Author's Note: I know! Another new story! Sorry! Also, it's my first smut so if you don't like, don't read it!
Orion Pax was a good archivist. He was studious. He was prompt. He was timely. He was good. Respectable. He was everything that Alpha Trion wanted in an apprentice. He was a good heir. Orion was an excellent staple piece for the future, as far as he was concerned. Someone more noble than the Nobility. More worldly than the pathfinders. And kinder than one would think and that's in spite of how he looks - which is definitely very kind. And his eyes were always so bright and full of life. Everything was bright and fresh and new to him.
Orion was perfect in every way.
Except for one.
He didn't see caste. Any bot on the streets was equal in his eyes. He offered a hand in kindness to all of those around him. He didn't see caste, always seemed so perplexed when he was told that somebot couldn't do one thing or another because of it. Too naive for his own good, Alpha Trion always thought. Not that being open and kind to others wasn't a good quality for him to have - not at all! But Orion had it in abundance. And he shared it so freely that Alpha Trion often worried about his apprentice, about what the cruel world would think whenever they saw him. He knew that the other archivists thought that Orion had somehow done something to win over Alpha Trion and received his position as the old archivist's prized pupil.
No one would dare exvent a word around Alpha Trion about any suspicions of Orion having done something untoward to earn his position, but the old bot knew that some thought it - that they whispered it when they thought he didn't know. Because, by Primus, why else would a simple dock worker suddenly be allowed schooling and welcomed into a position thirsted for by many archivists for so long now that Alpha Trion has lost count.
That's not right, though. Orion didn't do anything untoward at all. In fact, it was by mere chance that Alpha Trion was at the docks that night. Normally, he would have had any number of his underlings there to receive the precious cargo and ensure that it was brought to the Great Hall for him to look over, but the shipment ran ahead of schedule and when Alpha Trion had received the alert over his HUD about its arrival, he whimsically decided to go to the docks personally.
With all precious cargo marked for the Great Hall, it had to be overseen by a dock worker - usually the mech or femme overseeing the docs at the time - to ensure that it's safely transferred from the ship and into the hands of a trusted archivist to be transported to the Archives, but tonight, it was Orion. Orion had it moved from its spot on the dock into one of the warehouses and covered with a sheet to protect it from the slight drizzle that fell from the sky in spite of the roof overhead.
He stood guard over it while he quietly taught one of the janitors for the offices of the overseers how to read. A rail-thin little thing, twitchy and frightened, but he clung to the larger, but soft-spoken mech as he tried to explain the differences between glyphs. He would smile so sweetly, and nod encouragingly as the janitor stammered his way through the data pad in Orion's hand, too scared to hold it himself for fear of breaking it and angering the overseers.
Orion, so gentle and so kind, didn't even know that what he was doing was wrong. That there had been a reason that janitor couldn't read. Why it would be impossible for him to figure it out. But in the moment that Alpha Trion saw him, he knew. He knew that this bot was special. Especially when he learned that Orion, as a dock worker, wasn't the overseer and thus shouldn't have been given the upgrade on how to read at all. He would have gotten it as a promotion, but no, according to Orion, he's always been able to read.
And it had always been one of his favorite pass times.
The overseer had stepped away before the shipment arrived and so Orion, upon seeing that it was going to the Archives, moved it out of the rain and into a warm, safe spot inside of the warehouse until it was retrieved. Without knowing when that would be.
"I wasn't sure how it was secured inside," Orion had said by way of greeting and gesturing to the protected box. On a pallet to keep it off the floor and covered to protect it from any rain that the roof couldn't catch. "I didn't want to risk it getting damaged in any way."
While Alpha Trion did feel a little bad about scaring the obviously timid janitor away, Orion had been so courteous and welcoming. Blue optics shined in joy at being able to pass on this incredible piece of history into the rightful hands of Alpha Trion. So genuine, so full of joy.
Alpha Trion knew that he had to have him. That this wonderful mech, with something so bright and beautiful in his spark, had to be his. Orion was meant for bigger things; Alpha Trion knew it. Orion would take his place one day. He would sit at the head of the archives, learning all there was to know about the histories of their peoples, and safeguarding it. Like he did a box that held something he suspected was important but unsure of exactly how or why. Yet still, he protected it without question. And with admirable dedication.
