Chapter Text
On a different night, a call from Orion Pax at this unholy hour would have caused Megatronus concern—and, had he been thinking more clearly, tonight would have been no exception.
Regrettably, on this particular evening, clarity of thought was beyond Megatronus’ grasp. His recharge cycle had been plagued by nightmares, endless visions of the worst parts of his past playing in a panic-laden loop. He had not relived his traumas this viscerally in months—long enough now that their resurrection came as a surprise.
The worst of it was that it seemed to have struck from nowhere.
Nothing about his evening should have triggered this response. His afternoon battle had not been a death match; he hadn’t participated in one of those in weeks, since no Cybertronian opponent was willing to bet their life against his blade. The video call he and Orion had shared had been a delight, as always, despite the quarrel that had preceded it. Nothing they’d discussed should have brought back these ancient memories.
And yet, they haunted Megatronus all the same, attacking the less-fortified places of his mind and spark with vicious fervor.
In the wake of those bad dreams, seeing Orion’s call sign on his HUD was an immense relief.
CALL.FROM: [DES]ORION.PAX
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
C.LVL:6
Perhaps the archivist was possessed of some kind of foresight, or maybe he had divined from their evening call that a difficult night lay ahead for his friend. It did not much matter either way. Megatronus was just grateful he would soon hear Orion’s voice, soothing and low, a comfort in the dark.
He answered on the first beep, for once not caring how overeager he might look.
“Hello, Orion,” said Megatronus, still prone upon his berth. His voice was even harsher than usual, laced with exhausted static. He only hoped he did not sound as miserable as he felt. “Calling back so soon? You must miss me far more than you have expressed. You need only have said as much! I am happy to grace your audials with my dulcet vocals whenever you desire.”
He expected Orion to laugh and deflect with some fond, modest remark. Instead, he heard a soft, whispery sound—a hum of primed-up engines and gusting vents, a vocalizer murmuring a wordless groan.
A fervent, erotic groan.
Megatronus frowned and sat up, pressing two digits to his audial. He could not possibly be hearing what he imagined he was, there on the other end. He was obviously mistaken, no matter what it sounded like.
“Orion?”
“Mm,” came the reply, still faint, almost breathless. “Megatronus…”
Megatronus stilled, stunned. The way Orion breathed his name pierced straight through to his spark. Orion had never before used that tone where Megatronus was concerned—reverent, tender, awed.
It almost felt… romantic.
This struck a strange, discordant note with what Megatronus knew to be true of his friendship with Orion Pax—Orion, who had ignored every flirtation Megatronus had attempted; Orion, who touched him so fondly and yet displayed no lust to follow it. Orion, who had ducked and weaved past Megatronus’ every effort to seduce him with a polite smile and a quick change of subject.
To hear him murmur Megatronus’ designation that way—like a lover spread open upon his berth—nearly caused Megatronus to short-circuit.
“Orion,” Megatronus repeated, more forcefully this time. This was not the archivist he had expected, and suddenly he did not know what to do with himself, how to interpret this late night call.
Come to think of it… why had Orion called him? They had already spoken this evening, on video call, long past Orion’s self-set bedtime. So what had inspired him to call again, when he ought to have been in recharge?
Orion still hadn’t provided a coherent response. Megatronus half-wondered if he was even aware he’d pinged Megatronus’ frequency.
Finally, when his nerves could stand no more, Megatronus raised his voice and snapped, “Orion Pax!”
That seemed to do the trick. First there came a groggy, rumbling sound, an engine and all systems coming online; then a sharp, surprised intake of air. Then static. Then a series of less-than-dignified bleeps.
“Megatronus?” said Orion, voice quavering - and ah, yes, there he was, familiar and himself again, albeit more confused than Megatronus had anticipated. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me, obviously,” said Megatronus. “You called?”
Orion paused, dead silence greeting Megatronus’ question. “I did?”
“Yes,” said Megatronus, exasperated. “Check your call logs and you should see as much.” His frown deepened. It wasn’t like Orion to do something like this. His every action was usually so considered, his responses measured and restrained. Perhaps he had picked up some sort of virus, or perhaps his delayed recharge cycle had scrambled his CPU. “Are you well?”
Orion made a baffled noise. Megatronus heard him stumble, a crash of clumsy pedes and complaining joints as he undoubtedly rose from berth. “Oh. I… yes, I am very well. Thank you for asking. Forgive me, Megatronus. It is just… I did not intend to do this.”
Megatronus arched an optic ridge. “You dialed my frequency inadvertently? In power-down?”
Orion gave a shuddering laugh. In the background, Megatronus could hear the roar of fans—Orion’s, he presumed, turned up to full volume. Something must have caused his systems to overheat.
Intriguing.
“It… would appear so, yes,” said Orion. “I’m afraid I made the call in error. I was dr…” He stopped, resetting his vocalizer with a loud, deliberate click. “I suppose my comm line must have glitched and dialed the last frequency I pinged. Forgive me for disturbing you. I did not wake you, did I?”
Megatronus did not know of any glitch that might cause such a thing to happen. There must have been another, less conspicuous cause… but as it appeared Orion was in no danger, he shrugged off his concerns about it.
“No, you did not wake me,” he sighed, collapsing onto his berth. The thud of his massive frame reverberated. “Recharge is quite the elusive prize tonight, I’m afraid.”
Orion hummed a fretful note. “Is something wrong?”
“Not as such.” Megatronus hesitated, considering what to reveal. His nightmares were a vulnerability, a weakness that could be weaponized against him in the hands of the wrong mech. He was not fool enough to trust just anyone with that kind of power.
But Orion Pax was not just anyone.
Oh, what was the harm? He need not say too much about the contents. He was sure Orion would not press him. In all the long years of their friendship, Orion had never once crossed a boundary Megatronus set. He was the only being Megatronus knew that he could say as much about.
Megatronus exhaled slowly, measuring his words. “On occasion, my mind dredges up old memories from my time within the mines. Tonight was one such night. I awoke for the final time an hour or two ago and have not recharged since.”
He knew at once that Orion had intuited what he’d not confessed aloud: that these old memories were painful and traumatic, the sort of files one tried to bury or delete.
“I’m sorry, Megatronus,” said Orion, quietly—not pitying, but kind. “Was it something we discussed?”
“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Megatronus assured him. “The timing is unfortunate, but you are almost certainly not its cause.”
“Well, I am glad of that, at least. Do you feel any better now that you are awake?”
“Yes—and no,” Megatronus sighed. “By dawn all will be well, but at the moment, I am… off-balance.”
“May I help in any way?”
Megatronus smiled. “Hearing your voice is help enough,” he said—and instantly regretted it. He should not speak so tenderly to one who did not return his feelings. But how could he do otherwise, when Orion had woken from a dead sleep and listened without judgment to Megatronus’ troubles? “Seeing your designation appear upon my HUD was a welcome surprise.”
Orion’s radiant smile was as plain in his vocals as it would have been on his face, had he been in the room. “In that case, I’m pleased I called you—even if it was a mistake.”
Megatronus’ spark throbbed.
“Just as pleased as I am to be your happy mistake,” he replied, laughing softly. “Still, I imagine you wish to recharge now, as you must have been doing before. Perhaps you have more pleasant dreams to return to.”
Orion suddenly bleated static, a loud click echoing as he reset his vocalizer twice in a row. “What? No, no dreams! What made you suggest such a thing?”
Strange… there was no reason for Orion to take umbrage with what he’d said. The archivist’s denial was so swift as to be suspicious.
“When last I looked, dreaming was a typical part of recharge,” said Megatronus, dryly. “I did not imagine the mere suggestion of such might cause such consternation.”
“Oh.” There was a lingering, embarrassed silence, long enough that Megatronus wondered if the line had glitched and cut them off. “Right. Of course.” Then, defensively, Orion added: “I was not dreaming.”
In the absence of holovid, Megatronus could only cast a quizzical glance at his own reflection in the dull metal of his ceiling. “Alright, then.”
“I wasn’t,” Orion insisted.
Megatronus rolled his optics. If Orion was attempting to hide something, he was doing a very poor job of it. “Yes, so you’ve said. Then you must wish to return to recharge… dreamless or otherwise.”
“Oh… I do not think so, actually. I am very much awake now,” Orion rushed to say. “I feel quite energized. If you wish to speak a little longer, I would not object.”
“Are you certain you are well enough for that? You appear to be… out of sorts.”
“I am perfectly well,” said Orion, in that prim, sharp tone that meant he wasn’t well at all. “A minor glitch in my comm line is hardly a serious matter.”
So be it. If Orion wished to be stubborn about it, who was Megatronus to deny him? “Poor librarian! No wonder you require such a strict bedtime,” he teased. “Clearly you cannot operate efficiently otherwise. I shall have to bear that in mind for the future.”
“This has nothing to do with my bedtime!” Orion exclaimed. Megatronus could picture him as he must look: pacing here and there around his habsuite, his finials trembling in outrage. The visual warmed Megatronus from helm to heels. “My systems must require a data purge, or something of that nature.”
“Such a basic task ought to be part of your personal maintenance routine,” said Megatronus. He hoped Orion could feel his reproachful look even at this distance, and even without seeing it. “You are neglecting yourself.”
“I’ve been busy,” Orion grumbled. “The Hall of Records—and a certain gladiator—keep me occupied.”
Oh, he was keeping Orion occupied, was he? Megatronus bristled, affronted. That remark tore wide a wound that hadn’t quite healed—one inflicted by the bitter quarrel that had been the ultimate cause of their prior video call.
The quarrel over Orion’s canceled visit.
The visit Orion had postponed to serve the Hall instead.
If all had gone as they’d intended, Megatronus would have seen Orion the very next morning. He’d been in the midst of finalizing an itinerary for their time together when Orion had called from nowhere, informing him with deep regret that he had received new orders, and that he wouldn’t be coming after all.
Next quartex, he’d promised, softly. I will be there for a certainty then. Which meant it would be another month at least before Megatronus could touch Orion, breathe him in. Look him in the face directly.
Megatronus’ frustrations—carnal, romantic, and otherwise—had erupted right then and there. Orion’s visits were a beacon of light in an otherwise endless march of darkness and despair. Having that one happiness stolen away from him on the eve of its occurrence was not just a disappointment; it was a devastation.
He’d been furious—furious that he was to be denied the one good thing Iacon had given him, the one thing he hungered for almost as much as the Primacy itself.
He’d hated it even more that Orion had said, I miss you, and I want to see you still, and May I see your face tonight, at least, on video?, because he’d said the words with such yearning, as if he might return the love Megatronus felt for him. It had hurt, in ways too abstract and agonizing to name, to hear him say such things and know he did not mean them. Not the way Megatronus wished he did.
So Megatronus had let his wrath unleash, and he had shouted and spat insults he now bitterly regretted, and Orion had endured them and forgiven him somehow, even though Megatronus almost certainly did not deserve it.
Forgiveness granted, they had talked for hours on video call, both reluctant to let the other go. The call had finally concluded when both were nearly falling asleep mid-sentence.
And now, here they were, dredging the matter up again.
It would have been better for Megatronus to rise above. To move forward. To take the higher ground. But Megatronus had never been one to take the higher ground, especially once thwarted.
It was Orion’s profession that had stolen him away; to proclaim that Megatronus often did the same was not only a blatant lie, it was insulting.
Megatronus snapped before he could think better of it. “A ‘certain gladiator’, as I recall, will occupy hardly any of your hours this week—even those already set aside for him. If there is any ultimate cause for your self-neglect, it is most assuredly the Hall, not I. Let’s not place blame where it is not due, shall we?”
Orion became very quiet, all his good humor evaporating like mist at dawn. “You are still angry with me.”
Yes! Megatronus nearly shouted. Yes, of course I am angry, and I have every right to be. You would spend the hours meant to be mine serving those who despise me instead. Why give yourself to them when it is me that you belong with?
But he had already said those things, in slightly less obvious words, earlier that night, and repeating them would change nothing.
“I am disappointed,” said Megatronus, through tightly-gritted dentae. “But I have accepted that you have an engagement of far greater importance to attend to.”
Orion’s librarian’s frown was audible when he spoke. “Do not put words in my mouth. No engagement is of more importance to me than you.”
This time, Megatronus couldn’t bite his tongue. “If that were true, you would have found some method by which to visit me regardless.”
Orion made a low, frustrated sound. “Believe me, Megatronus, I would far prefer to be with you. But I cannot refuse an assignment from Cybertronian Intelligence. They have asked Ultra Magnus and myself to deliver a rare relic to Minerva Terminal, and given the delicacy of said relic, the task cannot be entrusted to another. It must be me who goes.”
Megatronus sighed, passing a servo over his eyes. “I know. I understand that.”
“Yet you still blame me for not coming.”
No. It wasn’t that he blamed Orion. But he could not direct his fury anywhere else. He could not rail at Orion’s superiors for forcing Orion to abandon him, nor challenge the whole government for thieving Orion’s hours. Recompense for this stolen joy was outside his control. He had no power and no platform, no way to bend the universe to do as he commanded it. He was helpless in the face of a force far larger than himself.
When faced with such immense, inexorable power, most beings cowered in sullen acceptance of that which they could not change. But not Megatronus. Each time, he chose instead to hurl himself straight at it, until either it broke, or he did.
He was fairly certain now that the universe would break first.
“It is an injustice of the highest order,” Megatronus snarled, without answering Orion’s real query. “Why must I be the thing you sacrifice when some other cause comes along? Do I matter so little to you that you do not feel obliged to share even a fraction of your time with me?”
“How can you believe such a thing?” said Orion, in a startled, wounded tone. “Never mind that I am sharing time with you right now!”
“In person, Orion,” Megatronus growled. “Face to face! This—these calls, our comms, even holovid when it is possible—only sustains me for so long. You should be here with me in Kaon. I crave your presence at my side, as my loyal advisor and brother-in-arms. My beloved… friend.” By the Pit, he’d come close to tripping over that one, hadn’t he? Far, far too close. “Is that so unreasonable?”
“If not for the danger my denial posed, I would not have allowed any task to part me from you,” Orion replied, almost as fiercely. “Do you think, if I refused, and crept away to Kaon, that they would not blame you as well for my failure? They will seek any excuse to destroy you and those like you, as you very well know. My obedience is as much a shield to you as it is a dagger to my spark. I am keeping you safe.”
And just like that, the anger siphoned out of Megatronus. He should have known. Orion obeyed to appear compliant, and to ensure that Megatronus was perceived as compliant by proxy. He had recognized that, somewhere in his spark; but his own disappointment had overridden his wiser instincts and caused him to lash out, as usual.
He did not often make a mess of things—but where Orion Pax was concerned, he did not seem capable of doing much else.
He sighed and buried his face in his servos, regretting every word he’d spoken. “You are right,” he murmured. “Of course you are right. Forgive me, my Orion. It is just…” I ache for you. I hunger for your company, your smile, your resonant voice and your open field. I want you with me, always. “... difficult to be so far from you,” he finished.
“I understand,” said Orion, softly. “I feel the same. I will do my utmost to make it up to you next month—I swear it, Megatronus.”
Megatronus made a dubious sound. “How?”
“I am negotiating for a few extra days off-shift. If I am successful, I may perhaps be able to stay a week—maybe longer.”
Despite himself, Megatronus brightened. A week? Orion had never before visited for more than two and a half days. Megatronus thought of all the places he still wished to take the archivist, all the things he wished for Orion to see; all the quiet time he had thus far been denied, and what kinds of intimacies he might coax from his librarian, with so many consecutive hours together. “That would please me very much.”
“Enough so to forgive me for my absence this week?”
Megatronus hummed, as though he was considering the matter. He was not ready to admit defeat just yet, although this new promise certainly eased the sting. “I imagine I can find it within my spark to allow that, in time.”
“Good. Then I will make certain I am granted that leave, and that nothing is permitted to disturb it.” Orion reset his vocalizer again, awkwardly, a lingering silence dragging between them. “I imagine this gloomy subject does little to ease your troubled mind. What else can I do to help you?”
“Hmm.” Megatronus frowned up at his ceiling, considering. He was still mildly displeased, both with himself and with Orion; but if Orion was willing to move forward, Megatronus would do so as well. “I do not wish to overburden you with frivolous demands, but… would you consider reading aloud for me? It might be distraction enough to let me recharge in peace.”
Orion’s voice warmed at once, affectionate and sincere. “I would love to.”
Megatronus’ spark pulsed hot and bright in his chest, like a merry lantern in the dark.
“Give me a moment, and I will find an appropriate record,” Orion continued. More gentle thudding as he walked to a shelf, and then the sound of him muttering to himself for a little while. It was unbearably charming to hear him mumbling to his record collection as though they were sentient beings that could reply. “Hmm… wherever have you gotten to? I was so certain I placed you with the other philosophers… Ah, here! I have the latest from Platonicus available. I recall you mentioned wishing for a copy, but perhaps this will do instead. Let’s see…”
Megatronus shuttered his optics, focusing his attention on the sonorous tone of Orion’s voice. It did not particularly matter what he was actually saying; knowing that he was there on the other end was a balm to Megatronus’ exhausted processor, a comfort unlike any he had ever before allowed himself.
The tension in his tired frame eased. Bit by bit, he drifted off to the sound of Orion’s vocals, the strange beginning to their call long-forgotten.
Forgotten, that was, until a few days after, when Soundwave suddenly burst into his quarters and shoved a datapad into his servos.
“What’s this?” said Megatronus, raising a knife-sharp optic ridge. “Some urgent missive from our spies? Reconnaissance?”
:: One might call it reconnaissance, yes, :: commed Soundwave, his visor curiously blank. :: Soundwave: believes Megatronus ought to see it. ::
“Hmm.” Megatronus glanced at the datapad, expecting a report or notice, or perhaps an official document uncovered from the High Council’s databases.
Instead, his optics were graced with a post from one of the Grid’s popular anonymous forums, where gossip, idle tales, niche special interests, and absurd political stances were exchanged.
He would give Soundwave this, at least: the title was certainly eye-catching.
D/CIPHER SUBFORUM:DREAM-INTERP
THREAD: ADVICE - INTERFACE DREAM ABOUT BEST FRIEND???
Megatronus cast Soundwave an incredulous look. “This is the intelligence you wish me to review?”
:: Soundwave: believes this post to be directly related to Megatronus. ::
Megatronus scoffed. What a ridiculous notion. A post such as this had nothing to do with his politics. He attempted to return the datapad, irritated that Soundwave had interrupted him for something so banal. “What possible relation could such content have to me?”
:: Megatronus: read it? ::
“Of course I did not read it,” Megatronus snapped. He did not have time for this. He had a political speech to complete, three Pit battles to prepare for, and a supply caravan heist to plan. Worse still, his processor was currently throbbing with pain where an opponent had smashed her elbow into his helmet. He was running low on both hours and patience. “I have read the title, which is all I require to know whatever it contains is useless to me.”
Soundwave lifted one spindly arm and jabbed his digit in the datapad’s direction. He did not need to speak to make his intention plain. Megatronus was not getting out of this without reading the full body of the post, no matter how fervently he protested.
Megatronus worked his jaw, glowering at the faceless mech. “As you wish. Since you are so insistent… give me a moment.”
His gaze returned to the datapad, where the post still sat in full color—white text against a bluish-purple background, garish and cheap-looking. It seemed innocuous enough. The post was on some forum dedicated to what passed for the ‘study’ of dream interpretation, where standard de-frag procedures were treated as a spiritual, otherworldly experience.
It was not, in short, the sort of place Megatronus usually chose to spend his spare time—and the title of the post, eye-catching though it was, did very little to alter his low opinion.
THREAD: ADVICE - INTERFACE DREAM ABOUT BEST FRIEND???
Posted by: U: 0PH56A7O
Greetings, all. I have a query to pose to those in this forum, in the absence of more typical scholarly sources and academic journals. I have not seen the topic of my inquiry addressed here in prior posts, either. I hesitate to humiliate myself in this fashion, but I find myself in need of advice, and this audience seems best positioned to assist.
To preface: I have a tight bond with a cherished, beloved friend, a mech whom I value with my whole spark. He possesses a depth of understanding of the universe that I greatly admire, an intensity of passion I envy. He is accomplished both athletically and intellectually, having achieved some level of fame as both a sporting star and an orator, despite many attempts to drive him back into obscurity. We come from vastly differing backgrounds, but we are often of a similar mind, and those times that we argue, we always return to each other with deeper respect afterward. I consider that a rare and precious thing.
In short, I cannot overstate my esteem for this mech. He is the most important being in my life.
Regrettably, we live in different cities, so we are apart most of the time. I see him approximately once every quartex when our schedules allow for it, but due to a project I must complete as commanded by my superiors, I have been forced to cancel my intended visit this week. I miss him terribly, as one does when one is separated from a friend, but we still speak daily over comms, and we do try to call each other nightly before we recharge. It helps somewhat, but nothing can fully ease the ache our separation causes me. I am sparksick without him.
This past evening, we changed to video for the first time in many weeks. My friend is often complimentary of me, far more so than I deserve, and he was very much in fine form. Due to our prolonged separation, we spoke far longer than we usually do, causing both of us to retire late into the night.
Suffice it to say, when I recharged, I experienced a vivid dream of interface with him. I hoped to brush it off at first as a simple glitch, but it has affected me more deeply than I could ever have imagined. The emotions the dream inspired still linger, and now I cannot stop thinking about him in this context. What it would be like to be with him. Whether he would ever desire me in this fashion. How it would feel to be his.
This has never happened before, and I have not previously entertained any (conscious) carnal or romantic fantasies about him. I do not understand why my processor would produce such images. The connection we share is more important to me than any other in my life, and I have no desire to jeopardize that with unnecessary complications. Moreover, it would never be my wish to disrespect him in any fashion, least of all in this one.
Understand that this is not some surface-level attraction to a good-looking mech; he is, in every manner, the greatest mech I have ever known, and I am privileged to call him my friend.
I suppose I am hoping one of you can shed light on the general metaphorical interpretation for interface-based dreams. Knowing that the CPU is simply processing fragmented data, what could have triggered such a dream in me? Should I be concerned?
