This chapter is short because it's been heavily edited. Again, if you prefer to have a 'hotter' version of this chapter it is on AO3 with the same name.
Megatron's servos wandered the smaller frame, digging his claws to draw out muffled venting from the writhing creature below him. Ratchet opened his mouth and clung lightly to the larger mech, his digits curling against Megatron's metal. Their glossas slid against each other and Megatron hoped he wasn't trapping him in his haste.
Megatron stopped the kiss, pulling away and venting out. He didn't deserve this. He was sullying the Autobot's trust and professionalism. In the least he stood on Optimus'memory. The Prime did not allow him to live so he could spike his medic. Primus, Ratchet didn't bring him from the well of allsparks for a tryst. What was the Autobot feeling right now? Asking him to drop his RF shielding would be a level of intimacy he wasn't sure he was ready for. What if Ratchet was kissing him in fear of what else he would do?
The medic didn't let him speak, merely closed his optics and desperately kissed the ex-warlord again. Megatron pushed him away, flattening him down with a single servo, "Why are you doing this?"
Ratchet vented out and wriggled, "Do you get a kick out of pinning bots to the berth or is it just my privilege?"
Megatron frowned and leaned forward to kiss him again to subdue his sardonicism, clinging to his helm to hold to him close as he dominated his mouth. Ratchet's glossa protested the movement and he curled both servos as best he could to embrace him. Megatron braced himself so he wouldn't put his full weight on the smaller bot.
Ratchet became limp, servos suddenly passive on the warframe.
Worried, Megatron pulled away to find that Ratchet's optics were offline.
"Ratchet?"
The damned medic had fallen into recharge, probably drained from his five or so days constantly working. Megatron stroked his helm, alarmed at the feeling of being without his dialogue, his awakened presence.
No, that wasn't right. Not that Megatron hadn't once entertained the thought, but not like this. Not as two broken old bots coping with their loss with each other.
Megatron pulled away from the medic, pulling out the sheets from beneath him before tucking him in.
He distanced himself from the sleeping medic, choosing instead to ease his slight charge in the tub. He was privy to gruesome luxuries, and the medic's underused basin was surely hundreds up steps up from that.
The lull of the ripples overcame the static in his audials as Megatron looked over what he'd done. It wasn't as if things progressed too far; Ratchet had kissed a lot of people before the war. He appeared to like kissing as much as fixing things, both activities in which he lacked restraint.
But there was still that uncomfortable charge that sat at the base of his frame. Megatron shouldn't have ever once entertained the notion of being with Ratchet, defiling him like he seemingly yearned to.
He curled his digits over his faceplate and closed his optics as he knelt on the floor. After a moment of reflection, he smoothed over his inner turmoil to step out to the berthroom. Megatron steeled himself and stared down at the peaceful figure resting below him.
Ratchet would never touch him; he would never look at him the same way he looked at Orion or Optimus. He would never cuddle up to Megatron's side or clutch at him in need. Megatron was the fallen leader of the Decepticon cause and Ratchet was doing his best to save all of Cybertron from his living room.
He shook off his hesitation and slipped into the berth, raising the sheets to burrow against Ratchet's back.
"Megatron?"
The motion woke the Autobot and Megatron prepared for the worst as he turned and face him, "Where were you?"
Megatron didn't stop Ratchet from curling up into his chestplate. He hesitantly placed a servo on his shoulderplating, "I took a bath."
"Mmm," his optics flickered back offline as he pressed into Megatron's chest.
It wasn't an embrace. Ratchet tucked his servos in and made himself as small as possible against him. But he didn't shove away Megatron's servos and didn't mind Megatron's peds tucking under his own.
Ratchet vented out a contented sigh, sounding so unlike the other frustrated noises he could make. Once again Megatron felt that painful tightness in his spark. He was touching him with the same digits that were wrapped around his spike only moments before.
No matter how guilty Megatron told himself he should be, he never really changed deep down. He knew he enjoyed the thought of being here. He gently stroked the others helm before drifting into his own recharge.