Orion had been happy when offered a job at the archives after a few cycles of Alpha Trion being unable to stop thinking of the dock worker, his entire face transforming into one of pure joy, but then, it faltered slightly as he wondered about his friends that he would be leaving behind - and that included the frightened janitor. Alpha Trion eventually broke down and looking through Orion's file to see that, by all standards, he was average in every way. Some might say that he was painfully unremarkable. Until they got to character reviews by some of the bots that he worked with over his years.
And they all loved him. He was a pleasure to work with; even tempered, hard worker, genuine and kind, kind, kind. His overseers had good things to say about his work ethic, and his fellows enjoyed their time with him. Aside from nothing being special about it, Orion felt special. And from every moment since Alpha Trion met Orion, he has felt vindicated.
Orion is special, and the Matrix knows it. For Alpha Trion, it is a small, quiet hum, but for Orion, it sings. It reaches out for him as if he was a magnet attracting it. Despite him being none the wiser, he is as studious and as forthright as always. Never realizing that his destiny was unfolding before Alpha Trion's very optics.
Orion is special in so many ways. He will be a Prime one day. The first Prime chosen by the Matrix and not the senate in many, many vorn. Alpha Trion knows that the senate will be displeased, but this is a good thing. Orion will be a good thing. Alpha Trion just needs to start getting the senate used to the idea that a Prime can still be chosen by the Matrix at any time and that they need to be ready to serve when the time comes - and Sentinel Prime will need to be open to the idea of sharing power with one so rare as Orion or stepping down.
But Orion is nowhere near ready for that responsibility. So, the Matrix will have to wait before it can reveal its choice in Prime until Orion is better prepared, a little older, and a lot wiser.
It would be different, when the time was right, though. Orion needed just a little bit more time to learn about how things were. Time to understand and to see the universe for what it was. How their people are, and their place in the grand scheme of all things. How the caste system works in almost all ways - even if Orion proves to be a rare exception in which something completely unforeseen occurs. In time, though, Orion would be perfect in all ways.
Regardless of what the High Council, the senate, or even Sentinel Prime might think, Alpha Trion is the keeper of the Matrix of Leadership, and he has seen how it comes alive as the young archivist draws near, even if the archivist himself has never noticed. The time is approaching where Orion will take the place of Sentinel Prime as the newest Prime and begin his ascension of power. Alpha Trion has no idea what Cybertron will transform into under the leadership of the one-day archivist turned Prime.
But he has no doubt, none at all, that things will change. How, though, he has no idea. But he can't wait for the right time to come so that he may see it for himself.
Oh, what a sight it will no doubt be.
"They are so rowdy," Ratchet says, looking over the bots filling the pub. It had been quiet for a while but then the crowd just came piling in. The pub was close to the arena and as far as Orion knew, the last match was over and done with, so now the crowd filling the coliseum has flooded back into the streets of Kaon. The pub fills more and more by the asterosecond and while it only serves to make the older mech more annoyed, the younger doesn't seem to mind it at all.
Ratchet, though, is efficient in keeping the Kaonites away with his flaring fields, unwelcome and annoyed. Even lacings of a dangerous promise that makes most mechs shy away. Age and power in that field. Dark and twisty too, like the promise of an old Tarnian chop shop. His medical bands help to sell it too, Orion thinks, long since having been immune to his friend's field.
There is loud cheering that draws Orion's bright blue eyes around the room, a smile pulling at his lip plates as he observes mechs of all shapes and sizes cheering and yelling above one another in their conversations. They must still be riled from the arena matches. Orion has no interest in seeing them himself, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate that the people here are fired up about what they've seen. Big cheers, grins spread wide, optics wild with mirth.
It's a beautiful thing, boundless joy, and Orion would wish it on everyone he meets.
"You really want to do this?" Ratchet rumbles, sipping at his energon, scowling as someone bumps into the back of his chair. Either they noticed and don't care, or didn't notice, but either way they don't apologize or acknowledge the older mech.
Orion smiles kindly, watching as the other mech tries to decide if he was going to take justice into his own servos or not. Thankfully, the older mech just glares at the retreating mech and turns back to Orion, expectantly. That familiar, gruff expression making Orion's spark warm in affection for his longtime friend.