I thank you for your considered response.
On the surface, nothing about the post struck Megatronus as odd. It was exactly what he’d imagined it to be: some poor, foolhardy mech seeking answers from a crowd of ignorants for a problem with an obvious solution. But despite himself, Megatronus was intrigued. Something about the text felt… familiar. As though he had read this writer’s work before. As though he knew the specifics of this situation.
He did not wish to acknowledge that Soundwave had been right, however; so he merely scowled and tried a second time to return the datapad. “There. I have now read its contents. What am I meant to conclude from it? I do not see my designation mentioned, and it bears no obvious relation to me and my work.”
Soundwave cocked his helm. :: Megatronus: does not recognize the writing? ::
Megatronus’ plating rustled. So Soundwave had felt it, too—that familiarity, that echo of some beloved, but unknown, voice. “The style does feel familiar to me,” he admitted, grudgingly. “But I cannot begin to fathom why that is.”
Soundwave cast him a pointed look—which was quite a feat, with nothing but a blank screen for a face. When Megatronus offered no further explanation, Soundwave’s vents gusted in irritation, and his visor flashed bright and bold, an image forming in shades of shiny red and royal blue…
An image of Orion Pax.
Megatronus’ eyes snapped wide, a bolt of lightning cutting through him. “You believe Orion wrote this?”
Soundwave gave a short, sharp nod.
Megatronus’ processor spun. It did sound like Orion’s writing style, come to think of it; that was what had felt so familiar when he’d first read it without context. Now that Soundwave had given him this revelation, he could almost hear Orion’s vocals reflected in every sentence. He found it difficult to picture Orion seeking advice from some disreputable Grid forum, but then, he was an archivist, and research was his specialty. The writer had mentioned hours of searching, and that traditional methods had failed him. Perhaps Orion would turn to a forum such as this, in hopes of receiving sources that might support the answers provided to him there.
But if Orion was indeed the author of this text… then…
He swallowed, plating rustling. “You believe Orion Pax created this post after dreaming of me. Is that it?”
Soundwave’s shoulders bobbed in silent laughter, followed by a second, more mocking nod.
Several days had passed since then, but Megatronus remembered, with sudden clarity, Orion’s late-night call—the dreamy way he’d first murmured Megatronus’ name, and the howl of his fans when he’d come awake, and the way he’d vehemently denied ever having dreamed at all. How humiliated he had sounded. The soft, aching moan he’d made when Megatronus had first answered him.
Had his supposed comm line glitch been caused by this particular dream?
“No. No, you are mistaken,” said Megatronus, more weakly than he’d intended. “Orion Pax does not desire me. I admit the writing sounds very much like his, and the scenario is not impossible, but - ”
Soundwave flashed an emoji on his visor—a full Cybertronian face rolling its eyes. He snatched the datapad from Megatronus, tapped something on the screen, and returned it to him, revealing that he had unspooled the entire comment thread for Megatronus to view.
“I am not wasting precious time reading comments,” Megatronus snarled. “Soundwave, this is - ”
But his gaze caught upon the top reply, and the words died instantly upon his glossa, forgotten in the wake of what he saw.
U: QXI7587R
This is probably going to sound a bit rude, and forgive me if it does, but… are you *sure* you don’t have some sort of romantic attachment to your friend? Or that he isn’t attracted to you? I honestly don’t know any friends who comm each other all day and then also call each other to talk at night. That’s decidedly a thing that conjunxes do.U: 0PH56A7O
We are very close, but as far as I am aware he has never entertained an attraction to me, nor would I expect him to. He is an accomplished public speaker and a celebrity in gladiatorial circles, while I am but a humble clerk. He may pick and choose his lovers as he pleases, being both clever and charismatic. I cannot imagine he would ever think of me in such a light. I possess no charms that others cannot outshine. I am a rather bookish, stuffy sort of person. I am genuinely surprised and delighted he enjoys my company at all.
Megatronus’ vents caught. It felt as though the air had been knocked straight out of him. He could not help but lean closer, entangled in the writer’s voice and the description of his supposed “friend”; how lovingly the poster spoke of him, how quick he was to denigrate himself in comparison.
A humble clerk. An accomplished public speaker and a celebrity in gladiatorial circles. Clever and charismatic. Genuinely surprised he enjoys my company at all…
“Hmm.” Megatronus dropped into a chair, datapad in hand. “That does sound rather specific, doesn’t it?”
Soundwave’s visor flashed, in his unique approximation of a grin and a wink.
“But surely Orion cannot believe himself to be…” Megatronus glanced again at the reply. “‘... possessed of no charms that others cannot outshine’.”
:: Orion Pax: unaware of qualities Megatronus: finds enticing. ::
How was that possible, when Megatronus had endeavored to compliment Orion at every opportunity—when he had gone to such pains to show Orion through both word and deed how much he admired him?
One desperate, final notion occurred to him. “If this truly was Orion, he would almost certainly have mentioned the argument between us that precipitated our recent video call. It would bear a great deal of relevance to the scenario, I should think. Yet I see no mention of - ”
Soundwave merely gestured.
So much for that, then. Reluctantly, Megatronus returned to the datapad and searched the remaining comments, quickly finding another set in which probably-Orion had replied.
U: 2241EEHH
Any reason he might have been on your mind other than the long call? Sounds like you visit pretty regularly, so maybe you’re stressed about not seeing him?U: 0PH56A7O
That seems very likely. I bitterly regret that I am being kept from him this quartex. I hate to disappoint him, and he was quite unhappy with me when I told him our plans must be canceled. We quarreled fiercely about it.U: N1CY0YNI
Wait a second, what was the argument about?U: 0PH56A7O
It was about my absence and our evening calls. He remarked that I was happy enough to speak over comms and occupy his days with chatter, but not attached enough to him to trouble with seeing him in person as I promised, even though by rights those days belonged to him. He indicated calls and comms only do so much to sustain him, and that time spent in person matters greatly to him. I’m inclined to agree with him. I hate to be parted from him, and hate the physical distance between us.
At any rate, we’ve since apologized, and things seem fine now.U: N1CY0YNI
Uhhhhh OP idk how to tell you this but it kind of sounds like he thinks he should be getting MORE of your attention, as in, you should be making a priority to visit him because he views you as his partner.
Alright. He could no longer pretend denial here. This was absolutely Orion. The writer had all but quoted Megatronus in his remarks about their argument, at least twice. By rights those days belonged to him… only do so much to sustain him…
Which brought to light some interesting questions about Orion’s feelings, and, perhaps more crucially, what this dream of his had entailed.
He’d dreamt of Megatronus in his berth. Dreamt of interfacing with him. His desire had been so powerful that he’d dialed Megatronus’ frequency in his sleep, his starving, anguished frame crying out for his chosen lover in a wild attempt to seize what a conscious Orion Pax never would.
And now, as he himself had said, he could not stop thinking about it.
“Does he speak of the dream in question anywhere?” Megatronus’ optics danced over the screen, seeking some sort of description. Orion had always seemed both pure and unspoiled to him—but that mention of vivid details made Megatronus wonder. It changed nothing where his feelings were concerned either way; Orion was Orion, whether he had bedded one mech or one thousand. But understanding Orion’s fantasies would provide him with the necessary tools to ensure Orion experienced nothing but the utmost pleasure when they at last consummated the unspoken flame between them. Perhaps he could glean some notion of what revved Orion’s engines from his description…
:: Oh, *now* Megatronus: interested, :: Soundwave mocked. :: Soundwave: found no details. Megatronus: may be required to ask Orion himself. ::
An image of an alarmed, recoiling Orion flickered through Megatronus’ mind. “No,” he barked at once. “No, I cannot possibly be so direct with him. You have seen for yourself how he speaks of us, our friendship. His desire for me, real or imagined, frightens and confuses him. My pursuit must be subtle if I do not wish to drive him away.”
:: Orion Pax: may require directness to understand your intent. Indirect method: a failure, thus far. ::
Megatronus scowled. “I do not wish to humiliate him by confronting him with what I have seen until I am certain of his identity.” He was changing tactics, avoiding Soundwave’s actually very valid point, and he knew it. Perhaps all Orion required was an honest conversation. He did seem the type who would like—nay, need things to be straightforward.
But if this post was not Orion’s… and if Orion did not truly reciprocate Megatronus’ feelings…
Megatronus abruptly shut down the datapad, rising and handing it back to Soundwave. “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention,” he said, brusquely. “I will consider what to do with the information. In the meantime, continue your reconnaissance as before. There are more important affairs to attend to than my personal life.”
:: Soundwave: obeys Megatronus’ command. :: Soundwave took Megatronus’ silent instruction to depart and glided to the door, pausing only to add one thing:
:: Soundwave: wishes Megatronus luck. ::
Chapter 2
Summary:
Megatronus exhaled, venting hotly into the quiet of his hab. There was nothing for it now; he might as well say it and have done with it. “What is your moral and philosophical stance regarding interface?”
Chapter Text
Megatronus had not lied about his other, more important affairs; but in the weeks that followed, he set them all aside and focused his formidable attention upon Orion’s dream instead. He could hardly do otherwise, when he had spent so long believing his affections were not returned. Now, he must seize the opportunity he had been granted and use it to his fullest advantage. Whenever he found a spare moment, he devoured every word his archivist wrote, seeking answers in the earnest, thoughtful responses Orion composed to those with questions.
Most of them he found delightful—but some were purely exasperating.
The wonderful ones, the incredible ones, were those where Orion complimented and praised him, speaking fondly of Megatronus’ wit, his intellect, his skill as a fighter—even his good looks, which Orion had never mentioned before. Megatronus saved his favorites to a personal file so he might reread them whenever he liked, even keeping a few stored in short-term memory for easier access. It was a lovely reassurance when he missed Orion most.
U: YUNIEFW4
Ok I have to know—is this friend of yours someone you would even want to interface with? As in, is he physically and sexually attractive to you?U: 0PH56A7O
I do not place much value upon physical beauty in romantic relationships. Having said that, he is, in my estimation, the most handsome mech I have ever beheld. Naturally his physicality is attractive to me. I am hardly alone in feeling that way—I have yet to encounter a mech who does not feel the same after meeting him. I suspect it is part of his meteoric rise to fame. An engaging speaker with potent charisma and stunning good looks can draw quite the crowd.To be clear, it is his intellect that captivates me above all else, and his personality. He is bold where I am cautious; he is fierce where I am hesitant. He is witty and confident and charming. He challenges me, makes me think. Makes me laugh. I cherish everything about him.
U: YUNIEFW4
So, yes, then.U: 0PH56A7O
You misunderstand. What I feel for him runs far deeper than any fleeting carnal desire.U: YUNIEFW4
Ok, so you’re in love with him *and* you want to clang him. I fail to see the issue here. From what you’ve said, it’s clear he feels the same, so you might as well enjoy some of that ‘fleeting carnal desire’, as you called it—after you tell him how you feel, of course.U: 0PH56A7O
That is not the advice I sought in my post, but thank you for the suggestion… I think.
The temptation to chime in and agree with the respondent was almost too powerful to resist. But Megatronus did resist, somehow, while he considered what to do.
To Megatronus’ satisfaction, an overwhelming majority of Orion’s readers saw what the archivist apparently could not. Never mind that Orion’s approximations of the things Megatronus had said were vague and indistinct; even those half-quoted remarks were taken exactly as Megatronus had intended them by almost everyone but Orion himself. Reply after reply met Orion’s steadfast resistance with incredulity and exasperation. Are you serious? You think this mech is just your ‘friend’? Buddy, we’ve got news for you…
After such a resounding consensus, Megatronus half-expected Orion to capitulate to popular opinion and admit to harboring romantic feelings of some sort. But Orion was not so easy to convince. Instead, he clung to those few—absurd—replies that focused on the metaphorical aspects of Orion’s question, and not the likely reality of his desire.
U: K04434M3
Regarding the topic as you originally proposed it… I’ve read that interface-related dreams are seldom about a desire for actual, physical interface. More likely, there is some aspect of your friend you wish to connect to, or have connected to, that you would like to expand upon. Perhaps you recently deepened your emotional connection? You mentioned sharing a long video call with him after an argument, so it could be that you feel your friendship has grown stronger, and your dream was a reflection of that.Some scholars believe interface-related dreams are more about how much you admire someone, as well. Consider interface as a metaphor for wanting their approval. If you fear losing his friendship and respect, your processor may very well have returned that fear as a dream of physical union and desire.
The notion that Orion’s lewd dream was nothing but a metaphor was a laughable one, ridiculous in every respect. Yet Orion took those answers as seriously as peer-reviewed scholarship, seemingly relieved to accept them over the far more prescient remarks about his feelings for his ‘friend’.
U: 0PH56A7O
Thank you. This helps immensely. I do greatly admire my friend and fear losing his approval more than anything, especially after our recent argument. This seems the most reasonable answer to my query.
Megatronus glared pure fire at the text upon his screen, as though his angry stare might make the words wither away in shame. Why was Orion so determined to feel nothing for Megatronus, when his adoration was apparent in every sentence, every syllable? It was baffling. Nonsensical. Especially when Megatronus’ own desire was plain as daylight.
At least, Megatronus thought it was.
He found few answers in Orion’s responses. All he could glean was that Orion did not wish to damage the friendship he so treasured, and that he somehow found his passion to be shameful, as if his yearning dishonored Megatronus.
Once, on what was perhaps his twentieth reread, a thought occurred to him.
Could it be that Orion believed carnal encounters to be unclean—a sordid, mortal sin that defiled both himself and the object of his desire? Megatronus had met mechs who maintained as much, although that idea was not a particularly common one on Cybertron. It seemed odd that Orion might hold such a view, but then, Orion did place an unnatural emphasis on the morality of his every action, at times to the point of absurdity.
Perhaps it was not so astonishing, after all.
The more Megatronus considered it, the more Orion’s comments seemed to confirm his suspicions. The archivist’s compliments were always matched with disclaimers and long-winded pontifications about what he meant, and why it wasn’t disrespectful to feel as he did—as though Megatronus would consider it disrespectful to be wanted. He even admonished those who made sly remarks about Megatronus, as though they had done so to his face and against his will.
U: B3ET5XO8
So tell us more about this sexy friend of yours… is he one of those flashy bastards with all the crazy paint and blinking lights? I bet he is, since he’s popular in gladiatorial circles.U: 0PH56A7O
No. Unlike many of his fellow fighters, he is not adorned with any extraneous paint. Only his frame accents and joints are painted—the rest of his plating is polished and bared to the optic. It strongly differentiates him from some of his competitors. I believe he considers full paint to be both pretentious and impractical. He does not require it to be assured of attention from the masses, nor to soothe his own ego. He is handsome enough without it.On that note, I would ask that you please be respectful when speaking of him. I understand that the topic of attraction and good looks often lends itself to crass language, but I would appreciate tact where he is concerned. He is not an ornament for others to ogle at a whim.
U: SPS3A3XM
Oh scrap I missed that your ‘friend’ is a Pit fighter. No wonder you’re all revved up over him. I’ve wanted every gladiator I’ve ever seen to pound me through the berth. 👀U: 0PH56A7O
You are being discourteous by speaking of any fighter thus, but I find it especially distasteful in reference to my friend. As I have repeatedly stated, he is NOT an object for my amusement, nor anyone else’s. Regardless of his good looks, he deserves to be treated as an intelligent being with full bodily autonomy.U: SPS3A3XM
I would bet my last shanix that your gladiator pal desperately wishes you’d get a little less respectful and a lot more filthy where he’s concerned.Do you realize you’re toying with a very big, very successful, very *strong*, charged-up warrior who kills people for a living? This is a mech who could probably throw you over his shoulder and carry you off for a fragging if he really wanted to, and you’re being a spiketease, whether or not you realize it. Just gonna say that’s not your smartest move.
U: 0PH56A7O
I am doing nothing of the sort. I am virtually incapable of being any sort of tease, least of all *that*.He has never indicated—directly or otherwise—that he wishes me to treat him any differently than I already do. Would he not have asked if he desired me?
Your assertion that my friend would ever attempt to take me unwillingly is vile. He may be a warrior and a champion, but he is not a monster. He has never been anything but considerate where I am concerned.
You are only right in regards to his strength. He could quite easily hoist me over his shoulder, if he wished. But he would never do so without my explicit permission, and I would never ask that of him. His strength is far from the only thing that interests me.
U: SPS3A3XM
“Not the *ONLY* thing that interests me”, huh? Sounds like you’d enjoy being tossed over his shoulder and carried off to berth ;)U: 0PH56A7O
I will concede the scenario is appealing in a consensual context—but that is a common fantasy. Many Cybertronians find the idea of a larger, stronger mech overpowering them to be alluring.U: SPS3A3XM
“Many Cybertronians” - including you, clearly. 🙄
Now here was something Megatronus could sink his teeth into. Here at last Orion admitted, in his stodgy, academic way, to a specific encounter he might enjoy—one which Megatronus had often imagined himself. There had been moments, usually mid-debate, where the line between quarrel and lust had blurred; where the fire in Orion’s optics had stoked his own, provoking the beast-like instinct to snatch Orion up and carry him to berth, where he could silence further argument with something far more delicious than mere verbal rebuke.
And now, here Orion was, admitting the idea appealed to him as well.
Megatronus, alone in his quarters for the moment, let his engines freely rev as he imagined throwing sedate, somber Orion over his shoulder. Perhaps Orion would like to spar with him first—verbally or physically, or both. Preferably both. He pictured Orion’s valiant efforts to forestall him, and his secret, playful smile as he made some deliberate mistake, to provide Megatronus an opening. The delectable anticipation in his field when Megatronus pinned him. The indignant, laughing protestations as Megatronus hoisted him aloft and tossed him over his shoulder, the trophy of their battle. The gleam of his blue optics when Megatronus threw him atop his berth, and the arching of his frame and the ragged sounds of his fans as Megatronus trapped him there. The soft, but fervent way he would moan when he opened to let Megatronus inside him…
Megatronus’ plating flared, a massive gust of heat escaping him. By the Pit, he couldn’t do this to himself—not when so much was still uncertain, and when Orion’s visit was still several weeks away. His desires already plagued him like the sting of a laserwhip; letting his processor run away with him would only make matters far worse.
Especially while Orion continued to treat Megatronus like some venerable elder, instead of the lover Megatronus wished to become.
After all, despite Orion’s begrudging concessions, he still spoke of Megatronus in only the most genteel terms. He’d even deflected an admission of desire by remarking upon the commonness of the fantasy, without acknowledging that said fantasy was still his, and targeted not to a general populace of larger mechs, but to one mech in particular. To Megatronus.
Why did Orion fear his own passion so much?
The question was still on Megatronus’ mind when Orion’s frequency appeared on his HUD that evening. No doubt he should let the matter rest, and try a subtler method to probe Orion for his thoughts; but Megatronus knew in his spark he would not be satisfied until he had his answer.
He would have to wait until he was certain Orion was alone. It would not do to ask him questions about intimacy when his colleague and the researchers at Minerva Terminal were near to hand. This was a conversation they alone should have. He only hoped fortune was on his side, and that Orion might, by some miracle, have returned home.
He picked up on the fourth chime, listening intently for signs that others were present. “Good evening, Orion.”
“Hello, Megatronus,” said Orion, warmly—no background noise to speak of. When they’d spoken over the past few days, their calls were interrupted by a cacophony of crashes and bellows in the background. Megatronus hadn’t needed the stressed inflection in Orion’s vocals to know that all was not well at Minerva Terminal. But tonight, Orion’s voice was serene, and no other noises echoed anywhere beyond.
Perhaps he would have his way, after all.
“I do not hear Ultra Magnus ordering researchers about, nor any erupting pipes and clanking old machinery,” said Megatronus, casually. “Dare I presume you have returned home?”
“Yes, at long last!” Relief was apparent in Orion’s voice, even without video by which to see him. “We arrived in Iacon earlier this afternoon. I meant to inform you of my return, but I fear I lost track of the time while unpacking. Forgive me for calling a little early; you are not in the midst of anything, are you?”
As if Megatronus would ever find Orion’s eagerness for him to be a burden. “Nothing I would consider more important than my favorite librarian.” He let his vocals roll over the diminutive—my favorite—like he was tasting Orion’s lips, an audible caress.
Orion made a strangled sound, a comically-muffled horn honk and a coughing vocalizer. “You flatter me too much.”
“Not nearly as much as you deserve,” Megatronus replied, in a low purr. “Not enough to appropriately convince you of all your charms.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t quite tell, from the way Orion said it, if he was befuddled or gratified. “Thank you, Megatronus.” He reset his intake, then asked, “What charms?”
Megatronus chuckled, gesturing with one servo. “Where to begin? The list is extensive, and our hours so few. For now, I will say only this: in my estimation, you possess a thousand charms no other mech could outshine.”
Orion’s systems audibly crashed, a crackle of static echoing over their shared frequency. Megatronus listened, smirking, awaiting Orion’s response. Daring him to inquire about Megatronus’ inspiration, and if it had been quoted from a certain post upon a little D/Cipher subforum.
“Hmm,” said Orion, at long last, suspiciously. “As appreciative as I am of your effusive praise, this is extravagant even for you. Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“I might very well ask you the same question,” said Megatronus, silkily. “So? Is there something you wish to tell me, my Orion?”
“Ah…” Orion hesitated. For a moment, their frequency came alive, sparks of anticipation hanging between them. Megatronus held perfectly still, optics cycled wide and bright as his systems buzzed in preparation.
Say it. Tell me. Give me your confession, and I will give you my blessing.
“Well,” said Orion, a little awkwardly, clearing static from his vocals, “I did bring something home for you from Minerva Terminal.”
Megatronus’ spark plummeted, a snarl curling his upper derma. “Oh.”
“I thought my favorite gladiator deserved a gift.”
The unexpected endearment promptly soothed Megatronus’ ruffled temper. That it was an echo of his own earlier accolade only heightened its power.
“Your favorite gladiator?” Megatronus repeated, vocals buttery and low. “I believe that is the first time you have referred to me as such! It pleases me to hear you say so.”
Orion huffed a gentle laugh. “Did you presume I favored some other gladiator over you?”
