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Optimus stared at Megatron owlishly, trying to work out how to respond.
He'd been prepared for a lot of things: an extended discussion about past sexual trauma, a furious silence about past sexual trauma, a furious explosion about past sexual trauma, a revelation about his sexuality, a discussion that involved Optimus having to explain Megatron's own sexuality to him, any number of fetishes...
He already had all the possibly-relevant pamphlets downloaded to his own drives, because the state of the average Autobot's mental health couldn't generally withstand the added pressure of sexual shame. An endless, inescapable, unwinnable war or the internalized belief that they were fundamentally broken and would find neither love nor sexual satisfaction for as long as they lived, but not both. People with both had a tendency to turn routine patrols into suicide missions. So the full focus of Autobot high command some three million years ago had produced as much educational material as the four of them together could think of, which turned out to be more than any one of them was comfortable with. It was hard to say how well any of it had worked—people at least now had the words to describe their problems, which Optimus counted as a win—but if nothing else, he'd been pretty confident that he'd never again be caught off guard by anything anyone told him about their sexual preferences. Sitting in a room with Jazz and Ratchet spitballing a complete list of Cybertronian sexual diversity had forever inoculated him against shock on this subject.
At least, he thought it had.
Megatron sighed with that particular angry edge he had when he was trying not to ruin the evening. He was better at avoiding that than Optimus was. "Forget it," he said, sounding slightly less angry than his sigh had been. "Just... open your panels and lie down."
That was, Optimus thought, probably the single worst proposition he'd ever heard. The words themselves could have been workable, if delivered with the right mech-handling and a growl of barely-contained lust, but the tone. Megatron would have sounded less resigned at his own execution. "Primus," Optimus said, despite himself. "I didn't think the sex was that bad." He bit his tongue several seconds too late. Megatron growled and stood to leave. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, reaching out to grab Megatron but stopping himself in time and instead just brushing his hand. "Don't go just because I'm an aft." He heard a quiet huff off laughter and Megatron settled back onto the berth. They sat in silence waiting for the anger to pass. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," Megatron said, quick enough that he hadn't thought about it. Optimus hesitated. All he wanted was the opportunity for them to enjoy each other, however they could, and if Megatron didn't enjoy even this then there was no point in it, but kissing Megatron seemed to be the only way he could truly say all that he wanted to. The idea of losing left him utterly adrift. "Yes," Megatron said again, pulling him close.
Optimus dimmed his optics and let feeling take the foreground. Megatron cupped his helm in one hand, with a grip that was never truly gentle, and the other found its way to Optimus' hand still on the berth. Their fingers overlapped easily and Optimus pushed harder into the kiss, letting Megatron take a little of his weight. They had kissed often enough to be in natural synergy. It was a comfort to just let their silent harmony re-exert itself and wash away the tension of their previous conversation. It was as easy and natural now as it had been the first time they bruised their faces with the desperate force of their kissing.
Unfortunately, it was also desperately arousing. Optimus forced his engine to stay slow and steady. He refused his panels when they tried to open. If Megatron enjoyed this, then it was enough.
Megatron's fans kicked on and for one brief, startlingly sexy moment he moaned.
Then he turned away from the kiss with a frown.
Neither of them said anything for a while. Megatron had only reluctantly admitted anything at all: he probably would have been willing to keep things as they were forever, never enjoying the interfacing for its own sake but enjoying, at least, the opportunity to make Optimus moan. The problem was that Optimus wanted to return the favour. The ball was in his court. "Would you tell me more about it?" he asked.
"It won't do either of us any good," Megatron said wearily. "Forget it, Prime. I have no desire to watch you punish yourself."
"I would like to make an informed decision," Optimus insisted. "I'm not saying no to something we might both enjoy just because it took me off guard."
Megatron sighed. "What do you want to know?"
Great question. Everything—but Megatron would certainly not bear his spark just because Optimus asked him to. Not like this. What was the important stuff? "What would you enjoy? If you could have anything." Megatron's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I'm not saying I'll do it but surely that's the best place to start. And..." he knew that the best way to get vulnerability from Megatron was to lead with his own. Not that either of them were especially comfortable with it, but Megatron seemed to keep a mental scoreboard making sure that he always had one less weak spot bared than Optimus did. "Even if we can't do it, I'd like hearing it. I think I could get off on just seeing you turned on."
