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Rodimus fell back onto the bedsheets of the large berth with heavy ventilations, the heat desperately trying to dissipate. His spoiler twitched occasionally, still sensitive from the overload he’d just had.
" How are you not exhausted?" he asked the towering figure above him, who’d given him one of the best overloads he'd had so far. Not the best, though almost any overload caused by Megatron could count as such.
Megatron did vent – his cooling fans were a clear sign of that. Just not as hard as Rodimus did.
A large, dark servo gently stroked a shivering thigh in an attempt to help him come down from his high, while the other was placed near Rodimus’ head to steady himself.
"How are you already exhausted?" asked Megatron with a slight, sly smile down at his Prime.
Rodimus didn’t do more than huff at his remark. "Hard, exhausting week of work! Nothing less! Still up to my excellent game." With a sigh, his head dropped back into the soft cushions around him. His optics went offline, and his venting slowly calmed down.
Then he heard a soft chuckle.
The Prime’s head shot right back up from the comfortable position, now with his weight supported on his elbows in a loose attempt to sit up. "Hey! Listening to Mags’ fragging boring aft long reports about Swerve’s new drink breaking a totally made-up rule Magnus made was exhausting."
Megatron used the now-reduced distance between them to bend down a little more and give one of his finials a soft kiss. "I remember. Ultra Magnus told me you even broke your stylus during that report." Rodimus caught the amusement in his voice, though he let out a soft moan instead of throwing curses at him when Megatron slowly pulled his spike out of the flame mech’s valve.
Golden-yellow fingers gripped the nearest scarred gray arm. "Wait! Don’t pull out yet," he said on an ex-vent, much to the confusion of the mech above him. "You didn’t overload yet! Just give me a couple of kliks, and I’m ready to go ham again.".
Megatron’s brows narrowed gently. "Rodimus, I don’t need to overload."
"Yes, you do! Your favorite mech in the galaxy says that, and because you love me, we do as I say. Captain’s orders!"
"We are both captains-"
A yellow servo came and slapped itself over Megatron’s mouth. "Nope, nuh-uh, not letting you finish that one! I totally outrank you as primary captain." Megatron removed his servo from Rodimus’ thigh to push his one away, mild annoyance in his field. A deep sigh came out of him. "We are not having that talk during our intimate time together," he warned the smaller mech under him.
" Primus , you sound like Ultra Magnus. Just call it sex like everyone else!" Rodimus complained, leaning backwards into the pillows and blankets. "I knew it; I’m dating the most prude ex-warlord there has ever been in this dimension!" he exclaimed, flinging an arm dramatically over his optics.
"Who could have known you like talking about Ultra Magnus so much after an overload?" Rodimus heard the teasing voice of Megatron above him. The Prime removed his arm and was ready to throw a fistful of insults at Megatron that he knew Megatron hated because his ‘use of earth language and terms is extremely off-putting’, but Megatron was faster. He caught his servo and brought it up to his face, giving it a gentle kiss.
Rodimus' spark spun faster at the almost serene sight in front of him. Megatron was always beautiful to him, no matter what he was doing; he was especially beautiful in the dimmed dark lights of their shared habsuite with half of his spike still in him, kissing the back of his servo.
It did successfully shut him up for a second. "You know we don’t have to if you really don’t feel like an overload tonight, Megs," Rodimus said in a much softer and gentler tone than the hot heat it had seconds ago.
He twisted his servo gently to have it against Megatron’s cheek now instead, both of them enjoying the comfortable silence for a moment. "Do not mistake my statement as me not wanting to continue, my Prime." Megatron spoke up quietly against the silence as he leaned down further. Rodimus used this as a chance to wrap both his arms around his neck, both of them diving into a quick, gentle kiss.
" Buuuuuut ?" Rodimus waited expectantly after Megatron didn’t continue.
A sly smile – no, smirk – formed on those scarred lips. " But , we know of your non-existent stamina. You’re always so easy to rile up, and so fast at getting an overload…" Megatron teased further.
