[Flights of Fancy] Topsy-Turvy 10

[dracoqueen22]

a/n: Friendly reminder that this fic is rated M and NSFW for reasons. ;)

Title: Topsy-Turvy
Universe: Flights of Fancy
Characters: Megatron/Rodimus, Soundwave, Shockwave/Orion Pax, Drift/Perceptor, Starscream, Ensemble
Rating: M
Enticements: Harpyformers AU, Sexual Content, Romance, Unrequited Love, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn
Summary: If asked, Liege Megatron of the Kaon Aerie would say his life was perfect. With a content, growing flock to manage, he had nothing to worry about. Loneliness was part of a Liege’s life, he’d decided. Until the bright-spirited Hot Rod comes along, determined to be the exception to the rule.

Chapter Ten
It took five hours and thirty-three exhausting, tense minutes for Terradive and Rotor’s egg to hatch once the first crack started. The little hatchling fought to break free, frightening his parents with every push and crack. They clutched each other and watched with bated breath, struggling not to help while Megatron struggled not to physically restrain them.

Ratchet reassured them constantly, but the fear in their eyes was palpable. They’d already lost so many. Not this one, too. Not again.

A dark ball of fluff with bright green eyes finally clawed his way free of the shell, making weak chirping sounds and reaching for something familiar. Terradive was the first to scoop him up, gooey mess and all, cooing as he held the little one up to his cheek. Rotor wrapped around him like a second pair of wings. The hatchling made louder, more robust chirps.

“He’s going to be strong,” Ratchet commented with a sigh that could only be relief. He’d been as anxious for Rotor and Terradive’s hatchling as they had been.

“His name is Skyshadow.” Rotor brushed the pad of his thumb over the hatchling’s head, his expression soft and warm. “After my grandsire.”

“A good name,” Megatron said. “Very good. Congratulations. He’s beautiful.”

A pang of jealousy was quickly swallowed. It had no place here. Megatron might never have a hatchling of his own, but that was no reason to be envious. Did he not have an entire flock to look after? Did they not help one another raise their young? It was more than enough. To crave anything else was greedy.

Megatron excused himself, leaving Ratchet behind to offer instructions in the care and feeding of their little blessing. It was up to Megatron to share the news with the rest of the flock.

Excitement filled the aerie. The first hatchling of the season! And two more to come! Every addition to their flock was to be celebrated, especially the little ones.

Glee came in far too many flavors. There was talk of festivity, smaller than the Welcoming but equally engaging. The meal preppers chattered to each other about treats and small bites. The brewers shared conspiratorial looks.

Megatron didn’t bother to try and tone down the fervor. They were a small flock, a small aerie. Any reason to celebrate was a good one. Especially this particular reason. Little by little, his flock grew in number. He was grateful to Adaptus for such a blessing.

Radiance and Windfall’s egg hatched a day later, after a thirty-five minute struggle that was nearly a record for shortest hatching. The current record was held by Sunspot, who’d hatched so quickly, Sunstorm wondered if his little one had teleported out of the shell, so eager he’d been to greet the world.

An energetic and brightly colored hatchling stumbled out of his shell, already chirping noisily and wriggling his barely functional arms. Short fluff already displayed the hints of the rainbow like coloration the hatchling would later bloom. He would be smol by birth for sure. But whatever else he’d like to be remained to be seen.

Radiance and Windfall were utterly delighted, even as they shared an understanding glance. To have a child so energetic out of the shell, they were sure to be kept on their toes in the future. Their little one would be a handful and a half.

“His name is Nova.” Radiance cupped the squirming hatchling in his hands, his little mouth open wide as he announced a hunger he felt no one was addressing fast enough.

“Thank Adaptus we’ll have help,” Windfall breathed as he hurriedly mashed a paste of water and berries and thin rice. “I can already tell he’s going to be the work of three hatchlings at once.”

Megatron laughed. “You’re probably right. But never fear. You have an entire aerie out there, eager to greet your little one and lend a hand whenever you need it.”

Windfall and Radiance cast him identical, grateful looks before their clicking hatchling demanded their attention once more. Nova started wriggling in his carrier’s hand. Such advanced movement so soon! They had a little prodigy, didn’t they?

Megatron excused himself, announced the new hatching to his flock, and watched the excitement double in intensity. Windfall and Radiance wanted to observe the traditions of their home aerie. They preferred the two-week period of isolation to bond with their hatchling and minimal contact with the flock.

Megatron intended to honor their wishes. Though he suspected they’d break long before the two weeks were up. Nova would ensure that.

Megatron chuckled to himself.

The only holdout was Orion and Shockwave’s egglet. Which meant the hatching could start any hour now.

They only had to wait. But not for long, as it turned out.

When the first crack showed, the entire aerie went into a frenzy of activity. The ground floor was cleared out, tables were dragged in and food was spread out across them, all prepared for the last celebration of this year’s mating season. For Skyshadow, for Nova, and for Shockwave and Orion’s unnamed egglet, currently hatching.

Megatron left his flock to it, Soundwave nominally in charge with Hot Rod present to oversee, acting in Orion’s stead. With Soundwave’s siblings delivering messages and shepherding the party organizers, Megatron had nothing to worry about. The festivities were in good hands.

