, I've never done it. But I still know the mechanics behind it. I know what happens, and I know it hurts."
There was a brief moment of silence, Megatron coming to the correct conclusion. "You think I will be doing the penetration," he said casually, seemingly ignoring Jack's shocked look at the rather crude verbiage, though he supposed it could be worse, "which is certainly an option. Though I am willing to offer alternatives, if that is to your particular mood or style."
There was a time where Jack could not find words, at a loss for what to say to that. He tried to imagine just what Megatron was talking about, however it was difficult to compute. What other alternatives could he be talking about? Surely he was not suggesting he be the one receiving, as that hardly seemed like a position the proud warlord would allow anyone to find him in.
"I . . . have no idea what that means," he confessed, looking back up at the warlord. "Alternatives?"
A flash of metal as the dictator grinned. "Perhaps, then, this would be the perfect time to acquaint you with my anatomy," he suggested, "as well as another lesson in Cybertronian culture."
Jack wondered if he could physically turn another shade of red, curled in the arms of a mech casually informing him about the various potential routes of intimacy. The thought of seeing what Megatron had under his hood - slight "robots turning into cars" pun intended - left him burning, both morbidly curious and alarmingly hesitant. A little less than 24 hours reunited, and they were considering upping the heat.
A thought which did not alarm him as much as he would have initially thought.
Being intimate with the lord of Decepticons sounded synonymous with a bad time.
And now I'm seriously considering it. Wanting it.
"I am capable of turning off neural feedback from my equipment," the mech informed him with a brush of derma against the cusp of his ear, "should you feel apprehensive about things becoming intimate."
"If I agree . . . it doesn't . . . guarantee anything, right?" He asked, still cautious.
Megatron gently ran his digits through his hair, the caring touch almost laughably out of character for him. Jack sighed.
"What we do next is up to your discretion," he assured, tips of his talons dancing against the back of his neck. "Understand, Jack, while I enjoy physical intimacies, I do not require them to find fulfillment with you."
Pleasant prickles spread down his back, his chest, leaking into his arms, as the dictator's touch lightly traced down his spine. It was with this assurance he took a breath, feeling the servo on his thigh far more acutely than before.
The human took a breath, his fingers trembling; from anxiety or anticipation, he could not discern.
"I . . ." He paused. The logical part of him, the sane part, knew there would be no going back from this. If he was willing to partake in the debauchery, what other lows would he stoop to?
And yet, if their current positions were anything to go by, it would not take much more convincing to tip him over the edge. Jack did not know if he was touch-starved, attention-seeking, or just plain stupid, yet he liked to believe his reason, as selfish as it might be, wasn't shallow.
"Yes," the word came from his mouth, though it felt like someone else had said it. "Yes. I want to know. Especially if we decide to go further."
A grin, the young man yelping as he was tucked into chest plates. Megatron rose to his pedes, sharp dentae glittering in the light.
"Let us take this somewhere more appropriate, and comfortable," his engine purred in a quiet rumble, Jack flushing once again when he realized where they were going.
Megatron slipped through the halls with ease, entering the bedroom in long, confident strides. He laid Jack on the bed, following after him in a slow crawl until he hovered above the organic. A soft mewl followed, hands pressing into his broad chest plates whilst derma encompassed his lips. Jack did little to protest against it, gasping softly while registering the softness of the mattress beneath him. His heart skipped several beats, stuttering as a new sensation rose to the surface - one he had been able to keep at bay before, but now experienced freely as he let go of his anxieties.
"Mmm-" an epic fail as the tyrant's name slurred into a moan, Jack leaving the kiss when everything started to spin. He swore Megatron's chest plates were burning, adding heat to his already warming body. He blinked, trying to refocus on their original goal.
"I thought . . . This was just a lesson," he smiled mildly, catching his breath.
"My apologies," Megatron hardly sounded sorry, however he did pull back and reel himself in. It took immense effort, as Jack could see his optics flicker with multiple resets of his CPU. Dentae flashed in a grin. "Though your body appears far more ready than I think you anticipated."
Jack blushed, bright red, not necessarily surprised Megatron had noticed, yet still embarrassed all the same. Though he had derived pleasure from the dictator's touches in the past, never had it escalated to . . . This.
To Megatron being able to turn him on.
Jack subtly readjusted, taking a deep breath to force himself back into the present. He understood, now, why there were always jokes about guys being unable to think once they got going.
Had he been in any other position, he would like to think he wouldn't be entertaining the idea of intimacy with Megatron so easily. It was to the point where he seriously considered bypassing their original plans, though the fear of pain quickly reminded him why they were here.
"Maybe, but I'd still like to know what I'm getting into before . . . Before we go any further," he replied, half expected Megatron to protest.
Instead, the Decepticon appeared pleased with his answer, lightly sitting back on his haunches.
"Before I show you, I believe it is important for you to know what to expect," Megatron began, "and what it means for a Cybertronian to be 'equipped.'"