CHAPTER THIRTY

XXX

It was many days before Megatron returned to Iacon from his campaign at Tyger Pax.

On his arrival he took the time to refuel, as well as skim over the documentation provided to him by the Decepticons which remained in this fortress, holding down what part of Iacon they could manage whilst the Autobots constantly battered at their front lines. Iacon was a major city-state which could benefit the Decepticon cause with it under their jurisdiction, the exact reason why the Autobots were so desperate to regain every square klik of it they could manage. Though if Megatron was being honest, he would be content with just Sentinel-Zeta's palace, as a way to metaphorically spit in Optimus Prime's face.

And, of course, for Amicus. It was unfortunate they could not relocate the organic somewhere more convenient, as he still contained extremely valuable information, however it was a vice Megatron was willing to tolerate.

Despite taking his time updating himself on the going's on the estate, he still arrived at Amicus' chambers thirty cycles earlier than intended. Soundwave accompanied his master, once again standing guard at the door as the dictator entered.

"My lord," Bastet was still there, flinching slightly as he bowed. "We were not expecting your arrival so soon. My apologies for lingering."

"That is of little concern to me, Bastet," he noticed the mech was freshly polished, the stones on his armor glittering in the light. "You are dismissed."

Another bow, the mech lingering. "Amicus is dressing at this time. He should not take much longer."

"I am nearly finished," the organic assured, his voice floating out from behind what appeared to be a courtesy partition. "I will see you again in due time, Bastet."

The former courtesan gave a noise of acknowledgement, a small hum coupled with a nod, still moving at an oddly slow pace. He turned towards the door, Megatron's careful optics watching him while he, in turn, seemed to keep tabs on the warlord whilst reluctantly slipping to the set of double doors. A rather strange occurrence, as Megatron had never seen the mech even dare to stare at him for very long.

Something was different. What had changed?

"I apologize, my liege," movement drew his optics away from the doors once they had swished closed, Amicus stepping out from behind the maze of partitions. Deep, sheer purple layers cascaded down from his shoulders to his knees, a golden belt cinching his waist whilst circlets held his sleeves against his wrists and ankles. His fingers were tangled in his hair, gathering it up into a single entity, a simple piece of string keeping it in place. Some fell back into his face, small chunks which caressed the smooth jawline Megatron had truthfully never seen in its entirety. "It appears you may be in a hurry, given you are ahead of schedule. I do not wish to delay you more than necessary."

"On the contrary, I am keeping schedule better than anticipated," Megatron responded, Amicus' graceful walk a stark contrast to what he had seen on the battlefield in the past several solar cycles.

"Were you successful at Tyger Pax?" Blue eyes gazed at him curiously with the inquiry.

His engine rumbled with displeasure as he recalled the battle. The energon and gore which coated his digits.

The unsuccessful interrogation which left him still lacking the location of the cowardly Orion Pax, who had disappeared from the face of the planet.

"Not as much as I had anticipated," he admitted, optics remaining locked on Amicus'. "However, we pried it from Autobot hands, in the end."

"Then I would consider you victorious," Amicus replied, tilting his head and offering one of his many gentle smiles. "And I offer you my congratulations."

They stood close to one another, Amicus' toes nearly touching the edge while Megatron's chest came within a few breadths of it. If the human wanted, he could lean forward and caress him with a swipe of his soft hands.

Indeed Amicus appeared to be appraising him, eyes drifting from his face to his chest, traveling down his arm. By the way he traced his lines, Megatron assumed he had practiced enough vision to see the dirt and grime which still clung to him. In a brief, inexplicable klik he found the thought of being filthy rather embarrassing, though he wondered if it mattered in the presence of such an organic. Besides, his mecha knew better to question his appearance, well aware their master had participated in the throes of battle just as much as they had - if not more.

"You have come to speak with me, I suspect. However, I see you have yet to clean the battlefield from your frame. May I further extend my congratulations, and invite you to a solvent bath?"

The invitation, while on par with Amicus' typical behavior, still caught the warlord off-guard. It never ceased to amaze him, how the human somehow found new ways to throw unexpected ideas his way. He wondered if it was just another excuse to see his mass-displacement capabilities, Amicus not wanting to outright demand it of him on the off chance he would say no.