He could go where he was most needed, sitting beside an anxious Orion and Shockwave as they watched their little one struggle to free himself from the confines of his shell. They hovered around the egg, Orion having to hold himself back from physically assisting the hatchling. Megatron sat a little further away, still present, but too far to interfere with the hatchling’s bonding to his parents.

It also kept him out of direct sight of Orion and Shockwave, as Megatron wrestled with his own feelings. This moment was one of joy and sorrow, as if it was the final stitch in a tapestry of love that left Megatron on the outside, while Orion and Shockwave were woven together forever.

Megatron had never held any illusions of stealing Orion from Shockwave. He’d never intended to try. Orion was happy with Shockwave, and the thought had never crossed his mind to disrupt that. Orion’s happiness had been the only thing Megatron had truly wanted without question.

But this.

This right here.

This was the reason he’d never tried courting Orion, even before Shockwave entered the picture, when he thought there might have been the slightest chance Orion might love him in return. This was the reason he held back from taking the remotest chance Orion might reciprocate his feelings. This, right here, was the one thing he couldn’t give Orion, the reason he couldn’t confess, why he’d never given Orion an opportunity to reject him. This beautiful, wonderful new life currently trying to free himself of his shell.

It was agonizing to watch the spread of each tiny crack. To hear the scrabble and struggle of the little one within. To see a peek of a small talon and watch the egg roll and wobble in place, secure in a cradle of cloth.

A tiny hand burst free, little talons curled as a piece of shell fell away. More cracks ran around the circumference. The egg rocked some more as hands fumbled around, pushing away bits and pieces of shell until finally, a head emerged, feathers slicked down and covered in goo. The bit’s mouth opened, a scraggly cry emerging, and Orion could hold himself back no longer.

He scooped up his hatchling as Shockwave plucked the last bits of shell from their little one’s body. Even covered in goo, Megatron could tell that the hatchling was a vivid blue all over, with small hints of lighter colors to break it up. A smol perhaps? Only time would tell.

Orion cooed at the hatchling, and Shockwave joined in with a low warble. Their bitlet responded in kind, hands grasping without coordination at Orion’s fingers. Love bloomed in Orion’s eyes, echoed in Shockwave’s own. They huddled together, arms around each other, hands cupping their hatchling.

They were the perfect picture of a mated couple, of a happy family. There were all the joy Megatron could have ever wished for Orion and more.

“He's beautiful,” Megatron said, and swore that the rushing in his ears was only growing louder and louder. There was a lump in his throat, and he prayed Orion and Shockwave chalked the sheen in his eyes up to happiness.

“Thank you,” Orion murmured. He stroked a finger over the little one's crest. “We haven't a name yet. I'm waiting for the perfect one.”

Megatron forced shallow breaths to hide the tremors in his breathing. “I'm sure you'll find it soon enough. Perhaps in one of your books.”

Orion laughed, though it lacked his usual energy. He was exhausted. Carrying often did that to a smol, but it was worse for a bara. They weren't built for carrying. Especially another bara's hatchling. He’d laid the egg a week ago, but was slow to recover. Ratchet had reassured them this was normal, but Megatron couldn’t help worrying.

“Congratulations,” Megatron said again, because what else could he say? It was the furthest thing from a lie. “I am very happy for you and now, our flock has one more addition.”

“Yes,” Shockwave agreed. He curled his natural arm around Orion and looking down at their little one. “Another fledgling to join the ranks.”

It would never be long enough.

Megatron backed up a step and thank Adaptus neither of them noticed. They were too enraptured, Orion cooing at his bitlet, Shockwave rumbling a song of comfort and love. Instinct was settling in.

“If you don't mind, I'll share the happy news with the flock,” Megatron said, backing up again.

It hurt. It hurt because he was happy for them as much as it pained him, like a knife to the heart, a final blow to dreams he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He'd thought he'd moved on, but all he'd done was linger in agony, unconsciously wishing for something he didn't deserve.

“We'd be honored.” Shockwave looked up, his unmarred eye bright with sheer joy. “We'd like the three days of privacy, however. And our flockmates might be more inclined to listen if the decree comes from our liege.”

“But of course.” Megatron smiled, his core shrinking into the tightest ball. “Your wish is my command. And that being said, I'll leave you to it.”

The smallest of frowns flitted over Orion’s lips. “Wait. You’re his godsire. You don’t want to hold him?”

Megatron shook his head and offered a smile, genuinely sincere if not a little sad. “Later,” he murmured. “After you’ve fully bonded. I promise.”

“Good. We want him to know you as well.” Shockwave nuzzled Orion affectionately, still gently cupping his hatchling. “We want him to love you as much as we do.”

“I’m sure he will.” Had his voice cracked? Megatron sincerely hoped not. He dipped his head in a shallow bow. “Congratulations again.”

He turned to go, swallowing over a lump in his throat, well aware that his plumage clung to his body, displaying his growing upset. He needed to leave before they noticed. He needed to--

“Megatron?”

Orion called for him. Megatron could not ignore him. He could never be capable of such a thing.

He turned in the doorway, one hand on the heavy tapestry, and faced them once again. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” Orion said with that brilliant, welcoming smile that so easily brought Megatron to his knees all those years ago.

There was a wealth of responses Megatron could give in return, some of them acceptable, some of them not. Now was not the time for most of them. He knew there would never be a time.