The mech under him huffed, offended. "Are you seriously complaining about my superb berth game right now !?" he asked, ready to flare out.
Once more, he heard that beautiful chuckle, a little louder than before. He dropped his voice to that dark tone that could make Rodimus' valve throb rooms away. "You know by now how much it brightens my dull spark to see you overload." Megatron let their lips brush in just the slightest way as he spoke. "And I am looking forward to watching you come undone a couple more times tonight."
Rodimus’ fans turned back on to almost the highest setting after just having calmed down enough to be turned off entirely.
The smirk didn’t leave Megatron’s lips. "Wouldn’t you like that, Rodimus?" A question he needed no answer to. "What do you say: would you like as many overloads as I can give, and your beautiful frame can handle, or actually work on your restraint and stamina tonight?".
The soft and playful mockery in his tone brought the fiery mech back to reality – just to pout at him!
"I have plenty of restraint and stamina in me!" he complained, not without letting a surprised, stuttered moan out afterwards when Megatron pushed his spike in a little deeper again.
"Says the mech that impatiently wanted to skip all the foreplay today to get to the main event," Megatron said, amused, though he didn’t move his hips as far as Rodimus expected him to.
That successfully teased the Prime enough to get him hooked on the little challenge that was laid out before him. "Fine! I can show you just how much I can keep up with you and your doings," Rodimus shot out at him.
Megatron gave him a tender kiss to his nose. "That means no overload for you until I say so, you realize that?" he questioned Rodimus one more time.
"Ha! As if you could prevent me from accidentally overloading. What are you gonna do then, big mech, huh? Punish me?" he purred teasingly. Rodimus’ voice dropped down a little at the end of his sentence.
"I may or may not be more than content to use punishments in case you break our little rule not to overload," Megatron simply said, not letting himself be goaded by Rodimus’ usual behavior.
"What’s it gonna be this time? Are you actually going to spank me?" his flame mocked him. When Megatron's crimson optics changed to something dark and exciting for Rodimus, he simply said, "Try me, and find out."
The big mech pulled back and away, much to Rodimus’ annoyance. "I wanted another kiss! Get back here - wait. Why are you pulling out?", Rodimus asked in utter confusion now, but let out a soft sound when his valve was now empty.
It was the way Megatron started kissing down his frame, from his chest down to the very last of his abdominal plating, that the dooming realization hit him.
Rodimus’ optics kept track of Megatron’s every move between his thighs. He vented in sharply when said mech kissed the inside of his thigh, then the other. Rodimus' charge had died down to a nice, comfortable simmer instead of a bright flame, though now it had been reignited after just a few words and teasing kisses.
His spoiler twitched upright when he felt a kiss so close to his node – the promise of what Megatron might and will do with that mouth entirely taking up his mind. How was he supposed to enjoy that outright illegal talent of his mouth on his array and not overload in a single klik?
"You know, maybe just one overload? One tiny little one to satisfy? You said you loved watching me overload!" Rodimus babbled away. Not that he was nervous or didn’t want Megatron’s glossa all the way up into his valve. It was for that fact that the Prime knew he wouldn’t be able to deny himself an overload like this.
And all Megatron did was give him that dangerous little smile of his.
Rodimus choked on the next set of glyphs before he was able to bring them out. He looked down himself, watching Megatron’s glossa tease over his node, then going lower to give his valve entrance the same teasing treatment.
In this moment, he wanted to do nothing more than grip Megatron’s helm and shove his face into his valve. Usually, Megatron wouldn’t be against such enthusiasm that he learned to love from his partner – though this was supposed to test him. Instead, Rodimus tangled his servos into the berthsheets for purchase. He could do this! Totally. Absolutely. Maybe.
Or maybe not.
Megatron had no right to look this hot between his thighs. Rodimus had had many mechs between them so far, though Megatron had proved time and time again that his mouth was unaturally good with anything he did with it. Speeches about crew morale, yelling orders and commands on the battlefield in a tight situation, being between his legs .
