CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

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Not gonna lie, I had difficulty with this chapter. It's been through a few re-writes and I'm still somewhat back and forth. But I think it serves its purpose and pushes the plot where I want to to go! Hope you all enjoy.

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It was not apprehension which plagued Megatron's spark when he next opted to visit Amicus, however it was a feeling very akin to it. He could not quite identify it, leaving him on edge, wondering why it was he felt this way. The thrumming in his chassis was unpleasant, yet he did not dismiss it immediately, rather attempting to interpret it whilst he stood in the pressurizing chamber, the green glow informing him it was safe to step through and enter.

The warlord hesitated.

Was he scared of what he might see next he met the human? A ridiculous notion, as the lord of Decepticons feared nothing. Or so he ensured to impress upon his enemies.

Red optics slid online. This was not as dangerous, nor the stakes nearly as high, as any one of his matches in Kaon. He could handle a simple organic.

Simple underestimated the prowess of Amicus.

With a hiss the doors parted for him, revealing the room was empty, as usual. He was mildly surprised Bastet had not remained behind to attend to his human, having not forgotten the strange interaction he had with the mech during their prior visit. Amicus alone lounged amongst his throne of fabrics, the shade of purple against his skin most certainly not a coincidence. Now that he was privy to the human's private feelings, Megatron guessed he intentionally selected colors which he would enjoy gazing upon.

"Lord Megatron," Amicus rose to his feet with a soft bow, "welcome back."

"Amicus," he inclined his helm, hesitating. He did not know how to approach him, his armor warming whilst optics traced the hands flickering through fabric.

"Come," fingers beckoned for him to draw near, "I wish to touch you."

Surely if he had been in his right mind, Megatron would have refused. Yet the flutter of lashes matched the pulses of his spark, expression a cool front to what was surely a similar thrum within his organic chest. He certainly could not be in his right mind, as he did not question Amicus when he quietly requested him to move closer. The Megatron many days ago would have scoffed, perhaps even flicked the organic for his arrogant command.

Now he obeyed, as if he was back in those accursed mines, and Amicus was his master.

When he rose to his pedes after transforming he found Amicus held a cup of energon for him, taking it and trying to ignore how their fingers brushed together, lingering. When had he become so weak in the presence of this organic?

Amicus was, perhaps, a single seductive glance away from literally bringing Megatron to his knees. It was an alarming thought, the tyrant attempting to subtly shake off the bewitchment. He refused to believe something with flesh could so easily take him down.

Forcing himself to consume the entire cup before refocusing on Amicus, his optics settled on how the fabric slipped from his shoulders, exposing more of his anatomy. Graceful fingers took the glass from him once he was finished, placing it aside. Amicus' smile was playful, pads of his organic digits flickering across broad chest plates, sending shivers down Megatron's frame.

How strange, he could not fathom batting those things away, only reveling as the human increased the pressure, all but touching his spark itself as thumbs skimmed across sensitive wiring. Amicus was closer now, more than he had ever been, bright eyes looking up at Megatron with a smile. He played innocent quite well, though it was more like he was simply trying to pretend it was mere coincidence they were so near one another, the brush of his sleeves teasing Megatron's claws.

"You may always request I stop, if it discomforts you," Amicus offered, appearing to sense something in the Decepticon's body language. When he skimmed down his sides Megatron released a slow vent, trying to ignore how loud his fans sounded when they kicked on. "Or if you prefer I touch in a different matter, I will do so."

"There is nothing wrong with it," he tried to sound dismissive, though it sounded like a tragic failure. Amicus watched him, how his optics traced what pieces of his frame he could see, taking in the nuances of his skin. He took it as invitation to shrug off a little more from his arms, watching flashes of hunger unlike any other flicker across Megatron's face. It was not the hunger of a predator, but rather a curious carnivore, fanged teeth peeking from derma as he appeared to unconsciously breathe in. The gesture was very human, Amicus well aware there were several similarities to be had between these two otherwise very different species. He could never puzzle out how compatibility could possibly work between them.

The human was satisfied to simply attribute it to their gods, Primus and Unicron, sharing this realm with his own. Perhaps they traded ideas, like silk and gold, amongst one another in the heavens. It certainly explained a lot.

"And if you wish to touch me in turn," he let his fingers lace with Megatron's, bringing it up to his collarbone. "I will allow it."

He released the tyrant's servo, allowing it to fall against his skin. This startled Megatron, who had never truly touched Amicus like this before, so intimately, his digit tips alive with the sensory frenzy of new texture. Like his hands, lips, his thighs, there was a strange firmness to him which betrayed his tougher interior. Truly, skin did a disservice to the human race - it made them appear far weaker, and squishier, than what they truly were. Their endoskeleton was fairly reminiscent of Cybertronian framework, with similar structuring to give them their . . . humanoid shape.