“No—but confirmation of such never goes amiss.”
Orion made a thoughtful sound. “In that case, know that I favor you in all arenas—not just the gladiatorial one. You are my favorite… everything, really.”
Oh, now, that was wonderful. It was not the confession Megatronus had hoped for, but it would more than suffice for the time being. “That is a compliment I can return a thousandfold,” he murmured. Then at last he registered the other part of Orion’s initial remark. “You brought me a souvenir?”
“Of a sort. Not the kind you are undoubtedly imagining.”
“What, no collectible holocards or encryption keylocks with my name glyph emblazoned upon them?” said Megatronus, mock-offended. “I am crushed.”
Orion’s laugh was louder this time, a rumble like the shifting of a planetary crust. “Forgive me for failing to anticipate your wish! I hope a modern chromatograph will serve as a sufficient replacement.”
Megatronus’ vents caught, astonished. Orion had always been generous, but he seldom gave costly gifts of this sort. His altruism came in the form of time spent and knowledge shared, assistance lent whenever a need arose. A present of this nature was a step beyond—the kind of thing Orion would do only for those he treasured most.
“You brought home a new chromatograph for me?” said Megatronus, stunned.
“You have been in need of a new one for ages, haven’t you?”
“At least three decades,” Megatronus replied—although he was certain it had been longer. The one he had been using in the makeshift lab he’d built with Shockwave was an ancient model he’d pieced together himself over time. It frequently broke down, and finding parts to fix it had grown ever-more difficult as more advanced equipment took its place. Megatronus had complained often about how useless it was, and many times he had expressed concern to Orion about how its dysfunctional parts might affect the results of his experiments.
Orion had paid attention. He’d sought and found something Megatronus both desired and required, and obtained it for him with no strings attached.
“Thank you, Orion,” said Megatronus, as his spark warmed and overflowed behind his chest plates. “This is… quite a princely gift.”
Orion made a pleased noise. “I thought it was a decided improvement over a novelty trinket from a station souvenir shop.”
Megatronus barked a laugh. “I should say so!” Then, teasing: “Is this your attempt to bribe me into forgiving you for your absence last week?”
Orion gasped, all righteous indignation. “It is no bribe! If you must consider it in such a context, think of it instead as an apology for my unexpected departure.”
“In that case, I will happily accept it in the spirit in which it was given,” said Megatronus, lightly. “You are a most magnanimous mech, Orion. Thank you again.”
“Of course, Megatronus. I am having it sent along to your habsuite; it should arrive tomorrow afternoon. I only wish I could arrive along with it.”
“As do I,” said Megatronus, softly.
Orion was silent for a moment. Megatronus wondered if he might say something more on the subject; but then he simply reset his vocalizer and asked, “So. How was your day?”
Megatronus’ thoughts strayed back to his intended subject. He could feel an opening approaching, and his spark quickened as he considered how to introduce the topic. “Oh, it was certainly a day,” he said, absently. “Very little of note occurred.”
“Did you win your match?”
“Obviously.”
“Then that is something of note, I should think.”
“It would be far more noteworthy had I lost.” Megatronus stood and began to pace, slow but stressed, around the perimeter of his habsuite. For once, he could not bear to stand still. “Orion… since you are home now, and presumably alone, may I ask you a question?”
Orion paused, surprised. “Of course, Megatronus. You may ask me whatever you like.”
“We will see if you retain that opinion after my inquiry.” Megatronus exhaled, venting hotly into the quiet of his hab. There was nothing for it now; he might as well say it and have done with it. “What is your moral and philosophical stance regarding interface?”
Orion made a startled sound, vocalizer clicking as he attempted to reset it. “I’m… sorry?”
That certainly didn’t bode well. “Your opinion on interface. How do you feel about it?”
There was a lingering silence on the other end, until Orion performed another reset. “Dare I inquire after the inspiration of such a question?”
Ah, yes. That was likely something Megatronus should have thought about. “You and I have covered the length and breadth of nearly every topic regarding Cybertronian existence—but we have never addressed this particular subject.” It was a hasty lie, but it would have to do. “I suppose one might say curiosity got the better of me.”
More silence. Orion’s discomfort bled through despite their distance. “I do not understand what you are asking. What is it you wish to know, specifically? Are you inquiring about my past, or…?”
“No. I do not need to know details, if you do not wish to share them.” In fact, it would probably be better not to hear about them. Megatronus was exceptionally jealous, especially where Orion was concerned. He had responded poorly enough to Orion’s work engagement; he could only imagine how he would feel hearing of Orion’s past encounters.
Megatronus frowned up at his ceiling as he considered what to say. “I suppose what I seek is this: some mechs perceive interface to be something unclean or shameful, while others suppose it to be a natural, instinctual urge. I wondered where you fall upon that scale.”
“Oh.” Orion paused again, uncomfortably long, apparently having to give some thought to the matter. It wasn’t uncommon for Orion to take a moment to consider Megatronus’ queries, but his silence seemed to linger this time, as if he hadn’t quite formed an opinion and was trying to do so on the fly.
What a puzzling response. They were both long past the developmental stages of the Cybertronian life cycle and deep into adulthood. Views on a subject as hard-coded as interface should have been long-established.
Not so for Orion, it seemed.
“I do not think either answer rings entirely true to me,” said Orion at long last. “I do not believe it is a shameful act, but it is also not something I find to be instinctual.” He hesitated, a soft sigh coming over their frequency. “I… to be frank, I fear my answer will strike you as absurd.”
“Nothing about you will ever be absurd to me,” said Megatronus, quietly. “Go on.”
Orion’s voice was steadier when he spoke next, low and fond over their shared line. “Thank you, Megatronus. That means a great deal to me.” He exhaled and began again. “To me, personally, it is an act of love and trust—an expression of intimacy and openness between the mechs engaging in it. Of course there is a physical aspect—triggering the rewards subsystems, and all that that entails—but in the end, the compulsion, for me, is ultimately a romantic one. It is about creating a connection with one whom my spark craves. I do not believe it is that way for everyone, however, nor that my experience is the only right and correct one. I think for others, physical gratification is the primary aspect, and the pleasure derived from it.”
“But pleasure does not interest you?”
Orion chuckled. “I would not go that far,” he said. “I enjoy the physical pleasure of interface well enough. But it feels… hollow, to me, if that is all there is. Hence, I am perhaps overly cautious in pursuing such relationships. That aspect of myself is something I prefer to share with someone I truly cherish.”
Megatronus relaxed, struts easing and thoughts soothed. Many things about Orion, both over the course of their friendship and from what Megatronus had gleaned from his post, were much clearer now. Orion feared that this dream equated some loveless interaction, and that by having said dream, he had used Megatronus exclusively for pleasure. Perhaps he also feared that the depth of his feelings was not reciprocated, although Megatronus could not fathom how he might believe as much.
He smiled, dropping onto his berth and rolling onto his back. One day soon, perhaps, Orion would join him there. He could hardly wait. “I see. Thank you for the clarity, my archivist.”
“Ah. You’re welcome, I suppose,” said Orion, with an awkward laugh. “What of you, then?”
Megatronus shrugged. “I consider it more of a natural instinct, myself. It is a simple act of pleasure designed to expel extraneous charge from our systems. It need not be a universe-shattering experience to be enjoyed. Having said that, however, I have craved a connection like the one you describe all my life.” This was yet another thing he would never have dared admit to anyone besides Orion. It was folly to desire the scenario Orion had outlined for him; yet, Megatronus yearned for it—a connection between equals, a physical manifestation of the emotion in his spark. “I wish to engage with someone who aches for me because of who and what I am—someone who sets my very spark aflame. But I have never had the great fortune to experience that. Instead, I answer my body’s troublesome demand, and then it is over. Physical gratification is all there is. It is pleasant enough in that capacity, but I would like, one day, to share that passion with someone I truly treasure.”
Orion hummed a sweet, reassuring note. “One day, Megatronus, you will experience the closeness you crave. I’m sure of it.”
“Indeed! And I hope it will be soon.” He purred the last words, low and full of intention, optics dimming as he spoke. “I can be patient when I must, but I do not like to be kept waiting. I hope you will bear that in mind.”
A brief blip of silence greeted the remark, and then: “... What?”
“Just a touch of friendly advice.” Megatronus grinned, smugly. Let Orion mull over that, and try to come up with some sort of platonic explanation. “Now then… since you have so generously indulged me, tell me what occupies your thoughts. Anything of interest?”
Orion still hadn’t quite caught up with Megatronus. He was silent again, seemingly turning Megatronus’ words over in his head. “Oh, nothing exciting,” he murmured. He sounded distant and distracted. “Just some research on an obscure topic.”
“And what topic is that?” Dreams, perhaps?
Suddenly Orion was present again, attention returning to Megatronus. “You wouldn’t find it worthy of discussion. It is… not our usual fare.”
“I would hardly call tonight’s opening topic our ‘usual fare’,” Megatronus drawled. “Go on, Orion. Tell me about it.”
Orion made a small, choked sound. “Well… alright. But you must promise not to tease me.”
Megatronus arched an optic ridge. “Why would I do such a thing?”
“I do not think you will consider this particular subject worthy of any kind of academic inquiry.”
“Try me.”
Orion sighed. “Very well. But remember—I asked you not to laugh.” His vents expelled a long, slow gust of air before he spoke again. “Do you put any stock in dream interpretation?”
Megatronus jolted upright, charge prickling over his plating. For all that he had laughingly referenced the idea in his mind, he hadn’t expected Orion to bring the topic to him. Was Orion about to admit that he had dreamed of Megatronus?
“You mean, do I believe recharge glitches that occur at the behest of fragmented data can provide some deep spiritual insight into the innermost workings of our sparks?” said Megatronus. “No, I do not. There is very little that is metaphorical or mysterious in such a basic mechanical subroutine. I do believe that dreams reflect emotions we struggle to process while online, but not in any allegorical fashion. A drill in a dream does not have some mystical, divinely-inspired meaning; it is merely a drill, and should be treated as such.”
Orion huffed, vexed. “Would it not make sense for some of these glitches, as you so disdainfully refer to them, to be more amorphous in meaning? Implying a general emotion or anxiety rather than directly pointing to it?”
Megatronus tilted his helm, fighting a grin. “Without specifics, I’m not certain I could argue the point. Perhaps you have an example at the ready?”
Orion’s horn blared, loudly, loud enough to almost blow out Megatronus’ audio receptors.
“Vector Sigma,” Megatronus growled. “I am sorry I asked!”
“My apologies, Megatronus… that was an accident.”
Megatronus rubbed his audial, wincing as the blaring echo of that honk reverberated through his systems. “I should certainly hope so.”
“I was merely surprised,” said Orion, hurriedly. “I am not used to sharing the content of my dreams with anyone else.”
“So I gather! Every time I raise the subject, you become a terrible mess.” Megatronus smirked to himself, letting his hand fall away. The painful ringing in his audial would be worth it if Orion confessed to the root of his interest. “A poor, puzzled gladiator such as myself might wonder why the topic is so sensitive to you.”
“It isn’t sensitive,” Orion muttered, mutinously. “It’s just—that is—no such dreams come to mind for me.”
“Is that so.” Megatronus scowled into nothing, once again disappointed. Orion continued to cower back from the true source of his trouble, even when faced with the very mech from whom it had sprung.
“None I wish to share, at any rate,” Orion amended. “Perhaps a recent example from your own memory bank would better serve us here...?”
That was a far less pleasant conversation. There was little joy to be had in parsing the things Megatronus dreamt of. “My dreams are a fragmented assortment of events from the Pits and the mines. The most common involves a tunnel collapse. Quite an annoying interruption to my recharge cycle, really.”
He could feel Orion’s empathy over their shared line, the tenderness the archivist felt towards him. “You recall the pain and anxiety of being trapped beneath earth and stone.”
Megatronus clamped his plating close, as if that would defend him against the horror of his memory. “Indeed. My processor takes a sadistic pleasure in tormenting me with such recollections. Sometimes, if it is in a particularly diabolical mood, it pairs the collapse with a Pit fight—a gory battle followed by the ground falling away beneath my feet. Restful recharge is often quite beyond my grasp.”
“I’m sorry, Megatronus. I hate that such torturous dreams plague your nights.”
Megatronus shrugged. “There are worse fates.” He paused, a wicked grin dancing over his lips. Did he dare…? “There is a simple remedy, however.”
“Oh?”
“Having company in my berth is usually enough to drive those dreams away.”
“... Oh,” said Orion, stiffly. A pause, and then: “Is this a remedy you often seek?”
“Often? Do you imagine I frequently invite strangers to my private quarters?”
“You invited me, so, yes.”
Megatronus chuckled. “Touché! But, as you may recall, you have yet to grace my berth, which renders your point moot.”
He paused and waited, purposefully, for Orion to remark upon the most important word in that sentence: yet. But Orion was once again silent, except for the faint hum of a speeding CPU. Apparently Megatronus had only succeeded in flummoxing him.
Megatronus sighed and pushed onward. “No matter. I very seldom keep company with anyone. Thus, my nightmares remain my most frequent nighttime visitors.”
“Oh.” Orion’s voice was half-choked and desperate, quavering over what to say next. “Then… there is no one currently pursuing an attachment with you?”
“I have offers in plenty—more every day,” Megatronus said, waving his claws in dismissal. “If I wished, I could claim a new berthmate each night—or two, or three. But encounters with strangers long ago ceased to interest me. I have chosen to wait for a certain, far more important someone instead.”
Orion’s vents caught, an almost-gasp escaping him. “Have you asked this… someone about an attachment already?”
“Not in so many words,” Megatronus admitted. “Though I have tried to make my intentions plain in every other fashion. Even his acceptance would not resolve the problem entirely, as he does not live in Kaon, and I do not see him as often as I would like.”
“Entertaining other friends from foreign cities, are you?” That was almost certainly jealousy Megatronus heard in Orion’s voice, so strong it edged his vocals with an unusual crackle of static.
“Not at all,” Megatronus replied, silkily. “You remain my most favorite friend from a foreign city, my archivist—despite any lingering absences. I have come to understand you do not have control over those.”
Orion fell silent—so silent Megatronus could not even hear his vents. He frowned, brushing his digits over his audial. “Orion? Are you there?”
“Yes,” said Orion, faintly. “Megatronus… are we alright?”
Now it was Megatronus’ turn to pause, completely taken aback. “What?”
“Are we alright? The two of us?”
Megatronus’ frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“Are you and I… are we still…” Orion made a frustrated sound. Megatronus could almost imagine him raking his hand over his helm, optics cycling as he stared into nothing. “Is our relationship in good standing?”
Orion certainly had a gift for turning even the most powerfully romantic sentiments into something sterile and bureaucratic. “I… believe so, yes,” said Megatronus. This was not at all what he had expected in response to what he had believed to be an obvious flirtation. He’d created an opening for Orion to confess, and instead, he’d gotten… this. “Is something the matter?”
“No! I just… after our… recent argument, I feared perhaps you were…” Orion took a moment, considering what to say and how to say it. “I wished to make certain, that’s all. I would like you to be happy.” He made another frustrated sound, and Megatronus heard the tap of his pedes as he rose and began to pace. “Megatronus… in case I have never said it before, you mean so much to me. I cherish our friendship, more than I have the words to express. And I would not wish to make you feel that I do not value you. I worry I impose myself on too many of your hours, without giving you what you require of me in return.”
What a foolish fear. “You are never an imposition to me, my Orion,” Megatronus said, warmly. “There are days where our evening call is all that pulls me onward. Without it… well. My world would certainly be a bleaker place.” Megatronus paused, considering. There was something more he needed of Orion, of course—but he was not certain now was the time to ask for it. He feared driving Orion even further away by placing too much pressure upon him. And yet… “As for what I require… that is simple enough. What I need is my archivist; not his comms, and not his calls, not his messages from the lofty heights of Iacon—him. It is one thing to share calls like this with you, and wholly another to touch you, to behold you, to feel the kiss of your field against mine.” He gave a hollow laugh, wry and mirthless. “No, Orion, you are no imposition to me. But I fear I might one day become an imposition to you.”
“Why would you think so?” Orion asked.
“Because, had I the power, your life and mine would be bound for all eternity,” said Megatronus. “I would entangle all my hours with yours and keep you by my side, if I could exert my will upon the universe in such a fashion; but alas, I am but a gladiator, and you an archivist, and thousands of miles and hundreds of hours lie between us before I will have the pleasure of your company again. So I content myself with evening calls and a flurry of comms, knowing at least some part of you is with me.”
Stunned silence greeted the remarks. Megatronus swallowed, hard. Had he pushed Orion too far, and revealed too much?
But then, sweetly, adoring, Orion replied, “My spark is always in your keeping, Megatronus. You have that, no matter where I might be.”
Megatronus smiled, feeling easier than before. “Then I have everything I need.”
Chapter 3
Summary:
There was only one way, to his mind, to find the answers he sought.
He must comment on the post.
Chapter Text
In an interesting turn of events, the post from probably-Orion suddenly had an edit the next morning, every bit as preposterous as the post that had preceded it.
THREAD: ADVICE - INTERFACE DREAM ABOUT BEST FRIEND???
Posted by: U: 0PH56A7OEDIT:
This is perhaps not the place in which to share this, but as many commenters have remarked that they believe my friend has romantic intentions towards me, and as an equal number have requested some form of update, I wish to pose an additional question here.This is more in relation to psychology and relationships than dream interpretation. I apologize to the moderators for veering so sharply off topic.
Last night, seemingly from nowhere, my friend inquired about my thoughts regarding interface. We often discuss various philosophical and moral standpoints, so this is not entirely unusual… but it does seem like a very particular coincidence.
I mentioned that I consider interface to be an expression of a deep and abiding romantic love rather than a mere physical act, and he replied that he had never personally experienced a purely romantic interface but hoped he might in the future, adding, “And I hope it will be soon… I do not like to be kept waiting.”
This seems, to me, to be a strange response, unless he is implying that *I* am the one keeping him waiting? But he has not asked me for any intimacies directly.
Later in the conversation, I mentioned dream interpretation and asked for an example dream from him. He told me he is often plagued by nightmares, and followed this up by stating that having a berthmate usually helps him to rest easier. I could not imagine he did not have a bevy of mechs clamoring for the position, and I said as much, to which he replied, ‘I have offers in plenty, but I’ve chosen to wait for a certain someone instead.’ He admits he has not directly asked this person for an attachment and that said person does not live in the same city… but he indicated he had done his best to make his intentions apparent without outright saying the words. I asked about friends he had in other cities, presuming he meant to imply that some other acquaintance had captured his interest, but he merely replied that I remain his favorite.
I do not know what to make of these remarks. They *could* all be applicable to me, but what if they are not? What if there is some other mech he has been seeing who he desires instead? Now that you as a collective have proclaimed him to be interested in me, I find myself dissecting his every remark in an attempt to see what you see, and yet I feel I cannot be absolutely certain. And there is the matter of my own feelings, and my fear that I might destroy the friendship we share by being too bold…
This was much simpler when it was merely about a dream.
Megatronus reread the edit again and again. Each hand-wringing, baffled word echoed in his CPU, stunning him with the same potency each time.
He sat in silence for a long time afterward, glaring thunder and death at Orion’s edit as he attempted to determine where, exactly, he had gone wrong.
How could he believe himself to be so obvious, and yet leave Orion so perplexed?
At least he could be certain now that Orion was the author of this post, if there had ever been any doubt. This was their precise conversation, minus a few details here and there; and as before, Orion’s puzzlement was just as mystifying. Megatronus had all but said the words aloud last night. Every sentence he had uttered had been laced with his desire, every compliment a calling card of Megatronus’ courtship. And had Orion not said to him, my spark is always in your keeping? What did he intend by that, if not to imply his love for Megatronus?
He rarely cared much for the opinion of the populace as a whole; but he needed, now, to know their thoughts. Did they, too, believe his remarks to be vague and bewildering, or could they see what he had intended more clearly than Orion?
Against his better judgment, he visited the comments and devoured them all, treating them like written counsel from an advisory board whose perspective he had no choice but to entertain, no matter how much he loathed them. It soothed his pride to note that most remarks took his side in this, quick to point out the flaws in Orion’s logic and even quicker to proclaim Megatronus’ intentions to be romantic ones.
U: W2NZDOMR
Just read your edit and hOLY PRIMUS, OP.Oh, my sweet little mechling. You cannot possibly be this obtuse. There’s just no way. You said it yourself; the only thing that makes sense is that he means YOU are keeping him waiting, because he wants to interface with YOU. It is literally the only possible implication.
And that comment about how he has done everything but say it to your face, and how he’s waiting for a ‘certain someone’... it’s the verbal equivalent of the world’s least subtle wink, complete with elbow nudge.
Your poor friend. He must be clawing his plating off trying to get it through your dense helm that he’s flirting with you. Maybe he should try a hammer, or something.
Failing that, YOU could always try asking HIM. It’d be pretty easy. “Hey, Friend, are you into me or not?” Bam, done. See how easy that is?
EDIT: Damn, thanks for the Energon Crystal and all the other awards, everyone!
U: M3MB3EN8
THANK YOU. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING.Like, OP, this is ridiculous. YOU are ridiculous. You could literally have asked him after he dropped all those bomb-sized hints… but you’re here instead, asking us. Vector Sigma.
Your CPU must be running slower than sludge in a quagmire. Please go to a medic and get checked out, and then go frag your friend. You’ll both be a whole lot happier.
U: D3TBKLAH
Can you imagine OP’s poor ‘friend’ after this call? He must have hung up and screamed at the wall in frustration. He was practically goading OP to ask him, and OP just cutely dodged every single flirt. I’d be ripping my own helmet off if this was me.U: XO1DRTDW
Can you imagine doing this to a fragging GLADIATOR? He probably went and punched a hole straight through the wall after this. Shot up a couple practice drones, or something. Dude must be absolutely RAGING. I can’t believe he’s friends with someone this oblivious.