So he simply smiled and nodded. “You're welcome.”

Megatron escaped before Orion could call for him again. He let the heavy curtain swing shut, affording the mated couple their much-deserved privacy. They needed time to bond with their hatchling without a bunch of nosy harpies getting into their business.

Like this crowd that had gathered outside their door. No less than a half-dozen harpies were clustered in front of their nest, bara and smol alike. Most of them Megatron recognized as having immigrated from Crystal City, like Mirage and Tracks.

“How's the bitlet?”

“What does he look like?”

“What did they name him?”

Megatron held up a hand, calling for silence. “They wish for privacy as of this moment. They will make the announcement within a few days in accordance with the traditions of Crystal City.” Which they should have all known.

Disappointed groans mixed with annoyed clicks but the crowd dispersed. Mirage lingered, trying to peek behind the curtain, but Megatron coughed and stared until the former spy ducked his head sheepishly. He murmured an apology and slunk away. Such a passion for hatchlings, that one. Orion and Shockwave better look out, lest Mirage try and adopt their little one to go with his horde.

Megatron breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he should probably join the celebration that an enthusiastic Rung had arranged in the atrium, but his core wasn't in it. He really wanted to be alone. He wanted to be somewhere he didn't have to pretend.

He went back to his nest.

It was dim, most of the lightning lanterns powered down. He bypassed everything and headed straight to the balcony. Unlike the others, he didn't have a railing. Why would he need one? His nest would never house fledglings. He wouldn't have to worry about the young ones falling to their deaths. He stepped out onto the ledge made of carefully woven branches, only to draw to a halt.

His balcony was already occupied.

Megatron swallowed a sigh at the bundle of bright red and orange feathers. He should have known, given Hot Rod's propensity to show up when and wherever he pleased. He thought they’d moved passed this. Given the number of times they argued, he’d thought enough was clear.

Megatron shook his head, dispensing with politeness. He didn't have the energy to deal with Hot Rod this evening. He didn’t have the emotional strength to argue or chase away a desire he couldn’t pursue.

“Not tonight, Hot Rod.” He seated himself on the balcony edge, allowing his feet to dangle freely.

A little push and he could freefall until he caught himself. For a few, blissful seconds, he'd be free. It was tempting.

Hot Rod, however, remained standing next to him heedless of Megatron’s irritation. “You’re not at the party,” he observed. His tone was careful, all trace of the flirtatious cant he once carried gone. It was more than a little unnerving, actually.

Megatron never thought he’d miss the days when Hot Rod was a constant annoyance in his life.

“Neither are you.” Megatron looked at him, desire threading a hot path through his veins. Hot Rod truly was gorgeous and any other life, Megatron would have rutted him already, possibly mated him.

He would make someone a fine mate someday.

“There wasn't anyone there I cared about being with,” Hot Rod said with a shrug, his blue eyes focusing on Megatron with a sharpness he didn't often show. “And why aren't you there? Shouldn't our liege be in attendance?”

Megatron scowled. “I'm quite sure the celebrators don't need their liege looking over their plumage. I trust everyone to behave themselves.” And if not, he knew for a fact Soundwave was in attendance and sometimes, Soundwave's presence alone was enough of a deterrent.

No one did the chastising glare better than Soundwave. It came from raising those five hellions he called siblings. Even through the mask, he radiated disapproval.

“That's not why you didn't go,” Hot Rod said.

Megatron gave him an askance look. “Well, since you seem to know so much of what I'm thinking, why don't you tell me why I'm here and not there?”

Hot Rod sat down next to him, warm and close enough to touch, his scent wafting to Megatron's nose and making his instincts sit up and take notice. That he was already upset and longing for comfort did not help matters. Megatron clenched his hands into fists, his talons scraping at his palms, hoping the pain would serve as a distraction.

“Orion told me that you, him, and Soundwave originally came from the same flock,” Hot Rod said as he held Megatron's gaze. “He's known you all his life. He considers you a nest-sibling. And outside of Shockwave, you're the most important person in his life.”

It hurt. By Adaptus, did it hurt. It shouldn't, to know Orion loved him so, but it was a different flavor of love than the longing that had always turned Megatron's innards into a nauseating knot of despair and disappointment.

Megatron looked out into the dark night and the spread of the land before him. His nest was on the outer ring, so there was little to block his view. Even the branches and leaves had been trimmed back.

“Yes,” he answered, though Hot Rod hasn't asked a question. “Orion and I have known each other for a long time. How that is relevant to the party, I don't--”

“How long have you loved him?”

Megatron startled, his head whipping toward Hot Rod. His breathing quickened, even more so when Hot Rod gave him a sympathetic look and reached out, laying his smaller hand over one of Megatron's. He was warm, so warm.

“I don't--”

“I don’t know why you never told him.” Hot Rod leaned closer, his feathers fluffing, his ready-scent like an intoxicating pull on Megatron's desire. “Even after he mated Shockwave, you didn't move on. You're fighting against every instinct you have. Why?”

Megatron swallowed thickly. His instincts railed at him. His body tensed, feathers ruffling up. Heat pooled through him, into his core, and Adaptus, Hot Rod smelled so good. He was so close and so warm, his body language crying out for the claim Megatron's own body was so desperate to enact.

