Wolf by the Ears Chapter 9
Hi folks, sorry about the wait. Slow writer is slow. And busy. I had to re-write this chapter, but I'm pretty happy with how it came out.
Blue servos smoothed wax into battered gray and maroon plating. The owner of the plating in question had to admit (in the privacy of his own processor) that it was wonderfully soothing. He felt like a pit cat who was getting its pelt burnished.
He would be dammed if he was going to start purring for his master, though. He still had his pride, battered though it was.
His armor was battered, too, but his new owner (and how it burned to refer to any living thing by that title!) seemed determined to make it shine regardless. The mech obviously did not shy away from hard work, but that was no surprise. The ragtag little bunch of Autobots who had accidentally found the Allspark so long ago were civilian workers, not nobles or even Guardmechs. Those strong blue servos were skilled at their current manual task.
It felt so good, the pressure just right, almost like the touch of a comrade or even a lover, not a slave master.
Was the little mech…humming?
Megatron cracked a scarlet optic open to peer at the little Prime. He iwas/i. So the prudish little Autobot was enjoying these little interludes of theirs.
That pleased him far more than it should.
Besides the worrying fact that he was glad that the younger mech did not actually find him repulsive, it might be of strategic value. It was easier to manipulate bots if they wanted to frag you, sometimes.
Speaking of…he let his optics slide to a small sensor panel discretely tucked into a corner of the cleansing unit. He had taken over Omega Supreme's processor, once upon a time. He was more aware of the war machine's weaknesses than his captors might wish.
He settled back into keeping a wary watch over the mech who controlled his fate at the moment, waiting for signs of danger. Just because his body was relaxed, that didn't mean his processor was in a similar state.
The young Prime's touch stayed gentle.
Megatron refused to drop his guard. It had only been a little while, after all, and he had not yet seen the mech who was now his master in a bad mood, or when he had been thwarted in an ambition or beaten in a contest of any sort.
If the blue and red Autobot came home in a towering rage one day and still didn't take it out on his slave's chassis, then Megatron might truly begin to relax when they were alone together, but until that test by fire, he would not assume that it would always be like this.
Pleasant though it was.
The really sad thing was, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had pampered him like this, when it wasn't a transparent ploy for political or monetary favor of some sort. There had been Starscream, of course, but he would as soon trust a Pit Viper as turn his back on that treacherous Seeker. Literally or figuratively.
There had been lovely, skilled, highly sought after courtesans, carefully vetted by his intelligence team. There had been various Decepticons, eager to display their skill or their loyalty to their lord. There had been Shockwave, who truly adored him, but was still his subordinate, and far too aware of the fact.
He hoped Shockwave was all right. His loyal soldier deserved better than humiliation at Autobot servos. He fervently hoped that his spy escaped his imprisonment, of failing that, died cleanly. A less ideal but not completely dire situation would be if the Prime's medic or the young green mech became his master. Of all the Autobots Megatron knew, the medic seemed the most trustworthy, and Shockwave could easily manipulate a gentle fool like the Space Bridge technician.
Megatron was distracted from his dark thoughts (again) by the skilled servos on his armor. He stifled a moan of bliss when his Autobot gently delved beneath the overlapping plates at the base of his helm.
It was divine.
Were he easily swayed, this would be the way to tame him. Soft touches alternated with firm strokes, chasing away pain and tension. It was so good, it could only be a trap. His enemy trying to lure him into complacency. Clever little Prime. Obviously he had underestimated the mech yet again. Nevertheless, he would win this game, like he had won so many others. No matter the cost.
When he had been a youngster like the Prime, and the rulers of the day had betrayed his kind by activating the slave programming and giving the "problem" war builds to their political allies as favors, he would have likely yielded to the temptation of his master's gentle manipulation. Now, though, he was old, cunning, schooled in the myriad arts of deception and treachery that only an experienced leader would have truly mastered. It would take more than caring touches and such seductions to win his loyalty.