"I hardly see how a bath is congratulatory," he replied in turn.

Amicus laughed, the short burst of amusement accentuated by how he grinned, face briefly lighting up from its normal state of neutrality. Blue eyes glittered, looking up at Megatron as if he had said something ridiculous.

"Warriors returned from a successful battle were treated with high honors," he explained, his eyelashes fluttering mildly, "they would be bathed by a selection from the harem, those who they were allowed to lay eyes upon. Though I am not much, it would bring me great pleasure to have the esteem of bathing you, my Set, after your return from the War."

Megatron tilted his helm. "Yet you are no longer a part of any harem," he pointed out, curious to see if he could pry any other reasoning out of the organic. "Would it not be a blow to your own dignity?"

"Hardly," he was offered a borderline playful smile, "as I have little of such a thing left. However, if you are uncomfortable with the prospect, then I will not insist, my lord. And we may continue this session as any other."

At the recollection of the last time Amicus laid hands on him, Megatron's struts shivered. The blazing heat had been far from unpleasant, his gentle touches having lingered for hours after the tyrant left for Tyger Pax. While the cool winds of flight tapered it down a bit, they still remained until his processor was pulled into the lull of war and destruction. Even now, the familiar tingles ghosted across his cables, beckoning him with a siren's call to accept.

Finally, he answered. "Where would this bath be had, then?"

Amicus continued to smile, gesturing to the side as he simultaneously turned and began to walk. "This way, my lord."

Where he took him was a rather odd structure, one which gave way from rich fabric flooring to stone, the stones themselves an interesting combination of white and light browns in varying shades. Amicus' feet lightly pattered across the new flooring, fabric whispering behind him as he slipped between pillars, Megatron able to see rather quickly what it was. A large pool of solvent, with various benches, depths, stairs, and so on in various areas of this particular section. He supposed he had never thought to really look in this corner, or any of the other corners of the room, taking in the pool and its structure. It was perfectly rectangular in shape, and long. It was easily larger than his servo, though its clientele was rather obvious: it was a pool for organics, and whoever wished to watch them.

His spark flicked with revulsion at the idea of voyeuring fleshy bodies, unable to consider their appeal.

"The solvent cycles through a filtering system," Amicus assured, "and is replaced regularly. There will be no organic taint here to disturb you."

Seeing the liquid, the steam which curled from its surface, and merely imagining how warm it would feel against his cables nearly sold Megatron then and there. It had been some time since he had such a luxury, and rarely had he ever garnered the pleasure in his lifetime. He understood what he would have to do, though, to get to it, unsure if he was amused or annoyed Amicus convinced him to use his mass displacement again. Then he wondered if it even mattered - he had refueled prior to arriving, though his tanks initially were over half full, as if he expected to mass-displace for the organic.

As if he wanted to.

"Are you comfortable with this arrangement?" Amicus asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Megatron blinked slowly, gazing down at his servo. No matter his reservations, passing on a solvent bath was borderline stupid. And it could double as Amicus answering his questions, completing two tasks in one fell swoop.

"Very well," he acquiesced, rewarded with yet another smile and Amicus tilting his head.

"Excellent. Take your time, my lord, and I will find what I think you will like," fabric fluttered in his wake, brushing against organic skin with each movement.

The tyrant watched him go, the human disappearing around a corner and the sound of shifting bottles and fabric quick to follow. Deciding there was no reason to linger, Megatron elected to shrink to an appropriate size.

This time, the Cybertronian had the presence of mind to give himself some momentum, transforming with a lunge so, when he landed, it was on the platform instead of the floor. He rose to his new height, allowing armor to finish adjusting before he moved.

Grime still caked his armor, and though some of it had flaked away with transformation there was plenty to be scrubbed from the cracks and grooves of his cabling. Looking into the depths of the solvent he carefully placed a pede in it, sinking to the first step. The warm liquid quickly and eagerly flooded the cracks of his armor, caressing protoform with gentle, inviting ripples. Resisting the urge to just jump in and immerse himself, the dictator took careful, slow steps into the solvent, finding it easily came to his waist when he reached the final step.