He should push Hot Rod away. He should leap from the balcony and go for a flight, clear his head. He should do everything except stare at Hot Rod in wordless wonder, stare as Hot Rod leaned closer, his exhalations wet and warm over Megatron’s lips. He was close enough to taste, close enough to grab and nuzzle.

“He's not the only harpy out there,” Hot Rod murmured, his eyes so big and bright and enticing. “You don't have to force yourself to be alone.”

Megatron's breathing hitched. He tried to pull his hand out from under Hot Rod's, but it felt like there was a lazy heat in his entire body. It was hard enough to say no when Hot Rod was beyond touching distance. It was near impossible to do it now, when all he wanted was that closeness, to hold and be held, to touch and be touched.

He'd gone without for so long he craved it, inside and out, and Hot Rod was here, where he always seemed to be, and Megatron was so fragging tired of being alone.

“You don't understand,” Megatron began, but Hot Rod squeezed his hand and leaned in so close they shared the same breathing space.

“Try me,” Hot Rod murmured.

His lips slanted over Megatron's, so soft and sweet. He smelled of nectarines and honeysuckle, like he'd been hanging out in the flower gardens again.

A tremble ran through Megatron as every wall he'd built crumbled around him. It shattered against the onslaught of that gentle kiss and the parting of Hot Rod's mouth as his tongue swept over Megatron's lips, a warm and wet entreaty for entrance.

A low purr resonated in Megatron's chest. He leaned into Hot Rod, and found his free hand rising, cupping the smol's face before he knew what he was doing. Megatron's mouth opened, and he offered his tongue in return. Hot Rod moaned and pushed harder against Megatron, their tongues tangling together.

He should stop. Pull away. Put an end to this before he did something he would regret come the morning.

But then Hot Rod cooed in his throat and climbed into Megatron's lap, the heat of him like a blanket against the chill encapsulating his core. Megatron shuddered with defeat. He gave in to the urge and held Hot Rod tighter. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, tasting the hint of sweet fruit on Hot Rod's tongue. Heat spread from his core and outward.

He'd forgotten the rut could feel like this. He'd forced himself to go without for so long, he'd forgotten the need of it, the way it swept through him and swallowed him whole.

Hot Rod trilled. He released his grip on Megatron's hand and threw his arms over Megatron's shoulders, undulating against Megatron. His plumage lifted and spread in a blatant display of invitation and need.

“Take me,” he murmured against Megatron's lips, a small whine rising in his throat. “Please.”

Megatron's purr shifted to a growl. He grabbed Hot Rod's hips and jerked the smol against him, the heat blazing into an inferno. His clava swelled within his sheath, threatening to emerge from his protective fluff.

He wanted Hot Rod. He'd always wanted Hot Rod. Now was no exception. This was wrong. This was so very wrong.

But they kissed again and it felt so right.

Hot Rod needed it as much as Megatron did. As he ground down, rubbing his rump against Megatron's thighs, the heat of his antrum radiated freely. Pearls of slickening fluid escaped, dripping onto Megatron's lap, smelling as sweet as Hot Rod himself.

Hot Rod was full of needy heat. His trills shifted to hunger and need, taking on the higher pitch of a fierce craving to be claimed. They rang in Megatron’s ears, echoing all the way down to his groin. Hot Rod’s talons carded through Megatron's plumage, scratching at his skin beneath, his body moving in stronger, needier rocks against Megatron's front.

“Claim me,” he murmured, dripping more and more. “Take me. Have me. Please.”

Megatron, bara and liege, could not deny Hot Rod any more than he could deny his own instincts. He needed to rut, to mate, to claim.

He needed Hot Rod.

Megatron broke away from Hot Rod's mouth, nipping a trail down to the hollow of Hot Rod's throat, where iridescent crimson feathers glittered at him. He nosed his way through the soft down to the soft flesh beneath and grazed his teeth across Hot Rod's throat. The smol cried out, spine arching forward, his thighs trembling where they pressed against the outside of Megatron's.

“Megatron,” Hot Rod gasped, his talons digging into the back of Megatron's shoulders, light pricks of pain that smacked of need.

Megatron shuddered, his teeth latching onto Hot Rod's throat, biting down enough Hot Rod could feel the pressure without breaking the skin. Hard enough Hot Rod would know who he was with, could recognize he was being claimed.

Hot Rod sucked in a harsh breath, a whistle through clenched teeth. His entire body jerked before he went still, and Megatron could feel the motion of his throat as he swallowed.

“B-bed?” he stuttered in request, his tailfeathers twitching with barely held restraint. The vibrations buzzed against Megatron’s mouth.

Megatron hummed approval and loosened his teeth, lifting his lips back to Hot Rod's. He kissed the smol deeply, his tongue sweeping into Hot Rod's mouth in a claiming kiss. Hot Rod keened and rubbed against him, dripping more pre-fluid down onto Megatron's lap.

“If I take you to my bed, you will not leave by morning,” Megatron growled against Hot Rod's mouth, forcing the bleary-gazed smol to look into his eyes. “Do you understand?”

Hot Rod's tongue swept across his lips. His talons raked against Megatron's shoulder. “Do I feel like I intend to object?” he breathed as he rolled his hips, the very tip of his unsheathed clava leaving a streak of precome against Megatron's abdominal feathers.

