4. Adjustment

While the Decepticon warlord sipped the energon, Optimus took a large sponge from one of the cabinets, added cleanser and dampened it. He eyed the huge, dark spiky form of his new bonded (Primus) and realized that there was a small problem. Or rather, an oversized one. He wasn't going to be able to reach Megatron's upper back and also see what he was doing unless the other was on his knees or sitting, or Optimus stood on a chair.

The grey mech finished the fuel, and set the cube on a ledge in the wall. It was probably designed to hold the sort of expensive cleansers and polishes the kind of bot who would normally own a place this size might use.

"Um." Optimus said. "Ratchet said you have some corrosion on your back, probably from hitting the ground in Detroit, and not getting repaired afterwards. I'm going to need you to sit, or kneel so I can reach. "

Megatron gave him a cold, haughty look and didn't move.

So it was going to be like that, was it? Frag.

Well, it wasn't like Optimus hadn't found himself in command of mechs who didn't respect him or acknowledge him as a leader before. They would just have to work it out, like he had with the team on Earth. Megatron couldn't be that much harder to lead than Prowl, right? Especially since Optimus had the upper hand in several ways.

"Sit down." He said. He didn't try to use a command voice, as when he had tried to make Bumblebee and Bulkhead obey him, back when they were all repairing space bridges in the aft end of nowhere. He tried to use the sort of tone that would put a lower ranking officer at ease. It was still an order, but he wasn't going to rub the Decepticon's face plates in it. They had both suffered enough humiliation today.

Brrr. The look on Megatron's face could have frozen molten steel. The Decepticon sat, and Optimus started scrubbing his back, his servos brisk and impersonal on the damaged plating. He used just enough pressure to clean the injuries, knowing from a few of his own misadventures in the past how uncomfortable it was to clear grit out of damage like that. The grey and burgundy mech was tense beneath his servos, his plating clamped tightly to his frame. Those clawed hands were clenched tightly enough on his knee plates that they were in danger of leaving even more dents.

Well. There was no way Optimus was going to order him to relax. He really did not need to feel any more like a rapist than he already did. He decided to follow Ratchet's lead and act like everything was fine. Well, fineish.

So Optimus carefully and industriously washed and scrubbed at the armor of his greatest opponent and the personal nightmare of a large segment of the Autobot population. He used the brush on Megatron's joints, gratified when the wary tension began to gradually ease out of the other's frame. The plates of his armor were no longer clamped tightly shut like they would be for combat, they were slightly unfurled to allow the solvents to work through the cabling and wires, washing out grit and mineral deposits.

Megatron's strong, elegantly lethal build was fascinating, and his warm plating was tempting to explore further, but Optimus was not a pervert like Xaaron. He didn't want to intrude on the privacy of someone who was so obviously distressed by his touch.

Well, so far being an Autobot slave was a lot more like being at a nice spa than he had been expecting. Given his experience last time, Megatron had been expecting some creative abuse and probably a round of molestation by now. Normally when an Autobot took a new slave, the mech would do…things to show his dominance. His previous master had paraded him around with the marks he had left on his chassis in full view.

Being well fed, having his wounds treated, and now having the little Prime detailing his armor was not exactly the set of circumstances he had been bracing himself for. And the multicolored mech was being so…through about it. No inappropriate touches at all, though they were surprisingly pleasant now that he was paying attention to them instead of waiting for the rape and torture to commence.

Megatron was darkly amused by the irony that now he had the fierce young Autobot who had defeated him in battle carefully scrubbing out the joints in his back plating like a devoted and trusted servant. He had, perhaps had a few fantasies about similar scenarios when he was trapped in Issac's lab, trying to scheme his way to freedom. It had been a small amusement, a way to pass the time. Of course in his imaginings this had not been the scenario he envisioned.

The Autobot Prime was being so gentle. He had been tense under those hands, waiting to be ordered down, made to serve his master in the most humiliatingly intimate ways…

And nothing had happened.