Amicus stood at one of the edges, setting down an armful of various bottles and even a cloth. He beckoned for Megatron to approach.

"Will you allow me to clean your armor?" He questioned, subtly arranging the bottles in a particular way, his hand still holding the cloth whilst he kneeled. "Or shall I leave you be?"

Megatron had assumed the organic would simply do it himself, with or without the warlord's permission, thus it was a pleasant surprise to hear him ask.

His frame subtly shivered at the idea of Amicus' delicate fingers stroking along his energon lines, soft organic hands pressing against his armor. An intrusive thought pushed its way through, imagining how the organic would breath words of praise in his audial, complimenting him as he had done before. His back struts shuddered, the mere idea of how he would feel sending pulses across his spark.

"You may," he said, unsure what else he could say. Eyelashes fluttered at him, Amicus gesturing for him to present himself to the edge of the pool.

He quickly realized there was raised stone beneath the surface, tall enough he could comfortably sit and the solvent would lap up to the base of his neck, no higher. Carefully he settled, still mildly wary of Amicus, though he was enjoying the solvent. The organic did not disappoint as he knelt behind him, his knees on either side of his helm as his hands pressed against his reinforced armor.

Amicus used the soft cloth to easily scrape the dirt and grime away, taking particular care to wash Megatron's curved shoulders with playful fingertips. Each new touch resulted in swirls of warm solvent, running its soothing caresses across his tense wires to slowly tease them loose. Even the persistent knots in his muscle cables seemed to untangle, however those were helped along by Amicus himself.

He had no idea how the human had learned to do so, yet deft fingers, coated in the various potions contained in the bottles, slipped between armor pieces and touched every unhappy snaggle of wiring, working them apart and smoothing them out. Each final stroke sent bursts of static through his nerve cables, little sparks of bliss in their wake as days-old cramps seemed to disappear in an instant.

Amicus worked dutifully in the quiet they had made together, moving from one shoulder to the next, then down his back, running both hands down the powerful musculature in a movement of appreciation. Megatron shivered, wondering when he allowed the organic to get so bold. And yet he did not protest, a hefty ex-vent escaping him as he shuttered his optics and enjoyed the touch. He questioned nothing while those same hands worked to the small of his back, near his hips, lingering there to slide thumbs into a particular notch and rub.

Something new, something primal raced across Megatron's frame, and it took all of his self control to not immediately moan in response to the ecstasy playing across every nerve ending, its apex exactly where Amicus touched. His optics flew open, stiffening in confused bewilderment at the new sensation.

"I apologize. Was that painful?" Amicus asked softly. Megatron had been right - his voice felt like smooth silk against his audial as his words danced across his shoulder.

"No . . ." Megatron worked to get his bearings back, fighting a new line of coding which arose in his processor. "How are you so knowledgeable?" He questioned, the first coherent thought to pop into his CPU. "Your comprehension of Cybertronian anatomy is . . . impossible for an organic."

Hands returned to his frame, though now they worked a little less invasively.

"Watching, learning, and being taught," Amicus said, understanding Megatron was intelligent enough to read between the lines. "As I also applied my own knowledge of humans to find and utilize certain . . . pleasure areas."

Megatron blinked slowly. "I did not think former royalty would understand to do things such as this."

A soft chuckle, unexpected, came from his other side this time as Amicus shifted. "It was not just those from the harem who would welcome soldiers home," Amicus's voice was almost teasing him, cheek on his audial, "as I too would occasionally partake in welcoming them home - if one caught my eye."

The tyrant tilted his helm back, surprised. Amicus took the opportunity to coax one of his arms from the water, taking his time and beginning to work there, freeing dirt from between his digits. The alleviation was immediate, small areas of ache eased gently.

"You told me you had a mate."

"Yes. This was prior to our arrangement," Amicus sighed softly, eyes far away for a brief moment. "As after, I was not allowed to participate in the affairs of my royal family."

Megatron knew this was probably not the time nor place for this conversation, however he was curious. He should have been asking about military plans, Autobot outposts near Tyger Pax, however his intrigue with the organic outweighed the logic of this meeting. "Did you love her?"