Megatron growled through his teeth and abruptly rolled them further away from the edge, all but slamming Hot Rod onto his back on the balcony. He caged Hot Rod beneath him and bright crimson and orange feathers splayed with excitement as Hot Rod's arms and wings pressed flat to the floor – complete submission.

Megatron's internals tightened. His sheath moistened, all of his arousal gathering southward. Hot Rod was no less affected. His groin was stained with his precome and the gorgeous head of his clava had peeped through his featherdown. Megatron shifted his weight to one arm and reached down with his free hand, rubbing the back of his knuckle against that damp head.

Hot Rod keened, head tossing back and thighs parting for Megatron, inviting him to explore the wet of his antrum.

Megatron dragged his knuckle lower, rolling it against Hot Rod's warm, throbbing nub. The smol warbled, his mouth opening in a desperate cry as he rocked against Megatron's knuckle. More slick dribbled free, turning the pale pink of his featherdown a rosier hue. Megatron's mouth watered, and he knew he could not take Hot Rod to nest without first tasting him.

He maneuvered his way between Hot Rod's thighs, sliding his hands to Hot Rod’s knees. He curled his talons around the smol's knees, keeping him wide, before Megatron pulled Hot Rod toward his mouth. The sweet fluid called to him, and Megatron licked a long, stripe over Hot Rod’s dewy center, ending with a flick to the tip of his clava.

The sound that rose from Hot Rod's throat was pure sin. He panted, hands landing on Megatron's shoulders, talons digging past feathers to hook into Megatron's skin.

“Oh, please, please, please,” he chanted, hips rolling up to meet Megatron's mouth.

Megatron chuckled and exhaled over the swelling folds, his lips closing around the throbbing nub. Hot Rod keened, bucking, and Megatron smiled against him.

Hot Rod was a delight to pleasure. It was a simple thing to press his mouth to Hot Rod, licking into the depths of him for the sweetness of his juices. He looked up, found Hot Rod’s face flushing pink, lips parted to release cries of need. Megatron’s insides tightened with want.

He purred as he licked deeper, feeling the walls flutter around his tongue, heard Hot Rod gasp and felt him tremble. Tickling the backs of Hot Rod’s knees with his talons provoked a soft keen, and a buck of Hot Rod’s hips. Hot Rod pulsed hot and hungry against his lips.

Oh, how he'd miss this simple pleasure.

Megatron mouthed his way to Hot Rod’s nub, pulling it between his lips, applying a soft, suckling pressure. Hot Rod trembled, thighs tensing against Megatron’s palms. His hips bucked and Megatron rose with them, tongue sliding firmly over Hot Rod’s nub, scraping it ever so gently with his teeth.

Hot Rod’s talons dug into Megatron. He tossed his head back, hips canting upward. And then he sang Megatron’s name as he shattered against Megatron’s lips, release sweeping through him in a wave of fluttering plumage.

Megatron looked up the length of his trembling body to see Hot Rod’s teeth clamped on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw a thin bead of blood. Pleasure painted his face a beautiful shade.

He was perfect.

Megatron nuzzled Hot Rod's antrum, careful to avoid the sensitive nub, as the last flutters of release eased from Hot Rod's body. He drew back, licking slick from his lips.

Hot Rod’s clava had finally decided to emerge, Megatron noticed. It was as lovely as Hot Rod himself, a slim, tapering length which darkened from gold at the tip to crimson at the base. A pattern of ridges along the center promised delight for whoever was lucky enough to receive it.

Megatron would like to enjoy it some day, if given the chance.

He stroked a hand over Hot Rod’s hip and looked up at him. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, well aware that Hot Rod’s slick still dampened his face.

Hot Rod drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he said, voice a bit tremulous, his face wonderfully blushed. “For finally noticing, I mean.”

“I’ve always noticed,” Megatron corrected as he carefully shifted his weight, all the better to be in reach of the gorgeous clava so eagerly standing up for him.

Fluid beaded at the tip as if inviting him to sample, smelling as sweet as his antrum. Megatron lapped at it, curling his tongue to savor the flavor. A tart bite of honeysuckle. Was it Hot Rod's favorite?

“I wouldn’t know it, given your behavior,” Hot Rod replied, though the small whine at the base of his throat belied the retort.

“I was a fool,” Megatron admitted, and took the tip of Hot Rod’s clava into his mouth. Lips and tongue closed about it with a light suction.

Hot Rod shivered and gnawed on his bottom lip again. His hips worked in tiny thrusts, urging his clava deeper. Megatron swallowed, allowing the coned tip to nudge at the back of his throat. Hot Rod was the perfect size for oral, fitting into the shape of Megatron’s mouth as though he’d always belonged there.

Hot Rod even knew to still himself in order not to harm, as Megatron worked his throat around Hot Rod’s clava. He shook from the effort of it, however, and his talons moved to the floor, raking at the woven branches. He throbbed on Megatron's tongue as more fluid seeped from his antrum, sweet and sticky on his featherdown.

They would both need a soak in the springs after this. Perhaps Megatron would get lucky and they could take one together. Hot Rod would be stunning in the candlelight, the water shimmering on his feathers.

“Megatron,” Hot Rod breathed and Megatron looked up at him, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his gnawing. “Don't… But you...”

