[TFP] Playing Along
Apr. 11th, 2022 07:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Playing Along
Universe: Transformers Prime, post-Orion Pax
Characters: Optimus Prime/Megatron
Rating: M
Enticements: Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Heat Trope
Description: It’s a perfect excuse for both of them when Optimus stumbles upon Megatron caught in the grips of his heat.
There was something soothing about the steady, yet bumpy roll of his tires over asphalt. Roads in Cybertron had been smooth as glass, save in the poorer districts where planetary funds never managed to find their way. The rough roads on Earth reminded Optimus of a time he was Orion Pax.
Right now, it soothed him as much as it bothered him. The weight of the Matrix sat awkwardly in his chassis, an ill-fitting responsibility, with the memories of his time spent aboard the Nemesis, with Megatron, refusing to tuck neatly away in his archives.
It was quiet, which was as much of a relief as it was a challenge. Quiet meant both sides were licking their wounds, counting their resources, waiting for the next moment to strike. Quiet meant waiting, which left too much time to think. About regrets. About what might have been. About the choices he'd made.
Ping!
Optimus startled out of his thoughts as something flashed on the edge of his sensors -- it registered Cybertronian, but the ID was otherwise masked. It could be an artifact or a lost new arrival. It warranted investigation either way.
He took the nearest turn toward the ping, and sent a quick update to Ratchet. He'd radio for back up if it was needed, but Optimus didn't expect trouble. Ratchet reluctantly obeyed.
Asphalt gave way to pockmarked pavement, riddled with weeds. Rusted, abandoned equipment came into view, and looming over them was a dilapidated building, with shattered windows and an ingress large enough for vehicles. It was the perfect place for a Cybertronian to hide.
Optimus transformed and slipped carefully into the building, bracing himself for anything. He did not call out, because if it were Decepticon in origin, he'd rather not give himself away. Inside, it smelled of rust and rot, but something as well -- sweet, potent, hot. A low curl of arousal started within Optimus.
Realization tumbled through his cortex as he emerged into a much larger room, sun filtering through the broken windows, illuminating the sight of none other than Megatron, splayed on a makeshift berth. It was uncommonly warm in here, Megatron venting heat at an abnormal rate, and that sweet smell invaded Optimus' olfactory sensors again.
Oh.
The whine of a fusion cannon pointed Optimus' direction as hazy crimson optics tried to focus on him. "How did you find me?" Megatron gritted out, the cannon wavering, his thighs snapping closed, his long fingers glistening with lubricant from where he'd been touching himself.
"Purely by chance," Optimus said as he moved closer, almost without rational thought, drawn by the delicious wave of invitation Megatron's field and pheromones exuded. "You are in heat. Why are you alone?"
He clocked the stockpile of energon and coolant nearby -- Megatron intended to ride out the length of his heat in this dirty, abandoned building.
"None of your business," Megatron hissed, and the fusion cannon dipped further until he seemed to lose the last of his strength, and his arm dropped. "Get the frag out of here."
"No." Optimus ached, spark and interface array alike. "The heat will pass quicker and with less pain if you have a partner."
Megatron barked a bitter laugh, his vocals like shattered glass. "What makes you think I'd want it to be you?"
Optimus tilted his head as he drew closer and closer, dragging in deeper vents of the sweet scent of Megatron's need. They'd not been intimate like this in their past, but oh how Orion had wanted.
"If you wanted anyone else, you'd be with them now," Optimus pointed out as his spike started to throb, pushing insistently at his panel. "I know Soundwave would be willing."
Megatron's expression twisted into a rictus of fury. "Frag you," he snarled, and the heat of his frame wafted against Optimus, like a curl of invitation.
"I believe the more effective course of action would be for me to frag you," Optimus murmured, a part of him despairing at Megatron's choice of location. It was dirty and uncomfortable, isolated and indefensible.
No mech deserved to spend their heat, their most vulnerable time, in such a place. He longed to take Megatron with him, somewhere safe and warm, well-stocked and comfortable.
Megatron laughed, though it was bitter and sharp with their history. "I didn't know a Prime could be so crass."
"There is little you ever knew about me," Optimus murmured, close enough to touch now, so touch he did, resting his hand on Megatron's ankle, thumb stroking a sensitive cable within the delicate structure.
Megatron shuddered, his thighs inching apart, the waft of his need hitting Optimus like a solid blow. There was lubricant beneath his aft, glistening wetly, and Optimus knew he would be swollen and wet, pliant with the force of his need.
