ERRORS IN JUDGEMENT OF THE PERSONAL KIND
Part Seven
Several more days passed during which the High Guard became ever more accustomed to their new, more relaxed way of living and their new chain of command. The only thing which caused any alarm was that a long patrol checking their backtrack one afternoon spotted a formation of Cybertronian fliers far off in the distance. The strange fliers posed no danger. They were clearly from Iacon City's largely commercial Air Command fleet, likely filling in as scouts, and no contact occurred between the two groups. But to Megatron, it just proved that they were still far too close to their new enemies and he decided that they should move further out to the alternate base by the geothermal plant. The main difference for this relocation was that there was much less urgency involved. Advance parties were sent out beforehand for several additional days to prepare the new site further and make it more hospitable before they all moved in for good.
The impending trip brought up the on-going issue with Megatron's limitations when in alt mode again. When he and Shockwave went outside to look over what they could see of the land route Megatron was contemplating using, it didn't take long for the big purple bot to start voicing his objections.
"Too many detours," Shockwave said bluntly, "and it is still far too unstable."
"Soundwave said that with Cybertron's energon flow restored, that tectonic activity would subside."
"Tectonic, yes. But there is a new problem. The frozen energon left on the surface has begun to melt due to the warming of the planet's mantle. What if your proposed route were to cross a weakened surface we can't detect?"
Megatron pressed his lips together in a frustrated frown. There was no way he could leave their current base without crossing a lot of the now dangerous residual energon ice.
"It would be much safer if I simply carried you again, sir."
"It would be preferrable if you didn't," Megatron said. "I don't want my lieutenants reduced to transport duty."
Shockwave paused to absorb the off-handed compliment before pressing on.
"Perhaps I could construct a jetpack for—"
"No. I do not want to wear a jetpack."
His rejection was made with an uncommon vehemence which surprised even himself until Megatron recalled the last time he'd actually worn a jetpack. It was during that crazy road race that he'd been tricked into entering by—
No. Best not to continue that train of thought. It was enough that his subconscious had known better and spoken up for him.
The two big bots sank into silence, both of them gazing out over their complex, treacherous, and now vexing surroundings as they contemplated further options.
Serendipity can sometimes work in the most delicious of ways. While Megatron and Shockwave were still pondering, one of the High Guard advance parties returned, transformed, and set down only a hundred feet away. It was Thundercracker and three of his fliers and the dark blue civilian bot, Darkwing. All of them were looking forward to a bit of a noon break and headed at once for the ship, and they wound up walking right past their leader and his lieutenant.
Megatron took one look at Darkwing, remembered Shockwave suggesting the jetpack, remembered the race, and started to smirk.
"Darkwing! Come here!"
The big mech actually flinched, hearing that imperative command, then came over as ordered. Megatron looked him over critically. Still as broad and powerful and imposing as ever, just not very intimidating anymore. He couldn't even meet Megatron's eyes, he just adopted a sort of spaced expression and stared into nothingness.
"Transform into your alt mode," Megatron said.
That woke him up. He looked startled, his still bright blue eyes widening before he complied. Megatron's smirk escalated into an outright grin.
Darkwing was a bona fide flier, but not configured like a typical winged craft. His aerial alt more resembled a levitating platform with several bundled, streamlined components. The middle portion most resembled a fuselage, and as soon as Megatron hopped aboard and stretched out, he discovered to his pleasure that it supported him very comfortably indeed. He propped himself up somewhat on his elbows, took hold of the edges of the intake scoops on either side, and told Darkwing to take him for an experimental spin out over the nearby plain.
It went better than even Megatron could have hoped for. Thundercracker and his three mechs all stayed to watch, quite fascinated, alongside Shockwave as Darkwing flew faster and faster and executed ever steeper turns and horizontal loops at the behest of his unlikely passenger. At last, Megatron must've ordered him to return and the pair came back. The big silver bot slid off Darkwing's topside as soon as his mechanical mount halted into a stationary hover just above the ground again.
"Problem solved," Megatron declared, the hint of a smirk still on his face.
"Excellent solution, Lord Megatron!" Shockwave enthused. "If you keep me apprised of your schedule, I'll see to it that Darkwing is available whenever you have need of him."