I cannot believe it, either, thought Megatronus, wryly. He had not, in fact, decimated any practice drones after their call, although he was seriously considering it just now; but his wrath was not so great that it required such violent assuaging. Indeed, despite his growing frustrations, he loved Orion better for the care he took in considering Megatronus’ autonomy. Rereading Orion’s edit and comments proved to Megatronus, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he mattered to Orion; not simply as a mentor or some gladiator Orion might make use of to further his own agenda, but as a whole and sentient being. Orion understood that Megatronus had a life outside of him, and a private internal dialogue Orion would never be fully privy to, and he wished to pay respect to that by refusing to make assumptions.
It was as charming as it was infuriating, and Megatronus could not help but adore him all the more for it.
To his astonishment, this time there were a few mechs who critiqued Megatronus’ behavior rather than Orion’s, accusing him of being unclear when he must surely know Orion did not understand his intentions. Such comments did not make up the majority, but their voices were growing in number, forcing him to consider them regardless of how he felt.
U: 2C0N1Z47
I can’t believe I have to be the first to point this out, but OP’s ‘friend’ could just as easily be direct and ask OP to date him. He has to realize that OP isn’t picking up the hints. If he’s frustrated or annoyed about the situation, it’s pretty much on him for not just asking OP to be his lover.U: 5TARKWJ9
👏 THANK 👏 YOU 👏. I do NOT understand all these other comments saying it’s on OP for not picking up on these hints. Hints are great, but not everyone understands how to flirt, or recognizes when someone is flirting with them. Plus, flirtation isn’t the same from city to city. OP’s friend might think his flirting is obvious when he’s using a different cultural framework that OP has never heard of before.It’s better to just be forthright and ask, imo. If these two get together, they need to work on their communication or the relationship is doomed.
U: 3B1GI1B2
Unicron’s Advocate here, but: what if OP’s friend tried flirting in the past and didn’t think OP was interested? What if he feels like he’s getting mixed signals from OP and is trying to test the waters because he’s *also* concerned about damaging the friendship? It’s not as simple as you’re trying to say it is.Also, as a mech from Kaon, I can tell you what I’m seeing here isn’t Kaon-exclusive courtship, or even gladiator-exclusive courtship. Gladiators treat sparring like foreplay when they’re with their own. OP hasn’t mentioned any of that. Either his friend isn’t actually interested or he’s using generalized flirting techniques instead, knowing OP won’t recognize the specialized stuff (I’m banking on the latter, personally, because WOW that update. Friend flirted so hard with OP he made *me* blush, and I weigh several hundred tons).
U: QAYFOXK1
Proposal: we lock these two in a room until they talk out their feelings and see what happens. (Probably loud and extended fragging 😏)
As he read the thread, Megatronus bristled in outrage. What did these mechs know of his intentions, and what he had said and attempted already? They were not acquainted with either himself or Orion; they had no concept of how long Megatronus had been trying, without success, to woo Orion Pax. They had only a fraction of the picture.
But the longer he mulled over their remarks, the more he begrudgingly admitted they were not wrong. So many of his frustrations might be resolved if he directly addressed the issue instead of attempting to goad Orion into making a confession. How simple would it be to ask Orion for a video call, to share the post and ask in plain language if he was its author?
But what then? What if Orion became angry that Megatronus had discovered it? What if Orion, on the verge of a confession, felt so humiliated that he simply disappeared, believing he could no longer face Megatronus in the wake of such a devastating blunder?
Things had been much simpler when Megatronus had had no notion of the post’s existence—just as things had felt simpler to Orion when he’d believed his dream to be pure metaphor.
So Megatronus waited.
He fooled himself into believing that Orion might confess to the creation of the post, or at least to the dream that had inspired it. But two weeks passed, and things mostly remained the same as before. Orion spoke no more about his dreams, and Megatronus did not press him about the subject, even though he wished to.
There was something different about Orion, however; namely, that the once-sedate, gentle archivist became ill-tempered and gruff as the days passed them by. Orion was often silent and distracted, snapping at Megatronus over small things that had never troubled him before. He blamed his intolerable workload for his poor mood, but Megatronus doubted that was the true cause of Orion’s discontent.
He was certain he knew at least part of what the real trouble was.
Megatronus often considered bringing the subject up, but always decided against it in the end. Orion was due to visit very soon now; he did not wish to alienate Orion right before a potentially prolonged trip to Kaon, especially when Orion might simply cancel his visit if pushed too far.
Megatronus couldn’t allow anything to get in the way of that trip—not now, when he intended at last to ask Orion for an attachment.
After a great deal of thought, Megatronus realized the commenters who had chided him for his behavior had the right of it. It was far past time to cease these games and ask Orion for his spark. However, he considered it too serious and personal a subject to broach when so much distance remained between them. It would be better, Megatronus thought, to look into Orion’s eyes when he asked, to take his hands in his own and share his field so that Orion could feel his sincerity. He must wait until Orion came to Kaon to issue the proposal.
They might also resolve the matter of this lewd little dream right there and then, if Orion wished to, which was no small benefit.
In the meantime, Megatronus hoped to learn a little more about what was occurring in Orion’s CPU, and what this dream of his entailed. He had a desperate thirst to know—to know Orion truly yearned for him, and the details of this dream he’d had. To hear it, to see it, penned by Orion’s hand. His vanity craved Orion’s praise and desire, and having tasted a fraction of what that might be like, he only longed for more.
There was only one way, to his mind, to find the answers he sought.
He must comment on the post.
It was, without doubt, a foolish thing to do—but it was worth the risk if Megatronus could uncover the answers he longed for before Orion’s arrival. He would be assigned an anonymous username, and he need not reply with any details that might identify him. If he could coax Orion into revealing more of his dream scenario, and if he could convince Orion to admit how he felt, it would be worth the gamble.
So it was that Megatronus returned to the post exactly one week before Orion was due to visit and typed up a comment—a simple comment, mostly intended to confirm Orion’s identity and engage him on an innocuous subject before getting to the real question.
U: M3G40WT7
A clerk, you say… interesting. Iaconian?
It was late at night and post-evening video call, so Megatronus did not expect much to come of it. Orion would no doubt be deep in recharge. Megatronus couldn’t imagine Orion had allowed notifications for such a silly forum post… never mind that he had turned on notifications almost at once.
But a few moments later, an alert that he had received a reply appeared upon his HUD.
U: 0PH56A7O
Yes, although I am uncertain of the relevance of my location to this particular topic. Does that have an effect upon your response?
There he was: Orion Pax in every word, firmly returning the dialogue to its proper point of reference. He was always careful in debate to keep Megatronus on topic, to remind Megatronus of extraneous arguments that distracted from the central tenets of whatever was under discussion.
Megatronus should have allowed more time to pass before responding, but he couldn’t bear to remain in suspense.
U: M3G40WT7
Only slightly. I wondered, given your prior mention of your profession. It explains why you might seek advice from such a forum, rather than speaking to this… *friend* of yours directly. You would rather have your points in order before presenting them for his inspection, I imagine.I do have one area in which I am curious as to your answer… you have eagerly accepted the notion that this may merely be a dream of general admiration, but seem troubled enough by the details of said dream to doubt that assessment. Yet you would ask us to judge your intent without knowing these same details. We do not have a complete enough picture to provide you with a proper answer, in my estimation.
Megatronus posted the comment and awaited the reply, wearing a smug grin. He half-expected Orion to respond again within moments, perhaps with outrage, or perhaps with the details Megatronus sought; but the minutes stretched into an hour, and no reply surfaced.
Disappointed, Megatronus reluctantly put himself into recharge, hoping the dawn would bring the answer he desired.
For once, he dreamed of something other than the Pits. This time, he dreamt of Orion in his arms, burrowed close and warm against his frame. Both their chests were open, sparks feeding into one another in a gentle, endless loop. Orion’s digits cupped his helm and caressed his face, the archivist’s blue eyes dimmed and full of affection.
Is this what you have sought so long? dream-Orion asked him. Is this the interface you have hoped for, shared with a beloved equal whom you trust above all others?
Megatronus did not have to offer a reply; dream-Orion could feel it, and knew it to be so.
You so rarely are given the chance to be tender, said dream-Orion, softly, with all the love in the universe. You honor me in opening yourself to me this way.
Because you have earned it, dream-Megatronus replied. Because you alone are one I would consider my equal. My mate. The core of my very spark. Why has it taken you so long to see it?
Why has it taken you so long to say so? countered dream-Orion. What do you fear?
That you will refuse, or turn away.
Do you not see that I feel the same?
Then dream-Orion leaned in close and kissed him, sweetly, with pure and holy fire, and Megatronus was consumed both in body and in soul. It felt like diving into pure, white light; like becoming one with the very beginning of time, with the universe itself. Orion was space and sky and planets and stars, and Megatronus was the flame within him; together, they spun centuries into civilizations and built their way straight to the heavens.
And then, of course, he woke up.
Megatronus’ optics snapped open, the exquisite vision fading away into flat gray walls and ugly pale lamps. His berth and arms were both empty, and Orion was still in Iacon, still too far away from Megatronus to be bearable.
It was agony to dream of such tenderness, only to wake and realize it was mere fantasy. Orion must have felt this same pain after he woke from his own dream; this same loneliness, this same hollow ache that gnawed at Megatronus’ core.
His beloved should have been there with him—but he wasn’t, and wouldn’t be, not for at least another week.
Growling, Megatronus threw aside his covers and rose, opening his comms. He half-hoped to have a greeting from Orion already, as he usually did; but no messages awaited him, not even any forum notifications. Megatronus’ spark sank, and he immediately shied away from the sensation.
This was why he had not sought a lover like Orion before. The vulnerability of such entanglements was a distraction he could ill afford, and it was currently killing him.
But his concerns were all forgotten an instant later, when he received a ping from the forum at long last: a reply from Orion’s anonymous username, albeit a reticent and formal one.
U: 0PH56A7O
The details are… rather graphic for a public forum, to be frank. I would rather not reveal them. Why would they have any bearing on the general interpretation?U: M3G40WT7
Ah, and now we arrive at the heart of the matter. A dreamy, vague sort of interface, where details are limited and all is a blur, might suggest a metaphorical interpretation. But a graphic dream of interface with a specific person? That would indicate some level of overcharge. To have such detailed thoughts means somewhere in your sub-memory, you have considered interface with this “friend” before. You have wondered what it would be like, and you have settled on scenarios you believe you would enjoy, specifically *with him*. That hardly suggests a wholesome connotation.U: 0PH56A7O
You have made a great many assumptions about my thoughts, none of which are true at all.U: M3G40WT7
No? Then why not indulge me? What are the details of this ever-so-innocent dream of yours?
Again, the replies suddenly ceased. Megatronus pictured Orion in the Hall of Records, standing at his console and staring into nothing as he pondered what to say, and how best to defend himself. Whether or not to share the intimate facets of his dream with this mysterious stranger. He hoped what he’d said would be enough to win the desired reply.
He realized, another twenty minutes later, that Orion still had not commed him yet that morning. The delay suggested Orion was either deliberately avoiding him, or so caught up in the issue of the post that he had lost track of the time.
Megatronus waited thirty minutes longer, but when neither the forum nor his comms produced a response, his impatience overtook him.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: No ‘good morning’ from my favorite archivist? ::
:: I must have caused the greatest offense last night to earn such silence from you. ::
He braced himself for another lengthy silence—but Orion’s response was almost immediate this time, all gentle confusion and surprise.
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: What do you mean? ::
:: You have not offended me at all. ::
:: I sent you a message an hour ago! ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Did you? ::
:: I do not see one listed in our logs… ::
Megatronus checked again, frowning, for any wayward message; but he saw nothing past their usual good-night. Why had Orion believed they had already shared a comm this morning? He was not usually so forgetful.
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Oh, goodness, you are right! ::
:: I was so certain I had sent you something already... ::
:: Forgive me, Megatronus. ::
:: I have been much distracted today. ::
:: I did not intend to so rudely ignore you! ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I will allow it, just this once. ::
:: You are forgiven your mortal sin. ::
:: Now then… ::
:: What occupies your thoughts, my Orion? ::
:: Some philosophical subject, or more earthly matters? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I shall set it aside for now. ::
:: Although I would make mention of the fact you took your time in greeting me as well. ::
:: It is not my sole responsibility to begin our daily conversations, you know. ::
Such attitude! Megatronus smiled to himself as he made his way to the sparring room, cracking his neck and shoulder joints as he went. Orion had been quite saucy lately. Megatronus rather liked it.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Poor librarian, forced to carry the social niceties on my behalf! ::
:: I might remark upon the fact that I did indeed begin the conversation today, but that is neither here nor there. ::
:: I will endeavor to open our morning comms more often. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Truthfully, I enjoy beginning my morning with a message to you. ::
:: But I do worry at times that if I did not, you would simply forget me and cease to comm me at all. ::
Megatronus scoffed aloud into the empty corridor. Such fears were utterly unfounded. How could Orion still not see how much Megatronus valued him? Apparently he would have to beat Orion about the helm with it before he understood.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Forget you, Orion Pax? ::
:: How could I? ::
:: Of all the beings that live upon this planet, you are the best and most beloved to me. ::
:: Your silence would be a greater torment than you can ever fathom. ::
:: If you ceased to comm me in the mornings, you might suddenly find a displeased gladiator upon your doorstep, demanding to know where you had gone, and why. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Thank you for saying so, Megatronus. ::
:: It is foolish, I know, but sometimes I require the reassurance. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Should such doubts ever again plague you, you are free to seek that reassurance whenever you like. ::
:: And I will gladly provide. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: You are good to me. ::
:: Thank you, my Champion. ::
:: And since you mentioned it, I would dearly love to see you upon my doorstep. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: As I would dearly love to appear there. ::
:: But do not attempt to bring that into fruition by disappearing. ::
:: I will be quite put out with you if you do. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I would never do such a thing. ::
:: I think my days would feel much emptier without your comms to fill them, anyway. ::
:: Megatronus… may I ask you something? ::
Megatronus stilled, focus instantly shifting to the words upon his HUD. Was it possible that Orion wished to discuss the unspoken yearning between them, now that Megatronus had so bluntly told Orion what he meant to him? Or was he about to broach the subject of the post?
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Of course. ::
:: You are welcome to ask whatever you wish. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: It will seem a strange question, no doubt, but… ::
:: Do you visit any forums on the Grid at all? ::
Oh, no.
Megatronus instantly returned to the forum post, rereading his comments in quick succession. Had he been too conspicuous? Had Orion somehow divined from the few words Megatronus had written that it was he behind the anonymous string of glyphs and numbers?
But nothing he had said was inherently specific, unlike that which Orion had written. Surely the archivist had not discovered him already.
Unless that was the reason Orion believed he’d spoken to Megatronus already today…
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I visit many forums. Philosophical, political, and so on, usually. ::
:: It is the simplest means by which to spread my message across Cybertron. ::
:: But I seldom visit any forums outside of those topics, unless I am directed there by an acquaintance for one reason or another. ::
:: Why? Is there something you wish to show me? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: No! No, not at all. ::
:: I was merely curious. ::
:: I thought you might have taken an interest in other topics. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Such as? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Oh, I don’t know. ::
:: Social dilemmas, perhaps, or softer sciences. ::
:: Holistic treatments, spiritual musings, dreams and the dream world… subjects of that nature. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I do not approach any of those topics unless I am presented with directly relevant content under their purview. ::
:: Although perhaps I should begin engaging after all, since you appear to have a certain fascination with a few of them. ::
:: This is at least the second time you have mentioned dream interpretation specifically. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Is it? ::
:: Oh. I suppose it is. ::
:: I would not say it is a topic you should study. I am not digging particularly deeply into it myself. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: No? ::
:: Then why have you mentioned both dreams and their interpretation so often of late? ::
:: You need not concern yourself with my judgment, if that is your fear. ::
:: I am curious what inspired your interest. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Nothing of particular importance. It is just… I haven’t been sleeping very well. ::
:: My recharge cycle has been irregular. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Do you know the cause of these irregularities? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: It’s nothing. ::
:: Merely a repetitive dream. ::
Repetitive?
Megatronus’ plating rustled, that single word reverberating through every inch of his frame.
Repetitive.
Orion had dreamt of interface with Megatronus not once, but many times, perhaps even nightly since its first occurrence. No doubt he woke each morning desperately overcharged, aching all over for his beloved champion. Megatronus remembered the soft, awed hush of Orion’s vocals when he’d accidentally pinged him, and how Orion’s engines had hummed and buzzed with his desire; how sweetly he had moaned Megatronus’ designation when he’d heard his voice, even while asleep…
Megatronus’ frame shuddered, hungrily, static prickling through his circuits.
No wonder Orion seemed out of sorts.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: If you are dreaming of a single subject with such regularity, the topic must be something that troubles you during your waking hours. ::
:: Perhaps you require an outside perspective to assist you in dispelling these dreams. ::
:: Would you like to talk with me about it? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: That is… very thoughtful, Megatronus, but no. ::
:: Not now. ::
:: I am still working through what it means, and how I feel about it. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I would be pleased to help you with that as well. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I will be alright, but thank you. I appreciate the offer. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: As you wish. ::
:: Should you change your mind, I am available, regardless of the hour. ::
:: The next time this dream draws you from recharge, you may call me, if you like. ::
:: It is only fair, since you soothed me into recharge a few weeks ago. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I would not wish to trouble you with something so foolish. ::
:: This dream is nothing like yours. ::
:: It is not painful or frightening, or a reflection of past trauma, or anything of that nature. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: And yet it drives you from rest. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Yes. ::
:: But that is alright. I am not suffering. ::
:: It is something I must work through independently. ::
Megatronus threw open the door to the sparring room, scowling. Orion was dodging the question. Worse—he had proclaimed he was still deciding how he felt about it, as if there was anything to be decided. He desired Megatronus. Megatronus desired him. What was there left to determine, really, except when and where they would make his dream a reality?
A matter, Megatronus reminded himself, that he could resolve right now, if he dropped the ruse and admitted to knowing of the post.
But Orion’s remark lingered, frightening in its ambiguity: still deciding how I feel about it…
Megatronus choked himself into silence, opting for a different tactic.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: It is patently unwise to isolate yourself whenever something troubles you, my archivist. ::
:: I wish to help you if I can. ::
:: Let me ease your mind and help you rest, as you have done for me. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: There is nothing you can do. ::
:: You would only make things worse. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: *Worse?* ::
:: What have I done, that you would reject my assistance so harshly? ::
:: That you would proclaim my aid to be a problem? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: You have done nothing wrong. ::
:: But in regards to this dream, your opinion would only complicate matters. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I do not understand you, Orion. ::
:: On every other subject, you have sought my advice and requested my perspective, but in this you deny me again and again. ::
:: I might offer you clarity you would not otherwise receive, if you would only give me the chance. ::
There was an unnaturally long pause, during which Megatronus engaged and decimated at least three fighting drones, one right after another. He was elegant and skillful with the first, practicing his movements and showmanship; but he grew less and less precise as he dueled two and three, annoyed that his reply had gone unanswered. He was quickly losing patience, and about to engage a fourth fighting drone, when another comm finally came through.
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Forgive me, Megatronus, but I do not wish to discuss this further. ::
:: Please trust that I will find my answers and report back to you when I am certain of them. ::
:: And on that note, I’m afraid my focus is currently required elsewhere. ::
:: May we put any remaining conversation on hold and speak tonight instead? ::
Megatronus snarled, fists clenched, his plating flaring in fury. Orion was running away—not only from the issue at hand, but from Megatronus himself. He was so discomfited that he could not even bear to speak to him.
This was nearly the worst possible outcome, barring Orion refusing to see him ever again.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: You are angry with me. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Megatronus, please. ::
:: I’m sorry. ::
:: I am not angry, just… confused, and frustrated. ::
:: I require a little time to think. ::
:: I just… I need to step away for a little while. Let’s speak tonight. We can use video as well, if you like. Alright? ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Fine. ::
:: As you wish. ::
:: Good day, Orion. ::
Megatronus activated the fourth drone and focused his full fury on the poor machine, striking it again and again with such wrath that by the end of the round it was nothing but burnt metal and scattered circuits, chopped into tiny bits.
Megatronus stared blankly at the smoking rubble, the physical manifestation of how he felt within. Orion had yet to respond to his comment, nor had he replied to Megatronus’ final, ice-cold comm. He had left Megatronus to stew in silence, no doubt stewing in Iacon himself, grappling with a problem that need not have caused him such pain at all, if the stubborn fool would only accept his feelings for what they were.
How to convince the archivist that his desire was not shameful—and that Megatronus himself returned it?
There was nothing he could do now until their conversation later that night. He would simply have to endure, and hope that things would get no worse.
Chapter 4
Summary:
“A thousand pardons, Archivist Pax, for causing such disruption to your hectic schedule!” he spat. “The audacity that I, a lowly gladiator, might demand even a modicum of attention from so illustrious a mech! If I have become such a burden to you, then perhaps we ought not continue with the call—or, indeed, with calls of any kind. Is that your desire?”
Notes:
This is a LOOOONG chapter - sorry about that, I thought it was much shorter than it is! This is also where things really get raunchy :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Megatronus paced before his silent workstation, agitated beyond excuse. Orion was fifteen minutes behind schedule, which was decidedly unlike him. Megatronus half-feared that Orion had decided not to call at all. He could not imagine that he had angered Orion to such a severe degree, but the evidence before him suggested he had done just that.
And all because of one silly little forum post.
He was halfway to clawing off his own plating when his workstation came to life. An alert blared, shattering the silence. Orion’s name and picture appeared upon the screen, and, despite his personal policy to never answer on the first beep, Megatronus dove to answer it.
The instant Orion’s image fully loaded, Megatronus spoke.
“You are late, Orion Pax,” he growled, optics narrowing to thin blue slits. But as he said it, his gaze caught upon Orion’s face. The poor archivist was tired. His brow was deeply furrowed, his digits rubbing his temples as though his processor was aching. Even his finish looked a little dull.
Megatronus almost regretted speaking so harshly.
Orion glanced up, leveling Megatronus with an ice-cold frown. “Yes, I’m aware—and I do not require reminding about it. That I am speaking to you at all is something of a miracle. My day has been harrowing enough without you complicating matters and impeding upon my time.”