This actually made Amicus pause, as he thought about it. There appeared to be genuine contemplation on the matter, his expression betraying only a touch of sadness.

"I loved her as much as I could, given our circumstances," he said finally, continuing his slow, circular motions with cleaning Megatron's arm, dipping into seams to tease loose the tight wiring there. "Had things been different, perhaps I would have taken to loving her more. Yet I find my tastes are fluid, centered around the strong and resilient. Those with passion, eloquence, drive. Male, female, human, god, that matters not to me."

He watched the human move on to the next arm, caressing the cannon on his arm with strange affection. Megatron almost had the urge to touch him in kind, to feel the organic body which so eagerly stroked him so. Amicus did continue to keep some distance between their bodies where possible, yet his hands were everywhere, leaving no place untouched.

"What of you, Megatron?" Came the returning question, blue eyes turning to look at him even as his hands continued to work. "Have you a mate to love?"

"No," the answer was simple, precise, yet Amicus' questioning expression prompted him to divulge a little more. "I find I am too busy to have a lover, much less a mate. I have never given thought to . . . intimacy. It has had no place in my life."

"Hmm. Then I can correctly assume you are not equipped."

The statement came like a slap in the face, almost as improper as the inquiry of the state of his T-cog. It was obvious that either Amicus had very little practice in the art of Cybertronian tact, or he simply did not care. Regardless, he said the statement so matter-of-factly it was as if he had seen it for himself.

Megatron answered slowly, unsure now of where this was going. "No, I am not. I have had no desire nor inclination."

Amicus hummed in reception, understanding. He worked his way up to the other shoulder, then carefully stroked both, sending the most pleasing of shivers through the tyrant's frame. Then his arms dipped down, running against his chest plates. Megatron felt his helm touch what was most likely one of Amicus' shoulders, or his chest, the organic tucking him against his body as he worked. It was an oddly comforting feeling, Megatron shuttering his optics as the touches moved as far down as they could physically reach, scrubbing each and every nook they could fit into. His frame was warm, and for a fleeting moment the warlord felt as if he could remain here forever.

Working back up Amicus lightly massaged his neck, thumbs skimming across major vessels and dripping solvent through their notches. He let him, venting in surprise as the human continued upwards, caressing his faceplates beneath his helm. Fingers cupped his chin, tilting it backwards until he was settled against Amicus' legs. His organic thighs were an interesting sort of firmness, far more comfortable than he would have expected. He felt the fabric brush against him, whispering of the secrets it withheld from his watch. Optics sliding open he saw Amicus was gazing down at him, admiring his features in a way no one else quite had before. His touch left no part of his face uncarressed, soothing away the stress which constantly pulled his mouth taut, brave fingers even daring to occasionally flicker across sharp dentae.

"Do you understand the nature of your questions, or are humans typically as blunt as you?" He asked, gazing up at the soft features, eyes darker than normal.

Amicus smiled, fingers returning to his neck, stroking down powerful cables. "I find you tend to appreciate straightforwardness, versus dancing around the topic at hand. In addition, I wished for a candid answer - and there is a singular way to get one."

Megatron felt his cables shiver under his touch, comfortable in the prone position, what small part of his processor not fogged by contentment worried at being so vulnerable. Yet he refused to move, feeling for the first time in years what true relaxation was like. He was tempted to slip off into recharge, though other duties were still calling for his attention, an irksome reminder which nearly knotted his cables again.

"What does it matter to you?" Megatron watched his eyes trace his Cybertronian features, feeling the pads of his fingers run along the curves of his shoulders. "I thought you would put the ideas of physical pleasure behind you, given it brought you nothing but misery."

"A fair assessment," Amicus admitted, pausing in his wandering to settle his hands on the mech's shoulders, "however, I am capable of separating the evils of my past from the good of my future. I understand Apophis and his followers cannot hurt me any longer - and I am learning to trust you will not hurt me at all."

"I could," the Decepticon reminded him.

"Why would you?" The former courtesan questioned back, already well aware Megatron had not meant it. "We came to an agreement, one that is not easily broken. Refusing you, or betraying you, does nothing for me. And raising a hand against me will do nothing for you in turn. I understand you do not refuse to hurt me out of weakness, or . . . a love for me in your spark. Merely because it is, logically, against your best interests."