"Good. I'll be in my office," his leader said with uncommon cheer and strode off. Finding out that Darkwing could readily carry him in style when in his aerial alt solved more than just the matter of his own transportation needs, it had actually been a rather exhilarating experience. There was a reason his former mining supervisor had dabbled in racing—he was fast!
Shockwave was the one who gave Darkwing permission to transform back to his robot mode, after which he granted him leave to go. Not a word of inquiry was made about Darkwing's take on what had just happened or how he felt about becoming Megatron's personal limo service. All he could do was stand shaking for a moment before his humiliation drove him on into the ship where he had some hope of stewing in peace.
Unfortunately for Darkwing, he once again forgot that his expressions were now visible to the world, and Shockwave saw him pulling a nasty one as he departed and went after him. The big purple lieutenant caught up with Darkwing in the middle of the common area inside the ship's hangar bay and clocked him so hard on the side of the head that he sent the other mech staggering sideways for several meters. Then he made Darkwing stand and face him while he launched into a blistering reprimand, calling him out for his show of disrespect and near-insubordination. Shockwave's voice was very loud and there were a lot of other bots in the ship to hear it; some even came out of the common rooms to listen in and enjoy the free entertainment. Once done with chewing him out. Shockwave began trying to give the now cowering Darkwing a pep talk, to remind him of his 'obligations to the unit' and that he needed to do better to make the most of 'what he could contribute to the cause'. Shockwave was terrible when it came to trying to reassure or inspire anybody. He always sounded angry, no matter what, and everything he said was so hackneyed and trite that the watching fliers could barely restrain their laughter. Darkwing finished bolting for the civilians' corner as soon as he was dismissed and was so upset that he wound up sitting at their table with his face buried in his folded arms. And while none of the High Guard warriors were exactly fond of Darkwing, they did take his mortification as a great excuse to drift over and gather together to start comparing other epic Shockwave lectures they'd had to endure in the past.
"Don't take it so hard, Darkwing," one of them said. "He just likes yelling. If he was really serious, he would've put you on the floor, not just given you a love tap to make you pay attention."
"Yeah, he put me down once," a different bot admitted. "I can't even remember what the frag it was about, either, probably just me giving him some lip. He's really, really touchy about stuff like that. He hates being sassed by us measly fliers."
"And he's got one mean punch," Thundercracker added. He looked Darkwing's unmoving body over, presumably for damage. "It's probably a toss-up as to whether Shockwave or you are the next strongest mech after Megatron right now. Not that I'm suggesting you ever try challenging him or anything. Just an observation based on the work I've seen you do so far."
Two of the fliers standing behind Thundercracker and members of his squadron exchanged glances and smirked at that one. They'd seen Thundercracker 'observing' Darkwing a time or two in the past already and were pretty sure that it had nothing to do with the big civvie's capacity for work. Then yet another bot brought up an incident involving Skywarp during which the other squadron leader had had to pretty much flee for his life to evade Shockwave's wrath and it kept on going from there. The medic, Fester, came back from some task of his own just then and was mightily surprised to find Darkwing hunched over on their table while surrounded by a bunch of the High Guard who appeared to be trying to cheer him up. He'd missed Megatron's unusual test ride earlier and the repercussions of Darkwing's less than enthusiastic response afterwards.
And speaking of…Shockwave all at once came striding back up, right into their midst. All the fliers shut up instantly and tried to look innocent, but Shockwave didn't care about them or Darkwing either, for that matter. He fixed his single ocular on Fester instead.
"You! Megatron wants to see you," he announced without preamble, then spun and walked off fast again, as if resentful to have been used as a mere messenger. The fliers all transferred their attention onto Fester. He was even less familiar to them than Darkwing and they were all curious as to why he appeared worthy of an audience with their new fearless leader.
The blue and grey bot in question gave them no hints, alas. "Well, off I go," he remarked to the group at large before hiking himself out of their presence. Fester himself was sure he knew exactly why Megatron wanted to see him. What he wasn't sure of was whether he'd get out of Megatron's office alive.
Cutter and Fletcher, the two civilian engineers which the High Guard had adopted, had been labouring hard recently to get a little more tech inside the ship up and running, and they'd actually managed to get the door to Megatron's quarters and office semi-working. Thus it was, once Fester had entered, that the first words he heard from the big silver bot waiting for him inside were deceptively mundane.
