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Megatron stirred, roused from his recharge by the sudden displacement of weight across his berth. He swept an arm over the warm but vacant space beside him and realised it was Starscream, rising to fetch their new-spark.
Megatron was a light sleeper, but he hadn’t heard the shrill cries of sparkling in need of attention. Starscream seemed capable of just sensing when he was needed. Carrying protocols were a thing of wonder.
He rolled onto his back to watch.
Starscream was bent over the nearby crib, his usually shrill voice having softened to something warm and low as he spoke nonsense to the tiny bitlet.
Starscream straightened again with the new-spark, lifting him under the arms. The sparkling’s dangling frame scrunched up defensively, limbs tucking in, and Megatron knew from experience that the ‘new-spark curl’ was something Starscream was quite taken by. So it was no surprise that Starscream cooed adoringly at the sight and pressed fluttering kisses to the top of the sparkling’s helm.
Megatron continued to watch lazily as Starscream returned to the berth, sparkling cradled close.
“What are you looking at?” Starscream muttered when he realised he was awake, climbing back into the berth.
Megatron shifted his arm aside to give him more room, but said nothing. Their new-spark was less than a week old. He would not be goaded into a argument by hormone-riddled seeker.
Ordinarily, this would only annoy Starscream more. But Megatron got away with his non-confrontational attitude as the new-spark on Starscream’s shoulder whined for attention. Then nothing else in the entire world existed to the seeker.
Starscream cooed and cuddled him indulgently, awkwardly resting him in the crook of one arm so he could adjust his chest plating and expose a fuel-line. He brought the sparkling close again, and with little to no fuss, helped the sparkling to latch.
Megatron tipped his helm up to watch.
There was something …captivating about watching Starscream fuel his new-spark. How his strong, deadly frame could be so gentle and nurturing, how such a viperous fiend could be so doting and soft for their defenceless young. Starscream, like this, was a sight reserved solely for Megatron.
“You’re staring.” Starscream murmured, but his focus was entirely on the new-spark; tiny wings twitching as he drank and fat little servos clutching at Starscream’s armour. Starscream took hold of one of those chubby fists and bent his helm to drop a kiss to it.
“I’m supervising.” Megatron countered.
Narrow optics flashed towards him, then down at the sparkling again.
Megatron watched the tiny seeker continue to drink from Starscream’s lines, and felt a strange swell of pride. It was ridiculous, to be proud of his infant for having an appetite. Almost as ridiculous as him feeling so much awe for Starscream, for simply succumbing to hard-coded carrying protocols.
Regardless, Megatron didn’t think anyone suited creatorship was well as Starscream.
“How will you know when he’s finished?” Megatron asked curiously, the stirrings of …something brewing in his lower tanks. His attraction towards Starscream hadn’t dimmed in the slightest throughout the gestation and was as passionate and intense as ever now that the sparkling was here.
“I just will,” Starscream said quietly, and with rather convenient timing, began to ease the sparkling away.
Megatron could see that it was because full tanks had lulled the little seeker into recharge. Starscream rubbed his tiny back and held him a while longer, his olfactory pressed to the side of the sparkling’s helm as he indulged in the smell of the newly-sparked metal.
And to think Megatron had had reservations about Starscream’s potential to be a creator when they had first learned of the gestation. It had been a accident, one that had gone unnoticed for several months until Megatron had noticed how much more of Starscream there was to go around. And another week on top of that as he had summoned the courage to point it out to an oblivious Starscream.
It had been a shock. Starscream had sulked -both over the ruin of his frame and the loss of his inherent athleticism- and Megatron had wondered what lacklustre parenting his poor offspring was to be raised with.
Well, Starscream had more than proved him wrong.
Starscream rose from the berth to place the sparkling back in his crib. He lingered there, staring down at the little seeker he had made, until Megatron cleared his vocaliser.
Starscream whipped away like he hadn’t been caught fawning over his sparkling and scrambled back into the berth, but the stirrings of arousal that had been brewing beneath Megatron’s panel suddenly swarmed back to life when he noticed that Starscream had forgotten to tuck the nozzle of the fuel line back beneath his chest plating. And that a little dribble of energon had leaked from it.
Megatron’s spike throbbed as he stared at it.
Starscream noticed and looked down. He hurried to tuck it away, his face full of colour.
“Do you mind?!” He snapped defensively, turning his frame so Megatron couldn’t see.
But Megatron wanted to see.
Starscream choosing to line-feed had been a surprise at first -even before the war there weren’t many carriers who elected to filter and syphon from their own fuel to provide for their sparkling. But it wasn’t unwelcome. Syphoning meant a sparkling was fuelled more efficiently, provided with more nutrients, and could build stronger bonds with their creator.
Megatron hadn’t expected Starscream, who was selfish and impatient and fussy, to subject himself to the exhaustion, discomfort, and inconvenience of it. The filtration system stored beneath the chest-plate was prone to aches and leaks, and the equipment became bulky with use, often requiring the armour covering it to transform out to make room.
It meant Starscream’s frame was somewhat more …voluptuous than it had been previously.