"I do," Orion finally says, palming his cube. He pushes it back and forth from one servo to the other, smiling to himself. "I know you don't like the idea of me being away from Iacon, and trust me, it took many proposals with Alpha Trion to even get him to agree for me to come, but I am so excited to be here. It's all part of my research. I get to study the cultural shift on many different cities that make up the backbone of Cybertron."
Ratchet watches as Orion's optics flare with passion and joy, sighing to himself. "This place is worse than the pits."
Orion tilts his head, frowning a bit and the older mech immediately feels bad about taking that joy away. "How so? Look how lively it all is." He waves his hand around to showcase the room, nearly slapping a passing mech in the face. "Oops! Sorry!"
The mech snarls at him but must not see the smaller archivist as enough of a burden or catches the threatening flare of Ratchet's field, so he moves on back to another table in the back after sending a scathing look their way. Ratchet glares back, making the mech take note of the proudly displayed Grand Cybertronian General decals adorning his plates before looking away submissively. Ratchet turns back to Orion as he rubs at his tense shoulder, wondering how he allowed this to happen. "Orion, I don't want to leave you here."
"You're not leaving me," Orion says, shaking his head. His field washes over his friend's, calming it a bit. "I'm telling you to go. This is an excellent opportunity for me. I can work remotely for the moment, filing and deciphering data, as I focus on my studies. This is a good thing, Ratchet. Aren't you happy for me?"
"No," Ratchet admits, grumpily. Despite that, Orion smiles. "I can look after you in Iacon, I can't look after you here. If I didn't have my clinic, I would just follow you here to make sure you stay out of trouble." He suddenly looks considerate of the possibility.
"You won't leave your clinic, Ratchet," Orion says, still smiling. He knows his old friend very well. "Your patients need you. I do not. At least, not now. I am strong and healthy, and you will always be just a call away. Your patients need you there, where they can see you and interact with you and be healed by you. I will be fine. But thank you for worrying about me."
Ratchet rubs at his forehelm. "I will always worry about you, Orion."
Orion reaches over, placing his servo over his oldest friend's. "And I, you. Take care of yourself, Ratchet, and please let me know when you reach Iacon safely."
Ratchet sighs, looking down at his mostly drank cube of energon. "I could stay for a few more cycles, just to make sure that you really are settled in."
"Ratchet," Orion says softly, smiling more at his friend. "I would love for you to never leave, but if I allow you to stay longer on my behalf, you will never go. Your patients need you. Call for me any time you wish to talk, and visit whenever you can, but you must return to Iacon. You promised me, yourself, and your patients that your doors would be open the beginning of the work week."
Ratchet hesitates, blue optics flickering, and then he scowls again, as if blaming Orion for his own words, but thankfully doesn't argue. He just nods, mumbling to himself, before letting out a long sigh, turning his servo over to hold tightly to Orion's. He relented but looked grossly unhappy about it. Orion will accept it as the victory that it is.
"I will leave at sunrise to get to my gate on time," Ratchet finally grumbles, squeezing Orion's hand.
"Would you like for me to come see you off?" Orion offers kindly. There it was, that feeling again, of something zinging through him when his optics glide over the crowd around them, but Ratchet's voice pulls him back.
"No," Ratchet says, sourly. "If you're there I won't leave. Just..." A shoulder heaving sigh. "Just get yourself situated and call me if you need me at all." A stern look sent the younger bot's way. "At all, Orion, I mean it."
Orion laughs, but it can barely be heard over the loud din of the bar. He leans closer to his oldest friend, nodding in understanding. "Thank you, Ratchet. I will call if I need anything. I promise."
Ratchet nods, looking down at his cube again, still blatantly unhappy. Orion feels his spark swell once more for his friend. Orion was so lucky to have Ratchet and he'll find a way to make his friend proud.
"Do you want me to walk you back to your habsuite?" Ratchet asks, suddenly looking exhausted.
Orion shakes his head. "No, my friend. I want to stay out a little longer. I just want to..." he looks around the room, feeling this surge of warmth wash through his system. He wraps his free arm around himself, drawing his eyes back to Ratchet, a bit flustered. "I just want to be part of it. This city, this place. I want to learn more."
Ratchet looks like he wants to argue, but Orion insists on him leaving. "Have a good night, Ratchet."
Another deep, shoulder heaving sigh, before Ratchet finishes his cube and stands up, putting some shanix down on the table before walking over to Orion's side, placing a servo on his shoulder. "Good night, Orion."