Megatronus reared back, stunned. Impeding? So Megatronus had become an imposition, had he? All those lovely things Orion had said about how he feared to impose upon Megatronus’ hours, and now he had turned that upon Megatronus instead, blaming him for the time their calls usurped.
His plating bristled with an ominous rustle.
“A thousand pardons, Archivist Pax, for causing such disruption to your hectic schedule!” he spat. “The audacity that I, a lowly gladiator, might demand even a modicum of attention from so illustrious a mech! If I have become such a burden to you, then perhaps we ought not continue with the call—or, indeed, with calls of any kind. Is that your desire?”
Orion’s optics snapped wide, his vocalizer shrieking with static as it misfired completely. “No!” he exclaimed in horror. “Megatronus, wait, please… I—I did not intend—”
Megatronus cocked his helm, jaw clenched. His injured pride commanded him to end the call without allowing Orion a chance to offer his excuses; but the wiser, and perhaps more sentimental, part of him insisted that he wait. Many things were strange between the two of them just now. This might merely be a symptom of that strangeness.
Orion’s face, still looming before him, was the very picture of regret. Despite the tension crackling between them, Megatronus’ shoulder pauldrons dropped a centimeter or two. The gesture was a small, subtle thing, the only sign that he was permitting Orion a moment to speak before he cut off the call.
Now that Megatronus was really looking at him, he could see that Orion’s eyes looked sickly, glassy and glitching at irregular intervals. The tiniest shudder rippled through his frame, repeating every few seconds. Typically, these were signs of a mech running on empty; Megatronus recognized them from all the times he had experienced the symptoms himself. But Orion had access to energon rations provided at regular intervals. There was no reason for such symptoms to surface. Stress, perhaps?
Megatronus exhaled and let his pauldrons reset. As they settled back into place, the tension bled out of him entirely, overtaken by concern.
Orion clearly wasn’t well.
Orion took note of Megatronus’ shifting pauldrons and recognized their meaning. He breathed a sigh of relief and buried his face in his servos, murmuring, “Please forgive me, Megatronus. I… I do not know why I said such awful things. I certainly did not mean them. It is just… it has been an exceptionally unpleasant day, and I lashed out at the nearest target, which was completely unwarranted. I am so sorry…”
Under any other circumstances, and with any other mech, Megatronus wouldn’t have let the matter go so easily. But Megatronus himself was partly to blame for Orion’s piteous state. He had lost hours of recharge to his dream, no doubt. He had spent weeks attempting to parse emotions that seemed bewildering to him, and Megatronus had not offered him the clarity he needed to resolve the matter.
He deserved a little grace, regardless of how Megatronus felt.
Megatronus sighed and tapped the screen, hoping the sound might draw Orion’s attention. “The fault is not all yours,” he admitted, begrudgingly. “I should have offered a proper greeting instead of opening the conversation with an accusation. Then you might not have felt the need to reply in kind.” Then, softer: “What troubles you, my Orion?”
Orion looked up. His optics couldn’t quite focus on Megatronus’ face. “I mentioned I have not been recharging through the night.”
Megatronus nodded, leaning closer.
Orion’s gaze slunk away. “Well, there is more, unrelated to my lack of rest. Since my return, I have also been hounded by Cybertronian Intelligence with requests to decode some communications from deep space, and their number increases daily. I have continuously worked well over shift to complete these tasks. I… have not been taking the time to refuel at the appropriate hours, either, and have been missing a few meals.”
So he had been right, after all. “Orion,” said Megatronus, sharply, scolding.
Orion flicked his servo, as though to wave Megatronus off. “Yes, yes… I know. You do not need to lecture me about it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Megatronus growled. “Must I find some way to slip away to Iacon, so that I might deliver you fuel at the proper hour and watch you until you consume it?”
Orion finally smiled, glancing up at Megatronus from beneath his optical shutters. “I cannot pretend I would not delight in such a visit. It would do my spark a universe of good to see you.” He paused, face falling. “On that subject… I have been working myself into full system failure over my visit.”
Megatronus blinked, taken aback. “Why?”
Orion flinched, unable to meet Megatronus’ eye. “My request for leave has yet to be approved.”
Megatronus’ jaw clenched, pauldrons flicking high and plating flaring in defense as his spark shriveled in his chest. “What?!”
Orion winced, biting his lower derma. “Please do not look at me like that,” he begged. “I know. I have done everything in my power to ensure my availability, including accepting these advanced projects—but to no avail. I have pinged my superiors no less than fourteen times to ask them about it, six of those instances occurring today alone. I have been assured I will see an approval soon, but nothing has arrived as yet. I have been driving myself to pieces over it for days. If I am not granted the request, I may lose my temper entirely.”
Megatronus wanted to be outraged. His emotional regulation module was attempting to work itself into a proper fury, all his systems firing in response to the perceived threat. Orion had been harboring this news for days—days during which Megatronus had been making plans, building anticipation around his intention to ask Orion for his spark. And all the while, Orion had known he might not be coming after all.
But as he looked at Orion’s crestfallen face and saw the anguish there in his optics, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be angry.
It was obvious Orion wished to see him, and intensely so. No doubt this was the sticking point that had driven Orion to distraction over the past weeks, in addition to his lack of recharge and refueling, and the burden of his constant dreams. Orion wanted his week with Megatronus, and feared he wouldn’t be permitted to have it, just as Megatronus feared he would be denied the chance to finally ask Orion to be his.
Megatronus exhaled all the heated air in his systems in one go, folding his servos and resting his chin upon them. “Shall I come up there and have a word with them?” he asked, mock-serious. “They will like it far less when I lose my temper, I suspect.”
Orion frowned. “It will not be my fault if they do not grant it to me.”
Well, clearly, that joke hadn’t landed. “I understand that,” said Megatronus, gently. “I did not intend to imply I would be angry with you. I know you wish to come, and that you are not responsible for preventing that from happening.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Orion sighed and shook his helm, optics glitching out again. HIs exhaustion was getting to him. “I am so sorry, Megatronus. It is clear my current workload has affected me badly. That I have been dreaming every evening certainly has not helped..”
Megatronus studied Orion unblinking. “Yes… you mentioned your repetitive dream this morning. I regret that your nights have been so troubled.”
Orion gave a hollow laugh. “Troubled. Yes. That would be one way to describe it, I suppose.”
He paused, looking straight into Megatronus’ eyes. It was not his usual sort of look; there was something far more passionate there than usual, more… hungry. His vents caught, hard, his dermas parting and his optics filling with a warm, wonderfully admiring light.
All at once, Orion blurted out, “I miss you.”
Megatronus smiled, charmed despite himself. “I miss you as well.”
“No,” said Orion, forcefully, slamming a fist atop his workstation. Megatronus stiffened, taken aback. “No, ’I miss you’ isn’t right. It isn’t strong enough. I ache. I feel your absence like the blasted-out crater a meteorite leaves in its wake. The empty spot where you should be, and where I could not come to see you, haunts my every hour. I feel the days that pass like a laser scalpel against my armor, and each new dawn where you are not there is some kind of vile, monstrous torture.” Orion buried his face in his hands, voice muffled. “I miss you, but not the way the phrase implies—in a way I do not have words for, and cannot comprehend. I miss you in a fashion so brutal it is killing me. Does that make any sense?”
The profundity of the statement washed away whatever bitterness was left in Megatronus’ spark. Orion was often affectionate, but never like this: never with this kind of agony, where the gentle, polite facade was ripped aside, laying Orion bare before him.
If this was not love, Megatronus had no idea what it was.
“Of course it makes sense,” said Megatronus, reprimanding. “You must know by now I feel the same.”
Orion looked up, blinking bleary optics at him. “You do?”
Megatronus cast him a scathing look. “Oh, Orion. Whatever am I going to do with you?” he sighed. “What did you imagine inspired my responses to your absence, if not the emotion you describe? You have spent all this time believing… what, that I ‘miss’ you in the fashion of my casual acquaintances—where I think of you only sometimes, and with only the mildest of regret?”
Orion coughed delicately. “I… suppose I thought it might be something like that.”
Megatronus glowered. “Unbelievable. Why would I spend my days in conversation with you, as long and as often as I can, if I did not yearn for your company? Why would I fill my hours with you and pause my evenings just to speak with you, if I did not also burn with the cold flame of your absence?” He leaned close to the screen, close enough to kiss if Orion had really been there. “I miss you in a fashion so brutal it is killing me—and to hear you finally say the same is only the mildest balm to my otherwise-aching spark.”
Orion smiled and ducked his helm, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping him. “Ah. I am sorry, Megatronus. As you have no doubt realized, it sometimes takes me a great while to understand what it is I feel, and what others feel for me.”
“I had some notion of the fact,” Megatronus drawled. He paused, admiring Orion’s strong, square faceplate and rounded audials, the exposed expanse of black kibble around his shoulders and intake. “I do not like that you are struggling to recharge, but at least your exhaustion gave way to an opening for you to speak your mind.”
“I suppose that is true.” Orion looked up again, and his optics glitched out, fizzing with static. “All the same, I wish my processor would let me be, at least for a night. I am desperate for recharge.”
Megatronus held Orion’s stare, weighting each word with significance as he spoke it: “Perhaps you will rest easier when you are here with me in Kaon.”
There was that wonderful heat shimmer again, blooming around Orion’s helm. “That is certainly possible,” he agreed. He paused, wearing an agonized expression—like a piece of him was being eaten alive. “I just… want to see you. Be with you. I ache for your presence and your voice. It has been so many weeks…”
“I know. I feel the same. It is torment to be without you.” An unfathomable softness washed through him. At last, Orion had confessed that he missed Megatronus, that he yearned for his company. All the worry of earlier that day faded into nothing. “When you do come—next week, I hope—there is an important matter you and I must discuss.”
Orion stiffened, finials shooting straight up. “There is?”
“Yes… but I do not wish to speak of it now,” said Megatronus, carefully. He was not concerned about giving away his plan, but he did worry that Orion might misinterpret his goals. “It will be better to convey it in person, I think.”
Orion frowned. “You will drive me to distraction wondering what it is you wish to talk about. It is not something… bad, is it?”
Megatronus shook his head, allowing his smile to blossom. “Not at all. The subject is a happy one—or, rather, I believe it will be a happy one. I have something I wish to ask you. A proposal, if you will.”
Orion hadn’t blinked since Megatronus mentioned the ‘matter’. He searched Megatronus’ face, vents caught, the very picture of anticipation. “Something you cannot ask me over comm?”
“Something I would prefer to propose while you are right in front of me, where I can see your face and read your field, and where matters might be resolved at once, without the delay my distance would cause,” Megatronus clarified. “Where you may ask me questions if you wish to, and where your acceptance may be appropriately celebrated.”
A quizzical, but happy look flashed across Orion’s face. “You have made me very curious indeed.”
“Good. Hold on to that, and use it to fuel your arguments to your superiors, should that be required,” Megatronus said. “The sooner you can escape to see me, the sooner we may have that conversation.”
“Hmm.” Orion set his chin in his hands. Megatronus couldn’t be certain, but Orion seemed to have guessed already what the subject of Megatronus’ inquiry might be. His shoulders, previously tensed and tight, relaxed, the rest of his frame easing bit by bit. “Very well. Is it something I should look forward to?”
“I would like to believe so, yes. Your answer hinges upon how much you happen to like me—and I have flattered myself into believing you like me a great deal.”
Orion’s smile grew by inches, optics dimming to a soft blue-white glow. “I seem to recall proclaiming you my favorite mech in the universe a few weeks ago.”
“You did. I have not forgotten it,” said Megatronus, grinning. “It is a compliment which I gladly return, and which confirms you should eagerly await my proposal.”
Orion made a soft sound, both impatient and pleased. “Are you certain you cannot ask me about this… ‘proposal’ right now?”
“Certain? No,” Megatronus laughed. “But I would prefer to do so while you are sitting with me in person. Content yourself in knowing that you have nothing to fear, and that we will hopefully have a week in which to celebrate, assuming all goes as I desire.”
“Oh, now, that isn’t fair at all,” Orion grumbled, without malice. He blinked at last, and blinked again. Blinked a third time, much slower. His optics began to dim, and Megatronus realized at once what was happening.
He chuckled and reset his vocalizer, loudly enough that Orion started. “You are exhausted, aren’t you?”
Orion winced. “No, no, I am fine! I can stay on a little—”
The rest of the sentence was swallowed by a yawn.
Megatronus arched an optic ridge. “You very nearly slipped into power-down mid-sentence. I would not consider that ‘fine’. Go to bed, Orion. We will speak again in the morning.”
Orion heaved a regretful sigh. “As you wish. Good night, Megatronus. Sleep well.”
“Sweet dreams,” Megatronus purred.
Orion froze, finials flicking. He searched Megatronus’ face, gaze catching upon Megatronus’ wicked grin. Good. Perhaps he would finally discern Megatronus’ meaning.
Orion’s optics narrowed, and he leaned in close, staring hard at Megatronus. “What does that mean?”
Megatronus cocked his helm. “Such indignation!” he said, with a wink. “Is it now considered bad form to wish someone pleasant dreams?”
Orion’s optics narrowed still further. “Hmm,” he said, mostly to himself. “No, I suppose not.” He hesitated, and Megatronus swore he could hear Orion’s processor spinning. “If… were I to have another dream tonight… would you be displeased to receive a call from me?”
“Not at all.” Megatronus blinked at him, slow and coy, wearing a predatory smirk. “Now, rest, my Orion. You know how to reach me should you require me.”
So saying, he ended the call, feeling freer and more elated than he had in weeks.
CALL.FROM: [DES]ORION.PAX
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
C.LVL:6
Megatronus bolted upright, drawn instantly from recharge as his HUD blazed with Orion’s call signal. He half-wondered, in the fog of onlining, if he was merely dreaming this; but no, the numbers and glyphs were really there, and that was the sound of an incoming call ringing in his audial. That was Orion on the other end, all revved up after yet another obscene dream about the gladiator he proclaimed to be his brother.
Megatronus answered, both thrilled and somewhat groggy. He was halfway to voicing some sort of greeting when he heard Orion curse, muttering to himself about the mess he’d made of his berth.
A mess. Megatronus pictured leaking lubricant decorating Orion’s inner thighs, dripping all over the slab on which he slept. That glowing pink would stand out intensely against the rich, royal blue of Orion’s modesty panel. Megatronus wondered what he smelled like, what he tasted like. If he would want Megatronus to know.
His engines revved, loudly, a hard knot tightening his insides.
Orion paused mid-mutter, vocals quavering when he spoke. “Megatronus?”
“Hello, Orion.” Megatronus’ voice cracked, both from exhaustion and arousal. “I take it your dreams were less than sweet.”
“Oh, I would not go that far,” said Orion, dryly. “It was sweet enough at first. It is its aftereffect that is causing all the trouble.”
Orion was far from the only one experiencing that sort of trouble, Megatronus thought wryly. But as the game was (technically speaking) still afoot, he kept the remark to himself.
“What aftereffect might that be?” he asked instead, in his most innocent voice.
Orion was silent for a while. Megatronus nearly prompted him for an answer, but in this mellow, freshly-woken state, he had no desire to rush Orion. Let him come around to it in his own time, if that was what he wished. Clearly, he was coming closer to relenting and telling Megatronus everything. He would never have called otherwise.
Finally, Orion spoke again, somewhat distantly. “Do you recall our conversation of a week or two ago? I have been considering it ever since.”
Megatronus frowned. This was not the direction he had expected this conversation to take. “Which discussion?”
“The one about interface.”
Ah. That made much more sense. “How could I forget? What aspect have you been considering? Have you changed your opinion?”
“Possibly.” Orion released a long, slow vent, as if to calm himself. His fans were still singing a song of longing in the background, and Megatronus’ own subconsciously responded, spinning up in answer. “Do you believe it possible that one might only feel the natural, instinctual urge to interface with a particular person? That one might otherwise lack the drive to interface entirely?”
Megatronus blinked, surprised. “The notion has never occurred to me before…”
But now that Orion had said it aloud, it felt… right. Several of the pieces Megatronus had been missing clicked into place. He’d never considered that Orion’s confusion and uncertainty might stem from a total lack of experience—not of interface itself, but of the desire for it.
He wished more than ever that Orion was sitting right in front of him, so that he could look into the archivist’s face and test his field and know the truth of what he was attempting to say. Alas that tonight, comms were all he had to guide him.
“It is an intriguing quandary,” he said at last. “I have never known a mech who experiences the urge to interface in that fashion, but that does not mean it is not possible. Is that how you feel?”
Orion swallowed, loud enough that Megatronus could hear it. “Yes. I think so.” He hesitated again, making a small, discomfited noise. “There is a second part to this conundrum.”
Megatronus leaned forward, staring into the darkness with tightly-caught vents. “Tell me.”
Another pause, and then Orion spoke, less certainly than before. “May I present you with a hypothetical?”
No, the more peevish part of Megatronus wished to say. Tell me the truth. Tell me what you feel, what you wrote, what you wish to write, without these absurd little games to couch their meaning. But he merely raised his optics heavenward, resisting the urge. “If you must. If it would be easier that way.”
“Alright.” He heard the sound of Orion’s sheets and the soft clunk of his armor and joints as he moved. “Imagine a mech who is as I described.”
“Someone like you?”
“If you wish to think of it that way. A mech who only experiences lust for someone they admire.” Still another pause. Orion was having quite the time getting to his point. “If that mech—the one like me—suddenly felt a strong carnal attraction to a very close friend… do you think that friend would be angry once he learned of it?”
“Absolutely not,” said Megatronus, almost before Orion had finished the sentence.
Orion paused again, surprised. “You don’t think so?”
“No, I do not.”
“I am speaking in a general sense,” said Orion, uncertainly. “Not about any… specific scenario.”
Ah, yes. Orion and his hypotheticals were still the rule of law here. How vexing. “It is impossible to generalize this example, as the response would depend upon the friend in question,” Megatronus grumbled. “I suppose in many cases, the friendship would be damaged by such a confession. But that is not why you asked me, is it?”
Orion made an uncomfortable, delicate noise, a hesitant little ah. “Well… I may, perhaps, have wondered how you, personally, would feel about it.”
“As I thought.” Megatronus smirked, imagining Orion’s anxious gaze. He was ridiculous. Had they not settled this matter already earlier this evening? But very well; if Orion required further assurances, Megatronus was glad enough to give them. “Then it is as I first told you: no, I would not be angry. Not when said confession came from you—or, if you really prefer the hypothetical, ‘a mech such as you’. I would revel in it. From a mech who was not you, however—or ‘one such as you’, as you wish me to say—I would be far less enthused.”
Orion exhaled, a deep, relieved release of his vents. “I see.” Megatronus could almost hear Orion’s smile there in the words. “That is very helpful. Thank you for the clarity.”
“Always, my Orion.” He gave Orion a moment to interrupt, to make the confession if he wished to; but Orion stayed silent, this time calmly, perhaps deciding his admission could wait until Megatronus’ request had been given voice. “Since the topic has occupied so many of your hours, we will have to continue the discussion during your visit.”
“That would be nice.” Another, more lingering pause; and then: “This… dream. I cannot get it out of my head. It is driving me to pieces.”
“Would you like to tell me about it?” Megatronus asked, low and throaty. “Perhaps I might help you tease out its true meaning if I knew the details.”
Orion emitted a muffled groan, as though he’d buried his face in his hands. “I… cannot, Megatronus. Not yet. Not aloud. It would be unbearable for me this way.”
Not aloud. Megatronus thought again of his comments on Orion’s post, unanswered even now. Was Orion making reference to them? It belatedly occurred to him that if anyone could spot his writing from a lightyear away, it was probably Orion Pax.
“Would it be easier if you wrote it down for me?” he asked.
“It… might,” Orion admitted. “But I do not wish to do that right now. I just… I cannot settle at all. I cannot get my frame to cool down. It feels as though every circuit is itching and aflame, and I can’t get it to stop. I do not know what to do.”
“What do you wish to do?”
“Nothing I can speak of in front of polite company.”
“In case you failed to notice, Orion, there is no such ‘polite company’ to concern yourself with,” Megatronus drawled.
“I suppose not—but you are here, and giving voice to what I want is…” Orion reset his vocalizer twice in a row, the machinery clicking as it worked. “I do not know how to say it, or what I wish to ask for; only that I want.”
Megatronus’ pauldrons flicked, charge licking at his armor. He imagined needy, aching Orion spread out on his berth in Iacon, static crawling across his plates and lubricant leaking from his seams as he tossed and turned in a futile attempt to sleep.
What a lovely vision.
Megatronus growled softly, claws digging into his berth. “Would that I could come to Iacon this very moment. It would be far easier if I were there in person.”
Orion groaned, vents humming as they heated up. “Yes, it would,” he agreed. “Then I could simply show you.”
Megatronus could feel his own thwarted lust squirming through his lines, furious to be denied. He could only imagine what a piteous state Orion must be in.
“Let me help you, Orion,” he urged. “Tell me what you need, and let me give it to you.”
Orion gave another muffled groan. Then, silence. Megatronus waited, tensed, for Orion to at last give the word: to ask Megatronus to lend him his voice, and drag him to overload with instruction alone. He was going to do it this time. He was so close to breaking; all he needed was the slightest nudge…
Orion emitted a miserable-sounding bleep. “Would you… would you, maybe, read to me for a little while? Your vocals might help soothe me to sleep.”
Megatronus snarled, sharp and furious, before he could quell it. Orion couldn’t be serious. Did he truly still wish to play this little game, even wild and half-feral with lust?
Perhaps that was part of the appeal to him: playing the innocent while knowing he was driving Megatronus mad.
No, Megatronus chided himself. That was an uncharitable thought, and inaccurate to boot. Orion was genuinely uncertain about what to do with the longing he felt. No doubt he wished to wait until he was with Megatronus to confront the issue directly, just as Megatronus wished to wait until Orion was with him to clarify his intentions.
It had been foolish to imagine anything else—a fever dream inspired by being overcharged, and nothing more.
Resigned, Megatronus stood, wandering towards his bookshelf. “If that is what you wish… then certainly,” he said. “Let me see what I have for you.”