“Stop?” Megatron provided as he released Hot Rod's clava, the glossy length bobbing as though in an attempt to entice Megatron’s mouth back to it.

Hot Rod warbled a negative. “No,. I mean, yes. I mean…” He rolled his hips, his thighs pressing in against Megatron’s body. “What about you?”

Megatron kneaded the back of Hot Rod's knees before guiding Hot Rod's legs around his waist. His groin now nestled against Megatron's own, and Megatron rolled his hips, his clava rutting against the inviting damp.

“How considerate of you,” Megatron teased.

He leaned over Hot Rod, nuzzling his cheek against the smaller harpy’s. His lips found Hot Rod’s ear, and he tasted it with a hot exhale. Hot Rod trembled, clutching at him, hips rising up to meet Megatron’s slow, careful grinding.

Megatron’s plumage raised. Need clawed inside of him, demanding he finally take Hot Rod. He should have done this ages ago, he knew. He should have claimed Hot Rod when the beautiful smol first approached him.

He wanted to give in at last. He wanted to pin Hot Rod down, clamp onto his throat, slide into Hot Rod, and finally claim what should have always been his. He wanted for Hot Rod to writhe and warble beneath him, eager and pliant, embracing. He wanted to pleasure the pretty smol until he was limp with release and bathed in sweat, his face aglow with satisfaction.

Megatron growled and clamped on the tip of Hot Rod’s ear with his teeth, a careful pressure that was far from the piercing bite he wanted to lay. Hot Rod keened and arched up against him. He scrabbled at Megatron's shoulders, dislodging several feathers and leaving furrows in Megatron’s skin. His hips rocked furiously, antrum spilling slick over Megatron’s groin.

He wanted it as much as Megatron did.

It was satisfyingly easy to scoop Hot Rod into his arms, so tiny was the smol in comparison. Hot Rod squawked in surprise, flailing before he sank his claws into Megatron's back. Their bodies pressed together, Megatron’s clava grinding against Hot Rod’s belly and making him shiver.

“To the bed now?” Hot Rod asked, his tone hopeful as he nuzzled Megatron’s cheek.

“Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go,” Megatron replied before he stole Hot Rod’s mouth, tasting the blood on his lips.

Hot Rod moaned, mouth opening to Megatron, letting him claim with lips and tongue. Megatron blindly stumbled inside, toward the pillow-lined hollow of his nest, unwilling to take his lips from Hot Rod’s.

He didn’t stumble into the nest, but it was a near thing. He managed to be gentle as he lay Hot Rod amid the blankets, a place no one else had ever been. That thought filled him with an unexpected heat as he was struck by the notion it was because Hot Rod was the only one who belonged there.

Megatron’s chest rumbled. He kissed Hot Rod again, more fervently, over and over. A lightning-hot inferno blazed within him, and all Megatron could think was claiming Hot Rod. He wanted to fill Hot Rod until the lovely smol cried out in pleasure, until he could think of nothing but Megatron and ecstasy.

The urge to bite Hot Rod’s throat and claim him rose up even stronger. Megatron had to swallow it down, focus on Hot Rod instead. He was lucky. He needed to remember that. Hot Rod was worth so much more. He deserved to be cherished, not taken and discarded by a beast.

Hot Rod keened in his throat, as if agreeing with Megatron’s internal debate.

Megatron broke away from the kiss, his breathing ragged. He gripped Hot Rod’s hips, rolling his own slowly, grinding his clava against Hot Rod’s dewy heat. He looked into blue eyes, bright with need.

“Tell me,” Megatron said, not entirely sure what he wanted to hear, only that he needed Hot Rod to say it.

Hot Rod’s intake bobbed. His hands slid to Megatron’s head, his thumbs pricking at Megatron's cheeks. Their faces were so close, Megatron could feel the heat of Hot Rod’s exhales.

“Take me,” Hot Rod murmured with a shuddering breath. “In every way you know, my liege. Make me yours.”

Heat flashed through Megatron like a wildfire. He shuddered, eyelids drooping, a ripple running through his feathers.

Yes, that was what he’d needed to hear.

“Please,” Hot Rod groaned and dragged Megatron’s mouth to his, sealing their lips together in a fierce kiss.

Megatron growled, hands tightening on Hot Rod’s hips. He pinned the smol down, fitting himself to the best angle, and obeyed. He filled Hot Rod in a single push, the smol’s head snapping back in a soundless cry. Blazing heat engulfed Megatron, Hot Rod clenching down around him as though trying to lock him inside.

He was so very tight. Almost as though he'd never shared himself. Almost as though this was his first claiming. But that was impossible. That was….

Hot Rod went rigid. His claws sank into Megatron's shoulders, and he felt the trickle of blood. Hot Rod's sharp inhale was far too audible, but Megatron pressed his mouth to Hot Rod’s throat, soaking in his sweet scent.

Megatron rumbled. His teeth grazed over Hot Rod’s throat, feeling the vibrations of Hot Rod’s moans. He started to move, slow and deep, instincts surging forward to demand control of the pace. He resisted, but the heat was suffocating, and it had been so long since he’d had another, so long since he felt the warmth of a body beneath him.

