Chapter Text
"Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!"
Megatron stared down at the the blubbering organic, his weapons array slowly cycling down. "Go take care of your people," he said curtly, not looking at the mess splattered against the wall of the throne room. Not thirty minutes ago, it had been the tyrant ruling over this small colony of - what were they called again? He couldn't recall. It didn't matter.
He turned away, making for the balcony, and the organic raced after him. "But where are you going? Now we're free, we shall show our gratitude!"
Megatron almost scoffed, but managed a sigh instead. The sun was already near the horizon. He needed to find a secluded, safe area. His systems had been sternly telling him that regardless of Megatron's own opinion on the matter, he needed to sleep tonight, or he risked crashing his processor.
Which would only make the nightmares ten times worse.
"You have little enough," he said in reply to the organic's continued objections and stepped outside onto the balcony. "Celebrate for me."
Without waiting for further objections, he transformed and took off, leaving the grimy towers of the mining city behind. It reminded him of Kaon. A lot, actually. Only they were mining something else here. Strange pink-ish crystals that were apparently much sought-after on the neighbouring planets.
Hopefully they'd manage to establish a better system now that Megatron had taken care of their former Head of State. He'd come back in a few years and check, just to make sure they hadn't forgotten what they had promised him in return for his help.
The sun set slowly and Megatron pushed himself harder. The poles of the planet were covered in ice, the areas too cold for the organics living here. It would be uncomfortable, but it would be private, and privacy was what Megatron needed now.
He landed and transformed with the last rays of the sun disappearing behind the horizon, and didn't bother finding a better place to sleep. There was only ice and silence for miles around.
He sat down with a deep sigh, then lay back to stare at the stars blinking into existence. His spark shrank in anticipatory fear and he tried unsuccessfully to calm himself. One night, and then he would be able to go without sleep for another few weeks. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it was a solution. Perhaps in a few more years, he would be able to sleep without the pictures. Perhaps in a few years, his processor would be able to forget -
His head fell back and he was out like a light.
"Beautiful, isn't he? Primus really outdid himself with this one, I have to give him that."
Megatron stared at Optimus Prime, held in place by invisible ropes, looking straight back at him. His eyes were narrowed, his mask firmly shut, and he was tugging at whichever bonds were keeping him in place.
"Such beauty should be worshipped, don't you agree?"
Unicron's voice was far too casual, far too eager. Megatron wished he could reply, but his frame wasn't his. He knew Unicron could feel his resistance, his revulsion, and he also knew it wouldn't change a thing. It never had so far.
The frame Megatron had no control of right now started moving, Optimus's eyes tracking Unicron's movements. Not for the first time, Megatron wondered if the Prime could feel the chaos deity inside his frame. He latched onto the thought, hoping against hope that Optimus could, so he would know it wasn't Megatron doing whatever Unicron was going to do to him.
Unicron hummed, stopping beside the captive Prime and reaching out. There was no preamble. Unicron couldn't be bothered about such courtesies, he went straight for the modesty panel between Optimus's legs, and Optimus jolted. His eyes flew wide, their gaze incredulous as he stared at Megatron. He couldn't avoid them, no matter how much he wished to.
"Open," Unicron ordered, almost casually. Optimus regained control over himself and shook his head, eyes narrowing.
"No," he said firmly and Megatron felt a rush of a strange mix of relief, pride and gratefulness.
It was brutally cut short as Unicron dug Megatron's claws into the panel seams, ripping it off in one fluent motion. Megatron's silent scream coincided with Optimus bucking violently, straining against his invisible bonds with the pain. His eyes flashed, a familiar, hurt expression in them and Megatron screamed at Unicron from his prison inside his own frame.
"Stop! STOP!"
"Stop?" Unicron repeated, cruel laughter and fake innocence ringing in his voice. "I thought you liked his valve."
"Leave him alone!" Megatron demanded, struggling for control over his hands, his processor, anything really.
Root access was denied for every request. Unicron purred in satisfaction and granted Megatron access to his sensory system.
Suddenly he could feel it. Optimus's modesty panel in his hand. The smooth metal of it, the ripped-off wires pinpricks of pain as Unicron crushed it and threw it aside. "Needless baggage. Now, what are we going to do with such a beautiful valve? Any ideas?"
Optimus glared at him, hands clenched into fists. "Desist at once!" he ordered, voice full of authority. The authority of a leader. Of a Prime.
Unicron cackled and Megatron desperately threw himself into the sensory system, looking for a way to regain control by using the sensors.
Pointless. He was capable of receiving the signals, but incapable of doing anything else. He tried all the same. Sent request upon request upon request, flooding his own systems in hopes they would simply crash under the influx of incoming requests.