Which was not to say that he wouldn't frag the mech, of course. It might gain him an advantage, and judging from his current situation, it would hardly be a chore.
Optimus slipped out of the cleansing facility, having left Megatron there to finish his own detailing. He was not brave enough to wax certain…areas on the Decepticon, for all his bold words earlier. It just felt too much like molestation to sit well with him.
He would privately admit that he might have been stalling as he meticulously shined Megatron's damaged armor. The Decepticon was going to need a repaint anyway, so buffing him to a glossy finish was a probably a little over the top. He really had not been looking forward to this little talk with his medic, and dawdling with wax and cleanser was a way to delay.
They were back in Omega's tiny med bay. Ratchet had requested that the shipformer keep an optic on their "guest", and give them privacy for a personal medical discussion. Optimus really hoped he wasn't going to need a spark exam. He still felt queasy over the fact that his first time spark to spark with another was done with an unwilling partner (With Megatron!) and he was a bit reluctant to open his chest plates right now. Even if it was just for medical scans.
"I'm going to do a set of basic scans on you, to compare with your base readings from before the bond." The medic said, gesturing toward one of the med berths. There were only two, and they were adjustable for different frame types. The extra was currently folded against a wall, equipment tucked neatly away.
Optimus obediently reclined, and endured a blessedly brief round of poking, prodding, and scans done with both Ratchet's own on-frame diagnostics and the more robust equipment of the bay. He did have to open his plating, but only a crack, so that his spark energy could be examined without the barrier of his armor in the way. He endured it without fuss, since it was just Ratchet after all, and he trusted the grumpy old mech.
It was much less awful than he had been expecting, but Optimus was still glad when it was over. Ratchet handed him a miniature cube of high grade. It wasn't enough to impair him flying home, but it would probably help smooth out the edges off for their conversation. Optimus mentally compared it to the Earthen sweets on sticks that human healers gave to fretful younglings after medical treatment.
"You seem fine. Any pain from your spark?" Ratchet asked.
"I feel fine. I don't like any of this, but there's nothing wrong with my spark or frame. Just my living situation."
"Well?" Came the brusque inquiry from the medic.
"Well what, Ratch?" Optimus asked.
There was a disgusted sounding sigh. "Well, how is it going? Have the two of you been fighting? Arguing? Engaging in tension filled, stressful silences? Sleeping near each other? Fragging like petrorabbits during a lunar eclipse?"
Optimus choked on the sip of fuel he had just taken.
"Well?" The old mech demanded. I doubt the two of you have been playing sedate games of Helixian Checkers, so something must be going on. "How bad is it? He being emotionally abusive? Trying to manipulate you?
Optimus squirmed.
"Uh, He's been pretty unhappy, that's for sure. I'd have to say he's waiting for me to hurt him. I mean, I think that's what it is." He said quietly. His voice was almost a whisper. He remembered the rage over their bond last cycle. " I showed him to the master berthroom last night. It's the only one that's really big enough, and I don't mind recharging in a different place. They're all nicer than anything I've had since, well, ever." He fiddled with the cube he held. "He was so angry, and I think maybe frightened, though he didn't show it…"
"You could feel it over the bond?" Ratchet asked.
Optimus nodded. "Yeah, it was…really intense." He shivered slightly at the memory and nearly whispered his next words. "I think he thought I was gonna rape him, Ratch. Again. Like when they made me seal the slave bond."
Ratchet reached over and awkwardly patted his arm with a worn servo. "Then what happened?" he asked.
"Well, I left him alone, but I couldn't drop into defrag, so I stayed up for a while, and he calmed down and I think went to sleep, and this morning he was mostly just grumpy and stoic, until we got here."
The old medic nodded, and Optimus thought he seemed pleased. "Better than I might have expected, then." He said. "It ain't gonna be easy, Prime. If you can win that mech's loyalty, or even just make peace with him, you get a major power as an ally. Don't let him lead you around by the bond, but don't ignore it, either. Right now, he sees you as nothing but an enemy, and his master, which is the worst thing any bot could be. Show him different."