He moved faster, hips snapping. He panted, heavy and raw. All he could hear was his own harsh breathing, the rustling of feathers, the frantic pulse of his core, beating in his ears. Pleasure wound within him, tighter and tighter, a tension desperate to snap. He snarled, feeling as though he'd tapped into some bestial side of himself, and latched onto Hot Rod's throat. He tasted the beat of Hot Rod's core with his tongue and lips.

A sound filtered through. A thin whining sound. It wasn't… it wasn't right.

Megatron blinked. He loosened his teeth and paid attention. Hot Rod was making that noise. Hot Rod was no longer as pliant and giving beneath him. If Megatron had to put name to it, he would call it…

He would call it a name that made an instant flush of ice water dump over his head.

Megatron paused, his clava easing from Hot Rod's antrum and giving a throb of protest. He forced his claws out of Hot Rod's hips, and his teeth from Hot Rod's throat. He pulled back, concern trickling in.

Hot Rod was flushed a light pink and sweat gathered at his forehead. His face was a mask of emotion, as though he was in pain and trying to conceal it, his bottom lip swollen and dotted with blood.

Frag.

His first suspicions were right on the wing.

Megatron cursed himself out from top to bottom and immediately gentled his hold. He shifted his weight so he could cup Hot Rod's face and sweep a knuckle over his cheek.

“You're in pain,” he said.

“No, I'm not,” Hot Rod retorted with a lopsided grin. He twitched his hips as though trying to entice Megatron to continue, but he couldn’t hide his wince. “I don't know what you--”

“Is this your first claiming?” Megatron asked, cutting off what were obvious lies. As much as he enjoyed the feel of Hot Rod, the uneasy fluttering of his antrum was further proof.

Hot Rod's flush deepened. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and looked away.

Megatron leaned closer, pressing their noses together. He put a little growl into his vocals, though he was more upset with himself than Hot Rod.

“Answer the question, Hot Rod.”

Hot Rod warbled a rolling keen. His crest feathers slicked down, his thighs clamping harder on Megatron's hips.

“Yes,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

Guilt slammed into Megatron, and on its heels came surprise, despite his suspicions. He reared back, staring down at the gorgeous smol who could have had his pick of any harpy in Megatron's flock and no doubt in whichever flock he'd come from.

“Why?” Megatron asked, bewildered.

Hot Rod rolled his eyes and kneaded at Megatron's back, the scrape of his claws causing a quick bite of pain. “I thought that was obvious,” he said. “I wanted the best. I wouldn't settle for less.”

Megatron stared. The best? And Hot Rod thought that best was Megatron? But then, he didn't know the truth, did he? Didn't know Megatron was damaged, useless as a mate. He couldn't give Hot Rod anything a proper mate should.

“I don't--”

Hot Rod shook his head and canted his hips, catching the tip of Megatron’s clava with his damp. “I chose you. I'm glad I did. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that. You don't even have to claim me. Just don't stop.”

There was a rock in Megatron’s throat. “You should have said something.”

“Why? So I could guilt you into agreeing? Frag that!” Hot Rod snorted and flexed his fingers on Megatron's shoulder. “Rut with me! I've waited too damn long for this. Don't you dare stop!” The last made his voice crackle, and something flashed hot and fierce in his eyes.

Megatron swallowed thickly.

“Very well,” he said and stroked the back of his knuckles over Hot Rod's cheek. He curled over Hot Rod, pressing his forehead to Hot Rod’s, calming the urgency in his groin, because he would not cause Hot Rod further pain.

“Don't turn me aside now,” Hot Rod murmured. He tightened his thighs around Megatron's waist, scraping the back of his legs with his tarsal talons.

“I won’t,” Megatron promised.

He dipped his head and captured Hot Rod's lips again, though this time he made the kiss gentle and sweet. Savoring. Hot Rod moaned into the mouth, clutching at him, making a needy noise in the back of his throat. His body rose up to meet Megatron’s, still desperate and eager, despite Megatron’s foible.

Megatron was determined to make up for it.

He licked over Hot Rod’s lips and let his mouth wander, dotting little kisses and nips along the curve of Hot Rod’s jaw and down into the vulnerable warmth of his throat. Hot Rod squirmed, thighs pressing inward, hips rocking up in wordless request.

“Please.” Hot Rod keened.

“Shh. All in due time.”

Megatron drew back, gently dragging the palms of his hands down until he held Hot Rod’s hips. He sat back on his heels as his thumbs swept inward, caressing the delicate area surrounding Hot Rod’s heat-swollen antrum and clava.

He was so rigid, the tip pearly with pre-fluid, despite Megatron’s mistake. Slick seeped from his antrum, and his little nub was plump and juicy, eager for Megatron’s lips. He growled quietly and lifted Hot Rod to his mouth, lips gently nuzzling the swollen folds.

Hot Rod made a choked noise, his hands scraping at the pillows and blankets. His head tilted back, baring his throat and the marks Megatron had made. Seeing them filled him with a possessive lust, and he seized Hot Rod’s nub with his lips, licking and suckling at it while Hot Rod writhed in his grip.

Hot Rod’s lips parted in a breathy moan. His eyes became slits of blue fire. “Mate with me,” he panted. “Stop stalling!”