Megatron grabbed him about the waist and turned him around. Starscream had his servos pressed flush to his chest, scowling.
“Megatron,” he hissed, face darkening further.
“Let me see,” Megatron murmured, taking him by the wrists.
There was resistance, but if Starscream had really wanted to stop him he would have kicked him in the groin. Prising his servos away from his chest-plate, Megatron could see the nozzle was still peaking out. The filtered energon that had leaked was now smeared across his armour.
Megatron ducked his helm and licked it off.
Starscream made a sharp hissing noise. Megatron ignored him. The taste of the filtered fuel was sweeter than energon but not nearly as strong in charge. It made sense as to why sparklings required fuelling so often when their energon was this watered down.
“Megatron!” Starscream snapped, when Megatron mouth shifted across his armour until his lips brushed the nozzle.
“Open your chest-plating,” Megatron breathed against Starscream’s glossy armour.
“Primus, you’re a creep,” Starscream complained, but did it anyway, because of course he did.
Chest-plates transformed aside to reveal the filtration system beneath. There were two repositories, likely because seekers usually gestated two to three new-sparks at a time. It would have been unusual that Starscream had only produced one sparkling had it not been for Megatron’s coding.
The repositories were modestly sized and warm to the touch. Megatron placed a servo over one, letting it rest against his palm as the nozzle stiffened.
Starscream whined. They were sensitive.
Megatron massaged it gently, rubbing his palm over the nozzle. Starscream grabbed his wrist but didn’t push him away. Megatron sat up, and kissed him.
Starscream whined into his mouth as Megatron’s other servo came up and groped his second repository. He pushed closer, servos darting to Megatron’s lap, claws scratching at his codpiece. Already painfully pressurised beneath his panel, Megatron let it retract eagerly.
The second Starscream’s smooth, polished servo curled around his spike, Megatron was overcome with the need to have him.
With a fierce rev of his engines he dragged Starscream into his lap and rolled them over, pinning Starscream to the berth beneath him.
“You were made for this,” Megatron growled, grabbing a leg and lifting it aside so he could push into Starscream. Starscream’s helm fell back, his back arching and pushing his chest out. As Megatron began to thrust he squeezed the repository he still held and watched the other bounce where it was full of filtered energon. “Made for me. Made to make my sparklings-“
Blushing furiously, Starscream shoved a servo in Megatron’s face and tried to push him away, “You -urgh- sound like an -idiot-!”
Megatron didn’t care. He shook the servo from his face and continued to frag into Starscream, “You couldn’t be more perfect like this-“
“Shut up,” Starscream scowled, covering the repository Megatron wasn’t holding captive in his fist with his own servo to keep it steady, to stop it from swaying with the rock of his frame across the berth.
“No,” Megatron grabbed his servo and prised it away, exposing it. He grabbed Starscream’s other wrist and pinned that two, so he could lean over Starscream and stare down at the magnificent frame beneath him in all it’s glory as he fragged it. Perfectly formed. It’s purpose clear.
The carrying protocols that had shaped Starscream’s frame lasted only year or so after emergence. He had to savour this whilst he could. (Or better still, see if Starscream could be coaxed into carrying another for him.)
He ducked his helm and drew a nozzle into his mouth with his glossa. He sucked, and Starscream convulsed and moaned, clenching down around him. Megatron shuttered his optics at the rippling pull of the valve wrapped around his spike and the warm sweetness of energon coating his glossa.
He overloaded, hunched over Starscream and holding deep, growling possessively around the nozzle in his mouth.
Starscream tensed beneath him, trembling from a little overload of his own. The berth under his aft was damp from his lubricants.
Megatron released the nozzle with a lick, massaging the repository affectionately. Starscream moaned softly.
“Exceptional.” Megatron praised him, kissing his shoulder, then his neck, wanting him to know, wanting him to understand how true that was.
Starscream’s servo knocked against the side of his helm as he tried to bat him off.
“That fuel was for my sparkling,” he complained weakly.
“You have plenty,” Megatron reminded him, kissing the edge of his jaw. “More than enough for him. More than enough for two sparklings.”
“Primus,” Starscream shuttered his optics. “Not another-“
“Yes, another.” Megatron kissed him again, and again -his chin, his jaw, his cheek, his devious little mouth- until Starscream was clearly fighting off a smile, cheeks ignited with obvious embarrassment. “You’ve found your true calling.”
“Just get your spike out of me.” Starscream complained, pushing at his shoulders. “I need to recharge. He’ll need fuelling again before morning.”
Megatron acquiesced, nuzzling Starscream’s flushed cheek before easing himself from his soft, wet valve. He then set about helping Starscream correct his chest plating, knowing he would see them again soon and confident he would have plenty opportunity to explore the equipment further.
“They’re not toys,” Starscream warned him, glaring over a wing as if reading his mind. “Next time be careful with them, you great brute.”
Megatron shifted across the berth to lay behind him, arm thrown over his waist, and resisted the urge to smile, pleased to know there would be a ‘next time’.