Orion reaches up to squeeze that servo one more time. "Good night, Ratchet."
Orion watches his friend go, waiting until Ratchet disappeared out the door of the bar and out of sight. Orion nurses his cube, taking some time to track the motion of the bar, smiling to himself when fields of joy brush against him from the inebriated inhabitants. His blue optics sparkle as he looks from face plate to face plate, absorbing all of their happiness and just relishing in it.
His optics scan the crowd again and again and again, laughing when he meets a laughing face, smiling at a smiling one, and then stopping when his blue optics meet the most beautiful red optics staring back at him from a corner of the darkened room.
This was not like him, Orion kept reminding himself. His mentor would be most cross with him for letting carnal desires override his rational. He doesn't know this mech. Yet he's bringing this stranger to his habsuite to lay with him in his berth. He was enraptured with a single look. One moment and he was hooked on the mech staring back at him as if an invisible tether linked them together.
But Alpha Trion would certainly understand once Orion explained it to him. It was all so right.
All night, while with Ratchet and then after he left, he's been feeling this zing of electricity through his system whenever his optics would roam the crowd. A part of his processor recognized that Orion saw him, even if the rest of his processor needed time to catch up. But all night, this growing need to remain so that he could just... be there was overwhelming. Now he knows why. A part of his processor just knew that mech was there, that he kept spying the other mech even when he didn't realize it.
And when he did actually see the much larger mech, when blue optics met with absolutely beautiful bright red, Orion was completely enraptured. This mech was so intimidatingly beautiful with his large frame, bulky silver armor - gouged and dented - and oh, those optics, that Orion forgot his words, which has never happened to him before, and just stared.
It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize his staring could have been insulting to Kaonites, as he was still learning about their own unique culture, but then those beautiful optics flared, and a sharp-toothed grin started pulling at the corners of his lips. And oh, was he so beautiful with that smile.
He detangled himself from the corner of the room, pushing through the bots that surrounded him, ignoring them as they pawed at him or called out to him, those enchanting red optics locked onto Orion. The Iaconian just kept swallowing around a dry intake as the massive mech stopped by the seat Ratchet had previously occupied, studying the archivist curiously.
"May I sit?"
Orion just nodded, unable to find the words. A part of him worried that a spark would come flying out of the side of his helm as his processor struggled to find some way of rationalizing why this utterly beautiful mech would be there talking to him.
The mech lowered into the seat and it groaned under his impressive weight. That crooked smile that he sent Orion almost put him in the grave. But then the silver mech said, "What is a beautiful bot like you doing alone here?"
Orion opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to get his vocalizer to work before finally getting out a rushed, "My friend just left."
The mech nodded, eyes drifting to the entrance to the bar, then back to him. "I saw that. He's been keeping the others here in line, but now that he's gone, they are going to start propositioning you soon."
"What..?" Orion rasped, still trying to get his processor to focus. "Proposition? Who? Me?"
The mech nodded, leaning back in his seat, his field tight against his frame, Orion is unable to feel it. "Yes. You are very eye catching with that red and blue paint. Not something one would usually see around here, so you stand out. If you aren't interested in any pursuits, it's probably almost time for you to head home, especially while the guards are still walking about in this area. Afterwards, you'll be on your own."
"On my own..." Orion mumbled, optics flickering as he tries to understand. "Oh okay. Just to be safe. I understand. Thank you for telling me."
The mech nodded slowly, watching him curiously as Orion looks down at his cube of energon, face plates heating up. He could feel those beautiful optics on him, and it only made his body heat up more. It takes everything in him not to flare out his plates to let out some built up heat. To not let his cooling fans tick up to the max. He could kind of get away with it a bit in this clustered room, plus drinking this high grade, but he doesn't want to make himself look more foolish than he already is.
After a moment, the mech asked smoothly, "Do you have some lucky mech waiting for you?"
Orion shivered, looking up to meet those red optics. "Waiting for me..?"
The mech smiled again, and Orion's not sure his throbbing spark is capable of handing it. His relaxed posture loosened up and the silver mech leaned forward to pin him in place. "Yes, beautiful. Do you have a lucky mech waiting at your habsuite for you or can I persuade you to let me take you to mine?"