"Close the door," Megatron said.
"Uh…"
"It's the switch to the right. You'll have to manually work it. There's no voice command."
"All right."
Fester turned around to touch the control and close the door as requested. The next thing he knew, Megatron had picked him up by the neck and slammed him backwards against it.
"You told them I was a miner!" he shouted into his face.
"I-I— No. Told one. J-just one," Fester choked out, quite terrified.
"Who! Who did you tell!"
"S-Starscream."
"Starscream!"
He spat it out like a curse, but did drop Fester, who almost fell. The medic had to lean back against the door to steady himself while he rubbed at his abused neck.
"He told everyone!" Megatron added, still sounding furious.
"So I-I expected. And I concur. It's something the others should know."
"Know! You made me appear weak!"
Megatron was still within grabbing range and raised a fist as if to punch Fester. "No. That's not true," the medic fired back quickly. "They respect you more now."
"What!"
It was enough to make him lower his arm at least. Fester coughed and straightened up fully and took a moment to realign his back blades into some semblance of order again while Megatron stared down at him. "I said, they respect you more now. They admire you."
The bigger bot actually took a few steps back, his expression shifting over into something more dumbfounded than outraged. "Why would you say something like that?" he demanded.
"Because they know what you came from now. They understand exactly what you had to overcome and what you must have suffered. It gives you a shared hardship. There's camaraderie in that, even at a distance removed, knowing that you share a hard background."
Megatron had started frowning. "I could feel them staring behind my back," he said. "It's how I knew, that something had changed."
"It's not surprising that they were staring. They're probably trying to imagine it, trying to picture you as a cogless miner. It seems almost impossible, given what you look like now. I mean, Primus, even I can barely believe it, and I knew you back then."
"I see…"
His rage seemed to have completely blown over, much to Fester's relief. He watched Megatron return to his desk, pull out the bench in front of it and seat himself to face him. His normal-seeming actions plus an encouraging nod gave the civilian flier confidence enough to come closer.
"So you think they admire me more because I was a miner, do you?" Megatron asked, one corner of his mouth quirking up to express his still dubious feelings.
"Of course they do. Everyone loves a hard-luck story with a happy ending."
That actually got the faintest of chuckles out of Megatron. "A hard-luck story… And happy? Really?"
"You think these people weren't happy when you tore Sentinel in two? I know I was dancing. You fulfilled everything they wanted for fifty years."
"Mm."
"There's something else they should know too," Fester said, his voice becoming ever more earnest as his courage rose. "You should tell them where that cog of yours really came from."
Megatron's hand went reflexively straight to his chest. "What do you mean?" he asked, his query a tiny bit hesitant.
"You know exactly what I mean, sir. There is no way that cog inside you belonged to Sentinel. You wouldn't tolerate such a thing."
Megatron studied the blue and grey bot now standing quite comfortably before him, his hands behind his back, for a long moment before replying.
"You're very clever…" he said slowly and then, "You are also correct. Sentinel stole the cog of Megatronus for himself after he killed him. He told me this and showed his cog to me when he was holding me prisoner for a time in his tower."
"Ah, a fitting prize then. Don't you think that this is worth sharing? They'll be inspired. Even your name… So fortuitous. But they'll never know unless you tell them. Do you really want them to assume that it's Sentinel's cog you wear in your chest?"
That finally got a rise out of Megatron. "No, I do not want them assuming that," he said rather angrily. He sighed hard, making it sound like a loud huff of disapproval. "Very well, Fester. It seems I'll have to concede to your advice on this matter. But let me decide the timing. I'll trust you to keep your mouth shut about it until then. Now, do you have anything else to tell me? After disclosing my background to Starscream of all bots, I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised by whatever you'll say next."
Fester grinned and rocked back and forth a little on his feet. He seemed suddenly gleeful. "Funny you just mentioned Starscream because yes, I do know one more thing you should know. And this time you're the only one here who doesn't know it yet. Starscream and Sentinel, they used to be lovers. It was by all accounts serious for both of them and they might have remained together for life had Sentinel not gone bad."