Megatron didn’t disappoint. His glossa carefully licked long stripes along his heated array, a kiss on his node every now and then, then back to the bottom to tease the entrance with the tip of it. Rodimus could do it! This wasn’t the worst (the best obviously, although right now the opposite due to the challenge at hand) he had done when he remembered the many times he overloaded solely because of his talented mouth.
Bright red hips pushed upward so subtly, then back into the berth when Rodimus noticed himself doing it. He didn’t want to give Megatron any fancy ideas that he was winning. A moan slipped out between his lips, which Rodimus tried to quiet it by biting down on his lips. It did little to muffle those, as Megatron would say, sweet little noises.
He grew firmer with his licks and kisses, the black servos on his thighs squeezing softly in time whenever Rodimus’ vents hitched. Megatron started giving him a harder time than he thought, but Rodimus was determined to win this and shove it into Megatron’s face for the next eternity.
The teasing licks and kisses slowly affected Rodimus in Megatron’s favor. His venting got louder despite his little fangs almost piercing his bottom lip, his hips giving little thrusts upwards into that mouth, and his spoiler twitching in time whenever he would graze his lips along his outer node. The room was quiet apart from the slick noises from his valve and Rodimus’ pitiful attempts at keeping quiet.
His charge kept rising, and Rodimus kept pushing it back down with great force of will. He was fine. Megatron was just teasing his valve and node. He’d worry about what he should do when Megatron started eating him out with a goal in mind.
A couple more kliks passed, and Rodimus’ venting calmed down. A deep, comfortable sigh came occasionally from his relaxed vocalizer.
Easy , he thought. Totally winning this.
Rodimus let out a confused moan when Megatron’s servos didn’t spread his thighs anymore, but rather wrapped around them to lift the speedster’s legs up over his shoulders. He kept his servos on the bright red thighs and pushed them a little more upwards, close to folding him. The Prime wanted to ask what he was doing–
Then it struck him, though he was already lost in the haze of it all.
The soft licks of his glossa came to a halt, the tip of it just barely touching his anterior node. He then leaned down, his lips giving it a soft, almost apologetic wet kiss before his lips sealed around it.
Megatron sucked.
Rodimus did no less than shout out Megatron’s name.
He curled forward, his servos gripped at whatever he could reach of Megatron. His servos, his arms, his head – anything . "M-Megs! You can’t - this-" he whimpered out with sudden, fast venting. The named mech didn’t let it bother him. He’d even dare to say he enjoyed Rodimus’ helpless sounds, knowing his own doom that he would overload sooner or later.
The speedster couldn’t hold back anymore. His charge rose dangerously high, unable to calm down from the sudden change of soft teasing to hot white pleasure that was almost too much for his frame to handle.
He tightened his thighs in a futile attempt, though Megatron’s servos soothed them to distract his beautiful flame writhing beneath him from the stimulation focused on his node. Rodimus swore he felt him smirk against it.
His moans started to get shaky, even choking on some of them whenever Megatron did more than just a gentle slide across it with his glossa. His thighs shook gently in the servos trying to ground him. All of these being signs that he was close to overload.
Despite being told not to. His sweet sounds only encouraged Megatron to further test his already non-existent restraint. "Megs- Megatron- you’re playing unfair !" Rodimus gasped out, whining.
Throwing his head back into the soft cushions and raising his hips once more against Megatron, he felt a servo on his thighs shift. Before he could react to it, two fingers went up into his valve to the very last knuckle. At the same time, his lips curled around the sensitive node. Rodimus’ vents got stuck in his intake.
Megatron curled those blissfully full fingers. At the same time, he gave his anterior node a soft suck.
Rodimus lost the fraying restraint he had left in his processor, and overload took him way too soon, starting before he’d even realized it himself. Optics flared white with the intensity, and his circuits stalled.
Servos reached out to grip Megatron’s helm as his back arched into that beautiful bow off the berth – and his lover supported him all the way through the entirety of his overload.