Success: Megatron's biolights flared hot for a second and then he was coming in closer. He did always seem to enjoy the sight of Optimus' lust. "Open your panels." Optimus complied. His spike would take a second to catch up but his valve was already wet when Megatron reached down to touch it. This small piece of physical proof seemed to reassure him. "I have had dreams about you. Too many to describe now." His fingertips brushed up and down between the lips of Optimus' valve; it felt good but it didn't account for the heat flooding his frame. "You want to know what I dreamed of, when I woke up in a puddle of my own lubricant?" Optimus nodded fervently, unwilling to interrupt. "My favourite was the thought of you tearing my throat out with your teeth." Optimus' processor felt like it split in two, caught between horror and lust. Words rarely horrified him these days, after all they had seen and done: what scared him was the fact that he might have done it. If the opportunity had presented himself, he would have been willing to kill Megatron with nothing but his teeth. Had Megatron known that better than Optimus himself had? "When I was fighting in the pits, I'd come off the field crackling. I couldn't count how often I overloaded just out of sight of the cameras with my fingers pressed into a wound."
The noise that came out of Optimus' mouth was undeniably pleasure but Megatron hesitated all the same. "I wish I could have seen that," Optimus said, just for something to say. Too many layers of feeling here for him to unravel. Part of him was fixed on wondering who else Megatron might have told. Was Optimus the only person to ever be trusted with this? He shifted on the edge of the berth to give Megatron as much access to his body as he could. "Keep going."
Megatron slid two fingers into him, cupping Optimus' valve in his palm. "Sometimes I didn't have to touch my panels, never mind open them. If someone stabbed me just right, all I had to do was work my fingers into the hole, just like this." He demonstrated by rubbing the heel of his hand over Optimus' anterior node in a hot pulse of pleasure. "But I got plenty of that as the war went on. It started to take more and more. It got boring. Eventually all it did was shovel coal onto my fury." He smiled wickedly and dragged his fingers across Optimus' ceiling node. "Unless it was you. When you hurt me, it meant something. Even once the dents were hammered out, I could feel your marks on me."
"Yes," Optimus moaned. He tried to say something about how he had felt the same. Not that he'd enjoyed it as Megatron apparently had but all the same it lingered. The invisible marks he could still feel covered his armour. Even now, he could feel Megatron's hand on his spark. It was a feeling that transcended pain. He tried to say so but Megatron was only picking up momentum.
"On those long, sleepless nights, in my room or on the bridge, I'd think about what you might do to me if I got you riled up enough. Even being shot by you is a pleasure but what I really wanted was your hands. Nothing gave me more satisfaction than getting you so angry you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands. For any number of reasons, of course," he had found a rhythm with his hand that pushed against Optimus' ceiling node on the thrust in, then rocked back to rub his hand on Optimus' anterior node, "but plain lust was always a factor." The drops of lubricant squeezing out around his fingers was testament to Megatron's efficacy in pursuit of his goals. Optimus leaned forward so that he could rest his forehead on Megatron's shoulder and relax into it. "The only thing that could have been better was your mouth. I longed to feel your teeth sinking into me. Optimus, there were days when I would have been willing to lose the fight if it meant that you'd take that mask off and bite me."
Optimus thought about asking—knew he should ask—but it was hard to think with his body burning up and he was already right there. He sunk his teeth into Megatron's neck, hard enough to hurt without breaking through the mesh. Megatron nearly choked on his own oral lubricant, from the sounds of it. Just as Optimus was about to stop and apologize, a heavy hand pressed him back into place.
"Harder," Megatron said, in a voice that was very nearly a whine. "Frag, Optimus." Optimus had never heard him sound like that before. The desperation in his voice. He bit down, this time not holding anything back. His teeth were aching when Megatron's hand slipped from his head, letting him pull away.