He scanned his shelves for a worthy selection. There were plenty of philosophical works he could read that might help Orion’s systems relax, but that didn’t feel quite right. He did not wish to engage Orion’s processor in intellectual pursuits, nor soothe him to sleep with a quiet reading. There must be something that might make his intentions plain…
Then his gaze alighted upon a volume of very… particular poetry, and his optics flashed so bright the reflection caught in the metal of the walls around him.
“Ah! I have found the perfect thing,” he grinned, grabbing the volume from the shelf. “A recently-acquired poetry collection.”
“Poetry?” said Orion, bemused. “I thought you disliked the genre. You have often snubbed the art form in conversation with me.”
“Quite. I mostly believe it to be a pointless exercise in sentiment.” Megatronus returned to his berth and settled in. He ought to make himself comfortable for this. Depending on how things went, they might be there awhile—though, given Orion’s current level of charge, Megatronus very much doubted it. “However, I found this particular collection quite intriguing. I thought of you often as I read it.”
“Oh! That’s very kind,” said Orion, surprised and pleased. “Who is the author?”
“It contains numerous authors’ works, all of which match the overall theme,” said Megatronus, mock-serious. “An anthology. It was the theme that first caught my attention. And there are several excellent poems on the topic that might offer you some perspective. Let’s see… ah, here we are. Let’s begin with this one…”
He carefully reset his vocalizer, clearing it so that it would not glitch, and dropped his vocal tone. He needed to read this perfectly, or it would not have the same effect. Slow and rich and resonant. He needed Orion to feel each word, to understand the intention behind it. To feel the text like Megatronus’ hands across his plating.
When he was certain of himself, he began to read.
Let me mark you, beloved,
with whip and claw and blade;
cry mercy as my teeth
find the hard pulse of your throat.
Kneel down
and call me victor,
and offer me surrender.
Give me
your hands to kiss
your hips to hold
the place between your thighs
to taste.
Scream please, and yes, and promise
you will yield
knowing
I will give
no quarter.
Orion’s fans screamed their way back to full volume, a plaintive sound escaping him as Megatronus reached the final lines.
“This… made you think of me?” Orion managed at last, strangled.
“Yes.”
Orion’s systems made a series of inquisitive beeps, echoing in Megatronus’ audial as if the archivist was sitting right in front of him. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Does that surprise you?”
Orion paused again, dumbstruck. “I… yes; but also, no? I do not know how to answer that.”
“Hmm. I have clearly done a poor job of conveying my intentions, if you remain so uncertain,” said Megatronus, with a dark chuckle. “Perhaps I ought to read it again, to ensure you fully grasp my meaning.”
Something on Orion’s frame made a hideous squealing noise. Megatronus thought he heard Orion’s horn go off before abruptly being muted.
“You… wish to read it to me again?” Orion said at last.
“Yes. To give you ample opportunity to fully appreciate what it is expressing.” Megatronus grinned, settling back against his pillows and spreading his legs. His panel was already throwing off an absurd amount of heat; he could only imagine what a state poor Orion must be in.
He was going to have to help Orion along.
“You might enjoy the reading best from your berth, if you are not there already,” he suggested. “You will want to take up an appropriate position for listening… something concurrent with this troublesome dream of yours, perhaps?”
Orion huffed, horn honking again. “I… are you suggesting…?”
“Since I do not know the particulars, I regrettably cannot make a recommendation,” said Megatronus, lightly. “I will only say you should select the position that makes for the most… pleasurable listening experience. And remove any barriers that might bar you from the fullest enjoyment. You will want to ensure your hands can wander anywhere they wish.”
“... oh,” Orion whispered. “Are you certain…?”
“Yes, Orion.” Megatronus rolled the syllables of Orion’s name like candy on his glossa. “Trust me. You wish to relax, don’t you? To relieve the ache the dream leaves in your frame?”
Orion moaned, low and soft and fervent. “Yes…”
“Then do as I command.”
Orion made a desperate noise. There came faint sounds of shifting sheets and moving armor. Megatronus wondered what position Orion was taking. If he was lying on his back, or on his front. If his panel was already open, or if he was still attempting to keep it closed.
“Tell me when you are ready,” Megatronus murmured, when it seemed like Orion had stilled.
Orion exhaled, long and shaky. “Ready.”
Megatronus leered into the dark, brushing his digits over his panel. “Excellent. Then let’s begin.”
He read the poem a second time, tasting every word: taking it slow and sweet, dragging it out. Over their shared frequency, he could hear the roar of Orion’s fans, undercut by the archivist’s soft panting. Megatronus thought he heard faint, wet sounds as well, but that was probably his imagination running away with him. It was incredible all the same.
He finished the poem and paused, listening to Orion’s vents. They were ragged already. He must be exquisitely overcharged, to be in such a state.
“Were you able to appreciate it fully this time, my Orion?” Megatronus murmured.
Orion made a sound the likes of which Megatronus had never heard. His fans had gotten so loud it was difficult to hear him when he spoke. “Uh… huh,” he managed. “Would you—ha—would you read me another one, please?”
From the muffled tone of Orion’s voice and the strange, muted echo it made, Megatronus guessed Orion was on his hands and knees, face buried in his pillow. Legs spread wide. That gorgeous aft lifted aloft. A beautiful valve exposed and dripping wet. Megatronus wondered what color Orion’s node was, and if it blinked when he was aroused. If he was rubbing it even now with those flat, square digits, waiting for Megatronus to read more…
“With pleasure, my archivist.”
He knew what the next poem should be. He had a carefully composed list running through his processor, one intended to last as long as Orion needed to reach climax.
Megatronus located the second poem and began to read, in the same throaty, gravelly voice.
Craftsman, my blacksmith,
Bring me to your forge.
Take my raw, imperfect alloy
And press it slowly within your mold.
Shape me perfectly to fit you.
Squeeze me between your presses.
Clutch my hammer ‘twixt your fingers.
I’ll strike your anvil how you like it
And watch you throw off sparks.
Make of me your ideal tool
Designed to match desire;
That the minute cracks inside me
Might fill and make me strong.
Turn me from base metal
Into your dream creation;
Forge of me the weapon
You have always ached to wield.
Make me molten beneath your digits
And watch how hot I glow.
Orion, to Megatronus’ delight, had apparently forgotten that he could mute himself if he wished. He’d also failed to muffle the sounds he was making. Several times as Megatronus read, he’d heard Orion moaning, panting, “Oh,” and “Ah,” and “Primus, yes,” in a soft, half-hysterical voice.
He was perfect.
“Would you like another?” Megatronus asked, almost a growl. His spike housing was painfully tight, and he could feel himself lubricating even now, even with his panel still shut.
“Yes!” Orion gasped. “Yes, please, I want - I want—!”
“As many as you need.” He located the next poem and began to read, vocals tasting every word as though it was Orion’s own plating.
Before me you lie open
and
unraveling,
resplendent
as I bend
and pull you to my nebula.
Your swollen rings
and aching star
drip golden beams
upon our berth.
My tongue will grace the moist, warm sun
that cries for me to fill it;
a flood of power and heat
drawn from my very
spark
“Megatronus…”
That deep, desperate moan said everything Orion currently could not. Megatronus felt it reverberating through his every strut, fierce enough to cause his spike housing to snap aside. Megatronus bit down on a growl, teasing a digit over the tip of his spike as it pressurized to its full size. He would need a good self-service later, he thought, when he was able to focus on himself. When Orion did not need him.
Orion gusted hot air, a muffled keen echoing over their line. “Megatronus—please—I—just one more?”
“Gladly,” Megatronus breathed. He gave in to temptation and used his free hand to fondle his spike. A little ragged panting would add to the eroticism, wouldn’t it? Orion deserved to know how deeply he’d affected his Champion.
Megatronus found the final poem, perfect in placement and design, and knew it would be all Orion would require. His stroking servo picked up speed, and hoarsely, he began to read:
and here is my secret (only for you)
i quiver at the thought of you (the very notion of your silver thighs)
and yearning is a synonym for your name (a designation like a holy fire)
i orbit you in futile hope (one taste is all i wish, my dear)
stand hard and proud (under your eyes alone)
and if i could fill every inch of you i would (the forge ignites, the clutching spiral damp)
and if you would have me (i would take you in the open sun, under every planetary eye)
see how i kneel (begging, mouth open, my tongue alive to taste you)
and clutch your hips (such fine, sleek plates, the smoothest i have ever touched)
my dignity (what dignity, for you i cast it out)
my channels open (deep floods for you alone, my love)
i yearn (oh i yearn, i yearn, i yearn, my dear)
and overflow (on top of you, inside you, wherever i can fit)
your mouth the crucible, my metal molten (wet and melting beneath your tongue)
Orion hit overload right there at the final line. He released a long, shuddering moan that even his pillow couldn’t muffle, his fans kicking up to their highest setting. Then the sizzle of expelled electricity echoed in Megatronus’ audials.
“Beautiful,” Megatronus breathed, squeezing his spike as he listened to Orion’s climax. His voice hissed and cracked with charge as Orion moaned again, gasping his name. “My glorious Orion…”
“Meg—Mega—Megatron— ” Orion stuttered, as overload dragged him further and farther and deeper. Each wave of charge hit him and tore a gasp from his throat, and then a soft exhale, and then another gasp as a new wave struck, and then another, and another. Then, finally, an ecstatic sigh, and a hard clank, as Orion presumably collapsed, strutless, atop his berth.
Megatronus gave Orion a moment to come down, regretfully releasing his burning-hot spike. He could give himself attention afterward; Orion needed him now. “Good?” he murmured, so as not to drag Orion out of his satiated daze.
“Oh, yes,” Orion mumbled. He almost sounded drunk. “You read so well, Megatronus.”
Megatronus chuckled. “I was fortunate to have such a delightful audience tonight. And so enthusiastic, as well!”
Orion laughed, muffled still by either pillow or servos. “As it turns out, I have a great deal of enthusiasm for you, and everything you do.”
“We will have to talk about that when you arrive in Kaon,” said Megatronus, slyly.
“Clearly!” Orion paused, and then, in a sheepish voice, asked, “You have been so obliging tonight… is there anything I can do for you? I would like to repay the favor.”
“Oh, you’ve done more than enough,” Megatronus said. He fondled the tip of his spike, feeling it twitch a little at the touch. “I believe I can handle things from here. Do you feel any better?”
Orion paused again. “I will feel best when I am with you,” he said, with all the earnestness that Megatronus had come to adore. “But I do feel wonderful. Relaxed.”
As if on cue, the final syllable was swallowed by a yawn. This was probably the first time he’d expelled enough charge to return to sleep after the dream, Megatronus realized. His systems were no doubt on the verge of shutting down.
“Excellent. Then you should get some rest,” Megatronus said.
“Mm. What about you?”
Megatronus glanced at his erect spike, its biolights agleam with charge. “I think a solvent shower is in order for me. Then recharge.”
“Solvent shower?” Orion asked. Then he laughed. “Oh! I see. Are you certain you do not wish for my assistance there?”
Megatronus set aside the volume of poetry, a hungry throb pulsing through his frame. “Make no mistake—your assistance is very much desired, and has been for a long time. But for tonight, I think our little reading will suffice. Besides, you ought to preserve that enthusiasm for your visit.”
“Duly noted,” said Orion, with another sleepy laugh. “Megatronus?”
“Yes?”
“Since you wondered… I really like you.”
Megatronus quashed a laugh, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I ‘really like you’ too, Orion. Now, try to recharge a few more hours, if you can. You will wish to be well-rested before arriving in Kaon. You may find recharge in short supply when you return to me.”
Orion made a soft, good-humored sound. “Many poetry readings in my future?”
“Oh, yes. At least twice every night, I should think.”
Orion clicked his glossa against his teeth. “I might not be capable of walking if that’s your plan.”
“One doesn’t need to walk very far to read poetry,” Megatronus quipped. “Now, for the last time, rest.”
“Yes, sir,” said Orion, fondly. Megatronus imagined a salute and smiled to himself. “Good night, Megatronus.”
“Good night, dearest.”
Notes:
I do dabble in free verse poetry from time to time, but erotic poetry is not necessarily my forte XD I can only beg your pardon for any cringe.
The final poem is my favorite. It was *heavily* inspired by e.e. cummings' poems, in particular "i carry your heart with me", which is my favorite poem of all time. I'm a basic sap, lol. The others are based on what metaphors I thought Cybertronians might use when discussing lovers (forges, blacksmiths, and metalsmithing; molten metal; space and planets and stars and so on).
Chapter 5
Summary:
Orion barely permitted Megatronus to finish his sentence. “The approval has come through!” he exclaimed, breathlessly. “And there is more—I am owed a few extra days because of the previous engagement, and my superior has offered to add those as well due to their blunder, and as a reward for the completion of my project for Cybertronian Intelligence this morning. May I come tomorrow?”
Notes:
This one's also a long one. I really shouldn't have made the chapters as long as I did for this fic (they average 6000ish words each), but I just couldn't resist adding the ending scene here instead of at the beginning of the next chapter. I hope it works <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, when Megatronus woke, Orion had finally replied to his comment on the post.
U: 0PH56A7O
Very well. In the spirit of scientific inquiry, and presuming you to be sincere, here are the details you desired. Be forewarned that what follows is NOT to be read on any device related to one’s job function, and should be accessed on personal workstations only.I have since had the dream again, almost nightly, with some small deviations each time it occurs.
It begins in a warm, quiet, distantly familiar place. There is a faint echo of voices somewhere far above us, like an entertainment hall or sporting arena. My partner, who I cannot see, is behind and above me, and I am on my hands and knees. This almost always remains consistent, although on occasion I have been sitting astride him, with my face pressed against his intake. I only know him by the sound of his voice and the smell of his armor, and it takes me a moment to recognize him. His servos rest atop my hips, gently kneading the metal as I come to terms with my situation. My spinal strut stiffens, and then he speaks.
He refers to me by one of several fond diminutives, soothing me when I begin to stutter protests. He promises me that all is well; he is not angry with me for craving this of him. I can feel his vents against my plating, dewing upon the surface. He plants kisses along my throat and shoulders while he reassures, and the moment I relax, the dream changes.
When I blink, I can feel him inside me, overpowering and overwhelming. I am stretched so wide and deep it feels like my calipers might snap; but it never hurts, not even then. It is the purest, most perfect pleasure I have ever felt. He holds my chin or my hips in tightly-gripped digits and murmurs poetic filth into my audial, telling me how long he has desired this and how terribly I have tormented him by forcing him to wait. He uses his full strength upon my body, and I am helpless to deny him, nor do I want to. Each jolt of my frame is felt down to my struts, even when I wake. I can hear our plating clashing and my fans screaming, feel his vents pouring superheated air over my armor. The only sense of vagueness is the environment around us, which is nothing but shadows; everything else seems… intimately real. So real it feels more like memory than dream.
My dream-self comes right to the edge of overload, but never tips over. I always wake before my frame allows me any release. Right as I begin to reach the peak, I finally see his face, his spark bared and open for me. That image, above all the rest, is the most intimate and beautiful. He is aglow with light and perfectly framed, as magnificent as I have ever known him to be. I move to open my own spark chamber for him, yearning to be joined with him; but my chest plates never fully part before I wake. I’m denied the merge every time. No agony has ever cut me deeper.
Every night now, I wake to a cold and lonely berth, leaking lubricant and feeling empty. My mind and body are both certain he should be there with me, and it takes me a long time to calm my systems enough to rise.
There are moments where I wake already primed to call him. In fact, the first time I dreamt, I did call him while still asleep, but brushed it off as a system glitch once I wakened to his voice.
So, there you have it.
I imagine you have many thoughts to share. I look forward to reading them.
Megatronus swallowed, mouth dry and fans whining. Orion’s desire was palpable in every paragraph, each sentence unraveling Megatronus’ iron restraint as easily as one might unspool a cable. Megatronus could see it as though he too had dreamt it: Orion bent beneath him, or poised in his lap, gasping his designation while he poured all the filthy compliments he’d withheld these many years over Orion’s beautiful frame. He could feel Orion’s heat wet and squeezing around him, and he ached, he wanted, he needed—
It would have been difficult enough to control himself after their decadent call last night; but now, it would be impossible. When Orion arrived next week—if he arrived—it would take every last bit of Megatronus’ willpower not to capture Orion and pin him against his door.
At least he had a few days to calm himself.
A new notification sounded in his audial—a reply to the thread. However, it was not Orion’s anonymous username, so Megatronus frowned and dismissed the alert, only to get another. And another. And another.
Comments were pouring in rapid-fire, faster than Megatronus could track them, and all of them were saying approximately the same thing.
U: N1CY0YNI
Ok I was dead-on correct. You are 100% horny for your friend, and frankly now I am too. Sweet Solus Prime. Have you jumped him yet? You should definitely jump him.U: F8NIUNKS
By the Pit. If you don’t wind up fragging your friend the next time you see him, I’ll eat my own pedeguard.U: L3SBN486
… so anyway I’ll be in my hab, don’t interrupt me please i’m gonna need a good hour at leastU: ZXPH2A09
If you ever get bored of clerking, OP, may I suggest a secret side business peddling erotica? Just write out all the nasty details if you wish to practice. I promise we don’t mind…U: C8B9NTVK
this is the the horniest thing i’ve ever read in my life
Megatronus scowled. It had been far easier, prior to this moment, to pretend this particular part of the conversation was for Orion and Megatronus alone. Now he was faced with an unpleasant revelation. Orion’s fantasy had become public knowledge, and all because Megatronus himself had been fool enough to demand it.
He should have foreseen this. He should have silenced that reckless urge and never asked for details here, where anyone might read them. No one else should be permitted to know Orion like this; only he, the object of Orion’s desire. Only he, Orion’s mate.
No, he told himself, firmly; his jealousy had blinded him. None of these readers knew Orion’s true identity. This glorious vision of Orion was still Megatronus’ to cherish, and only his.
After all, the likelihood that anyone would trace this post back to Megatronus and Orion Pax was certainly slim to none… wasn’t it?
Never mind that Soundwave had so easily found them out. That was in Soundwave’s nature. Certainly it would be less apparent to the general populace.
He set about typing his own reply, endeavoring to sound less like a slavering peon and more like… well… himself.
U: M3G40WT7
So it is as I suspected. The details of this dream are far too clear and intimate to have an innocent meaning. And you say you have had this dream multiple times? You must crave him utterly.Poor, lonely clerk, separated from the object of his affections by both distance and work, as well as his own ignorance!
Have you considered how you will tell your favorite gladiator of your feelings when you return to him? Perhaps he has already recognized them for what they are. That nighttime ping may very well have given you away, or, if you have conversed with him recently, he may have noticed a change in your behavior. But if he has not, or if he does not address the change he feels in you… how will you tell him? Will you convey your desire as prettily in person as you do in writing?
Megatronus smirked, pleased with his response. It felt a little naughty writing to Orion like this—like a secret whispered out in the open, where anyone might see or hear them. Orion’s cheeky remark at the conclusion of his description all but confirmed that he had guessed Megatronus’ identity. Megatronus had goaded him into sharing his dream, and Orion was needling him right back.
Somehow, despite his seemingly demure nature, Orion always rose to the challenge. It was one of many things Megatronus adored about him.
Another alert chimed, and a comment appeared—and this time, it was from Orion.
U: 0PH56A7O
I have not yet decided what to say, but he has mentioned that he wishes to have a “discussion” about a “happy matter” with me when I arrive to visit him next week. And given our late-night call last night, I am reasonably certain you are aware of how I feel and intend to take full advantage.I can hardly wait.
U: 0PH56A7O
EDIT: *reasonably certain he is aware of how I feel and intends to take full advantage.I apologize for the error.
There it was, in plain, blaring text: the mistake that proved Orion had almost certainly recognized his writing. Megatronus’ spark soared. That final line felt like a promise, another secret just for him: I cannot wait to be with you the way my dreams have shown me—the way we pretended last night.
Megatronus could hardly wait, either.
He ought to compose some sort of reply, if only to verify, as best he could, that Orion was right to be eager.
U: M3G40WT7
Your ‘friend’ will undoubtedly be glad to be finished with the charade once you arrive; no doubt you feel the same. If his pursuit has run as long as I imagine, your overdue recognition must please him very much.U: 0PH56A7O
It is a curious thing… I perceived him to be aggressive and forthright in all things, and never particularly subtle. I was sure that if he felt something for me, he would have voiced it plainly long before now.U: M3G40WT7
I am certain he would have, if he believed you returned his affections by even a modicum. That he did not do so suggests he imagined otherwise.Or perhaps he believed his flirtations were aggressive enough for you to recognize them, severely underestimating your oblivious nature. After all, you once considered the meaning of this dream to be ambiguous. I daresay you are equally likely to miss the signs of romantic attraction in person.
You simply do not give your friend enough credit.
U: 0PH56A7O
Perhaps you are right. He must be terribly put out with me, if I have truly misunderstood him all this time.U: M3G401T7
Let us hope he can find it somewhere within his spark to forgive you, dearest clerk.
At last he felt able to step away from the forum, closing the post altogether for the first time in weeks. Orion would come to Kaon soon, and all would be resolved between them at last—so long as the visit continued as planned.
Megatronus scowled, mouth twisting in displeasure. That was far from guaranteed. Orion still had yet to receive approval for his leave, and Megatronus very much doubted the Hall of Records made a habit of waiting until the eleventh hour to grant time away to its most preeminent staff. If Orion might yet be kept from him…
No. He would not tolerate another separation. He would not. He could be patient when it was required of him, but Orion had made so many marvelous promises, and Megatronus was desperate to experience them all.
His processor leapt fourteen steps ahead, as usual. He strode from his quarters and to the gladiators’ mess hall, lost in thought. By the time he collected his morning ration, he had formed several elaborate plans for how he might steal away to Iacon.
Plot one: illegally secure a travel pass, utilizing a forged personal encryption key from Guild leadership, and make use of it to take a transport.
Plot two: capture a heavily-guarded spacebridge and transport straight to the Hall of Records.