With one last twitch of his hips, he fell back into the sheets. His fans stuttered over themselves in an attempt to cool his overheated frame. Rodimus lifted his heavy head to look down at the sight in front of him with unfocused optics.
That aft dared to smile at him! As if he didn’t just give him another overload–
Wait.
He did overload.
Didn’t Megatron promise consequences for overloading without his explicit permission?
Just as he was about to ask, Megatron experimentally moved his fingers still deep in his clenching and dripping valve. He was rewarded with noises Rodimus didn’t know he could make; higher than his usual octave and full of static. His hips automatically moved – or tried to – out of the servo that was now settled on his hip.
Even when Megatron had already stopped his movements as soon as he began them, Rodimus’ frame shivered in its wake.
"My beloved spark, didn’t I hold out my conditions to you?" His voice was laced with false sentiment. "Technically speaking, you lost. Though we also settled on punishment should you fail your attempt."
Rodimus only listened with half of his processor, the overstimulated feeling in his valve skyrocketing his charge dangerously close to the border of too much.
Rodimus whimpered – a sound Megatron will savor for a good while. "I promise on my spark I tried!", he said defensively with his arms crossed over his chassis now. "Not my fault you’re doing stupid things with your stupid mouth. Wasn’t even given a warning that you’re going down on me, now I can’t even enjoy it!"
Warmth mixed with amusement spread in Megatron’s field, soothing Rodimus’ erratic one. "The challenge of this is not to enjoy an overload but the journey to one," he explained once more. Megatron’s smirk quirked a little. "Or do you recline and admit your defeat?"
"What, no way! I will so beat you!" Rodimus flared his overconfident field brightly.
The mech over him hummed, lost in thought. Idly, he moved his fingers inside his clenching valve. Not enough to send him into overstimulation once more, though enough to keep him on the edge. "Despite your obvious failed first attempt, I will come forward with a proposition. Instead of letting you fight off an overload yourself –" Megatron’s fingers curled just right "–I shall help you out a little by not letting you."
Rodimus bit his lower lip, his expression showing how torn he was; prove Megatron wrong or get as many overloads as he’d want?
The Prime’s pride made the answer all too easy.
"Now I’m prepared. Bring it on, big guy!”
___________________________
Oh mech , how he did bring it on. Rodimus didn’t bother checking his chronometer anymore after enough kliks passed for him that made him stop caring.
How could Megatron frag him with his fingers at such a slow pace, watch the way Rodimus moved his frame in unreleased, unwinded lust and pleasure for him , and still not slam his spike home into his valve? No way would Rodimus ever be able to be on the same level of restraint as Megatron – but he can try and drag him down to his level of impatience .
Which, clearly, wasn’t working at the moment.
Actually, he was doing horribly at this challenge. Worse than he thought to begin with.
Rodimus’ frame was coated in a sheer layer of condensation that was starting to pearl here and there, his venting hot and erratic. He laid on his front with his aft raised up into the Megatron's servos, making a mess out of his array with how much he leaked transfluid from his valve and prefluid from his spike.
Though he didn’t overload once since he’d had the one when his gray love ate him out. Admittedly Rodimus only made it so far because Megatron was keeping it out of reach once he could feel an upcoming overload in his field and from the way his body moved beautifully.
But Rodimus did it! He didn’t overload yet. Megs better give him some credit for that later!
Right now, though, Rodimus would give him credit for how he was treating him. If it wouldn’t just end in another overload dragged out of his reach.
Megatron had once more two fingers deep inside his valve, his thumb on his node, and his free hand busying itself with his spike.
His thumb rubbed senseless patterns over the throbbing anterior node, his servo big enough to reach it from the current angle with his fingers inside of him from behind. Rodimus’ ecstatic bucking with his hips did little to discourage Megatron to finally shove his fingers up to his ceiling node. They stroked the inside of his dripping valve just before hitting those secret nodes he couldn‘t reach himself. His spike‘s biolights glowed and danced in a bright blue along it. Megatron‘s hand had a tight, slick grip around it, stroking it almost in perfect rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.