The wound he left behind was shockingly small compared to the effort it had taken. There were ragged teeth marks in Megatron's neck but they didn't break far beneath the surface. Hot pink energon welled up inside them but there was barely enough of it to trail down Megatron's neck. He looked up at Megatron, to find his lover slack-jawed and bright-eyed. It took a moment for Megatron to move. When he did, he lifted both hands to Optimus face and held him in place for a lingering kiss. For the first time, Optimus felt totally certain that Megatron was running just as hot as he was himself. That silent assurance eased something deep inside him. He returned Megatron's kisses lazily, letting Megatron strip every last drop of energon from his mouth.
"All these years," Megatron said, their lips still brushing together, "dreaming up ways to get you to hurt me. It never occurred to me to just ask."
"Love you," Optimus mumbled. No other words could convey everything he needed to say.
Megatron kissed him again, quick and hard. "How would you feel about doing some real damage?"
In truth, he felt a mix of trepidation and irrational lust that was hard to reason with. Nor could he ignore the worst parts of him, which leapt at this unexpected opportunity for vengeance. It was an unimagined opportunity to take all his futile anger out on the only person he could blame. Not the person who was to blame: no one mech could ever be that. But Megatron was responsible for more than anyone else could ever pretend to be, Megatron was the linchpin from which it all hung, Megatron was the only mech who could shoulder the blame without crumbling under its weight. Now he even wanted Optimus to hurt him. Until now, Optimus had been sure that there was no way for him to have his revenge without feeling worse afterwards. Now, there was potential.
The only reasonable answer was no. Megatron was hardly the only masochist on the planet: there were plenty of safe, sensible, controlled alternatives available to them. Things that wouldn't run the risk of getting carried away. Things that wouldn't require a doctor, and therefore a witness, even if it was a witness after the fact. Things that didn't echo with the memory of all they had done to each other. Things that Megatron didn't want nearly as much. "What did you have in mind?"
There was only a momentary pause, like Megatron was thinking all the same things that Optimus was, and then he said, "We could make your wish come true." His voice was hoarse with feeling and it made Optimus' engine rev embarrassingly before he'd even parsed the words. "Give you a chance to see me fucking my own fingers," he glanced down at Optimus' hands, "or yours. Get you inside me. Really inside me." He looked back up to meet Optimus eyes and maybe, just barely, Optimus had the necessary willpower to suggest something that wouldn't involve so much energon loss, no matter how much Megatron wanted it. Even though Megatron wanted it from him, because of him. But there was a flicker of regret in Megatron's expression, like he knew that he had pushed his luck too far, and Optimus just couldn't let him down.
The logical voice in the back of his mind - which sounded altogether too much like Ratchet - suggested that manipulation was more in keeping with Megatron's character than regret was. But it was up against the temptation of Megatron's desire and it was a losing battle. Seeing Megatron want him this badly made Optimus feel a heady rush of power alongside all the lust and care and need. Megatron, asking for something he really wanted. Asking him. What could Optimus say other than "Yes." The broad flat planes of Megatron's frame were all familiar to him. He'd thought about doing a great number of things to this body; this new addition wasn't so different, sitting as it did at the overlap of the two things he had most often wanted. The territory was all familiar, only the objective was new. "How do you want me to do it?"
Megatron's expression said clearly that he didn't care, but perhaps he saw that Optimus wanted some direction. Perhaps he just wanted to take control of his own fantasy. "Do you have a knife?" He did. It was intended more for simple, practical tasks than violence but it paid to be prepared. In close quarters a knife could make a world of difference. There would be no challenge getting it through even Megatron's armour. Megatron seemed pleased with the sight of it. "Back," he commanded, pushing Optimus back onto the berth and rearranging his limbs to Megatron's liking. When Optimus was sitting back against the headboard with his legs outstretched, Megatron straddled his thighs. Just enough of a height difference that Megatron could look down on him. The heat pouring from his vents was testament to his lust. Optimus' hands settled naturally on his hip armour; Megatron guided one a little higher. "Here," he said. It was far enough to the side that Optimus wouldn't have to look at it; Megatron wouldn't be able to see it at all. But then it wasn't the sight of a wound that Megatron wanted.