Megatron just stared back, his face unreadable. Fester began counting down the seconds internally, waiting for the explosion. Two…three…four…and sure enough, Megatron jumped back up onto his feet, instantly enraged.
"That is—impossible! Why would you even say such a thing?!"
"Because once again it's very true. And this was before all the Primes were killed, back when Sentinel was their aide. Sentinel was still just a regular T-cog when Starscream first met him, the two were of a size, and from what I remember, he was a very charming person. It's hardly surprising that the two took to each other…two handsome fliers like that—"
"No! It's insane! How could Starscream have been intimate with-with—that—and not know that he'd—"
But Fester jumped in before he could complete his thought. "Sir! Please, forgive my rudeness, but I'm going to have to step in at this point because if you're about to say what I think you want to say, then you haven't had a cog long enough to make use of its more personal benefits yet. Interfacing never grants one access to a partner's mind per se, despite all the romantic claptrap you'll hear about sharing thoughts and such, only their emotions and sensations. If Sentinel felt no shame or guilt over what he was planning, Starscream wouldn't have known that anything was wrong. Nobody knew there was anything wrong with that bot, not even the supposed geniuses he worked for. So you need to lay off Starscream in that respect."
Megatron was still breathing hard, repressing his anger as he glared at the medic. "Why even tell me this then? What good does it do?"
"It gives you knowledge of something unique which you share with Starscream and which you should keep in mind when dealing with him. You were both violated by Sentinel, badly. He stole your cog and he broke that poor flier's spark. It nearly destroyed him, he took it so hard."
"He's weak," Megatron growled.
"No, he's just wounded, which is a different thing altogether. And now that Sentinel's dead, he has some chance of recovering. Look, sir, I want you to succeed. I want all of us to succeed. And part of succeeding is not wasting the resources you have right in front of you. Nobody knows the High Guard better than Starscream. It would be wise to make use of that."
More hard breathing. And a hard look. "Where do you get all this?" Megatron said.
"I talk to people and I watch them. They confide in me."
"Mm. And does that go both ways?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know precisely what I mean. Why aren't you a proper physician?"
"Ah. Yes. Well, I'm not cut out to be a physician."
"I don't believe you. And if you truly support our cause, you know how much I hate deception."
Now it was Fester who was starting to breath hard. "Yes, all right, there is a reason, but it's personal…" He saw Megatron's fiery eyes start to narrow and hastened to add, "…and it's something I will tell you if you insist, of course I will, just…maybe another time? There's so much else to do just now…"
He added a feeble grin, which, combined with his words, seemed to appease the mighty silver mech. Megatron relaxed again and waved a hand towards him in a dismissive gesture.
"Very well, next time. You will tell me next time we talk. And this will be the second and last time I'll concede to you, Fester. I'm only doing so because I do owe you." He used the hand he'd waved at the medic to stroke over his own right forearm in a pointed way and Fester smiled back, this time with genuine intent.
"Thank you, sir. I guess I don't need to ask whether your arm worked out for you. I watched you fight on top of the civic center."
"It's always worked fine. I still remember you telling me how lucky I was that the shoulder joint wasn't involved, otherwise it might have been the end of me." He paused and patted his own forearm again, then added in a softer voice. "You were right. It works fine."
"I'm glad. Well, I'll see myself out then."
"Yes."
The last the blue and grey medic saw of Megatron was him turning his bench back before his desk prior to sitting down again. As soon as he got outside and back into the hangar bay, Fester bent over and started heaving, taking in huge gulps of air. He could barely believe that he'd just spoken to Megatron the way he had and gotten away with it. But it was all out now, well, almost all, and Megatron had let him live and demonstrated some interest in having an actual decent working relationship with him in the future. That was something to celebrate.
Fester was still feeling wobbly and needed to sit down himself, and when he got back to his corner, he found Darkwing still sitting there with his arms folded on the table. The only difference was that he'd drawn his head up to rest his shapely chin instead of hiding his face. Occasionally, he would glance at the several fliers who were still hanging around and trading stories of being chewed out by Shockwave. Trust Darkwing to finally start bonding with the others over such a stupid, weird-ass thing, Fester thought. The big dolt seemed to have no clue that the fliers were really there to check him out. Still, better he start making friends for any reason than remain the miserable company he'd been so far. Even Megatron, violent temper tantrums and all, seemed a cheerful, chipper sort compared to Darkwing!