"Clearly," Megatron gasped, and he opened for Optimus as Optimus' hands skated up his legs, and he found himself kneeling between Megatron's thighs.
Megatron's vents roared, his frame craning toward Optimus' touch. His valve was bared, swollen and dripping, and Optimus dragged his fingers over the plump pleats, delicately brushing the raised anterior node. A whimper clawed itself out of Megatron's intake -- followed immediately by the sharp burst of embarrassed fury.
Optimus didn't comment. Instead, he slid two fingers into the hot clutch of Megatron's valve and laid his thumb over that throbbing node. Megatron's back bowed, his thighs trembling. He clenched down, a wave of electric static crawling over his his frame. Need yawed in his field, grasping at Optimus, trying to drag him closer.
Optmus' spike ached. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than to slide his spike into this tight heat, or place his mouth over the dripping wet and consume Megatron until he was weak and pliant from pleasure.
Megatron growled. "Frag you," but there was little heat behind the curse as he pawed at Optimus, thighs pushing further open, desperation ripe in his field. "Get your damned spike out, Prime."
Optimus groaned and his panel popped immediately, spike emerging in a sharp jut of eagerness. Pre-fluid beaded at the tip, and he couldn't stop himself if he tried, not with Megatron smelling so sweet and hungry. Not knowing this was an opportunity he would never have again. Without the heat, Megatron would have shot him, and they would be trying to claw out each other's sparks.
What a perfect excuse they have now. How lucky Optimus was to find Megatron like this, caught in the grips of his head, with his walls down, and his desperation so acute as to make him reasonably compliant.
Megatron snarled and grabbed at Optimus, hooking his claws in Optimus' collar fairing and dragging him closer, firmly between Megatron's thighs. "This didn't happen!"
"Of course it didn't," Optimus demurred, but his control shattered as his spike found Megatron's valve and sank deep. He groaned when Megatron arched up to meet him, legs clamping tight to hold him in place.
Optimus' vents hitched. He withdrew and sank into Megatron again, a harder, sharper thrust. Megatron pawed at him, urging him with field and frame, demanding more and more. Their rhythm was wild, uncoordinated.
They were not lovers, and never had been, so that easy familiarity was not present. Megatron's denta were bared, his lip peeled back in a snarl as though he would shove Optimus away at any moment, but his valve was sweet and pliant, cycling tight and hungry. Optimus shuddered with every rock of his hips, every crash of his spikehead against Megatron's valve ceiling. He pressed his mouth to Megatron's intake in lieu of a kiss, the blunt pressure of his teeth at Megatron's cabling making him shudder.
Megatron's engine roared and his valve clenched down, rippling in a near-immediate overload. He pawed at Optimus, talons digging in, marking up recently repaired armor. Optimus despaired that he would be unable to conceal them from Ratchet, but such worries washed away when Megatron bucked up against him, wordlessly demanding more, more, more. Such was the way with heats; one overload would never be enough.
Optimus braced his weight and slipped a hand between their frames, pressing his thumb against Megatron's node with more strength than he might have used on another lover. Megatron grunted, his thighs tightening, and he overloaded again, clenching down in a near-painful squeeze.
Thank the Matrix for a Prime's stamina. It was the only thing keeping Optimus pressurized against the onslaught of Megatron's valve.
"Don't you dare stop," Megatron snarled, bucking up to force Optimus' spike deeper and deeper, their hips clanging together.
"Who knew you had such honesty in you?" Optimus asked as he gripped Megatron's chin and dared a kiss, half-expecting Megatron to bite him, to refuse this single bit of intimacy.
He didn't. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, denta sharp against Optimus' bottom lip, the taste of energon flavoring the crash of their mouths.
"Or you," Megatron hissed against his mouth, his heels drumming against the back of Optimus' legs. "You would've left if you didn't want me, Prime."
Optimus hummed and gentled his grip on Megatron's chin, running a thumb along the sharp jut of his cheek. "I have always wanted you," he admitted, only here in this abandoned building, where he could later claim the heat madness as an excuse.
He kissed Megatron again, energon between them, like the violence which had become so common now, but the hot clutch of Megatron's valve a promise neither of them had kept. Megatron shuddered and snapped up to meet him, the ripple of his calipers threatening to burst the dam of overload in Optimus' belly.
Megatron's field crashed against his, a chaotic tangle of emotions Optimus couldn't sort. He bit at Optimus' mouth, demanded more and harder, and for once, Optimus gave him what he wanted. He grabbed Megatron's thigh and pushed deep, riding relentlessly against Megatron's ceiling node.