Saying Rodimus’ thighs shook was an understatement.
He wanted to overload so bad yet his pride and desire to win this stupid challenge made him not say a single glyph but to moan out Megatron’s designation in helpless need. He had hoped the display before him would break him; just say he was wrong about Rodimus’ restraint!
It, in fact, didn’t.
The puddle under his hips and knees only spread. It took all his willpower to stay on his knees while he hugged a pillow close. His face was pressed into it, his bottom lip gently abused by his biting. Rodimus array was practically presented to him, to do whatever pleased him.
And Rodimus would take it. Because he trusted him and to he could win this stupid challenge!
"You’re doing so well, Rodimus."
That stupid voice was not helping. At all.
Rodimus bared and gritted his teeth against the pillow once more in attempt to not sound too pathetic. It didn’t work, of course, like everything else he tried to no avail. He felt another overload upcoming in the depths of his sensors, and prepared himself to have that one also taken away.
As if Megatron could read his mind, all his doings came to a sudden halt – until he felt Rodimus’ field and charge relax and die down enough that he wouldn’t overload right away.
Then he started out at a slow pace again.
Like so, it went on and on in a repetitive pattern.
"You look exceptionally beautiful," Megatron’s outright dangerous voice spoke out on a stuttered ex-vent. Aha ! So it did affect him! Rodimus was sure he couldn’t be as unaffected as he pretended to be. And he was right! Even with Megatron’s stone-hard composure, Rodimus just knew he was hot stuff. Especially in the mech’s eyes, who was currently breaking him apart with nothing but unresolved pleasure and loving touches.
The hand on his spike came to a halt, and the Prime almost yearned to have Megatron’s servo wrapped around it again when he removed it.
Rodimus forgot about how turned on he was by the sheer size of that frame above him, now caging him in.
Megatron leaned over the shaking mess. He took his time, slowing down the movements of the fingers still in Rodimus’ valve to a lazy pace. Putting that mouth to good use, he kissed his way up his spoiler-mount – and was rewarded promptly with Rodimus’ spitting static on a harsh vent.
"Curse- hahh - curse you, Megatron!" he threatened in that beautiful broken voice. Rodimus could threaten to murder him right here and there, and Megatron would only see the display beneath him he helped to make. "You’re so- so- Primus damn-“
In the heat of the moment, Rodimus was caught off guard and he let out a throaty, shaky moan. Megatron’s fingers slipped just a little deeper, grazing against that spot he so badly wanted him to pound into. So close yet so damn far away.
Rodimus could scream. Wanted to, even. But his vocalizer wouldn’t comply with such actions anymore, and Megatron would feel like he’d won.
"Haven’t you enjoyed yourself so far, my flame?" Megatron could feel how his valve clenched down hard on his fingers, even at such a pace. He loved Rodimus like this; it was a rare sight to see him focused and determined on doing a task.
The gray mech leaned over the speedster and planted his free servo close to his helm so as not to fall entirely over his smaller partner. Rodimus twitched with a shaky vent drawn into his intake when Megatron gave his oversensitive finials a hot, almost sizzling, kiss.
This close, Megatron couldn’t hide all of his field. Rodimus felt the want and need that, albeit very slowly, built up inside of his tanks. How close was he to giving in? The brightly colored mech had already had two overloads, while his better half hadn't had one yet.
Even Megatron’s patience had a limit. Must have a limit.
"You know- ah - you’re not playing fair!" Rodimus accused him, releasing the vent he had held in his intake for far too long. He couldn't believe how fast that dark chuckle right next to his audial sent charge straight into his spike, making it twitch almost desperately between his thighs.
The teasing fingers stopped following the rhythm Rodimus plotted out who-knows how long ago – not enough to actually raise his charge, though at the same time too much for his, by now, oversensitive frame.
"Tell me exactly, step by step, word for word, every little glyph on how I’m not being fair to you–" that ragged and strained – strained ? Maybe Rodimus was thinking illogical things by now – voice spoke right into his audial. "–and I will be more than happy to comply with you, my Prime."