"How am I supposed to do that?" asked Optimus. He was a Prime, not a miracle worker, after all.
"Darned if I know, Prime. But you've surprised us all before, and I have faith that you'll do it again. Treat him like you would a giant predator that lives in your apartment, is old, ferocious, and cunning, but can't hurt you and has to protect you against external threats. Like an ancient evil version of Prowl. You won him over, you should be able to make some headway with Megatron."
Optimus downed the rest of the high grade in a single swallow.
That fragging wreck of an Autobot war machine was watching him again.
It might be all kinds of petty, and possibly foolish as well, but Megatron was grumpy and frustrated enough to needle the giant mech some more.
He took his time buffing the plating between his legs. It and his face were the only areas that the Autobot Prime hadn't touched. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of the younger mech's reticence.
"So, Omega Supreme" he purred. "Have the Autobots been treating you well, now that you're back from the scrap yard? Are you receiving a hero's welcome like the others? Adoring fans and rewards?"
For a time, Megatron thought he was being ignored. He waited. Eventually though, the mech answered, the deep, deep voice of the living ship vibrating through the soles of his stabilizers.
"You seek to turn me against the Autobot cause, Megatron?" He asked. "Make me doubt my friends, and their superiors? Ultra Magnus himself commanded that I receive the highest priority of repairs and maintenance. He did it from his damage bay berth in Iacon Central Hospital. Ratchet and Arcee have been with me almost the whole time, and Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Sari almost as much. I have not been spurned or abandoned. I was not abandoned before, when I was little more than a lifeless shell. Ratched stayed with me. For eons."
Well. That was actually going to be difficult to argue with. Megatron tried another tack. "But do they truly consider you one of them?" he asked smoothly. "Or are you merely a useful tool?
"Perhaps that is all I am to Autobot high command, but Ratchet and Arcee and the others are my friends." The ship replied. His tone was final.
Ah, his friends. There was an angle Megatron might make use of. "And of course, that is all they are to you?" He murmured. There was a weakness there, he was sure of it.
"What else would they be?" Came the reply.
"I have known other sparked ships." He said coolly. "I am perfectly well aware what voyeurs you all are. I could practically hear you revving when that medic's hands were in my internals. You were watching while the lovely Prime was so caringly covering my plating in wax, and rubbing me to a high shine. Do you switch your onboard cameras to infra-red in the medic's room at night, so you can watch him and his femme? Do you long to reach out with your internal servos and take them both?"
"I…would never attempt to do anything that Ratchet and Arcee do not desire." The deep voice said. He could hear the distressed note in it. "I am an Autobot. I was created to protect.'
"You were created to destroy." He said. "And we both know it all too well."
"You Decepticons were named correctly." Said the strut rumbling voice all around him. "I will not listen you any more."
He was left alone in silence then, to await his master's return. None of his other attempts lured the warship back into conversation. For someone built with a simple processor, the living warship was surprisingly savvy. Megatron wondered if it was merely life experience, or if the Allspark had upgraded the bot. The meddling artifact seemed to do such things on a semi-regular basis, after all.
Of course, it might also have been the mentor. He suspected that the council and their engineering team had underestimated the effect of intense socialization from the medic and his companions on their war machine. It would be typical of their arrogance. After all, many earlier war builds such as himself and Starscream had been designed to be simple and easily lead as well.
And everyone knew how successfully that had turned out.
Hi folks. Short update is short, but at least something steamy happened! Both literally and figuratively. Omega supreme is going to be a little tetchy for a while, given that Megatron just rubbed his metaphorical nose in lack of a love life. Hopefully Ratchet and Arcee will catch on and kiss it better at some point.
I'm actually toying with the idea of switching this story over to non-sticky. Somehow, it seems like it would make more sense. On the other hand, a little sticky would be fun…Hopefully work will calm down enough to stop sucking my soul out, and I'll be getting more done than I have been for the last couple of months.