"Again," Optimus demanded against Megatron's mouth. "Give me another."
"Frag you!" Megatron panted, but his head flew back and he overloaded, discharge crawling over his frame and his vents roaring.
His valve became impossibly tight, a clutch Optimus could no longer resist. He panted, forehead dropping to Megatron's shoulder, as his control shattered. He spilled deep within Megatron, long, hot pulses of transfluid that seemed to go on and on and on. Optimus groaned, vents dragging in heated air that stank of pheromones and lubricant and ooze.
Want simmered in Optimus' lines, but Megatron went limp beneath him, ex-venting harshly, sated for now. Optimus sagged on top of him, gathering Megatron into his arms as his instincts demanded, and Megatron went willingly.
"You are not yet done," Optimus observed aloud as Megatron's frame thrummed with a heat building toward another cycle.
Megatron's talons kept their grip on Optimus' collar fairing as though to prevent him from leaving. "I'm aware," he growled.
The air smelled of both of them, and their fields were knitted at the most distant edges, a bare intimacy Optimus had not felt in centuries. "I will stay," he said, though his programming wouldn't allow him to leave either, not with a heat-mate vulnerable and ready.
Megatron snorted, emotions rolling through his field. "Don't put yourself to any trouble on my account, Prime," he muttered, but he ex-vented with exhaustion, frame pulling him toward a sorely needed stasis nap before the heat woke him once more.
Optimus was too energized to recharge himself. He would stay awake, vigilant for potential danger, guarding Megatron's rest as a proper heat-mate would. When Megatron woke, Optimus would feed him energon and coolant, and then the rutting would begin again. This would repeat perhaps twice more before Megatron’s heat would be fully sated, and once that happened, well.
Optimus had best make himself scarce before Megatron decided the best form of gratitude was a blast from his fusion cannon. He had his pride, after all, and Optimus-nee-Orion had stomped on it one too many times.
In a different world, they wouldn't go their separate ways when the fog cleared and they were both within their right minds. Without the grip of their instincts, they would try to kill each other all over again. One day, one of them would even succeed.
But like this, Optimus could pretend for a little while, and the tiny part of him that remained Orion Pax could pretend, too. If only, he thought, if only.
***
Universe: Transformers Prime, post-Orion Pax
Characters: Optimus Prime/Megatron
Rating: M
Enticements: Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Heat Trope
Description: It’s a perfect excuse for both of them when Optimus stumbles upon Megatron caught in the grips of his heat.
There was something soothing about the steady, yet bumpy roll of his tires over asphalt. Roads in Cybertron had been smooth as glass, save in the poorer districts where planetary funds never managed to find their way. The rough roads on Earth reminded Optimus of a time he was Orion Pax.
Right now, it soothed him as much as it bothered him. The weight of the Matrix sat awkwardly in his chassis, an ill-fitting responsibility, with the memories of his time spent aboard the Nemesis, with Megatron, refusing to tuck neatly away in his archives.
It was quiet, which was as much of a relief as it was a challenge. Quiet meant both sides were licking their wounds, counting their resources, waiting for the next moment to strike. Quiet meant waiting, which left too much time to think. About regrets. About what might have been. About the choices he'd made.
Ping!
Optimus startled out of his thoughts as something flashed on the edge of his sensors -- it registered Cybertronian, but the ID was otherwise masked. It could be an artifact or a lost new arrival. It warranted investigation either way.
He took the nearest turn toward the ping, and sent a quick update to Ratchet. He'd radio for back up if it was needed, but Optimus didn't expect trouble. Ratchet reluctantly obeyed.
Asphalt gave way to pockmarked pavement, riddled with weeds. Rusted, abandoned equipment came into view, and looming over them was a dilapidated building, with shattered windows and an ingress large enough for vehicles. It was the perfect place for a Cybertronian to hide.
Optimus transformed and slipped carefully into the building, bracing himself for anything. He did not call out, because if it were Decepticon in origin, he'd rather not give himself away. Inside, it smelled of rust and rot, but something as well -- sweet, potent, hot. A low curl of arousal started within Optimus.
Realization tumbled through his cortex as he emerged into a much larger room, sun filtering through the broken windows, illuminating the sight of none other than Megatron, splayed on a makeshift berth. It was uncommonly warm in here, Megatron venting heat at an abnormal rate, and that sweet smell invaded Optimus' olfactory sensors again.
Oh.