Rodimus stopped a pathetic little whine from escaping his intake, though Megatron probably heard the start of it with how satisfied his field felt. He didn’t want to have a normal conversation with him, and dive into their light-hearted antics against each other. No, Megatron felt control slip from him. He was growing more desperate ever so subtly, but Rodimus knew how to read him by now. Megatron was reaching into his last resorts to break him and his stubborn mind.
A battle Rodimus already lost before it even began.
Megatron, at any instance, made it known that words were his greatest weapon. Not the cannon on his arm, not his strength. Not even his looming height over most mechs. He could shape the most babbled nonsense into Cybetron’s best written poetry, and no one would even try to question it.
Now, he wasn’t using it for motivational speeches.
He used it shamelessly and selfishly, with just one goal in mind, once he saw just how well Rodimus responded to his verbal affection.
A trap Rodimus built himself. Curse the way his frame responded.
"Your field aches for release, my spark," Megatron vented, bringing Rodimus out of his train of thoughts and back to reality. "You’ve been so good for me tonight. Why deny yourself any longer, when you have my praise and attention all for yourself?" Megatron had no right to sound this innocent! He was anything but that right now.
The mech under him laughed out loud, though it held none of its usual confidence. "And w- hahh - what would you want of me in return?" He hated how difficult it was to form clear, coherent sentences by now. Hated it ! Megatron was supposed to be all whiny and hot for him, not the other way around! Stupid, handsome mech-
"How could I ever demand more than you give?" Megatron still hummed against his finial, making Rodimus shiver from the tip of his finials down to the very last plate of his pedes. "It is not I who holds control over your poor frame’s state. A single word, and all you want shall be yours entirely, Rodimus."
Rodimus would get him for this. The way he dropped his voice down to that mere growl, almost vibrating against his plating, was evil . He won’t beg! Megatron will be the one to beg. He will not -
"You deserve a reward, don’t you think?", Megatron exhaled, his voice now barely above a whisper. "I’m so proud of you. So good, just for me. Let go of this little challenge finally, captain ."
Maybe he will beg.
Rodimus tasted the promising overload on the tip of his glossa, threatening to shatter his entire processor into a bluescreen. He’d just have to ask for it. How dare he use this one secret name against him!
Pride, or an end to his torment?
He swallowed thickly.
Megatron could keep this up even longer, now that he felt secure in his victory once more. Calling him ‘captain’ in that one particular way always got Rodimus revved up to the absolute maximum. And he used it now .
The captain decided not to answer. Whatever he would say, Megatron would weaponize it against him. He’d fall into his trap of words sooner or later anyhow.
Instead, he bit his lip so hard it almost drew energon.
“So be it. So close to breaking apart... you will give into this, my spark.”
Frag .
So it continued. Rodimus’ sanity slowly broke down piece by piece while Megatron’s field wrapped him up in shameless want and need. His servo never faltered in it’s ministrations, and that forsaken voice continued whispering praises, promises, filth into his audial.
Rodimus choked on the next hoarse moan, long forgotten that he initially wanted to not make a single little sound – and was now reduced to this . This needed to stop. A klik longer and he would actually swear he would go insane.
How could any mech willingly put themselves through this?
Yet, here he was, having done exactly that.
Megatron was right – Rodimus was close to breaking, to giving in, to begging him for his overload. The worst part about this was, it would be by choice, not by force. He would willingly beg.
“What- ngh - would be my reward?” his trembling voice cut out from below Megatron. He needed to do something – talk, act, cry – anything to give his processor some kind of relief and ground. He found himself weighing the challenge in his processor over the want of pleasure.
“What would you want-” a scorching hot kiss to his audial plates, “- captain ?”
The sound that erupted from the depths of Rodimus' core was downright full of pure need and tension. He needed release, and he needed it fast. Forget this game-
No!