Plot three: stow away aboard a merchandise transport or skiff of some kind, then sneak his way out of the dockyards and into the city without being caught.
He would require Soundwave’s assistance to block his signal, regardless of which plan he executed. Full espionage tactics might be necessary, especially for the more complex plans. And he would need to find some way of alerting Orion, he supposed—unless he simply turned up and surprised him…
An audial-splitting ringing sound startled him out of his reverie. Megatronus glanced at his HUD and saw with surprise and pleasure that it was Orion.
It was awfully early for a call. Could it be good news… or bad?
Megatronus picked up, making an inquisitive noise. “Why, good morning, Orion. What an unexpected pleasure!”
Orion barely permitted Megatronus to finish his sentence. “The approval has come through!” he exclaimed, breathlessly. “And there is more—I am owed a few extra days because of the previous engagement, and my superior has offered to add those as well due to their blunder, and as a reward for the completion of my project for Cybertronian Intelligence this morning. May I come tomorrow?”
Megatronus almost dropped the cube he was holding. “Tomorrow?!”
Orion fell silent. All that delightful enthusiasm faded away, confusion and hurt bleeding over the line. “Oh. Or… if you would prefer that I not come—”
“No!” Megatronus barked. He hadn’t intended to sound disappointed by the prospect. He inwardly spat curses at himself, mortified. “Primus, no, Orion—I was merely surprised. I had half-convinced myself I would not see you at all.” He raked his claws over his helm, awkwardly resetting his vocalizer. “I… may have been in the midst of plotting to steal away to Iacon if your leave was once again denied.”
Megatronus could feel it as Orion brightened, his warm, rich laugh pouring over Megatronus’ frame like hot solvent. “I see! Well, thank you for preparing for all eventualities. In this case, catastrophizing is blessedly unnecessary.” Orion paused, then asked, “So… may I come tomorrow, then, or do you have objections?”
Megatronus scoffed. “What possible objections could I have? Of course you may come tomorrow, if you like—just know that I must participate in a few matches while you are with me, which will interrupt our time together. Is that alright?”
Orion was all elation again, a joyful smile apparent in his voice. “I imagined that might be the case. That does not trouble me at all.”
Megatronus’ processor raced. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, Orion would return to him at last. They could spend the day together, and then share their first night together after. It was far sooner than Megatronus had expected, and yet still it seemed like an eternity, especially with so much charge built up inside his frame.
Unless…
“You say your leave begins tomorrow…” said Megatronus, thoughtfully. “By my account, your leave technically begins the moment your current shift concludes.”
“Hmm… yes, that is true,” Orion agreed.
“Then you might consider coming tonight instead, if you wished, after shift.” It was impossible not to sound overeager in making the suggestion, but Megatronus didn’t care. Let him be overeager, then, just this once. “My match occurs at midday today, which leaves my evening open. And should you come tonight, you will not need to trouble with the bustle of the morning line.”
Orion gave a deep, delighted exclamation. “Truly? You would not mind, despite the short notice?”
“The sooner I have you, the better,” said Megatronus, hungrily. “Is there any availability on the evening transport?”
There was a brief pause as Orion searched for the details. He hummed to himself quietly as he did so, a deep, soothing note that set Megatronus’ spark aflame. “To our great fortune, there are many open seats. I am purchasing a ticket now. Tonight, 18:15 arrival time.”
“Excellent.” Megatronus grinned, itching and alive with charge. “Then I will see you very soon, Orion Pax.”
“I hope you have considerably more poetry in that volume to share,” said Orion, slyly.
“You have no idea,” Megatronus growled. “I eagerly await the chance to share the remainder with you.”
Orion’s engines rumbled, loud enough that Megatronus could hear them over their frequency. “I look forward to it. In the meantime—good luck at your match this afternoon!”
“What need have I of luck? My beloved will be there to greet me afterward.”
He hadn’t meant to say the endearment aloud, not so casually; but it was too late to take it back. He stilled, waiting, optics narrowing as he listened for Orion’s reaction.
Orion’s vents caught, hard. “Oh,” he murmured, soft and awed. “Beloved.”
Relief swept through him. He had feared that Orion might respond poorly to the abrupt appearance of an affectionate moniker, given his initial resistance to the notion of being in love; but Orion, as ever, did not disappoint.
“That is the endearment I associate most often with you,” said Megatronus, fondly. “But should you have suggestions, I am open to them. Ponder that until you arrive this evening.”
“I will think of nothing else,” Orion promised. “Soon, Megatronus.”
“Tonight.” Megatronus reset his vocalizer, forcing himself back to the present. “As much as I do not wish to end the call, you’d better go. No doubt some poor administrative mech awaits your answer.”
“Ah, true,” said Orion, regretfully. “Farewell, Megatronus. I will see you tonight.” He paused, hesitating; then all at once, he blurted out, “I love you.”
He made a hideous noise and immediately ended the call.
Megatronus froze, stunned, smiling into nothing. Orion had acknowledged it, had said it aloud at last: I love you, just as quickly and easily as Megatronus had called him beloved.
And he would be there tonight, in Megatronus’ bed, after weeks of separation. If there was such a thing as miracles, this might well qualify as one.
Megatronus opened his comms and pinged Orion, the light of his spark gleaming so bright he could see it peeking through the cracks in his armor.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Such discourtesy, Orion Pax! ::
:: Making such lovely professions and then denying me the chance to return them. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Forgive me. ::
:: It has taken me so long to come to terms with what I feel… ::
:: I was terrified you would not say it back. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Best, beloved, most marvelous Orion… ::
:: I will say it as often as you desire to convince you of its truth. ::
:: I love you, and I will see you tonight. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: That is *so* wonderful to read. ::
:: You have made me the happiest of mechs. ::
:: I cannot wait. ::
:: I love you. ::
Megatronus was halfway through composing a reply when he glanced up and took in the grim state of his quarters. How cold and austere they seemed! He frowned, displeased. After his fight, he must rearrange some of his few furnishings and acquire superior decoration.
After all, Orion had mentioned that he sought primarily a romantic connection when it came to interface. Megatronus could make that a reality, but it would take some work. There was very little that was romantic about slate-gray walls and the harsh glare of filament lamps.
He began to make a list of things to do and items to purchase, all his attention turned towards preparing for Orion’s imminent arrival.
The day dragged.
Megatronus was half-convinced the clock was making sport of him. Every time he glanced at his chronometer, only a minute or two had passed. It was driving him to pieces.
The sole advantage to the day’s snail’s pace was that it gave Megatronus the time he needed to pepper Orion with questions, and to ensure his plans for the night came to fruition.
He sent Orion the first comm shortly after his battle. He’d fought against an enormous armored Brutex—an alien beast that bore electrified tentacles upon its back, with teeth almost as big as Megatronus himself. He had cleaned himself up as best he could after the fight, but his seams still contained traces of its blood and guts in parts.
He was not, in short, in a fit state to go shopping—especially not at a confectionery. But that certainly wasn’t going to stop him.
As he strode through the garish orange door of a candy shop near the Pits, sparklings and their creators turned to gape at him, some in awe and some in terror. The slight traces of gore upon his frame and his severe expression were enough to prevent any passing fans from attempting to stop him as he wandered through the store, looking at the multitude of options and deciding what to purchase.
This was not something Megatronus commonly did for his lovers. It had always seemed too tender a gesture, a frivolous gift that gave the impression that Megatronus desired more than interface from his partner. Before Orion, that had seldom been the case. Now that it was the case, selecting the right confections felt both daunting and alien.
As he scanned the innumerable sweets on display, Megatronus realized he had no notion what sort of treats Orion enjoyed. Such banal details seldom arose during their conversations, and Megatronus had never thought to ask, as it hadn’t seemed important.
Now, it felt like the most crucial knowledge in the universe.
Megatronus, glaring down at a riotous display of colorfully wrapped delicacies, decided upon the direct approach, for once.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: What is your favorite candy? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: … That is decidedly not what I expected you to say when next you pinged me. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: It is a small but important fact that I wish to know about you. ::
:: Our grand conversations have not allowed us to share some of these little personal preferences with one another. ::
:: That is why I am asking—to know you better. ::
:: Better than I already do, at any rate. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Oh! That is a wonderful thought. ::
:: I am happy to share. ::
:: I’m partial to energon truffles. ::
:: The ones flavored with Scarlet Briarspar and planar salt are my favorites. ::
:: Oh, and tanternite as well! ::
:: Rock candies are also delightful. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Perfect. Thank you. ::
Of course he was not simply curious; he had a purpose to achieve here. Provided now with direction, he turned aside and sought the sweets Orion had mentioned. He selected the loveliest and most nicely-arranged rock candies of the bunch, then approached the counter and assembled a box of truffles for Orion. The flavors he’d described were a bit unusual, but then, that was hardly surprising. Orion was himself unusual.
As Megatronus was leaving with his purchases, Orion sent a replying comm.
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: What of your favorites? ::
:: You did not share your own with me. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I am not partial to any common candies. ::
:: But I am terribly fond of those decadent solar sugar trifles. ::
:: I do not often get to enjoy them, alas, but that makes them all the more delectable. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I have never had a solar sugar trifle before. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: We shall have to rectify that little oversight while you are here. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I would like that. ::
:: I look forward to sharing one with you. ::
Onward, then, to the little flower shop a block down the street. Several fellow gladiators were within when he entered, and they nodded to him as he approached. They were already mid-purchase, either buying flowers for their patrons or for some fanmech they wished to court. They watched Megatronus curiously as he surveyed the shop’s offerings, seeking something that might please Orion.
His compatriots were clearly surprised to see him, and no wonder; he had never before purchased blooms for anyone, patron, fanmech, or otherwise. He sensed their intrigued gazes as they tracked his path around the room, perhaps in an attempt to determine what mech the Champion was pursuing.
He ignored their lingering stares and did not speak to them as he set about making selections.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Favorite florals? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: That is a strange detail to inquire after. ::
:: But, so be it. ::
:: I quite like Night Juniper, Dawn Sorrel, Orchadillia and Twilight Swallowort. ::
:: … I have only just realized those are largely associated with times of day. ::
:: Interesting. ::
:: They were plants I often ran across when I lived in the wilds. ::
:: Night Juniper was very useful for setting traps, and Twilight Swallowort made useful bandages. ::
:: Dawn Sorrel has good flavoring for energon. ::
:: And Orchadillia are just lovely. ::
Megatronus rolled his optics, fondly. He was already certain he would not find the first two plants Orion had named; the third was the easiest, but still uncommon; and the fourth was a dubious proposition at best.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Only my archivist would proceed to list a small blossoming shrub, an herb, a single common flower, and one of the rarer and more complex florals on the planet when asked for his favorite blooms. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Is there something wrong with them? I like them all for a variety of reasons, primarily due to their inherent characteristics as part of the ecosystem of Cybertron, and because of the associations I previously named. ::
:: They are quite useful in their own ways. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: I was not asking about their usefulness. ::
:: But I am, as ever, charmed by your incredible knack for missing the point. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: … wait a moment. ::
:: Are you purchasing flowers and candy for me? ::
Megatronus chuckled, shaking his helm fondly. So Orion had at last recognized the purpose behind his questions. He must not have considered that anyone, least of all Megatronus, might wish to purchase him some small, romantic gifts.
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: What possible other purpose might I have in inquiring about your preference for sweets and blossoms? ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Well, now that you have said so, I’m not sure. ::
:: But as a rule, you are inherently unpredictable. ::
:: You continue to delight and surprise at every turn. ::
:: Thank you, Megatronus. ::
:: Please do not go to any trouble; I will be thrilled with whatever you select for me. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: No, that will not do at all. ::
:: I wish to bring you something that pleases you. ::
:: I already expected your favorites would be an unusual collection. ::
:: You are hardly the type to demand genetically perfected Rustroses. ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: I have no quarrel with Rustroses, but they are certainly a lesser bloom in my esteem. ::
:: Bleeding Spark, Orchadillia, and Lunalilies are my favorites in floral arrangements, and should be far simpler to acquire than my initial suggestions. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: Was that so difficult? ::
:: Thank you, Orion. ::
:: Now get back to work! ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Yes, sir! ::
:: Right away, sir! ::
:: I will provide you with the belated salute tonight. ::
DES:MEGATRONUS.D16[C.LVL:0]
[LN.ID]D-MG.PRIV-1015.20.11-SEC
:: You may skip the salute, if you like. ::
:: But I do like it when you call me sir… ::
DES:ORION.PAX[C.LVL:6]
[LN.ID]OP.PRIV-0218.20.12-SEC
:: Duly noted… sir. ::
Conversation concluded, Megatronus fussed and glowered his way through building a perfect bouquet for Orion, barking orders at the timid, harried clerk behind the counter. When he was finally satisfied, he gave the coordinates and habsuite number for delivery and went on his way again.
His final errand brought him to a local bathhouse, one which offered high-quality detailing at a reasonable price. Megatronus was in dire need of their services. He must be cleaned and buffed and given a new polish, so handsome and so dazzling that even solemn Orion might swoon upon seeing him.
He was reasonably certain this place could achieve that end.
He had frequented the bathhouse many times before, when the gore and grime upon his frame became too difficult for him to remove on his own. The staff already knew him well. In fact, one of them had elected to join his movement, and now regularly attended rallies and even some private meetings with what Megatronus fondly called his ‘high command’—those mechs who were present at every speech, and who expressed interest in more active participation in the movement Megatronus was fostering.
He hoped said mech would be working today—and, thankfully, he was.
“Well, well! Someone’s returned early,” said Knock Out, as he leaned upon the counter. He wore a winning smile and cherry red plating, his paint miraculously sparkling beneath the moody lamplight of the shop’s interior. “Having some trouble with extra grit and grime? Or dare I flatter myself into imagining you missed my handsome face and charming conversation?”
Megatronus waved him off with a flick of his claws. “Nothing of the sort. I require the finest detailing you can provide me, and swiftly. I am entertaining a special guest this evening.”
Knock Out’s optics instantly lit up. “A ‘special guest’, you say? How intriguing!”
“Swiftly was the most important phrase in that sentence,” Megatronus growled. He should never have made mention of a special guest. He would never hear the end of it, not until Knock Out pried the details out of him. But if it got him a room and a thorough detailing, it would be worth it.
“Yes, yes,” Knock Out sighed, waving a hand. “I hear you. Come on, then. Fortunately for you, I just happen to have an opening.”
“Yes, I can see that you are tremendously busy,” Megatronus drawled. The place, aside from himself, was completely empty. “How good of you to accept my patronage on such short notice.”
“I do love to be accommodating, especially for my favorite client.” Knock Out glanced over his shoulder and winked, sauntering around the counter and gesturing for Megatronus to follow after him. “And I can be extremely accommodating, by the way, for mechs of any size.”
Megatronus cast him a blithe, frosty look. “That is never going to happen.”
Knock Out shrugged. “A mech can dream, can’t he?”
Megatronus thought of Orion, and of the very particular nature of his dreams, and quashed a small, fond smile. “Yes, I suppose he can,” he said, mostly to himself. “But the privilege of bringing said dream to fruition belongs to one mech and one mech only.”
“Really. How interesting…” Knock Out paused and opened a door to one of the larger suites, dramatically bowing Megatronus inside. “You know the drill. Step inside for a rinse; I’ll be back in five.”
Megatronus did, indeed, know the drill. He stepped into the center of the room and waited, only flinching slightly when the first blast of solvent hit him. The initial rinse was a quick wash blasted from all sides of the room, to clear off the loosest and largest patches of dirt, rust, guts, and grime; then came a spray-down with several intense, focused streams of solvent, meant to knock stubborn pieces of large dirt and grit free. Then it was time for Knock Out to set to work with his tools, digging deep into the seams to free any blood or guts or other substances that couldn’t be removed by rinse alone.
Knock Out returned and set to work, chattering amiably about nothing. Megatronus only half-listened. Mentally, he was elsewhere, thinking of Orion, and how best to bring the dream as he’d described it to life. As he waited, Megatronus began to compose a playlist of music to set the mood for the evening: soft, seductive songs that would enhance their night together without becoming intrusive.
He was about halfway through selecting suitable music when Knock Out said something that finally captured his full attention.
“So! This… guest of yours wouldn’t happen to be a certain ‘clerk’, would he?”
Megatronus’ gaze snapped to Knock Out at once, optics narrowing. “Is that your business?”
“Of course not,” said Knock Out, with a smirk. “But I’ve never let that deter me before, and I’m certainly not going to start now.”
Megatronus’ lip curled in annoyance. “More fool, I, for daring to imagine I might be permitted some modicum of privacy.”
“We’ll address the issue of privacy in a moment,” Knock Out replied. He frowned at a clogged transformation seam and dug into it with a tiny, heavily-bristled brush, sending a bizarre shudder through Megatronus’ plating. “But first, tell me something… do you happen to read any of the subforums on a little site called D/Cipher?”
Megatronus stiffened, too fast to catch himself. So Knock Out, too, had discovered the post. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so astonished. He would have to be cautious here; he did not want Knock Out to know too much. “Very seldom,” he said, carefully, focusing his glare upon the ceiling. “Only when something pertaining to me or my movement is posted there.”
“Well, you might want to take a peek at D/DREAMINTERP, then.” Knock Out cast him a sly, knowing look. “There is this fascinating little story unfolding there, about a clerk from Iacon and his best friend, who just so happens to be a gladiator from Kaon. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Megatronus studied his claws. “Not a thing.”
“Mm. Interesting,” said Knock Out. “Because the gladiator in question certainly sounds like you. Colors only on the accent plates… no flashy paint… happens to give speeches… very close relationship with an Iaconian clerk…”
“Librarian,” Megatronus corrected, annoyed. “Orion is a librarian.”
Knock Out arched an optic ridge. “You referred to him as your clerk the last time he was here, as I recall.”
Megatronus snarled, focusing the full force of his glower upon Knock Out this time. “Orion Pax is the apprentice to the Head Archivist of the Hall of Records and my Executive Aide, if you wish to be official about it. An archivist, or librarian, or, occasionally, clerk. He has many titles, of which clerk is but one.”
“Certainly,” said Knock Out. There was a glimmer in his optics that set Megatronus’ teeth on edge. “I can’t help but notice that Orion has not been to any meetings recently.”
“He has been charged with several important projects to complete for the Hall, all of which have occupied his recent days,” Megatronus snapped. “However, those will soon be concluded. You may expect him at next week’s meeting.”
“Next week? Yes, that does make sense,” said Knock Out, nodding to himself. “Still, he isn’t usually absent for this long.”
“He was called away suddenly, just prior to his last visit.”
Knock Out grinned. “I’m sure you loved that.”
Megatronus worked his jaw and looked away, desperate to avoid the inevitable. “His absence has certainly been troublesome; but Orion has more than amply apologized.”
“And will be doing so again, I imagine, in several fashions,” Knock Out muttered.
Megatronus hissed, plating flaring wide in threat. “I may have taken one too many hits to the audials in the Pits—but I am far from deaf. I can hear you.”
“Apologies, sir.” Knock Out offered a mocking bow, rising and going to fetch a polishing cloth. “You know, as a medical professional in training, I might be able to find something to help Orion’s systems stay in recharge.”
Megatronus rolled his optics, refusing to dignify the remark with a reply.
“Just, a month of interrupted recharge can be quite a strain on a mech’s processor…” said Knock Out, insistently.
Yes, it certainly could. Megatronus shook his helm, thoughts drifting back to Orion. “I do not believe it will continue to pose a problem. Once Orion has arrived in Kaon, he should suffer no more dreams of that nature.”
Knock Out’s field erupted with glee. “Aha! So it is Orion!”
Abruptly, Megatronus realized what he’d said. He had unwittingly agreed with Knock Out’s assessment, revealing by proxy that he knew the contents of the post Knock Out had referenced and confirming his suspicions of its likely author.
Megatronus clenched his fists, eyes narrowed and staring daggers at Knock Out. “That was a filthy trick!”
Knock Out held up both hands in surrender, looking utterly unintimidated. “You are the one who said it.” He paused, tilting his helm. “Well? You might as well stop hiding now. Was I correct?”
Ugh. There was no point in resisting further. Megatronus sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. If only Orion had simply discussed the dream with him, instead of making the whole affair so public… “Yes, Orion is my guest tonight,” he grumbled. “And yes, he is the author of the post you spoke of; and yes, the dream he writes of is indeed about me. Satisfied?”
“No,” said Knock Out, cheerfully. “And what of Orion, then? Does he know you know?”
He shouldn’t be answering Knock Out’s questions. He absolutely should not. But now that it was out in the open, he found it hard to stop himself. It was almost a relief, after managing the situation so long on his own. “I believe so, but I have not confirmed my suspicions as yet,” said Megatronus. “I will do so tonight, when he arrives.”
Knock Out nodded to himself, frowning now at a selection of different polishes he’d brought out from a case in the wall. “Bit early, isn’t it? Last I looked, he wasn’t due to visit until next week.”
“He has been granted additional leave and will be spending it with me,” said Megatronus, exasperated. “And that is my final word upon the subject. Do not test me, or you will regret it.”
“Of course, of course,” said Knock Out, waving Megatronus off. “Well, I certainly understand the urgency of your visit to our lovely little establishment now. Let’s get you all shined up for your astoundingly oblivious future partner.” A pause, and then: “Did he truly not realize you’ve been flirting with him?”
Megatronus pursed his dermas. “Orion is, in many respects, one of the most brilliant mechs I have ever known; but social intelligence is not one of his strong suits, I fear.”
“You can say that again!” Knock Out laughed. “How fortunate for him that you are so persistent.”
“How fortunate for both of us,” said Megatronus, wryly. “And on that note… Orion is due to arrive in two hours. If you wish for this particular story to draw to a satisfactory conclusion, you’d better get a move on.”
Knock Out grinned and saluted. “Don’t worry, Megatronus; you’re in great hands. Orion Pax will have no idea what hit him.”
Knock Out, as always, did exceptional work. When Megatronus emerged, his armor gleamed from helm to heels. Knock Out had scrubbed every seam in Megatronus’ body, buffed out any minor scars, and turned Megatronus’ plating mirror-smooth, finishing off the detailing with a wonderful, richly-scented polish.