"We can go to mine!" Orion gasped, optics wide. Realizing that he was too eager, he sunk into his seat a bit, unable to stop his plates from flaring out and letting an embarrassing amount of steam from his overheated protoform.
The mech grinned razor sharp denta that made Orion's spark throb more in anticipation. "A mech that knows what he wants," the silver mech purred. "Then, shall we?" With that, he stood, graceful despite his hulking form. Then, he held out a servo for Orion, red optics glittering. "Come, sweetspark, let me show you a good time."
Servo in servo, Orion blinks out of the remembrance of how they got here as they make their way down the bustling streets until they can make it into Orion's newly rented habsuite. His suitor taking a moment to peer around the dark space at the few half-emptied boxes with a tilt of his helm.
"New to the neighborhood?"
His voice was low, Orion shivers as he nods keeping a firm servo wrapped around the other mech's as he turns on one of the lights so that they can see their way to his berth without tripping on anything left out.
"Yes," he admits, then adds, "Well, Kaon, actually."
There is a low rumble in the other mech's chassis that Orion doesn't know how to interpret. Luckily, he doesn't get long to wonder as the mech scoops him up in his arms as if he was as light as feather and presses him to the nearest wall, lips locked together.
Orion whimpers, which makes the other mech rumble more as Orion's limbs wrap around the silver mech's shoulders and waist. His leaking valve panel presses against his suitor's hot spike panel and Orion shivers at the growl from the other mech. Everything just feels so perfect. This stranger is just perfect. His warmth, his strength, his powerful engine in his chassis rumbling perfectly against Orion's plates, making him whine and rub hard at the mech pressing into him.
Orion has kissed before but not like this. This spiky, intimidatingly beautiful bot looks like he would be rough and controlling, but he treats Orion so gently. Both in kissing and handling, like his plates were made of just glass - which for a mech as strong as he is, Orion's plates might as well be. His glossa running along the seam of Orion's mouth and plunging in to explore when the smaller mech lets out a little gasp.
Blindly, the silver mech feels his way out of the room they are in and into Orion's berthroom, kicking a box into the middle of the room by accident, which he mumbled an apology into Orion's giggling mouth before lowering the red and blue mech onto his berth and lowering with him. Orion grabs hold of the spikes on his shoulders and pulls him tighter against him despite the other mech trying to keep as much of his weight off of Orion as he can.
"Despite how I look," Orion rasps against the other mech's lip plates, "I am a truck, I can handle weight. So, please, come closer."
"A truck," the other mech purrs, and Orion tries to squeeze his thighs together but the mech on top of him has his hips in the way. "I caught myself a hauler, did I? This day has brought me much fortune."
"Don't tease me, sweet talker," Orion says, flushed. He runs his servos over the thick armor of the other's chassis, fingers nimble and thin enough to squeeze between the plates and rub at the sensitive wires beneath. The silver mech growls against Orion's throat, nipping and running a wet glossa against the sensitive cables there.
"No tease," he rumbles, large servos running along Orion's thighs, fingers digging lightly into the seam of his hip plates. "Do you know how rare you are? Colorful, strong and beautiful?"
Orion flushes, thankful that the other mech was pressed to his throat, licking and biting with deadly sharp denta at those sensitive cables, so that he won't see Orion's optics flicker. But he no doubt feels the truckformer shiver and his panels flare out with a blast of heat, his fans roaring almost as loud as the powerful chassis above him.
"Y-your designation!" Orion gasps, lifting his hips to rub his leaking valve panel against that scorching hot spike panel above him, whining a bit. "Please, tell it to me!" He should have asked this back when they first met earlier in the night, or at some point when they were talking at the bar or even on the long walk back to Orion's habsuite, but it hadn't occurred to the young archivist. He had simply been too intimidated by the beautiful mech next to him that he wasn't thinking.
He didn't know if he was breaking some unspoken rule or something by asking, seeing as the other mech hadn't either, but Orion had to know. Even if it was a lie, he needed to call the mech something. Anything.
His field flares in fear when the mech pulls back to look at him with smoldering red eyes, as if confused. Like he too was just now realizing that he didn't know Orion's designation either.
"I am... Megatronous." He studies Orion's face, curiously, as if waiting for something.