The dictator paused in his reply, optic ridges furrowing in confusion.

"Love for you?"

Amicus had an interesting expression on his face, one which was confounded by the fact Megatron was viewing it from upside down. It appeared to be a cross of confusion, fear, and contemplation. An interesting combination, one which seemed to be the correct observation as his helm subtly shifted with the human's thighs.

"Simply an example, my lord," his cheeks were dark with color, one which spread towards his ears and around his eyes. "One which needs not to be considered deeply."

Megatron looked at him, tilting his helm subtly. Their eyes met, Amicus not daring to look away as he held him there. Silence passed for a long, long time, the dictator considering how he wanted to ask the question. Deciding to take a page out of Amicus' book, he asked it outright.

"Are you implying you love me, Amicus?"

The mention of his name elicited a minute flinch, gaze averting briefly before flickering back to his optics, though Megatron knew better.

"No . . ." a pause, "my Set. I would never dare."

He lifted his helm from those luscious thighs, twisting as Amicus said something he could not quite hear intermixed with solvent splashing and slithering across the ground. It wet the cloth surrounding the human, who did not dare move as the tyrant faced him, more solvent dripping from Megatron's armor and into his lap.

They were close, close enough he could not see the flecks of deep brown which were sprinkled through Amicus' irises, his pupils constricted with fear - though one would never accuse him of feeling such a thing. His chest rose and fell a little faster, peripheral in Megatron's vision as he rested his servos on either side of him, leaning in close.

"Are you lying to me?" He asked, though the question did not need to be asked.

Amicus knew this, even more color on his cheeks, now leaking down into his neck as he stared back at Megatron. Something felt stuck in his throat, a deep shame weighing on his frame as the tyrant waited for an answer.

"Yes," it was barely a whisper, something which could have been mistaken as a breath to the unaware listener. "I . . ."

A pause, his gaze becoming downcast as his eyes closed. Megatron watched his lips contort, pain etched across his face as he bit down on his own teeth. Amicus bowed his head, shifting so much Megatron leaned back to give him space, expecting him to stand, but instead the human dipped downward. His forehead rested against his arms as he bowed to Megatron, exposing his dark back nearly in its entirety.

"I cannot apologize," he said, voice thick with an emotion the dictator struggled to decipher, "because I know what I did was wrong. I knew what I did, lord Megatron, was against what I had promised you, and yet I chose to betray your trust. What punishment you decide to inflict upon me is just."

No begging for mercy. No pleas to allow him to justify his actions. Just quiet, painful acceptance that what he had done had consequences. A stark contrast to Starscream.

It genuinely annoyed Megatron more that the pitiful Seeker had managed to pop up in his processor during this time of relaxation than anything Amicus had ever done.

When he did not give an immediate answer or move, he realized Amicus' trembling was increasing. Where before he could not even perceive it, now there were obvious tremors in his muscles, the sleek curves of his body twitching in agitation.

I am learning to trust you will not hurt me at all.

And yet you fear my wrath, the Decepticon considered bitterly.

"Get up, Amicus," he said, though the command was given lazily, "I am more interested in the contents of your confession than of your suffering."

The human slowly rose back to his haunches, his hands resting nervously against his legs. Megatron caught himself imagining resting against them again, even burying his helm into his soft embrace, questioning his bizarre desire to do so. To let Amicus touch him, and caress him in kind.

Something about the organic had become desirable, and he was unsure he cared for that.

Amicus still refused to look directly at him, his eyes gazing at the Decepticon symbol on his chest. The owner let him for the time being, mulling over what had transpired. To consider anyone having a romantic interest in him was preposterous, though apparently it was feasible. He supposed he had never taken the time to consider such options, as he had been rather preoccupied with his desire for equality and the overthrow of functionalism. Now with the war in full swing, such attachments were all but irrelevant and impractical. To care for one in the middle of a war was to guarantee their destruction.

