It didn't surprise Megatron to feel Ratchet push against him. Two firm servos forcibly lifted and he complied to the implied denial. But to see the medic's faceplate turn away, flushed with guilt and optics looking down, did make him wonder.
"You don't have to do that," he muttered.
Megatron wanted to crane his faceplate to him. To trap that helm in his claws and study the shreds of emotion that were sure to linger in those bright blue optics. He'd not seen much range of emotion from this Autobot since the beginning of the war. "I don't have to do what?"
"Kiss me," Ratchet straightened, collecting himself piece by piece and flatting out his micro-expressions.
Megatron let out a half-laugh and almost growled again, "You think I have a mind to kiss you because I am obligated?"
"You aren't.
"Ah," Megatron found himself irritated that his motives were being purified. He reached out for the medic.
The Autobot flinched but could do little once his servos were trapped in claws. I was far too easy to shove the smaller bot backwards, to move him like a puppet and bend him to his will. It was far too satisfying to see his plating tense in anticipation of a fight as he leaned back and twisted away his servos from the warlord's grasp.
"Me-" but Ratchet cut off as Megatron loomed over him, trapping him against the berth and his pylon servos.
He paused, letting Ratchet collect himself, still doing his best to mask his emotions. Ratchet was a medic frame. He was allowed no facial mask to hide his feelings and instead had to mask them himself. What would it take to render that self-control from him?
"I have you trapped, Autobot," Megatron pointed out.
Ratchet defiantly lifted his helm, optic ridges furrowing in frustration. He opened his audial to spit out some violence but Megatron wouldn't allow it.
He kissed the Autobot again. This time he was quick to riot in some way, biting out at Megatron's lips with flat denta. But he wasn't afraid of a little pain.
"Come now, Ratchet," He spoke hushed to the bitter old bot beneath him, pushing their helms together, "Do you really want to bring biting into this?"
He kissed the Autobot a third time. Surely this time those surgical tools would come out and the medic would threaten for him to back off. But no, Ratchet's digits grazed his chin and a servo swung over his mantle.
Ratchet was clinging to him.
Perhaps cling wasn't the right word as he dug his glossa into the medic's mouth. He paid the medic back in kind for the little nip. His own sharp denta digging trails into Ratchet's lips. He could taste energon.
Megatron pushed Ratchet against the flat of his chestplating, pushing him to sit on the berth.
"Why?"
Megatron raised an optic ridge, "Why what?"
Ratchet balled his servos into fists, "Why are you kissing me?"
"I want to," Megatron leaned forward to continue but Ratchet wised up.
He pushed against Megatron, a warning of his strength, "Why do you want to kiss me?"
Megatron tilted his helm up to sneer at the medic, "For the same reasons you want me to kiss you."
There was no denial. As much as Megatron wanted the reasons for it, he knew not to be an opponent of opportunity.
He advanced, placing a ped on the berth to settle down possessively over the medic. Ratchet remained cautious. His optics flickered to each subtle movement. So, he remained aware of each digit, servo, and joint which could bring him ruination. Yet he made no move to stop it.
Megatron knew the medic was wary so rather than make a frontal attack he studied his opponent.
Megatron remembered Orion in this moment. He was always greedy for whatever was given to him. He never failed to voraciously consume the words and affection he received. When he was Megatronus, he could exhaust himself on the librarian and it wouldn't be enough.
But how did Orion treat him? Or worse, how did the Prime treat his equal? Was it with gentle touch?
Megatron kissed the palm of Ratchet's hand and noted the way the medic's optics widened. He gently turned the servo with his claws and kissed the top. His red optics zeroed in, wondering if he would turn away from his stare. But the medic's optics surveyed him with a weary wariness.
Teeth grabbed and dragged across the sensitive cabling on his wrist before the warlord planted another kiss there. The next beneath his scanner and turned to the other side of his forearm. When Ratchet began to squirm, he planted another on his lips.
At every attempt the medic made at speech, Megatron sealed it with a kiss. Pushing his glossa into the other's mouth, nipping at him if he got too complacent. He gave up each beginning and let Megatron kiss down his neck cabling. When he nipped at the medic, his frame flinched and he turned his helm so he could finally speak again.
"How many times are you going to kiss me?" He was breathy from the constant stimulation.
"Until it's all you think about." Megatron placed another gentle kiss on his grille.
It was too much; Ratchet forced his knee plating between them before leveraging Megatron back. He placed the flat of his wheelbeds on his chestplating, keeping him from returning to his position.
The exertion to push the other away made Ratchet's chest heave. Then again, his venting was labored long before Megatron dared to kiss his midsection. "Stop," he finally huffed out.
Megatron gently eased the wheeled ped from his chestplating, leaning his helm against it, "That isn't in my programming."
"Of course it isn't," Ratchet grumbled as the warlord placed another gentle kiss on the white of his wheelbeds.
Megatron leaned forward again now that the ped wasn't in his way. Ratchet turned his helm, expecting another kiss. As punishment, Megatron licked his glossa up the medic's faceplate.
"Primus," he breathed out as he felt the warlord kiss his audial fin.
He wouldn't admit it, but he'd be thinking about this strange moment for centuries after this encounter. Ratchet tried to pay Megatron in kind, tried to kiss his frame but the warlord jerked away. He was reprimanded for his efforts with another kiss. Sharp claws firmly caged his chin for the domineering warlord to invade his mouth with teeth and glossa. If it wasn't this Decepticon it might've been rather exciting to feel him pressing possessively over him, but the experience was tainted with the knowledge that he'd hate this later.
Megatron found a rather sensitive cluster in his neckcabling, Ratchet's flinch a dead giveaway. He wouldn't make a sound while Megatron nipped at the line, but he wanted to cry out with the ricochet of pleasure touched by loneliness.
"This is torture," he finally spluttered out. The words wouldn't make him stop, but maybe Megatron would stop seeking out such sensitive places.
Megatron lifted his helm and Ratchet hated the way he gently appraised him. There was no malice in his faceplate, only that same hidden longing. Ratchet wanted anything- a reason for all of this. Perhaps his seclusion was driving him to such tranquil actions. He expected them driven by hatred. If he could imagine the warbuild kissing him, it would be accompanied with pain, not these expertly placed caresses.
"Good," Megatron replied, "Turn around."
Ratchet flinched again and quickly grabbed Megatron's servos to prevent him from forcibly turning him, "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to kiss you," Megatron said evenly, "Nothing more."
Ratchet huffed and his optics searched the room. Granted, Megatron could easily turn him if denied. It would be far more satisfying if the medic willingly turned.
And he did. The Autobot slowly turned so he lay on his grille. "If you do anything weird..."
Megatron scraped a few digits along the small of his back and the medic went silent. When he leaned down to kiss it, he saw the medic close his fists around the now disheveled berth sheets.
Too much excitement. He didn't want the medic riled up right now. So he trailed down his peds instead.
No surface of metal went unkissed. No cable didn't feel the metal of Megatron's soft nips. He kissed him from chevron to pedtip.
It taxed the medic's processor the most. When Megatron finished with his backside, Ratchet's optics were a white-blue from the effort to keep himself composed. It truly was torture. No bot could kiss him without reviving these memories and he couldn't bring up memories of kisses without Megatron's there.
Megatron rubbed his chevron gently. Ratchet finally closed his optics and leaned in to the touch.
"You can sleep, I'll only keep kissing you."
Ratchet looked up at him, meeting his optics before nodding. Megatron let him close those white hot optics as he continued to kiss him until the roar of his engines slipped into a low hum.
Next chapter is last.
Requests open for now. HMU in that PM life.