Squirming a bit, Orion rasps out, "Mega...tronous." He takes a few, gasping in-vents, to try to cool his burning systems down, despite the larger mech's distracting purr of pleasure at hearing his designation. "Your designation is so beautiful."
"Now who teases? Tell me what to call you, sweetspark?"
Orion stares into those beautiful red optics and softly says, "I am Orion Pax. It is... very nice to meet you, Megatronous."
That powerful engine rumbles as Megatronous leans down to press the softest, chaste kiss to Orion's lip plates. Then he says, so sweetly, "And it is wonderful to finally meet you, Orion Pax."
At the purr of his name, Orion flinches when a sharp 'shink!' fills the air. His servos, that had been still digging around in Megatronous' armor, suddenly fly to his face plates in embarrassment as his valve cover just snaps open, leaking profusely in preparation. His valve is throbbing, begging for relief.
"I'm sorry," Orion whispers into his palms, plates all across his body superheated and flickering lightly with built-up charge, like arches of blue lightning. His field is awash with waves of embarrassment and lust.
It's then that he feels Megatronous' field tentatively reach out to engulf Orion's. It's heavy and filled with lust and yearning and twinges of amusement that grow more prevalent when Orion groans in embarrassment despite shamelessly wiggling his valve against that deliciously heated panel pressed to him.
"Don't apologize," Megatronous murmurs, amused. "I have that effect on mechs."
Orion laughs, despite himself, pulling his servos back enough to peak through his fingers to see Megatronous and that Primus gifted smirk that sends a jolt of charge through Orion's frame.
Megatronous' optics flare. "Sensitive," he murmurs before kissing his way down Orion's chassis, across the smooth metal over his abdomen before kissing around silver hips, grabbing one in each servo and spreading the thighs to get a good look at the fluttering valve. His field spikes in surprise before looking up at Orion. "You're sealed?"
Orion nods. "I don't hold it sacred or anything," he hurriedly explains. "I just worked so much and am not really all that, well, attractive, so not any suitors to speak of."
Megatronous frowns at that. "I don't believe that. The no suitors part. You are too beautiful to not be beating them off with a stick."
Orion lets out a little laugh. "You're very sweet, Megatronous, but you don't have to spare my feelings. It doesn't bother me. But thank you for saying that."
Megatronous' red optics narrow slightly, like he wants to argue, but then decides to let it go for now. "Are you okay that I take your seal?"
Orion nods, letting his servos rest by his face, squirming a bit, still charged. "Like I said, I'm not keeping it for any special reason. Go ahead and get rid of it for me. I would have self-serviced if I felt the need, but I've just been so busy working that I hadn't gotten around to it."
"And no mech catching your attention enough to pursue yourself," Megatronous murmurs.
"None except you," Orion admits.
"Like big mechs?" Megatronous teases lightly, massive servos running up and down Orion's thighs.
Orion's field washes with embarrassment. "It's not that. You're just... so beautiful. I have never seen someone so beautiful before and it intimidated the pits out of me," he admits, grinning at Megatronous's obvious surprise at that. Orion brings one hand down toward Megatronous' face, not minding the sharper features giving him a harsher appearance, but oh is he so beautiful to Orion.
Megatronous must have felt it, because the surprised edge to his field and face plates softens as he says, gently, "You are a very strange mech, Orion Pax."
"I don't mean - " he gasps, back arching a bit as a devious servo carefully plays across the soft protoform of his valve lips, gently brushing the anterior node, making Orion writhe. With his thumb gently rubbing, causing sparks to arch between Orion's plates, there is a sudden dull pain between his legs followed by a gushing of liquid onto his thighs and the berth beneath him before it's washed away by the pleasure in his node. A moment later, the pleasure and pain are gone as Megatronous removes the seal and holds it up for Orion to see.
"Do you want to keep it for solidarity's sake?"
Orion gives him a look. "I don't even understand that the way you said it." Megatronous laughs, deep and rumbling and it shakes the berth as Orion rolls his optics. "And no, I don't. Get rid of it."
Megatronous grins at him - that grin! - before tossing the seal to the side before bringing those beautifully sharp fingers back to Orion's valve, pushing the first in, pressing his thumb against the anterior node once more. Orion whines, shaking with pleasure, as that first finger gently runs along the soft walls of Orion's valve, being careful with that sharp claw, before pushing a second in. He's attentive, keeping an optic on Orion's field and face, while gently caressing the smooth, thin armor on his stomach and thighs as he added a third finger, then a fourth.