Breath hitched when his servo moved to touch his neck, the powerful pulse palpable even to the untrained dictator. His spark, or perhaps more accurately his heart, raced under his palm, thumb skimming the underside of his jaw. Amicus paused in his own touches, feeling how Megatron explored him with a thrill. It was clumsy work, applying pressure to his bones with mild painful consequences, yet he did not protest in the least bit. He wanted the Cybertronian to figure him out, watching Set move across his neck to his shoulder, experimentally squeezing the muscle there with a mixture of disgust and fascination.

"Need I remove more?" He murmured, shifting on his tip-toes to ghost the words across Megatron's audio receptor.

Megatron's spark was going crazy, nearly intoxicating him in its excitement. The sensation was overwhelmingly foreign, yet he did not balk from it; more than anything he was merely confused, wondering how Amicus could elicit such a severe reaction from him, only to remind himself he no longer considered the human inferior to him. Though which came first - Amicus' rise from being a mere organic, or Megatron's slow fall into affection for him?

This was not the affection one would give a pet, he knew that immediately. It had never been that type of endearment.

"Remove your sleeves," he ordered in a low growl, Amicus complying without hesitation. They came off surprisingly easy, more of his smooth skin coming to light, Megatron realizing how the light played across it, revealing its golden undertone. A fitting enrichment for someone as fine as he, and a color Megatron rarely encountered. Cybertron was a world of grey, of blues and purples with bright fantastical colors. Brown was such an organic color it was rarely used, if at all, and even then they did not fully explore its variations. To him, Amicus was unique, the tyrant only wishing he could draw other comparisons to fully comprehend just how he was. Jewels certainly did not fit, and rust was too ugly of a word.

Primus, he was just Amicus.

Digits ran down his arm, exploring how it twisted and moved, feeling the organic cabling beneath tense and relax as he did so. He traced his hand, watching fingers twitch with certain movements, quickly dropping them so that they might return to his own frame for further exploration. Indeed he did not disappoint, skimming along his hips and daring to touch the dangerous points there.

Megatron shivered, other servo touching his face. Amicus sighed, eyes sliding closed to fully immerse himself in the sensation. He dared to move from his arm, ghosting over to his waist. The touch caused Amicus to jerk, though it was out of surprise rather than fear. He pushed himself closer to Megatron, whispering a single word.

"Kiss?"

He obliged him quite readily, this time allowing it to linger. Lips moved against derma, few scars giving him interesting texture. Servo drifting he touched his thigh, Amicus bringing it up to give him easier access. Skin pushed into the notch of his hip, sending another trill across his spark when it pressed into several lines at the same time. When their kiss ended Megatron realized he had wrapped a single leg around him, practicing careful balance while digits squeezed against the substantial flesh.

Amicus moved his hands, grabbing his shoulder pauldrons with intent written clearly across his face. Megatron read him easily, and in one fluid motion both servos were holding his thighs, legs wrapped around his waist with ankles hooking together at the small of his back. Then they were kissing again, human whispering the name of his godly persona against his derma. Though he had weight to him - and not as floaty as humans appeared to be - Amicus was light, held effortlessly by the leader of the Decepticons.

How did it get to this degree? How was he so comfortable exchanging intimacy with a creature who, by all accounts, he should have executed long ago?

Fingers dipped into the intricate seams of his back, stroking wires and reminding him exactly how this happened.

"My Set," Amicus gazed at him, expression clouded by breathless yearning. "May I . . . may I do the honor of performing sparkplay with you?"

Red optics brightened, the entity within him begging for him to say yes, to let Amicus have what he always wanted, what no one else had ever seen.

Yet he hesitated.

"You do not have a spark," he pointed out.

"Indeed, I do not," Amicus said balefully, "but it will bring me pleasure all the same to do this for you."

Megatron looked at him, appearing to assess their situation, the digits on Amicus' thighs rubbing slow circles against their skin. Of course, he had no idea the type of effect it had on the organic, the excitatory zips of pleasure which were borderline nauseating as they pierced his gut. Had they known each other better, Amicus would have asked he move the touch up only a small bit higher, to slide into the fold of where his hips met his legs.

"Show me the rest of you," he requested, bringing a genuine expression of surprise to Amicus' face. He appeared stunned, not sure what to say at first before tentatively requesting clarification.

"You wish for me to remove the rest of my clothes?" Amicus inquired.

"Yes," Megatron slowly set him down, serious, "reveal yourself to me, Amicus."

Though eager to do so, Amicus was caught off-guard - a rarity, and one Megatron was sure to treasure - by the command. He assumed Megatron would prefer only his own pleasure, and not bother himself with his own body or the unsavory aspects which came with it; namely, bodily fluids. However, he would oblige him, nodding.