The whine of a fusion cannon pointed Optimus' direction as hazy crimson optics tried to focus on him. "How did you find me?" Megatron gritted out, the cannon wavering, his thighs snapping closed, his long fingers glistening with lubricant from where he'd been touching himself.
"Purely by chance," Optimus said as he moved closer, almost without rational thought, drawn by the delicious wave of invitation Megatron's field and pheromones exuded. "You are in heat. Why are you alone?"
He clocked the stockpile of energon and coolant nearby -- Megatron intended to ride out the length of his heat in this dirty, abandoned building.
"None of your business," Megatron hissed, and the fusion cannon dipped further until he seemed to lose the last of his strength, and his arm dropped. "Get the frag out of here."
"No." Optimus ached, spark and interface array alike. "The heat will pass quicker and with less pain if you have a partner."
Megatron barked a bitter laugh, his vocals like shattered glass. "What makes you think I'd want it to be you?"
Optimus tilted his head as he drew closer and closer, dragging in deeper vents of the sweet scent of Megatron's need. They'd not been intimate like this in their past, but oh how Orion had wanted.
"If you wanted anyone else, you'd be with them now," Optimus pointed out as his spike started to throb, pushing insistently at his panel. "I know Soundwave would be willing."
Megatron's expression twisted into a rictus of fury. "Frag you," he snarled, and the heat of his frame wafted against Optimus, like a curl of invitation.
"I believe the more effective course of action would be for me to frag you," Optimus murmured, a part of him despairing at Megatron's choice of location. It was dirty and uncomfortable, isolated and indefensible.
No mech deserved to spend their heat, their most vulnerable time, in such a place. He longed to take Megatron with him, somewhere safe and warm, well-stocked and comfortable.
Megatron laughed, though it was bitter and sharp with their history. "I didn't know a Prime could be so crass."
"There is little you ever knew about me," Optimus murmured, close enough to touch now, so touch he did, resting his hand on Megatron's ankle, thumb stroking a sensitive cable within the delicate structure.
Megatron shuddered, his thighs inching apart, the waft of his need hitting Optimus like a solid blow. There was lubricant beneath his aft, glistening wetly, and Optimus knew he would be swollen and wet, pliant with the force of his need.
"Clearly," Megatron gasped, and he opened for Optimus as Optimus' hands skated up his legs, and he found himself kneeling between Megatron's thighs.
Megatron's vents roared, his frame craning toward Optimus' touch. His valve was bared, swollen and dripping, and Optimus dragged his fingers over the plump pleats, delicately brushing the raised anterior node. A whimper clawed itself out of Megatron's intake -- followed immediately by the sharp burst of embarrassed fury.
Optimus didn't comment. Instead, he slid two fingers into the hot clutch of Megatron's valve and laid his thumb over that throbbing node. Megatron's back bowed, his thighs trembling. He clenched down, a wave of electric static crawling over his his frame. Need yawed in his field, grasping at Optimus, trying to drag him closer.
Optmus' spike ached. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than to slide his spike into this tight heat, or place his mouth over the dripping wet and consume Megatron until he was weak and pliant from pleasure.
Megatron growled. "Frag you," but there was little heat behind the curse as he pawed at Optimus, thighs pushing further open, desperation ripe in his field. "Get your damned spike out, Prime."
Optimus groaned and his panel popped immediately, spike emerging in a sharp jut of eagerness. Pre-fluid beaded at the tip, and he couldn't stop himself if he tried, not with Megatron smelling so sweet and hungry. Not knowing this was an opportunity he would never have again. Without the heat, Megatron would have shot him, and they would be trying to claw out each other's sparks.
What a perfect excuse they have now. How lucky Optimus was to find Megatron like this, caught in the grips of his head, with his walls down, and his desperation so acute as to make him reasonably compliant.
Megatron snarled and grabbed at Optimus, hooking his claws in Optimus' collar fairing and dragging him closer, firmly between Megatron's thighs. "This didn't happen!"
"Of course it didn't," Optimus demurred, but his control shattered as his spike found Megatron's valve and sank deep. He groaned when Megatron arched up to meet him, legs clamping tight to hold him in place.
Optimus' vents hitched. He withdrew and sank into Megatron again, a harder, sharper thrust. Megatron pawed at him, urging him with field and frame, demanding more and more. Their rhythm was wild, uncoordinated.