Orion, unable to stop it, overloads, letting out a cry of pleasure as arch of charge dance over his plates and slither up Megatronous' arm, joining his own charge. The delicate calipers in Orion's valve squeeze tightly to the larger mech's fingers, trying to pull him further as lubricant splatters his thighs and Megatronous' lap. Back arched, and shaking, Orion exvents loudly, trying to cool his system down before he overheats. Still that thumb keeps rubbing against his node, working him through his overload, nearly overcharging him before he's ready, but then he finally pulls his fingers free and while Orion grunts in displeasure at the empty feeling, he is a bit relieved to have a moment to breathe.
"Are you going to spike me?" Orion rasps, legs flexing on either side of Megatronous' hips.
"Oh, my eager little hauler, I will frag you as many times as you'll let me," he murmurs, running both servos up and down Orion's sides. The action is soothing, making sure that any tension that might have remained after the overload drains from him.
"Then take me," Orion murmurs back, rubbing his sensitive valve against that burning spike plate.
That grin, once more, so beautiful, spreads over Megatronous' face as he repositions Orion's hips and releases his spike, the burning protoform resting over Orion's thigh, leaking and weeping. Orion shivers, rolling his hips again. Megatronous' fields bleed desire and lust, wrapping around Orion's and weighing it down. Something normally seen as disrespectful, and overbearing feels wonderful. Because unlike how it appears, Orion can handle weight.
Megatronous seems hesitant to rest his field over Orion's, but when the smaller bot flexes into it with his own, comfortably, not burdened by it, Megatronous' beautiful grin spreads wider.
"You are vexing, my hauler."
Orion reaches down, shyly running the tips of his fingers against the hot and heavy spike drooling transfluid across his hip, making the larger mech shiver at the light touch. "And you still tease me, Megatronous," he murmurs, a loose smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as Megatronous shivers at the light touch again.
Megatronous, done with teasing and being teased, grabs hold of his impressive spike, covered in an intricate pattern of white and red flashing biolights, and presses it just barely into the smaller bot's valve. Then that Primus blessed thumb returns to that swollen anterior node, rubbing it with just enough pressure to almost be too much as he pushes his spike between the folds of Orion's valve, sinking as far as he can. Finally, light crackles between Megatronous' armor plates, and he spreads them wide to let out a gust of boiling hot air, his fans whirling at max speed.
"Let me know if I'm hurting you," Megatronous murmurs, still pushing in slowly, giving the flexing valve calipers time to adjust to the shape.
Orion squirms, thankful for the consideration, but the cool down from earlier is forgotten and now his frame feels like it's on fire once more. And his fans struggling to cool him off while his plates open and close to expel heat isn't enough to settle the growing heat in his clenching valve and abdominal plating. Their fields warp and twine together, seemingly connecting them on a deeper level and it makes both mechs shiver at the feeling.
Orion is begging mindlessly, for what? He doesn't know. He can just hear himself, switching between Neocybex and binary. It all is just tumbling past his lip plates as he grabs and rubs at Megatronous' armor. His fingers slide into the seam of his chest armor and his neck and Megatronous' hips jerk a bit, fully seating him inside of Orion, making both of them shake.
"I can take it," Orion rasps, arching up to drag his fingers from Megatronous' chest plates up to his shoulders. "Please. Please!"
"And you ask so pretty," Megatronous purrs, red optics flaring as he shifts their position, sliding one hand under Orion's hips to support him while supporting himself on his other elbow and knees and started a slow series of thrusts while leaning down to lock lip plates with Orion again, swallowing up his moans and soft huffs.
Slow, languid thrusts followed by the bulk of Megatronous' weight pressing down on him had Orion writhing in no time. He wasn't sure what he expected, although it was probably something hard and fast, something that would drive him to overload again and again, wringing it from him like solvent from a metalmesh cloth, but no, this was slow and hard and deep - too deep.
Despite the blue charge crackling over Megatron's plates since Orion's first overload, it's the hauler that overloads again before the silver bot. The drag of their sensitive biolights running over one another, connecting and sharing a charge between them is like lighting a match within his internals. It's a slow, agonizing drag over the edge, and it leaves Orion sobbing, twitching and clawing at his partner as if he could crawl under the other's plates by wiggling is fingers between the seams, by plunging his glossa deeper into the other's mouth - anything to somehow escape this pleasure.