Optimus shifted his grip on the blade, guiding the tip with his thumb as he settled it against Megatron's side armour, resting against the seam of his back armour. It was weaker there, and the only thing beneath would be his fuel purifier and the surrounding tubing: nothing Megatron couldn't turn off if it sprung a major leak. "You're sure?"
In response, Megatron opened his panels. His spike pressurized immediately once it was free, and when Megatron rocked forward to brush their panels together, his valve was hot and slick. "Yes. Please, Optimus. I want you inside me."
Frag. How could he say no to that? How could he do anything but push the blade in, feeling each inch slip past his thumb, and look up in wonder as Megatron's optics went dark and his mouth fell open. The tension melted from his frame, giving Optimus a glimpse of another person in another life. Something softer and kinder, something more open to simple pleasures. Perhaps in that other life, Optimus could have made him feel like this with just his spike, but if a knife was what it took then a knife he'd use. "That good, huh?" Megatron's optics brightened for a moment and he nodded. His tongue darted out to wet his lips but no words followed. "Ready for me to take the knife out?"
"Yes." His voice was a rasp. "Slowly."
Slowly he could do. Optimus had stopped before the hilt hit Megatron's armour but not by much. Deeper than he'd meant to go. It was a clean cut and the armour didn't shift as the blade came out. Energon ran out in its wake, ebbing and flowing with a steady pulse. It made an irresistible draw to Optimus' fingers. The wound and energon were hot from Megatron's core and, when Optimus lifted his fingers to taste it, richer and stronger than any energon he'd tasted. Then the reality of what he was doing hit him. Not just stabbing Megatron when he'd asked for it so beautifully, but tasting him all on his own. What could possibly have prompted him to do that?
Megatron's hands pinned him back against the headboard with a growl, holding him still as he sunk down on Optimus' spike. It was easier than it ever had been in the past: Megatron's frame hungry for him. "Fuck me." Optimus didn't have time to so much as twitch his fingers before Megatron repeated himself. "Fuck me now."
With his hands pinning Optimus' hips against the bed, there was no room for misinterpretation. Optimus pushed two fingers into the wound—hard and rough and not nearly as careful as he ought to be, he was so unprepared for the temptation this posed—and Megatron made a noise torn straight from Optimus' guilty fantasies. It was undeniably a sound of pain but no less of pleasure. "Good?" Optimus asked, already knowing the answer.
"Again."
His valve was clenched tight, cables rippling with pleasure, so good that he didn't need to move. Just this would be enough for both of them to overload. Perhaps if he had seen more of Megatron's pleasure, Optimus might have had the willpower necessary to get Megatron to move. It wouldn't be hard to persuade him. But the more Megatron enjoyed himself, the more helpless Optimus was to resist. He looked down as he pulled his fingers out. There was no pretending the energon was lubricant. It didn't matter. He pushed his fingers back in and curled them, like he would in a valve. Again, no true similarity. There was no strong wall of mesh against his fingertips, only the soft, slick slide of tubing and the pulse of Megatron's fuel. Megatron collapsed forward onto one arm and dropped his other hand to his spike. His lips parted as he struggled to speak. "You want more?" Optimus asked, as he thrust his fingers in and out. Not that he knew what more could be. Briefly, horrifying himself, he pictured shoving his spike into the wound. Maybe Megatron would scream for him. What if Optimus overloaded inside him? Could Megatron's systems still absorb the transfluid or would it seep through the hollow of Megatron's body and settle there forever? An invisible, undetectable stain inside him. An intimate mark that no one else could ever hope to copy. Megatron made a noise that was almost a word. "Anything you want, love. Tell me what you want." They both knew the words weren't quite true but they were so, so close. He found he didn't care now about witnesses. He could tear Megatron apart with his teeth and, when the wounds were all mended, he'd do it again.
"Keep talking," Megatron grated out. "Don't stop. I want-" He made a low frustrated noise.