They were not lovers, and never had been, so that easy familiarity was not present. Megatron's denta were bared, his lip peeled back in a snarl as though he would shove Optimus away at any moment, but his valve was sweet and pliant, cycling tight and hungry. Optimus shuddered with every rock of his hips, every crash of his spikehead against Megatron's valve ceiling. He pressed his mouth to Megatron's intake in lieu of a kiss, the blunt pressure of his teeth at Megatron's cabling making him shudder.
Megatron's engine roared and his valve clenched down, rippling in a near-immediate overload. He pawed at Optimus, talons digging in, marking up recently repaired armor. Optimus despaired that he would be unable to conceal them from Ratchet, but such worries washed away when Megatron bucked up against him, wordlessly demanding more, more, more. Such was the way with heats; one overload would never be enough.
Optimus braced his weight and slipped a hand between their frames, pressing his thumb against Megatron's node with more strength than he might have used on another lover. Megatron grunted, his thighs tightening, and he overloaded again, clenching down in a near-painful squeeze.
Thank the Matrix for a Prime's stamina. It was the only thing keeping Optimus pressurized against the onslaught of Megatron's valve.
"Don't you dare stop," Megatron snarled, bucking up to force Optimus' spike deeper and deeper, their hips clanging together.
"Who knew you had such honesty in you?" Optimus asked as he gripped Megatron's chin and dared a kiss, half-expecting Megatron to bite him, to refuse this single bit of intimacy.
He didn't. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, denta sharp against Optimus' bottom lip, the taste of energon flavoring the crash of their mouths.
"Or you," Megatron hissed against his mouth, his heels drumming against the back of Optimus' legs. "You would've left if you didn't want me, Prime."
Optimus hummed and gentled his grip on Megatron's chin, running a thumb along the sharp jut of his cheek. "I have always wanted you," he admitted, only here in this abandoned building, where he could later claim the heat madness as an excuse.
He kissed Megatron again, energon between them, like the violence which had become so common now, but the hot clutch of Megatron's valve a promise neither of them had kept. Megatron shuddered and snapped up to meet him, the ripple of his calipers threatening to burst the dam of overload in Optimus' belly.
Megatron's field crashed against his, a chaotic tangle of emotions Optimus couldn't sort. He bit at Optimus' mouth, demanded more and harder, and for once, Optimus gave him what he wanted. He grabbed Megatron's thigh and pushed deep, riding relentlessly against Megatron's ceiling node.
"Again," Optimus demanded against Megatron's mouth. "Give me another."
"Frag you!" Megatron panted, but his head flew back and he overloaded, discharge crawling over his frame and his vents roaring.
His valve became impossibly tight, a clutch Optimus could no longer resist. He panted, forehead dropping to Megatron's shoulder, as his control shattered. He spilled deep within Megatron, long, hot pulses of transfluid that seemed to go on and on and on. Optimus groaned, vents dragging in heated air that stank of pheromones and lubricant and ooze.
Want simmered in Optimus' lines, but Megatron went limp beneath him, ex-venting harshly, sated for now. Optimus sagged on top of him, gathering Megatron into his arms as his instincts demanded, and Megatron went willingly.
"You are not yet done," Optimus observed aloud as Megatron's frame thrummed with a heat building toward another cycle.
Megatron's talons kept their grip on Optimus' collar fairing as though to prevent him from leaving. "I'm aware," he growled.
The air smelled of both of them, and their fields were knitted at the most distant edges, a bare intimacy Optimus had not felt in centuries. "I will stay," he said, though his programming wouldn't allow him to leave either, not with a heat-mate vulnerable and ready.
Megatron snorted, emotions rolling through his field. "Don't put yourself to any trouble on my account, Prime," he muttered, but he ex-vented with exhaustion, frame pulling him toward a sorely needed stasis nap before the heat woke him once more.
Optimus was too energized to recharge himself. He would stay awake, vigilant for potential danger, guarding Megatron's rest as a proper heat-mate would. When Megatron woke, Optimus would feed him energon and coolant, and then the rutting would begin again. This would repeat perhaps twice more before Megatron’s heat would be fully sated, and once that happened, well.
Optimus had best make himself scarce before Megatron decided the best form of gratitude was a blast from his fusion cannon. He had his pride, after all, and Optimus-nee-Orion had stomped on it one too many times.
In a different world, they wouldn't go their separate ways when the fog cleared and they were both within their right minds. Without the grip of their instincts, they would try to kill each other all over again. One day, one of them would even succeed.
But like this, Optimus could pretend for a little while, and the tiny part of him that remained Orion Pax could pretend, too. If only, he thought, if only.