"Of course," he reigned in his confidence once more, offering a playful smile as he slid from his arms, "shall I make a show of it?"

Megatron's optic ridge quirked up, hands pushing against his chest in indication he was to sit amongst the cushions around them. He obliged, Amicus stepping between his legs to offer a small peck on his helm, then slipping off the first of what was revealed to be several layers.

He cast the cloth to the side, Megatron distracted by the fluttering of the fabric to realize he was yet shedding another layer, this time revealing what was the rest of Amicus' torso. He unexpectedly sported more than just a smooth front, revealing he was shaped very similarly to a Cybertronian with obvious distinction of his chest and abdomen.

Amicus took Megatron's servo, allowing him to touch, to take his time tracing his muscles. Vermillion biolights traced each abdominal muscle, softly defined as years of physical activities kept him in specific shape. He was stunned to discover when Amicus breathed, all of him moved. A hitch caused his abdomen to jerk, his chest expanding and contracting definitively even with the softest of inhalations. It was so strange, foreign, alien, his curious anatomy unexpectedly pleasant.

The clothes on his body had done very little justice to the actual build before him, softly defined in a way which was, oddly enough, Amicus' aesthetic.

Servos rested on hips, leaving only one last article of clothing between him and Amicus.

Megatron knew what to expect, having seen plenty of advertisements and rather detailed conversations about equipment. Humans were actually quite rare, and thus if one wanted their modifications, they would need to consult one of extremely few specialists. He did not hesitate because he feared what he would see, but rather because his bio-scans detected Amicus was breathing faster, but not deeper, the shallow hyperventilations something he had not experienced before.

Tilting his helm up, he noted a dark blush had worked its way across Amicus' face, tinting him a deep rouge even down to his neck. Blue eyes were brighter, irises dominating the space in a rare display of anxiety. Megatron regarded him with a slow blink, servos remaining steadfast against his hips.

"Would you like another kiss?" He asked, voice carefully neutral.

Surprise flickered across his face. Amicus took a deep breath, hands resting against Megatron's. He was beginning to struggle, the Cybertronian's curious relaxation slowly making way for concern.

"No, my Set," he murmured. "I- I will . . ."

"Deeply, Amicus," he instructed casually. "With control. What do you want me to do?"

A hard swallow, jaw unnaturally clenched. Megatron moved a servo, thumb skimming across the solid joint; and with the touch Amicus realized what he saw, consciously relaxing it and doing just as he asked, sucking in a chest full of air.

"Give me . . . a moment, please," he whispered.

Megatron waited, allowing Amicus to do as he required. Two more powerful breaths appeared to clear his eyes, though they remained pinpoint, adrenaline coursing through his veins despite his behest. After a longer moment of hesitation Amicus slid into his lap, surprising the tyrant, head resting against a powerful shoulder as their chests touched one another. Heart raced against spark, powerful thrumming gently soothing the pounding in the organic's chest. Megatron felt him tremble against his armor, instinct prompting him to gently rub digits up and down his spine. Soft, shaking deep breaths carefully worked in tandem with the touch, Amicus curling into him.

"I . . . I apologize," Amicus wrapped his fingers around a piece of his chest plate. "I didn't think I would . . . that I couldn't . . ."

"You need not compromise your mentality for me," Megatron focused on the feeling of his heart, how it beat so steadily compared to the constant pulsations which were from a spark. It was a new kind of power, one he considered replicating. The constant hum was far from intimidating - but a beat, a drum . . . was interesting.

Amicus closed his eyes, enjoying Megatron's touch. His body shivered when digit tips traced across the bony ridges of his spine, delicate in their ventures despite how easy it would be to cut the man.

Megatron's derma moved against his ear. "It is not your body which I desire most," he continued, "but rather your honesty, your truths. If you cannot do this, Amicus, then I have no inclination to make you."

Shifting, hands touched the sides of his face, thumbs skimming across the edges of his lips. Blue eyes, calm yet now so unbearably sad, stared deep into his optics.

"I wish to do this for you," Amicus sighed, "to fulfill your request. It is . . . my body rebels against me, it fears what vulnerability even as my mind realizes you hold no ill towards me. I desire you, my Set, but to do any more than senseless words and breathy kisses strikes terror into my fractured spirit."

He felt heavy servos rest against his waist once more, one daring to trace his musculature there. Amicus shivered again, losing breath, yet in the same instance flashes of before left him trembling. His traitorous mind wondered if this was a sick game, a joke, one which would leave him writhing and screaming for a saviour who would never come. It was a position he had been in before - many times.

"Then speak truths to me, Amicus," the warlord commanded of him, "tell me what it is your body will not do for you."

Hesitation, the human taking a few deep breaths of contemplation. A hand cupped his face, the other sliding down to his chest, allowing him to readjust on his lap. Hair fell against his shoulders, caressing cheeks when his lips lightly touched Megatron's audial.