It broke Optimus' spark to hear him struggle even now to admit to what he wanted. As if there was any part of him that Optimus didn't long to know. "You know how much you turn me on? How hot you make me?" The porno script would have been embarrassing if it weren't the absolute truth. How could he be embarrassed when his circuits were threatening to melt through his frame? "Never wanted anyone the way I want you. It feels- Primus, I don't know how it feels. We're going to do this again. Aren't we?" Pure unfiltered feeling rasped out of Megatron's vocalizer. The wound contracted around Optimus' fingers as Megatron's body curled tighter around him. He could almost have been crying. "Don't hold back. I can't wait to feel you overload. I want to feel your transfluid streaking my chest, I want to feel your valve clenching around me. As long as it takes. Five seconds, five hours, I don't mind." It struck him how selfish of a thought that was. For a moment he'd forgotten that anything else mattered. Before he had the chance to really feel guilty about that, he realized how much Megatron might like to hear it. "Seeing you like this, I forget anything else exists. Nothing else matters. It's just you."
Megatron's valve clenched like he was overloading but there was no following surge of charge. His voice when he spoke was torn to shreds. "Tell me you'll kill me." More shocking than the words themselves was the way it almost sounded like a question. Like even now he was embarrassed by this.
It made Optimus determined not to sound shocked. He bought himself some time by lowering his mouth to Megatron's neck and sinking his teeth in. He was on the other side this time, leaving a mark to match the first. He tried to dream up what to say. What Megatron would want to hear. But then, this wasn't just about Megatron. He wanted Megatron to feel good, but Megatron wanted him the same. What would he enjoy? More things than he could have dreamed.
He let his mouth soften into a kiss against Megatron's bleeding neck. "What you said about me tearing your throat out - that's how I'd do it. No weapons. Just us." He thrust his fingers inside Megatron's side, kept talking so he wouldn't have a chance to worry about it. "I would- I will take my time. It's too important to rush. I want to remember every detail, when I see you as no one ever has." His only hope of ever killing Megatron was to do it quickly, to not give him time to react, but they didn't need to think about that now. "Just you and me, alone, my spike in your valve, my hands in your chest, my teeth in your throat as you bleed out around me." He pressed another kiss to the wound in Megatron's neck. "It'll hurt. Don't worry about that. That's what you want, isn't it? You want to scream for me. I'd love to make you scream for me. What do I need to do to make that happen?" Megatron's fingers were gouging dents in Optimus' armour where they clung to him. Their hips moved together in instinctive rocking motions and lubricant dripped in tracks down Optimus' thighs. "Do I need to put my spike inside you properly? Fill you up like no one ever has?" At least Optimus hoped no one had. He wanted this to belong to him, just him. He wanted to imagine that no one else had ever seen Megatron lust and want and beg for it. "Want me to cut out a place just for my spike and fuck you better than you've ever had it? I will, love. You only have to ask."
Megatron sobbed as he overloaded, his open mouth hot and wet against Optimus' cheek, making sounds that Optimus wanted to remember forever. But he wouldn't need to remember them: he could have this again tomorrow, in a year, in a century. It would only get better. Megatron had stayed with him, fragged him, kissed him, tried to enjoy every soft touch and mediocre overload just for the sake of giving Optimus what he wanted. Even now, he had confessed to something he was sure Optimus would refuse just because Optimus wanted to hear it. Now Optimus understood why. Every move and sound and touch and the brilliant sight of him was so desperately arousing that Optimus couldn't give a damn what it took to get here. He'd have reversed their positions happily if it meant getting to see Megatron like this.
Better this way, though. Better to have Megatron curling into him, grinding down on him, driven by instinct and pleasure and trust. Megatron continued to pant as the rest of his body relaxed. His weight lent heavily on Optimus. How could so small a thing mean so much to him? Megatron, relaxed, sated, tired from pleasure. Optimus withdrew his hand from the open wound to brush Megatron's face, enjoying the smears of energon to show where his hand had been. "How do you feel?"
It took Megatron a moment to respond and at first it was just a lazy groan. Optimus couldn't have kept the grin off his face if his life depended on it. "Want you to overload." He was still draped, almost inanimate, across Optimus' frame.