“An-anything, everything-“ Rodimus formed the first few letters of please in his mouth, but dared not to say them. He already said too much, lost in a world of pleasure and torment. Megatron had him in his verbal trap.
“So strong and fierce, yet so bare and broken beneath me,” he hummed softly. “Doesn’t the thought of surrender feel good, Rodimus? You’re already doing it, you don’t even realize.”
Rodimus gasped out loud in such a stunning way, Megatron rewarded him with a hard push of his fingers – though only once. “H-how- how am I surrendering!?” his speedster babbled away with false confidence. One could say he was knowingly and badly lying to himself on purpose, despite the obvious facts.
“You’re negotiating, Rodimus,” Megatron ex-vented.
Rodimus’ optics widened.
No way did that count! He was just talking nonsense ! Yeah, nonsense. Entertaining his processor with the thought of surrender and loss in exchange for the overload his frame needed. Only entertaining it though.
“Delirious, poor mech. Doing your best despite everything else – so remarkable .”
Tears pricked at the corner of Rodimus’ optics. Not because of pain or discomfort. Rather the intensity of everything around him, the glooming fact he was inches away from losing this hard battle he was so confident to fight in the first place.
"T-this- has - has to be torture- !’’ he exhaled on the edge of incoherency. That smile against his audial- that stupid -
"Not close yet. Though that can be arranged as you wish.. . captain ." With that, those big fingers, which must be absolutely and positively drenched in his fluids at this point, hit his ceiling node.
Dead-on.
Once, twice, a couple times more-
His entire frame shook.
So close -
Then they stood still in place.
The Prime officially and successfully surrendered. A broken, helpless sob tore through the silence, safe for their raging cooling fans.
Rodimus lost.
That sound was all Megatron needed.
Rodimus couldn’t even register and mourn the loss of having something filled inside of him, when something else slid home with such ease through the mess of fluids. His processor finally snapped at the feeling of Megatron’s spike filling him entirely – accompanied by that beautiful stretched feeling in his valve.
He didn’t care, nor did he have any thoughts left for how utterly ruined he must look like.
To Megatron, it was a work of art anyhow.
A black servo stroked over his spoiler. Not to rile him up further – was that even possible? – but to soothe this little starving frame under him. He’d give Rodimus anything, everything, no matter what it might be.
He snaked his arm around the shaking mess, holding him close with his chest against his. Rodimus’ plating was close to searing hot to touch, though Megatron cared very little.
Wasting no time, his hips snapped forward in long but strong thrusts into his valve channel. With every thrust, he could feel Rodimus’ height creeping closer and closer – as well as his own.
Megatron wasn’t as close to giving in, even further from breaking apart, than his beloved was. He had to admit it, his patience swayed with every passing klik, more and more of just wanting to give Rodimus what he wanted, what he needed.
Unlike Rodimus, he didn’t show his arousal in such a shameless way; occasionally letting out a growl that came from the depths of his chassis, a breathless Rodimus against scalding-hot finials. Rodimus didn’t even try to hide them. He didn’t think he was conscious of sounding like this anymore at this point anyway.
With all this teasing done to Rodimus and, inevitably, to Megatron himself, neither of them lasted long. One edging on the other, higher and higher, a charge that just didn’t want to stop. Rodimus gripped at anything near him he could get his servos at. He needed this- something - to ground himself-
Megatron’s black servo caught his yellow one. A silent promise of security and safety.
A bite to Rodimus’ neck was all it took to snap that razor-thin line of charge.
Rodimus’ eyes flared out a bright white, a binary gasp accompanied by a full frame shiver was all the warning Megatron got as his flame shouted himself hoarse. The way Rodimus’ valve clenched around his spike forced him into his overload, filling up Rodimus with lengths of transfluid.
The feeling of Megatron’s overload erupted in Rodimus' field, taking in Rodimus’ own entirely with it – and set off another overload in him.
He couldn’t even enjoy half of it before a bluescreen caught up with him.
__________________________
Rodimus vaguely remembered the blissful feeling of finally being sated, and Megatron’s frame pressed against him.