"I love you," he confessed, fingers tracing nonsensical lines down his neck, his chest, with every word, "with every visit, I have only fallen deeper for you. My desires have moved beyond simple lust, now entrenched so firmly within me I feel great sadness knowing my time is limited. I have begun wanting to live again, to survive so that I may be with you for yet another day. My heart beats uncontrollably for your affections, ceasing only when you touch me. With every stroke, every caress, I want more from you; I want everything which is you.

"My past has ingrained the fear of intimacy into my flesh, yet even then I want you, my Set, to have your way with me with reckless abandon. I want you to do anything you desire to my body, my very soul, so that I may know what pleases you and, in turn, be pleased as well. My body wishes to submit to you, to feel how you grip me in assurance no one else will have me just as you have. I desire your touch to not only bring me ardent pleasure, but the sweetest comforts."

One of his hands intertwined with Megatron's digits, lightly pressing them into his hair. The warlord allowed his claws to tangle within them, perceiving their wispy softness. He sensed how relaxed Amicus became with every careful touch, how his breath choked softly as words caught in his throat.

"Stay this way with me, for a little while longer," he requested.

Megatron obliged him readily, taking the time to play with his hair. Watching it bounce and twirl blithely against his metal, he was prompted to bury his digits deeper into it, rubbing his skull. Amicus reacted positively to this, heart rate spiking and yet he did not become more distressed, instead leaning into his touch with a soft mewl.

Venting softly, slowly, Megatron continued to idly stroke the organic, allowing his own spark to come down from its excitement, and finding he quite enjoyed this silent doting.

In a rare moment of tenderness he pulled them both down, laying lengthwise across the couch. Amicus curled into him, face buried deep in his chest. Never did Megatron consider how he might enjoy holding the human, the trust between them simmering in a wondrous warmth.

I love you.

He never received any sort of declaration from his own kind, a revelation which was, admittedly, humiliating. Though Megatron had many admirers, and still had so many now, none were as genuine as Amicus; the human did not worship him like a god, yet still viewed him as one.

They were both broken, he concluded. In various ways, sharing some similarities within their drastic differences. This, then, would explain why they came together so easily, like two pieces of a puzzle.

Whether he chose to pursue this romantically, or merely as a fling, Amicus was his other half. The highlights within his contrast, an enhancement.

Did he love him yet? It was still a question requiring further investigation, but perhaps for now, he could say yes. Just simply, yes.

XXX

Amicus was asleep when Megatron left. Tucked amongst a nest of blankets and pillows, Megatron ensured his modesty as it usually was before he left. He did not want Bastet to jump to any vicious conclusions, but also did not want to embarrass Amicus, should his overseer have questions.

Exiting the doors, Soundwave was standing outside silently, waiting for him. Their gazes met, the gladiator having developed quite the knack for interpreting the silent mech's body language. There was an odd tilt to his helm, pitch black visor appearing to disapprove.

Stalking over, a silent command to follow was relayed. Soundwave did so obediently, Megatron pretending to not notice two extra missing cassettes from his ever thinning frame.

"Do you believe I am compromised?" He voiced aloud once they were well out of hearing range, red optics sliding over to the mech beside him. "Have things gone too far?"

Hesitance, Soundwave bringing up a very good point on his visor. Organics were fragile, their lives far more fleeting than even the illest of Cybertronians. Amicus was aging, now older than his prime and beginning to decline every hour he remained on Cybertron. While he did not say one way or another if he approved, Soundwave made it very clear to his master that this pursuit could only end one way; and he was unsure the Decepticon leader was prepared for such a loss.

Caution, and mild amusement, laced themselves around the tyrant's words. "Do you think I am not immune to loss? I have known it all my life."

Perhaps. Soundwave turned his visor away, the screen going blank once more - and his EM field brushing towards Megatron, though it had lost the spark he was used to sensing with the third in command. It was far more plain, neutral, the warlord once again refusing to comment on the obvious holes in his functioning.

Amicus is not the same loss you have encountered before.

"Then I want you to answer me honestly," Megatron turned his optics on his third in command. "His usefulness is finite and, quite frankly, coming to a close, as the information he contains is now outdated and irrelevant. Optimus Prime will not strategize as Orion Pax once had, and is now dangerously unpredictable. Amicus gave us what he could, however he certainly could not supply further information based on the current battle field. Do you believe, Soundwave, he should be terminated?"

When the communications officer paused again, Megatron was unsure how to interpret it. Was he accounting it logically, or attempting to dance around his lord's obvious feelings on the matter?

He decided to clarify. "Your honest opinion, Soundwave, regardless of how I interpret the matter. The most logical decision. Should I terminate him?"

A few more micro-kliks of thought, field positing the answer he knew the mech would give.

Yes.