Yet Amicus was safe here, in his little bubble. He was not involved in the violence, and the warlord doubted Sentinel Zeta left his precious harem unprotected. Though organic, such feelings would equally be protected in these walls.

He thought back to how he enjoyed his touches, how he desired them incessantly, as if they were some sort of drug. Even now he wished those soft hands were beneath his armor, ghosting across wires in their quest for . . . something. His spark, he guessed, using clues from Amicus accidental confession.

"I will not ask you a second time," he started, his tone neutral yet prodding. "And this time, I will ask it with far more precision: are you in love with me?"

Several heartbeats passed between them, and for a genuine moment he believed Amicus would lie to him again. However, he would accept the answer, he decided, regardless or whether he believed it to be false or not. Lying was easy, as he very well knew, and it left far less questions in its wake. To speak the truth would certainly cause distress, and it would make things far more complex than it already was. Any Decepticon who happened upon this scene - or Autobot, even - would already have mistaken them for intimate partners, or at least nearing that stage of their relationship. He was surprised Amicus had managed to keep it professional for so long, operating under the guise he was simply serving a new master; however, things which were once out of place now seemed to fit together.

"Yes," silk slipping from shoulders, dancing around curves, lashes fluttering as lips teased him with their delicate words, the offering of touches, of an intimacy so innocent yet loaded with so much, all flashed across his processor as pieces of the final puzzle as Amicus finally allowed his secret desires to be known, "I am in love with you."

More silence, more tension, though of what type it was now hard to tell. Megatron tilted his helm.

"For how long?"

Finally, a small smile broke across Amicus features, his eyes still downcast. With mild amusement, he recalled: "Perhaps when you first arrived, my Set. I was certainly smitten, though afraid. Yet through your visitations I became more entranced. Though you may not be able to imagine, it was an exultant privilege when you allowed me to touch your frame."

It took a moment to process the time which Amicus spoke of, Megatron somewhat surprised by this. He had not anticipated the organic to have desired him in the beginning, as he was certain he reminded him of his enslaver. To hear this created more questions, Megatron trying to understand for certain what this meant now, and what it would mean in the future.

"Would you have kept your feelings from me had I not caught your slip of tongue?" He wondered aloud.

Once again, Amicus appeared ashamed, though not nearly as much when he was caught being deceitful.

"I would have," he confessed, fingers nervously playing with the fabric beneath them. "I understand, my Set, organics are not to your tastes. I am not one which will ever earn your affections, be they as mutual as my own, or even less than," he hesitated as something came to mind, then he spoke again, "You may perceive my offerings as tokens of endearment, as a way for me to project my feelings for you and satisfy my desires. But I swear to you, Set, I mean nothing by this except as a way to express my loyalty and pride for you."

He was afraid to confess because he understood Megatron would be disgusted. This was true, the tyrant mused, as he found organics far inferior to the Cybertronian race, insects which could be flicked to the side. To hear one had feelings for him would have been an insult to his pride, and perhaps even more disgraceful would be if they assumed the feeling would ever be mutual.

Slowly, however, he realized this was not the case with Amicus. Naturally, he despised his flesh in the beginning, and callously instructed him to cover up in his presence. Now the human revealed an obscene amount, and the tyrant had yet to even bat an optic. It was even wet, clinging to him in ways it never had before, revealing shapes which he normally kept concealed.

Amicus was no longer just a human, he was so much more. At one time, Megatron saw past his humanity and perceived the soul within, elevating Amicus from a simple-minded creature to a complex Cybertronian with thoughts of his own.

He nearly saw him as an equal.

"We are hardly compatible beings," he continued with his prodding, attempting to fully piece together what Amicus could see in him. What could possibly be so attractive to the organic?

"As was Apophis and I," Amicus said, his gaze not fully meeting that of the Cybertronian's, "and yet he purchased me, along with many other non-Cybertronians."

Megatron jutted his chin out. "Then perhaps, the question should be: why me, Amicus? Why not Bastet, Soundwave, Starscream, or any other Cybertronians you have laid your eyes upon?"

Finally, a small, teasing smile pulled at the corners of his organic lips, some of the dry playfulness returning to his bright blue eyes. "I believe I have already given you the answer to such a thing, my Set."