Time felt like a blur from here.
Only once he hit the berth, with the feeling of fresh sheets around him, did he start to wake. Not all the way, though. Enough to be functional. His vocalizer clicked and cycled painfully every now and then before it allowed to work.
A soft, soothing servo carefully stroked along his spoiler mount, mindful to keep it at slow, light rubs.
"Megs…?" Rodimus’ abused voice breathed out. It was full of exhaustion.
Finally, he focused enough to online his optics. First, he saw waves of colorful static, then it cleared away.
Revealed to him was a sight that made his spark ache for closer contact – more than what was physically possible. Brainstorm and Perceptor would surely find a way to-
"Welcome back, my Prime," the voice he recognized as Megtron’s rasped exhausted above him.
Besides the obvious satiated feeling, satisfaction bloomed inside Rodimus. Megatron was exhausted! Point for him!
"How long," he started, interrupted by a yawn and the fizzle of static in his voice. "How long was I out? The sheets and even I are clean," he said in an appreciative manner. He hated scrubbing dried transfluid off of his plating and knew for a fact there wasn’t just a little of it before he was forced into a reset.
Megatron shushed him gently. They laid comfortably in the berth large enough for both of them, Rodimus cuddled up half on his chest. The thrumming spark of his was almost enough to pull Rodimus right back to his recharge.
Almost.
"Not more than fifteen kliks." Megatron informed him, his optics now offlined. "Though no wonder. Your frame threatened to almost melt away your plating. You always get so heated during your overloads," he mused. Rodimus didn’t miss the slight static he could hear himself.
"And you changed the sheets and cleaned us up while I was out!" His spoiler shot up. "Didn’t feel like doing the hard work of cleaning myself today anyways. You were so mean to me!" Rodimus playfully complained, lifting his head from the slightly cool chest it laid on.
Megatron lifted a brow in confusion at the tired grin Rodimus gave him.
Then it shifted into annoyance .
"Rodimus, you most certainly did not –"
"I did! You spiked me, nice and hard as you should, without me asking you first!" The smile on his faceplate was undeniably attractive. It even made Megatron smile in the slightest, most subtle ways.
“The sound you made replaced all the words I could ever come up with," the heavy mech stated. "Though… we can settle on a draw , if it pleases you."
Now Rodimus looked almost offended. "A draw!?" His overused voicebox croaked. "I totally won by like, miles !"
"Rodimus, you don’t even know how long a mile is." Megatron sighed in mild annoyance, though it held no poison.
Gladly, though, the last two overloads were enough to exhaust his co-captain enough to settle down and accept the draw. He knew he lost, but he did in the most delicious way he could think of. He wasn’t even too mad that he lost.
The beloved smile quickly crept back onto Rodimus’ faceplate. Megatron was almost inclined to just not ask and fall straight into recharge, when he onlined his tired optics to look at him.
But he did anyway.
"What has my sun shining so bright now?" he hummed softly, his hand still idly stroking along his spoiler.
"You know, a draw usually never settles anything…" Rodimus started but trailed off suggestively.
No way that even Rodimus still had energy for more.
That bright desire and flame excited him in all the right and wrong ways. He could never say ‘no’ to Rodimus. Would never say ‘no’ .
"Well then. What would you suggest we do about that little problem?" he asked the inane question he already knew the answer to. His voice ended in that dark drop that rewarded him with a beautiful shiver from the mech in his arms.
"Rematch of course! This time, with more set rules. But not right now. I could recharge for eons !" Rodimus said, the end being interrupted by a loud yawn.
Megatron chuckled gently as he let Rodimus scoot and cuddle closer to his frame, and set into a comfortable position to recharge in. "I must say, I would have been greatly surprised if you’d still have power in you for more."
"Bro, I could totally go for five more round!" Rodimus yawned once more.
"We both know for a physical fact, you can’t. I won’t even comment on the earth term."
"I will absolutely win the game next time."
"I will take pleasure in seeing you try."
"You are so on, Megs!"