“I am not stalling.” Megatron caressed Hot Rod with the tip of his tongue, drawing another purr and more dribbles of sweet slick. “I am apologizing.” He gently licked, easing his tongue inside Hot Rod, trying to lap away the sting of his abrupt penetration.

Hot Rod’s back arched as he loosed a low keen. A pillow surrendered to the sharpness of his talons, some of Megatron’s molt spilling free of the case.

“A-apology accepted,” he moaned.

Megatron purred against Hot Rod and licked him ever so gently, his own hunger rising as the sweet slick slid into his mouth. He imagined pinning Hot Rod beneath him, licking him to ecstasy over and over again, until Hot Rod was a limp and wrecked puddle of feathers. He could stay here all night, hearing those sweet cries and watching Hot Rod come undone. It would be no hardship at all.

He mouthed the firm little nub, tongue flicking over it, until Hot Rod’s hips rocked to match his rhythm. The sweet taste of him lingered, and Megatron moaned against Hot Rod, licking deeper. He tilted Hot Rod’s hips further, sipping up the steady stream of slick, ignoring the hot pulse of desire tugging at his groin.

“Oh, please.” Hot Rod pawed blindly at Megatron. “You’re forgiven. I need more, Megatron. Please.”

Megatron licked into him again and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Hot Rod’s nub. “Are you sure?” He rubbed his cheek on the inside of Hot Rod’s thigh, looking up the length of the smol’s body.

“Don’t make me beg.” He grasped Megatron’s arms just above his wrists and tugged. “Want you inside me. Please.” His voice was desperate, his hips full of restless energy as they rolled up toward Megatron.

“Then I will do as you wish,” Megatron murmured with a lingering kiss to Hot Rod’s dripping center.

Megatron mouthed his way up Hot Rod’s body, stopping to leave little kisses on his clava, over his belly, at the hollow of Hot Rod’s throat, until he claimed Hot Rod’s mouth again. A moan of relief escaped Hot Rod’s throat, his exhalations scorching and hungry as he gripped at Megatron’s upper arms.

Megatron blanketed Hot Rod with his weight, his wings. He nudged his way back between Hot Rod's thighs, the swollen head of his clava brushing Hot Rod's nub and the wet damp of him. Hot Rod made another needy noise, canting his hips upward, begging Megatron take him.

Megatron obliged, easing into Hot Rod as though he had never tasted him. A moan rumbling through his chest as his clava was engulfed in wet heat and Megatron deepened their kiss, his tongue stroking along the inside of Hot Rod’s mouth.

This time, however, he did not lose himself. He focused on Hot Rod's pleasure, on making the smol cry out with joy, rather than stifle his pain. He rocked his hips, his featherdown rubbing Hot Rod's nub as the tip of his clava teased that special spot deep within Hot Rod. The smol opened to him, soft and yielding, a keen warbling in his throat.

Hot Rod gave himself to Megatron fully, and Megatron returned that trust with all he could offer. He nibbled his way back to Hot Rod's throat, soothing his bites with quick licks as Hot Rod wrapped his arms around Megatron's shoulders. His wings blanketed Megatron's back like a warm shawl, and he rose up to meet each of Megatron's thrusts.

They moved in perfect concert, as if they had been together all along and knew of one another’s rhythm. Hot Rod smelled so sweet, and the noises he made forced heat through Megatron’s veins. He dragged his teeth along Hot Rod's throat and ran his tongue over the impressions left by his earlier bites, feeling Hot Rod swallow against his lips.

Heat rushed over and through Megatron, and release came upon him like a slow tidal wave. Pleasure overtook him as he spilled within Hot Rod, clutching him like Hot Rod was the only thing to keep him afloat. It had been so long since he'd found release by any hand but his own that he felt weak, bobbing helplessly along.

He shivered, body throbbing with aftershocks, and nibbled a path along the featherdown of Hot Rod's belly, his lips finding the eager pulse of Hot Rod's clava. He took it into his mouth, laving his tongue across the tip, and drew in the scent of his own spill and Hot Rod's natural sweetness. Hot Rod’s warble of encouragement was like music.

Megatron suckled Hot Rod through another release, savoring the taste of Hot Rod’s spill, sharper than his slick, but no less appealing. Hot Rod went rigid in his arms, body arrested by pleasure, before he slumped into the nest. His hips moved, rising and falling in slow motion, as though seeking more.

He was lovely. Why had Megatron held himself back from this?

Megatron worked his way back to Hot Rod's mouth for another deep, lingering kiss. Hot Rod moaned into it, his talons gently scraping at Megatron's feathers. He shivered with want, smelling deliciously open and ready. He was already urging with his knees, his thighs, trying to get Megatron between them again, wordlessly requesting more.

Megatron couldn't have this forever, but for tonight, yes? He could indulge for tonight. He could ensure that when Hot Rod left him, it would be with memories of warmth and pleasure, good memories he would never want to forget.

He kissed Hot Rod again, over and over, each more lingering than the last. He stroked his fingers over Hot Rod’s dampness, knuckles teasing along a plump nub. He asked without words if he could have the smol again, and Hot Rod answered with eager keens, his body rolling up to meet Megatron’s touches.

It would not last beyond morning. Megatron couldn’t allow himself to hope for anything more.

But tonight?

Tonight was his to savor.

***

a/n: *prepares self for the barrage of FINALLY* ;)