Meanwhile, right around the same time Fester was despairing over Darkwing's lack of social skills, Starsceam was finishing up the outer leg of his solitary patrol. The flier's thoughts had been wayward and pressing lately and he needed some alone time to make sense of them. One of his greatest concerns was that he'd gone to Soundwave and Shockwave to pass on his discovery about Megatron's true background. It was a flagrant breech of protocol, but he was convinced that it was important that the others should know. It made their new leader seem all the more remarkable and explained a good deal…his anger, his rough edges, his unfamiliarity with the practical aspects of caring for others. Even his quick acceptance of Starscream's two former lieutenants could be tied to his earlier life. Miners had been housed in large groups in close quarters, and being alone and having to isolate himself would be hard on Megatron. He was used to company. Still, Starscream was a little fearful yet that his initiative would come back to bite him. Every day that went by without his being hauled up and punished gave him more hope that he'd been forgiven.
Starscream reached the halfway point of his self-imposed patrol and arrowed down onto the top of the weathered old mountain range he'd been overflying to take a break. He landed in a meadow of uniformly short vegetation, peppered with the odd taller plant. There was a semi-circle of cliff faces higher up on the slope behind him, the last vestige of whatever volcano had helped spawn the very ground he stood upon many eons ago. He walked on for a bit, enjoying the warm sunshine, kicking at the grass now and then. It was quite dry at least, not likely to stain him if he crushed it.
A snippet of memory suddenly arrested him. A meadow at altitude, dry grass…he knew this. Sentinel, kneeling in the grass, his colours unbelievably brilliant under the sunshine. Why outside? Why Sentinel and why was he kneeling? Then the full recollection of it all exploded upward and invaded Starscream's mind and held him rigid…
Sentinel had come to his office at the High Guard headquarters, unexpected and unannounced.
"What are you doing here?" Starscream had asked as he let him in, surprised yet pleased to see him. "I thought you were off on a mission today."
"It's been delayed a few hours," Sentinel told him. He was in one of his vibrant, charming moods and quick to collect a hug and a kiss from his lover. "I wanted to say good bye to you."
"Oh, well, thank you very much! I hope you get back on track and that your mission's successful."
"No, I mean, I want to say good bye. Properly."
He added a suggestive caress to their embrace and Starsceam smirked.
"Seriously? Well…" He looked around his office. "I suppose I could lock the door for an hour."
"No, not here. Outside. I need— I want to fly with you."
"Sentinel, I can't just walk out in the middle of the day! I do have a job to do."
"But you're the Commander! And if you want to, you can always say I came by to personally pass on how happy the Primes have been with all your work lately and that they rewarded you with an afternoon off. With me."
Starscream laughed at that and gave in. A flirty Sentinel was impossible to resist.
Sentinel zoomed off and took the lead as soon as they'd both transformed. It was only the third time Starscream had seen him in his new aerial alt mode and he admired his sleek, imposing lines all over again—he was a proper combat jet now, much more powerful and fast. But still not as swift as Starscream, who happily continued to follow him to whatever destination he had in mind.
They soon reached a nearby range of mountains which had eroded down into rolling hills and the odd, still craggy peak. Sentinel dropped down into an odd circular depression on top of one of the steeper hills. He had brought them to a caldera, its interior long since filled in, although the encircling cliff faces were still sheer and high, high enough to create a well of extra warmth and no wind at all within. Starscream looked about with interest, liking the bright red and orange hues of the cliffs. He was less interested in the natural stuff growing beneath his feet. Nature in general tended to be too messy for his taste.
"It's warm. Almost hot," he remarked.
"That's because of the cliffs. And the ground holds the heat. It's quite stoney."
"You must've been here before."
"Yes. I come here sometimes to think."
"It's nice…"
Starscream strolled slowly forward. Sentinel followed him closely, fixated on his lover. He was waiting for him to reach a good, thick, soft patch…
Sentinel all at once stepped out in front of Starscream—he almost danced, he moved with such speed and grace—and dropped to one knee and grabbed the flier and pulled him in close for a kiss. Starscream was so startled that he couldn't respond at first, but then tilted his head and melted into the pressure on his mouth. Sentinel's tight grip lightened. He began stroking Starscream's sensitive sides, reached to caress the bottom edges of his wings and where they attached to his body. Starscream let himself enjoy it for only a minute before stepping back out of his lover's grasp.