It was useless. Unicron cackled again as he knelt down between Optimus's silver thighs and got a good grip on them. Megatron froze along with Optimus. He knew how those thighs felt. Their smooth metal was as familiar as his own frame had used to be. He used to love to grope them, before the war and even in battle later on, furtive, stolen touches that Megatron remembered in the depth of night. He'd never figured out whether Optimus knew what he was doing, or if he considered those touches accidental. Megatron had been careful about not letting his desires get the better of him. He'd never tried to get a touch in twice in a row. Sometimes he'd waited years in between.
This touch now was neither furtive nor fleeting. Unicron wrapped Megatron's hands fully around Optimus's thighs, allowing every sensor to get a proper reading on what they were touching.
"No," Megatron said at the same time as Optimus, and the hands moved, caressing the silvery-smooth metal, sliding up to the valve. "NO! STOP!"
The hands stopped. Unicron did not. He dove in, pressing Megatron's mouth to the exposed valve in a hard kiss.
"Megatron, stop!" Optimus yelled, deep voice holding an undercurrent of desperation. "Don't!"
He knew it was useless, but nothing could've stopped Megatron from throwing himself against the barriers in his own processor again, snarling with helpless fury. "You vile, despicable piece of slag! Leave him alone!"
Unicron pushed Megatron's glossa into Optimus's valve and the taste, familiar from days long before the war, burst over his sensors. There was almost no lubricant and the valve mechanisms were tight and cold.
Megatron threw himself against the barriers so hard it felt like his spark would gutter any moment. "STOP!"
"Why?" Unicron replied inside his own processor. "Isn't this what you've wanted since you started this war?"
"NO!" Megatron screamed, feeling the thighs twitch in the grip of his hands, Optimus trying to kick out and squirm away from the unwanted intrusion. "NO!"
"Ah, ah, ah, no lying to your lord and master," Unicron said, and Megatron hated him for how he twisted his borrowed glossa in Optimus's valve in just the way Optimus had always liked it. He hated himself for keeping those memory files. He shouldn't have, for a whole host of reasons.
He couldn't have expected this. But it was what made him truly regret keeping them all the same.
"You and I both know better than that, don't we?" Unicron continued, undulating Megatron's glossa against Optimus's inner walls. It would get Optimus's lubricants flowing, Megatron knew, and he didn't know whether to hate Unicron more for making use of that snippet of information, or be grateful that Optimus wasn't going to be damaged severely. Unicron always made sure to make Optimus overload, using every trick and technique Megatron had stored in his memory banks from long hours in the berth with the then Orion Pax.
Disgust and fury prevailed. He snarled and shot off as many requests as he could get together, targeting his own glossa, his mouth and his hands. Anything to stop what was happening.
Unicron laughed into Optimus's valve and his captive trashed. "Megatron, stop! This isn't you!"
The denied requests slammed back into Megatron, leaving him half-unconscious and in anguish. "Should I tell him how wrong he is?" Unicron asked. "Should I tell him about all the times you were alone in your berth, imagining his surrender and him at your feet?"
"I never imagined this!" Megatron gasped, trying to collect his wits. Unicron huffed and used Megatron's hands to start petting and stroking the smooth silver thighs.
"Liar."
"No, Megatron, please," Optimus begged and writhed as Megatron's out-of-control hands found the right seams, the right cables to tease. "Stop. Please."
"He begs so prettily," Unicron noted and pinched a cable that made Optimus buck into Megatron's mouth. Lubricant ran down his chin, his sensory suite was telling him that his mouth was full of Optimus's taste, his glossa deep inside Optimus's valve, the walls starting to contract against it as Unicron forced him toward overload.
Megatron slammed himself against the barriers so hard he lost consciousness for a moment.
When he came back to, Unicron was laughing. He was trembling with muffled, cruel laughter that went straight into Optimus's valve and did the rest.
Optimus Prime overloaded in the grip of Megatron's hands, Megatron's glossa thrusting into his valve, Megatron's name on his lips, and Megatron roared with impotent rage, helpless to do anything but watch.
Megatron woke to light at the horizon, violently roiling tanks and the taste of energon in his mouth. He'd bitten down on his glossa while asleep.
He immediately did it again, energon filling his mouth with a familiar, distinctly not Optimus taste. Megatron closed his eyes and tried to vent calmly. In on count of ten. Out on count of ten.
His plating slowly relaxed. His weapons systems powered down. He stayed on the ground, letting the energon chase away the memory of Optimus's lubricant. Letting the energon remind him that it had never happened. That it was all a vision, spun by Unicron and using Megatron's own memory files to torment and torture him. He'd never actually sunk low enough to do this to Optimus.
No matter that he'd wanted to.
After about sixty vents, he slowly stood and spat the energon out after swirling it around in his mouth one last time. It made a dark, ugly puddle on the pristine, white ice, and Megatron averted his eyes, looking at the sky. He'd said his goodbyes the day before already. This was as good a place as any to start his next trip. He'd caught a call for help on his comms while he'd still been in the middle of helping this planet's occupants stage a coup. The coordinates were on his lists of planets to check out, and it had been fairly close by.
Megatron transformed and took off, willing his processor to focus on identifying a new target and not dwell on last night.