Megatronous picks up the pace a bit, still kissing Orion, still purring at those deft little fingers digging into all of his sensitive seams, and those hips rocking against his, trying to both push closer and pull away, shaking like crazy. And that field, so sturdy and strong, standing unmoving against the weight of Megatronous' own. He's been told many times that his field is too strong, too imposing, and yet the more he rests on Orion's the more soothed it seems to be. As if the weight was a comfort. Which might make sense, seeing as Orion seems to keep trying to pull him down on top of him.
Megatronous pulls his lip plates from Orion's mewing ones to kiss and nibble on Orion's throat cables, thrusting harder but keeping the same slow rhythm as Orion trembles through his overload and into another when the surge from Megatronous' pushes him over the edge again. The charge rushed through both of their systems, and it was too much for the hauler, forcing Orion into immediate reboot. Megatronous' spike presses hard against the smaller bot's gestation tank, his body immediately requesting entrance, but he yanks his hips back enough to still be buried inside the hauler but not be able to fulfill the request, denying it before Orion can even start the reboot.
Megatron has heard that bots forced into reboot could accidentally open their gestation tanks without actually consenting to it and that's not a conversation Megatronous wants to have. Even if there is a chance that Orion is low enough class that they could reproduce together, but haulers are in a murky low to mid-level within the cast, so there is a chance - but that isn't the goal for now.
Despite the idea of linking himself to the smaller bot forever being an appealing one. But maybe they need more than a single night of passion before making such a big decision.
Orion HUD flashes him warnings about overheating and sudden unexpected reboot, but he forces them away. Onlining his optics, he looks at Megatronous, letting out a little whimper as Megatronous pulls from his valve. He clamps his thighs closed, feeling pleasantly sore but unwilling to keep going. Three overloads were way more than his frame was ready to handle. He could feel lubricant and Megatronous' transfluid splattered all over his thighs and the berth beneath him.
Despite Orion wanting nothing more than to just drop into recharge, Megatronous wouldn't have it. He managed to get the hauler onto his feet and drag him into the wash rack, forcing him to keep his sore valve open and twitching while he gently cleaned it out. Orion weakly insisted that it was fine, and he could just take care of it once he finished recharge, but Megatronous shook his helm.
"As the experienced partner, it's my duty to make sure you know how to take care of yourself so that the next time that you're the experienced partner, you'll be as responsible and be able to care for your own needs. Now quiet down and let me do this," he says around that grin that Orion just can't get enough of. Orion, despite how his wash rack really wasn't built to fit both of them at once without it being a little squashed, was willing to put one leg over the kneeling silver bot's shoulder and accept the consequences when that amazing tongue licked him into another overload.
Strutless, Orion let the larger mech carry him back to a now clean berth after Megatronous stepped away to redress it, dropping the solid covers into a corner for Orion to deal with later, grumbling about the other needing to keep his spike and glossa to himself for the rest of the night cycle, which made Megatronous laugh, a deep rumble in his chest.
Orion wasn't completely sure how this was supposed to work, if Megatronous was supposed to go back to his own habsuite or what, but he was more than pleased when the hulking mech crawled back into his perhaps a bit too small berth and wrapped around him.
But just to be sure, Orion tiredly calls out in the darkness of the berthroom, "Megatronous?"
A pause, then a careful, "Yes, my hauler?"
Orion tucks his helm up under Megatronous' chin, fingers dipping into the seams on the larger mech's side, stroking the wires softly, smiling a bit at the pleased feeling flooding that heavy field wrapping around his own, sated and peaceful. His heavy armor creaking as it relaxes against him on their sides.
"Will you stay the rest of the night cycle?" His voice is small, hoping that he wasn't doing something wrong by asking. Hoping that it would make clear his desires for the other mech to stick around longer than maybe he intended. He just... hopes it doesn't scare him off.
A pause, Megatronous quietly exventing, before curling tighter around Orion, murmuring, "Only if you want me to."
"I do," Orion says in relief. "I do want you to."
With that settled the two strangers both slip into a comfortable recharge, in the arms of a bot that they met just earlier that night cycle. Their sparks beating together as one.