"What's wrong?" Sentinel asked.
Starscream was still breathing hard. "Nothing's wrong. It's just…" He looked around while he finished catching his breath. Nothing but open meadow, a few spindly trees in the very center of the caldera. "We should move closer to the cliffs."
"Why?"
"To have something to lean against. Or sit on."
A slow smile worked its way across Sentinel's broad face. He put his other knee down, then sat back onto his own lower legs.
"We don't need any of that," he said. "You can sit on me."
"We can't interface on the ground! It's all…grassy. And what if someone flew over?"
But Sentinel was already laughing at his prim protestations. "It's okay to get a little dirty, Starscream. Please. Don't make me get up again. I need you, please, Starscream."
He held out his arms invitingly. Starscream wanted to look away, yet couldn't. Sentinel kneeling in the dusty short vegetation, his elegant blue and gold and silver-accented body glittering and flashing liquid highlights under the sunshine as he pleaded with him…he'd never looked more stunning, more enticing. Or more anxious. A faint tremor shook his hands and his eyes were growing increasingly wild.
Starscream tore his gaze away with an effort and shifted to stand sideways to his lover. Sentinel's appetites had always been strong, and since his upgrade, his eagerness had only escalated. If Starscream didn't respond quickly enough to his advances now, he would become seductive and insistent…demanding. Starstream kind of liked it. A forceful Sentinel triggered his own aggressive nature and what then followed was always exceptionally intense.
And so the handsome captain of the High Guard played coy, teasing Sentinel's passions to a boil by remaining just out of reach while he pretended to search the sky for nonexistent voyeurs. At last he reached one hand over towards him, almost as an afterthought. Sentinel snatched at the black digits with a pleased sigh of relief. This game between them was already well-honed, but he'd come close to having to jump up and overpower Starscream this time to end it.
Sentinel started reeling in his lover. The other bot was still sticking in his heels, making it difficult, yet the corners of his mouth were drawn back in an odd smile that was half-grin and half-grimace. Sentinel grinned too. Starscream wore relatively minimal external armour when in robot mode, the mark of a lightweight fighter jet flier who was supremely confident in his speed and agility to protect him. He'd likely never even imagined that it left him vulnerable in ways that had nothing to do with combat.
As soon as he'd pulled him close enough, Sentinel moved his hands over to Starscream's furthest side and thigh and started working on him. He dug at the black, textured contours with gentle fingertips, stroked them and then cupped his palms to massage more deeply. Starscream jacked his head higher. Sentinel saw him lick over his teeth and lips. Good idea, he thought, and ducked his head down with wicked intent.
When Starscream felt Sentinel's rough tongue drag over the side of his waist and the press of his open mouth, he shuddered and the last of his strength to resist went out of him. That was the problem with being with another flier. They all knew exactly how to best excite you, whether you wanted it or not. Sentinel sensed his capitulation and straightened his body back up to regard his lover's face. How he loved those flaming eyes, so utterly unlike his own! And he loved his expression even more just then, that taut, ardent look of a mech consumed by his own burning need and about to break.
"Yess. Come to me, Starscream. I'll make you feel so good…"
Starscream flung his arms about Sentinel's neck. He fastened his mouth over Sentinel's again and held their kiss while the bigger mech eased him down against his own body and onto his lap. They were both still getting adjusted to the greater disparity in their sizes and Sentinel had gotten so much stronger. He easily held himself upright and Starscream too when the flier clamped his thighs about Sentinel's waist and pressed himself as close as physically possible.