His lashes fluttered, sending pleasant shivers down Megatron's back struts. Briefly he considered the gesture to be flirtatious, wondering if this was Amicus subtly suggesting to make this into offerings of affection. The tyrant had yet to reject his feelings, to physically or metaphorically backhand the human and shame him for his arrogance, to think he would ever earn such prestige.

Digits twitched at the thought. He would never hurt Amicus in that way, because he couldn't. Not simply because he considered himself better than Sentinel Zeta and would never stoop to such loathsome levels - but because Amicus was no longer just his confidant.

Just as he had done with the mech before him, Amicus had managed to charm his way past Megatron's defenses, casting a spell on his systems.

"Strength, resilience," he listed, red optics searching his face, "Passion, eloquence, drive. You find the idea of power intoxicating."

"Intoxicating, perhaps, too strong of a word," a hand reached out yet he did not stop it, allowing it to caress his armor. "And power being far too vague, as it implies I only care about it in the . . . metaphysical sense. Quite the opposite is true, my Set."

The hand moved, tracing his shoulder plating and along his chest.

"Your physical power and prowess is what intrigues me," he confessed, "in tandem with the aptitude you demonstrate while conversing. You are not merely a fighter, my lord, but a competent leader with a mind as sharp as a cat's claw."

Megatron had no idea what a cat was, however such a question was quickly brushed away as Amicus' fingers fluttered along his cheek, those bright eyes completely locked on his own.

"But perhaps what has affected me most," Amicus decided, "was your willingness to adapt to my size. At the very least, Megatron, your touch assures me I am not alone in this world, though others more like me may be gone."

Amicus was lonely, he concluded. After serving for years as a vessel meant for only empty intimacy, it must have been a relief to be free of those chains. At the very least now, any relationships he forged would be more genuine, versus being based on the exchange of meaningless physical pleasures.

Except any creature he could have possibly done this with was taken away, executed on the order of his new master - Megatron. Though he had Bastet, their size difference would always make any gestures extremely limited and unfulfilling.

Though the idea of being truly intimate with Amicus did cause hesitation, Megatron realized he was the only one on this planet who would ever be able to give Amicus what he craved - physical connection. Someone on his level who Amicus could fulfill his need for close social interactions.

He shifted, the solvent sloshing around him as he allowed himself to lean into Amicus touch, considering his options. A second hand, just as gentle as its twin, held the other side of his face, thumbs running across the smooth plating beneath his optics. The human wanted something from him.

And the tyrant would be a fool to think he did not want something too. Nothing else could explain how Amicus' touches made him feel this way, wires crackling with leashed energy which threatened to bubble to the surface with every movement his smooth body made. Though his thoughts of the organic species of the universe in general started strictly negatively, he found he was making an exception with Amicus. His softness was one of his greatest strengths, his mind far more brilliant than he would have given any other organic credit for. He was just as sentient, just as capable, as the next Cybertronian, only limited by the fragile vessel his gods had given him.

"I do not find you as abhorrent as you believe," he finally said, pleased to see the surprise which flashed across Amicus' face, "make no mistake, I struggle to determine if I would dare call my feelings towards you anything stronger than neutral, however . . ."

Amicus' finger gently pressed itself against his derma, the human blinking slowly.

"No more needs to be said, my Set," he assured the Decepticon, "as I understand your inner turmoil. I never expect your feelings to be mutual. I only hope that, should you allow, I demonstrate my own passions in a way which most pleases you, outside of what we have already agreed upon."

There was a swift moment where Megatron worried as to what kind of demonstrations Amicus would put on, though he brushed the concern aside. Should Amicus cross a line, he would be quickly corrected.

He tilted his helm. "Will you attempt to seduce me?"

Amicus smiled at him, wider this time, his eyes twinkling. "May I?"

The playfulness of the question startled the tyrant, finding himself held captive not just by his hands but the thrill the simple question caused to sweep through his spark.

The offering to partake in this game, one he was painfully aware he already lost.

"Yes," he replied, unable to tell if the word was as loud as he intended, or if it was a soft whisper.

Amicus ran his hands down his neck, gently wrapping his arms around them and sliding closer. Megatron let him, their chests nearly touching as the human tilted his head.