As much as his mind wanted to rage and snarl at finding himself a slave again, his body had other ideas. It wanted to collapse into a pile of pleasantly relaxed goo as the fuel, cleanliness and gentle touches soothed away the pain and filth of the Stockades. He honestly wasn't sure what to do. He knew how to cope with cruelty and abuse in a situation like this. His model had had the slave programming included because they were considered too large and dangerous to be uncontrolled in peacetime. When they were at war with the Quintessons, the warrior builds had been treated like any other soldiers, except more specialized for the tasks of war.

It was only afterwards that their programming had been activated. After the Quints were driven away and Cybertron began to rebuild, many of his generation found that they could not cope with peace. They were suddenly cut adrift, without the military structure that had given their existences form. There had been…incidents. Some were the fault of the war builds, many not. The end result had been the activation of their coding, and the time of bondage. Then the revolts had come, and the Great War which ended the so-called Golden Age.

Hmmmm…Oh, that felt good. The young Prime was gently scrubbing out the inside of his shoulder array with a soft brush. He automatically flexed the armor around the joint to increase the reachable area. Obviously his original plan of stoically enduring anything that was done to him until he could take his terrible, energon-soaked revenge would need a little tweaking. It was hard to stoically endure things that made him want to purr.

It had been far too long since he had had this type of contact with another being. The beatings from the guards and the violations from the engineers who had hacked him certainly did not count. It would be too easy to power down his optics and pretend he was with Shockwave, or Lugnut or any one of his loyal Decepticons.

Perhaps it was some sort of trickery? The little Prime thought he could be fooled into granting him some sort of loyalty, or leniency? If so, he was a fool.

The back of his neck was gently scrubbed, and it was all he could do to avoid leaning into the touch. On the other servo, perhaps the Autobot had some sort of fetish, and this was the sort of thing that made his engine hum. The opposite of sadism, perhaps? Caretaker programming? A fixation on having everything around him clean and shiny? If that was it, he wouldn't have liked Earth very much, and he had seemed disturbingly at home on that alien world…

Well, perhaps the wise thing to do would be to wait and see. For all he knew, the Autobot's current behavior was prompted by the medic's presence, or afterglow from the spark merge. The overload caused by that had been…surprising. If climaxing made the Autobot Prime affectionate and cuddly, well, that would be easy enough to work with. At least he was attractive, so it wouldn't be too much of a chore. He had certainly experienced worse duties in his functioning.

Optimus had finished with all the sections of Megatron's chassis that the big mech would have trouble reaching on his own, and extended his ministrations to other parts; the backs of his arms, the strong, flexible cabling of his neck, his helm. He should really stop now. But it felt so good, so right to be close to him. His spark was warm and content in its chamber and his new bonded felt good under his servos. It was only natural to try to soothe away the abuse that his opponent had suffered once he was out of Opimus and his team's custody.

The warm plating on the strong form was fascinating, especially when the mech relaxed and began to flare his armor for cleaning. Optimus could see some of his flight modifications. It was fascinating, to know that once models like this had been a part of the general Cybertronian population, before if became true that "there were no flying Autobots".

Megarton had gone almost limp under his servos. It was so nice to be able to do this, to touch a piece of Cyberton's living history so intimately. He had always been fascinated by this mech when he had studied the records of the Great War, before going to Earth. He wanted to study him more closely now. The strong, interlocking plates at the small of his back were fascinating, the elegant strength in the sophisticated mechanisms fascinating. The aft below was a work of art…

He suddenly realized what he was doing, and jerked to a halt. This was Megatron, his captured enemy, scourge of Cybertron, Tyrant of the interplanetary darkness. He was not Optimus's lover, and didn't want his touch, for all that their sparks apparently thought they were. He needed to stop doing this. Right now.

"I'll, ah, let you finish by yourself." He said, heat-flushing (again!) with embarrassment.

By the time Megatron had shaken off the wonderful, lethargic sense of relaxation to register the young Prime's words, the joint brush had been set by his side, and the Autobot's footsteps were rapidly receding into the distance. Little tease.

Megarton is determined to resist the tortures the Autobot is planning for him. He's pretty stumped on how you fiercely resist sweetness and light though. And hotness, of course. I had originally planned for there to be hanky panky, but the characters were too busy angsting to make with the sexy.

The next chapter may be a little delayed, I have some family obligations to take care of. Please review, it cheers me up.