A waterfall, that's what it felt like. Starscream had once stood under a small waterfall to clean himself off and he still remembered how the water had pulsed and pounded as it sluiced over his body. This interface was the same except that it pounded through every nook and cranny of his interior and Sentinel's too, the rushing, trapped sensation of it rebounding and pressing harder and harder as the pleasure built. There seemed no limitations to it, no check on its intensity. The two of them were soon reduced to clutching each other's bodies as they gasped and squirmed, helpless to resist the electrifying patterning going on within them as their sparks danced and meshed, more and more of their combined energy fields laying down together with perfect synchronicity. Sentinel rarely had his wings free during his trysts with Starscream; he was typically the one who leaned back during a seated encounter, their favourite, most comfortable position. But on this occasion, out in the open and on his knees, he made use of them for the first time and flared them out to express his ecstasy, their movement catching the sunlight in golden flashes which near blinded Starscream. He just laughed, however, laughed in delight at feeling the same bliss felt by his lover, then joined him in spreading out his own wings.
By the end of it, both were so worn out that those same wings were left drooping. They were too tired to help one another pull them back into alignment, too drained to fondle their slowly desensitizing surfaces or offer up even a single caress of a wing edge as they recovered. All they could do was wearily lay the sides of their heads together as they continued to cling to each other, although whether it was an embrace or in truth more that they were holding each other up was hard to say. Whatever it was, it was something the two of them were loathe to break. The sun continued to shine down on them, the encircling cliffs of the caldera still reflecting its heat and brilliance, making them feel both enclosed yet fully exposed beneath the limitless dome of the sky above. It was just them, alone, and still connected to the greater world beyond at the same time. Starscream rubbed his cheek against what he could reach of Sentinel's. Still flushed, but cooling. They moved to press their helms above their foreheads together instead, breathed onto each other's faces and gazed into one another's eyes. Neither of them had ever looked more sated…happier…
When Starscream finally got off Sentinel and tried to stand up, he was still so overcome that he staggered and almost fell. Sentinel, still kneeling, leaned forward and caught his hands with his own and managed to keep him upright. He swung his arms out a little, holding his lover steady, almost as if displaying him for his own private perusal. "Look at you," he breathed. "You're so beautiful. Glistening in the sunlight of Cybertron."
Starscream was still swaying a little, besotted with joy and the residual euphoria of their joining. He stared back into Sentinel's beautiful eyes and saw the same thing there…he thought he saw it and he'd thought it was real.
"I love you," Sentinel said softly and tightened his grip on Starscream's hands.
"I love you too. I do!" Starscream blurted.
It was the first time he'd ever said such a thing to anyone. And he'd said it to Sentinel. Two days before his lover killed all the Primes.
The unwanted memories continued to claw at him. There was no one to hold him up or steady him anymore. Starscream sank down onto his knees and began slamming his fists into the ground in his impotent rage and frustration, over and over again. His tears rained down, into the dirt, making a muddy mess of it all. When he saw the filth on his hands, he stopped pounding a crater into the earth and started sobbing instead. All his misery, his bewilderment and his rekindled anguish poured out of him.
It's for he best, you know, his distant, dispassionate side kept telling him. It has to come out. You should never have hung onto it for so long. Starscream wanted to punch his dispassionate side just as hard as he could. It hurt so bad…
Eventually, there was nothing left and Starscream grew calmer. The sun was still shining, exactly as it had the last time he made love with Sentinel, and the warmth of it soothed him and began drying the mud on his hands. He shifted his legs, canting himself over onto one hip to sit more comfortably while he waited for his hands to dry completely so he could just wipe the dirt off.
All that passion, all of Sentinel's wild excitement and urgency that day, it had never truly been about him. It had been the elation of Sentinel's anticipation, his knowing that he stood on the brink of achieving his treacherous spark's desire to seize all the power of Cybertron for himself. And he would have dragged Starscream right along with him to share in his triumph afterwards if only Starscream had let him. It was the way Sentinel would have expressed his love…
Starscream sighed. Well, Sentinel was dead now, though not enough. Sentinel would never be dead enough for Starscream. In the meantime, his hands had dried and he was able to reach them over to a patch of soft grass and rub them clean. Maybe in time he'd be able to rub out the last of the memories which kept Sentinel alive just as easily. But not today. Today he had to get back to the ship and make up some story about what he'd seen during the patrol he'd supposedly flown.
Slowly, he got back up onto his feet and shook himself off. There were bits of vegetation and soil still stuck to his legs and he brushed them off too.
It's okay to get a little dirty, Starscream.
No. No it wasn't.
to be continued...