"And would you allow me to show you gestures of human affection?" He posited, "ones which border, or barely cross, intimacy?"

The warlord had a sneaking suspicion that if he accepted, the next question would reveal what Amicus had in mind. The thought of partaking in organic customs caused him to internally rear back, wondering if he was truly ready to launch himself from this cliff. Blue eyes blinked slowly, head tilted as Amicus's knees touched his hips, one motion away from wrapping around the sharp edges. Megatron felt his grip on the edge of the pool tighten, the beat of his spark wildly unrestrained in its chassis.

A cliff he was already teetering off of.

"I would," the reply left just as confusingly as the last one, though Amicus hardly seemed to mind.

"Then, my Set," he readjusted his stance, coming so close to the tyrant their faces were nearly touching. The warmth from his flesh was enough of a distraction to send Megatron reeling, astonished by the bravery of a rejuvenated Amicus. "May I kiss you?"

Kiss. It was not something he was unfamiliar with, as capable Cybertronian pairs were known to occasionally partake in the very organic gesture if they felt so inclined. A lot of modern Cybertronian gestures, he noted, were influenced in some way by the organics which they interacted with, though of course with their own cultural twists and implications. For Megatron, who had never experienced such a thing, he was hardly bothered by the offering of one.

It was who which made him hesitate.

Yet the idea of gentle lips molding against his immovable living metal was appealing. There was something satisfactory about Amicus' supple body, the way it was a perfect mixture of firm delicacy. He was not squishy as the slur implied, but rather soft. A feeling no living metal could ever replicate perfectly.

If he accepted, there was always just the first, and only time. He was under no obligation to touch Amicus, or even see him again, if he felt so inclined. This was a test, though it was one he realized he did not want to fail.

"Yes," he consented.

Amicus tilted his head, surprising Megatron as soft lips first touched the top of his helm in a chaste display of affection. He blinked, not having expected it, remaining still as two more were bestowed upon him, one on each cheek. They were soft, leaving bursts of prickling energy in their wake.

The human pulled away slowly, reading the the tyrant's expression. A small smile played across his face, a teasing sparkle in his blue eyes. Hands moved from around his neck, cupping Megatron's face to tilt it at the perfect angle. Suddenly they were connected, Megatron allowing him to lead as his intake opened in surprise. Lips only yielded to his metal by a fraction, the rest of his body steadfast against him. A buzz traveled from the point of contact and numbed the sensory nodes along his face, Amicus' fingers moving, stroking between his armor and playing along wires.

For the first time in his life, ever, Megatron felt as if he was drowning.

Amicus pulled away long before the tyrant was ready to stop, selfish digits grabbing at his side and preventing him from moving. Amicus released a surprised breath. Their eyes met.

"Are you alright, my lord?" He whispered.

Megatron paused, wondering if he was just as sinful as his predecessor for this. If he demanded more, would Amicus give it willingly? Or would he just view him as another god thirsting for his mortal body?

His digits slowly uncurled from his waist, pulling back and reining himself in. The warlord wished to understand his feelings first before he pursued this any further, though his living metal already begged for Amicus' flesh to once again tantalize even its most secretive corners.

"I must go," he said slowly, still working to reorganize his thoughts, "I am expected to report to my soldiers and continue planning our next assault."

A pause, Amicus looking genuinely disappointed, though he did not say as much. In fact, within the span of a few seconds his face reset to careful neutrality, pulling away from his lord.

"Thank you for indulging me, Set," he bowed again, though not nearly as low as the first time, allowing the fabric of his torso to fall ever so slightly, exposing more skin.

The Decepticon stilled the palpitations of his spark.

"And I thank you, Amicus," he stepped out of the solvent, feeling the relatively cooler air press against his frame, "for your loyalty, and your openness."

No more was said between them as Megatron took his leave, Amicus still in his wet silks and sitting at the edge of the solvent, appearing just as dazed as his master. The tyrant knew there was something dangerous here, an unspoken new threat which could easily be his undoing. How far would he go for this organic? How far did he want to go, if he dared?

The answer was far more frightening to him than he would ever admit.