Optimus didn't try to argue. He was aching hard and if Megatron had been too tired for more, he doubted he'd have the patience to go to the shower before getting himself off hard and fast. Still, Megatron was actively bleeding on him. "Why don't we close up your wound first?" Megatron shook his head. With an immense effort, he held on to Optimus' shoulder and rolled them both: a manoeuvre that he could execute perfectly under ordinary circumstances. The resulting tangle of limbs and elbows in faces was presumably not what he had been going for but in the end they got themselves in order, with Megatron on his back and Optimus pressed in between his legs. He needed little encouragement to push back into the hot clutch of Megatron's frame. He hadn't expected the shuddering gasp this caused. "You okay?"
Megatron's optics flickered bright for a second. "Wonderful." He took another hard breath, clearly exhausted. Optimus would have to call First Aid after this to see if Megatron's symptoms sounded like massive internal bleeding or just a good hard fragging. First Aid would likely do him the favour of not telling Ratchet. "Bend me in half and frag my lights out, Prime." Even exhausted, he had a wicked smile.
Optimus looked down to find a trickle of pink making its way across the berth from Megatron's back. Of course. He ought to get up, call a transport, take Megatron to hospital. At least check his wound.
The heat that burned in Megatron's engine set fire to everything around him. Optimus was no exception. He tugged Megatron's hips up and leaned in closer, pressing the wound directly into the berth. A sharp noise and the clench of Megatron's valve were his reward. "Like that?" Megatron whined in answer and for the following seconds, the only thing in Optimus' mind was fragging him hard enough to win more such noises. The following feedback loop of moans and lust and determination and pleasure lasted them all of four minutes, before Optimus was overloading with his hand clenched around Megatron's jaw, holding his mouth open as Optimus struggled to kiss him between moaning and panting. He refused to move one inch further from Megatron's mouth until his servos shorted out, collapsing him in a heap on Megatron's broad chest.
Lying there with Megatron's energon and spit drying on his face, he wondered if this was the afterglow they could have had after the first time. They had this part sorted out eventually, at least. Even Megatron relaxed, nestling into Optimus' arms afterwards, no matter what the fragging had been like. But the first time...
They hadn't even been laying down. They sat in the office, Optimus still on the couch, Megatron shielded behind the desk. All Optimus wanted was to touch him. It didn't matter how or where: just to touch him. But Megatron had secured himself behind the desk like he expected to stand siege there. So they sat in silence, not touching each other, not looking at each other. It had taken a few more attempts after that to work out the 'talking while interfacing' part of things, which had got the quality up to 'okay.' The afterglow had been the best part by a wide margin.
It had nothing on this.
Megatron's fans put out so much air that they carried most of the heat off Optimus' frame alongside his own. His arm draped lazily across Optimus' shoulders, just the weight of it keeping him in place. Optimus could have spent eternity there. Then he remembered the wound.
He shot upright, trying to dredge First Aid's contact details from his half-functional memory banks as he checked Megatron's armour for cold spots, hot spots or other leaks. His biolights were nearly dark but they brightened up a bit once Optimus started moving around. "Can't you just relax for a moment?"
"If you wanted me to relax you should have had a less dangerous fetish. You could be bleeding to death for all I know."
Megatron caught both of Optimus' wrists and trapped him in a hold. Even wounded, his grip was too strong to break without injuring either of them. Optimus wouldn't have minded, if he could be sure the person he injured was himself. "You get so snippy when you're worried."
Optimus made a half-hearted attempt to break free. "I'll stop worrying when you've seen a medic."
"Just give me ten minutes of peace," Megatron said, sounding like it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion and not something that could, technically, kill him. Admittedly, it seemed fairly unlikely that a shallow stab wound would kill Megatron after everything else he'd survived. "Ten minutes and I'll do whatever you tell me to."
That was such a blatant lie that Optimus could hardly think of a response.
But Megatron really had survived much worse. And it was his energon, after all: his frame, to do with as he would (when Optimus allowed it.)
"I suppose it'll give me time to think of an excuse."
The spark in Megatron's eyes didn't make thinking seem particularly likely, but he only pulled Optimus in closer on top of him. "You do that."