Megatronus would be irresistible.
Satisfied, Megatronus finally returned to his quarters. While he was out, Soundwave had rearranged the furnishings according to Megatronus’ instructions. His settee now sat against the wall between two glowing crystal sconces, with a lamp on one side and a small table on the other. His holoscreen had been moved closer to the settee as well, to create an intimate space for Megatronus and Orion to sit together. The filament lamps were covered in a color-changing film, throwing off lovely pink and purple hues. Small, warm white lights hung upon the walls and rested upon the furnishings. The floral arrangement sat within a crystal vase, right in view of the door, where Orion would see it the moment he crossed the threshold.
As an afterthought, Megatronus had purchased a few Rustroses, but not for the bouquet. While Soundwave was otherwise occupied, Megatronus went to his berthroom and, Rustroses in hand, spread the petals over and around the berth itself.
Everything was in readiness. Now only one thing remained to complete the picture: Orion Pax himself.
Megatronus completed his preparations and sent Soundwave away forty minutes before Orion’s imminent arrival. As he waited, he flipped through the playlist of music he had created, seeking something that would soothe his nerves. His lines sang with long-thwarted passion, hands itching to touch his beloved.
Soon, he reassured himself. Only a little while longer, and Orion will be mine at last.
He knew Orion was already aboard the transport. No doubt the archivist was as impatient as he. Megatronus wished he could force time itself to go faster; that he possessed the power to make Orion materialize before him. Perhaps spacebridges could one day be adapted to be used on the ground to allow for that kind of travel. That would be quite the scientific miracle.
Thirty minutes.
Twenty.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Megatronus paced like a mechalion in a cage, engines buzzing as he walked. Orion was drawing nearer now. Any moment, the transport would pull into the station; and then…
A sudden wordless message startled Megatronus into stillness. He opened it, and saw it was a location ping.
A location ping from Orion Pax.
His vents caught as a miniscule image of Orion’s face bobbed its way out of Kaon’s transport station and turned down the main avenue, towards the Pits. From the speed at which he was moving, it appeared Orion had shifted into his alt mode, no doubt to arrive faster than his pedes could carry him. Megatronus’ plating rustled with anticipation. Orion was perhaps five minutes away now—less, if he sped a little bit. Megatronus watched the marker dance through the streets, flexing his fingers as he observed its progress.
Orion slowed, then briefly paused—transforming, most likely, as he appeared to be at the lifts down into the barracks. There was a guest pass awaiting him there, and he would have to collect it to come down.
Megatronus glared impatiently as Orion’s location marker went still for a minute. Two minutes.
He tapped his pede, wondering what was causing the delay. Perhaps he ought to go up himself, to see if the attendant was causing trouble.
Then, movement. Orion’s location marker momentarily disappeared as he hopped into the lifts to head underground.
Megatronus grinned. The location marker would reappear in about thirty seconds, when Orion reached his level and disembarked from the lifts. Then another minute or so as Orion walked the remaining distance to his door, although if Orion ran he could make it in less than a minute—
The location ping reappeared.
Megatronus pivoted towards his door. Orion’s location marker was moving fast, perhaps ten seconds from merging with his own. Despite his soundproofing protocols, he heard a shriek of armored soles against a metal floor as Orion, apparently running, skidded to a halt in front of his quarters.
Megatronus leaned against the door frame with one arm, the other hand upon his hip, and opened the entrance before Orion had the chance to buzz him.
At last, Megatronus beheld him: glorious, handsome, perfect Orion, engines still humming and vents ragged from his run down the hall. He’d clearly had a detailing, too, before he’d departed from Iacon. His armor shimmered even in the dim corridor’s light, rich red and deep blue and shiny silver. His finials trembled from exertion and excitement, his field so alive with feeling it was visible around him.
The moment Orion saw him, his strong, square face lit with elation, his joyous field crashing over Megatronus in a chaotic wave.
“Orion Pax,” Megatronus purred. “Where have you been?”
Orion beamed, bright as the sun, and threw himself straight into Megatronus’ arms.
Notes:
I really hoped I would have the last two chapters (one of which is a fun lil epilogue) done by now, buuuuut I'm being anal retentive about the smutty stuff. I *think* I'm pretty close to finishing Chapter 6, so hopefully it will be done by next Monday. Bear with me, friendos!
I also hadn't originally planned to include the scene with Knock Out, as it feels kind of self-indulgent, but it was too fun not to add, especially for a fluffy fic. I hope it brought y'all joy <3
Chapter 6
Summary:
With tender reverence, he laid Orion atop his berth. When he was finished, he straightened, smirked, and gestured with both arms. “Welcome, Orion Pax, to my personal arena.”
Notes:
Extremely NSFW chapter ahead, and it's hella long. Enjoy! ;)
This is the technical *end* of the fic, but there is an epilogue forthcoming as the final chapter. I'll also share my mock-ups for what D/Cipher, Orion's post, and the comments look like! <3
Hopefully this gets posted, I've been waiting all day with the DDoS attack ;___;
Chapter Text
Orion Pax was kissing him—not chastely, not gently, but furiously, with the kind of savagery that leveled cities and decimated planets, like a supernova or a solar flare.
What chance stood Megatronus of resisting? He was the very focus of Orion’s ardor, the kindling that had turned the embers of Orion’s lust into a fiery inferno. Now he, too, was burning, abandoning reason and hurling himself full-force into the flames.
Megatronus’ engines roared to life. He dragged Orion tight against his frame, reveling in the feel of the archivist’s slighter body in his embrace. Kissing Orion felt as natural as battle: like he had been forged to do it. Forged to fight, and forged to fit Orion Pax, in every way that mattered.
He was only dimly aware of his surroundings—the warm glow of the lights; the cozy placement of his furniture; the candy and flowers he’d set upon the table. It paled in importance now that Orion’s lips were pressed to his, greedily.
Orion opened his mouth to the brush of Megatronus’ glossa, and Megatronus growled in reply, hoisting Orion up so that the archivist could wrap his legs around Megatronus’ waist, which he did, immediately, with almost no further provocation.
Orion rumbled deep in his chest, a soft but fervent moan, and Megatronus promptly forgot how to function.
Vector Sigma! To hear that sound not over comms, but in reality, breathed right next to his audial… it was too much. Charge crawled over Megatronus’ armor, licking at his seams. He ached to touch Orion deeper, to kiss and caress and play with him until he opened to allow Megatronus inside him…
Not yet. Not yet. There were several things he must do first.
Door. That was the first thing. He must shut the door to his habsuite. But Orion chose that moment to thrust his glossa straight into Megatronus’ mouth, and Megatronus’ processor short-circuited in reply, wiped clean of the command.
How was he meant to focus upon anything but Orion, when Orion kissed like this?
But at last he managed to execute the order, another growl of his engines echoing when the door closed with a thud. He engaged all the locks for good measure, so they would not be interrupted while they attended to one another.
The next step, he thought, was to open the berthroom door, and bring Orion inside, so that—
Orion caught Megatronus’ lower derma between his teeth, engines singing a seductive song, and Megatronus lost that thought as well, long before it could reach its conclusion.
Snarling, he stumbled forward, slamming Orion’s back against the now-shut door. Orion made a bestial sound, squirming in Megatronus’ arms to better position himself, so Megatronus could feel the heat of Orion’s array against his modesty panel. The metal was sleek and warm and slippery, as if some fluids had leaked from Orion’s seams.
Oh. They had. A tiny droplet trickled and hit Megatronus’ thigh, and then another, and another. Little pink rivulets were escaping their prison and making a bid for freedom. Megatronus wanted to kneel and lick them up.
To the Pit with it; the berthroom could wait. Orion clearly couldn’t, and neither could Megatronus—for interface, or for the request he must make first.
“Orion,” Megatronus bit out, between wild, frantic kisses. “Best and most—mmf—beloved of mechs… will you consent to be mine, and mine alone—not as my brother in arms, but as my lover?”
Orion paused just long enough to smile at him, his field erupting in elation. “Yes—obviously, yes! Why have you waited so long to ask?”
Megatronus frowned, opening his mouth to answer; but Orion shook his head, pulling Megatronus back to him. “No. Not now,” he murmured. “Tell me later. I ache for you too much to wait. I cannot stand another moment of this torture.”
Megatronus’ engines revved, ego and spark both soaring. He dove in and kissed Orion again, growling against his lips: “My poor, desperate archivist, driven to pieces by his impure dreams! Shall I bring the dreaming world into the waking one for you?”
“Please.” Orion shuddered, vents expelling hot air as Megatronus kissed and sucked the cabling of his intake. “Another night like those that I have suffered might kill me…”
“Then permit me to be your savior,” said Megatronus, roughly. “Tonight, and all our nights hereafter, you will know nothing but pleasure at my hand.”
Both Orion’s systems and his vocalizer emitted a desperate whine.
Primus, but Orion was stunning—in looks, in word, in deed. His every gesture ignited Megatronus down to his very atoms. It was like nothing Megatronus had ever felt before. Orion was both its source and its conclusion, its alpha and omega; this passion, this ecstasy, belonged to him and him alone. No one else would ever bring Megatronus to such heights. To love Orion was to be consumed by him, and Megatronus wanted it.
“There is a bar above your head,” Megatronus murmured. “Grab it, hold tight, and open your panel.”
Orion obeyed, unquestioning. His fans kicked up to high as first one arm and then the other stretched over his head, servos clutching the thick alloy bar. He bit his lip, huffing, and drew his panel aside.
“Very good,” Megatronus crooned. The scent of lubricant washed over him, an irresistible siren’s song, and without thinking, he loosened his grip and dropped to his knees, hooking Orion’s legs over his shoulders instead.
Which put him at eye-level with Orion’s naked array.
Orion’s vents hitched, a sharp gasp of surprise. “Oh—Megatronus—!”
Megatronus only half-heard him. He stared, enraptured, at Orion’s equipment: a sleek silver spike with round, blue biolights and a red-ridged underside; and below it, his swollen valve of red silicon, lit with thin blue biolights and crowned by a glowing red node. The little sensor flashed in warning, blinking faster the longer Megatronus looked—no doubt a sign of Orion’s arousal. And there was that lovely pink lubricant he’d felt before, and smelled a moment earlier. A droplet of transfluid shimmered at the tip of Orion’s spike, threatening to spill down his shaft.
It was too tempting a sight to resist—so Megatronus didn’t try. He made a ravenous noise and licked the droplet away, lavishing the tip with his glossa.
Orion’s spike twitched, valve visibly squeezing with need.
“Megatronus,” he moaned, arching against the door.
From his place upon the floor, Megatronus winked. “So wet already! I hardly need to prepare you, even.”
Orion blushed, but did not look away. “That is the power of your charm. Your voice has played on loop inside my head—those poems you read, and how your vocals broke as you encouraged my overload, and how you must have looked while you listened… you cannot imagine what you have done to me, and how much I desire you.” He adjusted himself, so that he was better positioned for Megatronus’ viewing pleasure, his field unfurling to embrace Megatronus completely. It caressed its way beneath Megatronus’ plating, touching every inch of his frame the way Orion no doubt would, when his hands were not otherwise occupied. “I did not know what desire truly was, until I found you. Now that you have awakened me, I want to swallow you whole. Teach me what it feels like to love properly and fiercely, and fill every inch of me with you; make me yours, wholly and completely, so none will ever doubt our union. Show me what it feels like to be ravished by the Champion.”
Sweet slagging Primus. Liquid lightning coursed through Megatronus’ lines. The door and floor both shook with the violence of his engine’s rev, a dark, hungry snarl torn straight from Megatronus’ very spark.
He lunged forward, unthinking, and buried his glossa in Orion’s dripping port.
Orion howled. There was no other word for it. It was a savage, desperate cry, one that echoed through the habsuite as Megatronus tongued the walls of Orion’s valve, coaxing them open bit by bit. He could taste it when Orion’s lubrication protocols kicked in full-force, fresh wetness gracing Megatronus’ lips and chin. He reveled in Orion’s flavor as he delved between the warm, slick folds: sharp, salty and faintly tangy. He couldn’t ignore Orion’s spike, either, all hot and hard with charge. He gripped it with one servo and stroked it, rubbing his thumb against that lovely ruby underside and up over the head.
And dignified, solemn, genteel Orion responded by riding Megatronus’ face like his very functioning depended upon it.
Megatronus poured all of his formidable focus into his task. He savored each exquisite moment as he pushed Orion to the brink: Orion’s vulgar moans, and the wet slurp of his valve, the feel of his calipers rippling around Megatronus’ tongue. He disengaged the locking mechanisms on his glossa and let it extend, so it could explore as deeply as he liked. He found sensor clusters in the undulating mesh of Orion’s valve walls and lit them one by one, until they sparked against his glossa’s every thrust; then he attacked Orion’s node, suckling at the little nub while his tongue rubbed at its tender underside. When that became too much, he alternated, valve, then node, valve, then node, Orion’s spike throbbing in his palm.
Then one of Orion’s hands slipped. He managed to hang on to the bar with one hand, somehow, thighs clenching around Megatronus’ helm in a desperate bid for balance. Megatronus had to let go of his spike to grip his legs instead. Orion gasped, then laughed, then moaned when Megatronus’ answering chuckle reverberated up through his frame. Suddenly that free hand gripped the back of Megatronus’ helm, pushing his face hard against his valve.
“Fuck,” Orion choked out. His thighs had begun to tremble, his armor plates shivering as the flash of his node picked up speed. “Wait, no—not like this, not so fast!”
Megatronus smirked. :: Are you close? I thought that tremor might be a sign of such, :: he commed, without pausing.
“Too close,” Orion panted. “I… please… I don’t want to stop, but I must, I must—!”
Megatronus made a reproachful sound, focusing his attentions upon Orion’s nub. :: “Must” nothing, beloved. I wish for you to overload—not once, but many times. My waking self must repay you all the climaxes my dream-self so rudely denied you. ::
“I want—your spike—” Orion pleaded, gasping.
:: Oh, never fear, archivist mine—you will take all of it soon enough. Preferably positioned on your hands and knees, with that glorious aft of yours in the air, just as you described in your lurid little dream. But first… ::
Megatronus closed his dermas entirely over Orion’s node, circling his tongue around the sensor and then flicking it with the tip. Orion’s grip upon his helm tightened, and his frame shook with unexpected violence, and then…
“Ha-aah!” Orion arched, and shouted, and suddenly overloaded, valve walls rippling rhythmically in climax. Transfluid splattered against the side of Megatronus’ helm, new wetness smearing Orion’s valve as he shook his way through the first overload of the night.
Perfection.
When he began to sag, Megatronus finally stopped, reluctantly withdrawing his tongue. He had so enjoyed undoing Orion at last; he could hardly wait to do it again.
“There, now,” he said, smugly. “There’s a little treat your subconscious did not conjure for you.”
Orion laughed, hoarsely, arm still shaking as he clung to the bar above his head. “What a tremendous lack of imagination on its part,” he replied. “Um—is there any chance I could—?”
“Ah. Yes, I suppose I should let you down.” Megatronus grinned and unhooked Orion’s legs from his shoulders, allowing Orion to swing to the ground in front of him.
“Thank you,” Orion sighed. His leg struts wobbled ominously, knee joints still shivering with erratic electrical pulses. He stumbled back against the door, looking down at Megatronus—and suddenly his optics glitched, surprise and embarrassment rocketing through his field. “Oh. Come here, beloved. I have made a shambles of you.”
Megatronus chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. Ensuring Orion was watching first, he took his thumb and gathered the fluids upon his mouth with it, licking it clean with a soft, satisfied purr.
Orion’s vocalizer screeched, hard, optics snapping to their widest setting. “Primus,” he breathed. “How can you have such a powerful effect upon me?” He pulled Megatronus to him, wiping away the transfluid on his helm and shoulder with a rueful grimace. “There. That is better. Not that you were not utterly alluring with all my fluids all over you, of course, but I imagine this polishing work cost a significant sum.”
“I anticipated its ruination when I received it,” Megatronus replied dismissively. “Half the pleasure of fresh finish is its imminent destruction, whether in battle or in berth.”
And speaking of berth… the two of them ought to be making their way towards it already. Thankfully, this was a problem Megatronus could easily remedy.
With a playful sound, he bent and swept Orion up into his arms. Orion started in surprise, but smiled soon after, a joyous, musical laugh escaping him.
“Now, then,” said Megatronus, leering down at Orion. “The preliminaries have reached a satisfactory conclusion. At last the main event begins. Are you ready to face the undefeated Champion?”
Orion blinked coyly. “Ready to interface, perhaps.” He grinned and added, “Besides, I thought you wished for me to be face-down.”
Megatronus laughed. “Such impertinence! Maintain that brazen facade while you can, my Orion. I expect it will be crushed utterly in a moment.”
He turned, carrying Orion across the short distance to his berthroom. For the first time, Orion looked away from him, glancing around the room and taking in Megatronus’ adjustments. “Oh! You have changed the lights, and moved the furnishings,” he observed, smiling. “How lovely! It looks so cozy.”
“I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to be close to me for the majority of your visit.”
“You thought correctly.” Orion’s optics cycled, and his smile widened. “Are those the flowers upon the table? They are so beautiful, Megatronus. Thank you.” Another pause, and then, excited: “You have bought me truffles! That is… so sweet. You did not have to do that—”
Megatronus chuckled, striding into his berthroom and closing the door behind them. “You may consume those later, when I am finished with you,” he said. “But not yet. Dessert is to be enjoyed after the main course.”
With tender reverence, he laid Orion atop his berth. When he was finished, he straightened, smirked, and gestured with both arms. “Welcome, Orion Pax, to my personal arena.”
Orion laughed aloud, a rich, bass sound. “Thank you, Champion, for your generous invitation! I have never been so eager to face my own defeat.”
“This is no defeat; this is a victory for us both.” Megatronus devoured Orion with his optics, tracing a path down Orion’s body—his exquisite, godly body, with his exposed throat cables and elegant arms, his tiny waist and his slim thighs. He looked magnificent, splayed out atop the berth among the lovely Rustrose petals, his panel still wide open.
Orion’s expression shifted, a bright flame of desire heating his gaze. He parted his legs wide, reaching up with both hands for Megatronus. “Come,” he rumbled, soft and hungry. “I need to feel you inside me…”
Megatronus choked. He climbed atop the berth at once, looming over Orion, and bent to kiss him, engines roaring in his audials. “Handsome, glorious, salacious Orion,” he breathed. “I have waited so long to make you mine. To hear you at last confess your desire so freely is nearly as divine as our interface will be.” He bit Orion’s jaw, just enough to sting, and growled, “Now, then, my pet… I believe I issued a command. Hands and knees, Orion. Now.”
Orion bit down on his lower lip, grinning. “As you wish, my Champion.”
Megatronus’ engines buzzed with anticipation. He sat back on his heels, allowing his panel to transform aside, and his spike pressurized immediately, full and hard and eager for the dripping port he knew awaited it. He watched Orion’s eyes cycle twice, lips parting as a whine of shock and lust escaped him.
“Oh, Megatronus.” He sat up, reaching out to touch it; but Megatronus caught his hands, shaking his helm smugly.
“Ah ah ah,” he tsked. “That is not what I asked, now, is it, Orion?”
Orion cast him a sullen, pouting look, but he could not pretend to be any less eager than Megatronus for what was to come. He turned onto his stomach, lowering his chest and helm to the berth and parting his legs, so his wonderfully round aft bobbed in the air. One of his servos balled itself in the sheets while Megatronus watched, and the other tracked a path through the delicate Rustrose petals upon the berth, lifting one curiously.
“Do you like them?” Megatronus asked.
“I love it,” Orion whispered. “This is… so beautiful, Megatronus. Thank you. You did not have to go to such effort for me!”
“I wished to.” Megatronus crawled forward, until his frame loomed over Orion’s, his chest pressed to Orion’s back. “I treasure you, more than you will ever know; this is but one way to make that clear.”
Orion’s engines hummed. “My love,” he replied, with all the sweetness in the universe.
“I do not think I will ever tire of hearing you say those words.” Megatronus kissed the place between Orion’s shoulders, kneading the metal of his hips and gently, oh so gently, rubbing his spike against Orion’s array.
Orion moaned and bucked backwards. Wet protoform met Megatronus’ spike, rubbing against his shaft. Even the gentle slide of his slick valve lips made Megatronus shudder. He grunted and gripped his spike, positioning it at Orion’s entrance, stunned when even that initial touch made his whole body throb. He rubbed the tip through the wetness gathered at Orion’s valve, earning a wonderful sound from his archivist, like a cyberlion mewling. He could feel charge emanating from Orion’s node whenever his spike glided over it, kissing the tip and bursting with frustrated, desperate static, as if it, too, was begging him. Please. Please. Undo me. Let me overload. Claim me and make me yours, forever.
Orion moaned, digits clutching the sheets in a stranglehold. “Megatronus…!”
“Yes?” Megatronus started to press the tip of his spike inside… only to pull back again, circling Orion’s node with it instead.
Orion writhed, a furious, desperate sound escaping him. “Do not tease—not now, not like this. I cannot take it!”
Megatronus intended to retort with something devastating and playful; but any words he might have spoken disappeared immediately when Orion’s valve clutched at him, so strongly he could feel it even as his spike passed over the entrance.
“Pit,” he growled, nudging just a tiny bit inside. Orion’s fans kicked up again, and his engines howled in agony. “How can I tease when this is how you plead? By the Primes, Orion. You are a temptation I cannot refuse.”
“Then do not,” Orion retorted, hoarsely. He reached back with one hand, grabbing for Megatronus’ arm and pulling. “Take me.”
Megatronus made an unfathomable sound: a wild, feral, savage moan, unlike any noise his vocalizer had ever made before. The echo of Orion’s voice pounded in his audials, crying out; and, hissing, he surged forward, entering Orion at long last.
It was only a few inches at most in that first moment, and yet that shallow thrust drew the purest ecstasy Megatronus had ever felt into Orion’s field.
Orion, attempting to speak, made a garble of white noise.
“Oh, yes,” he gasped, when his voice at last returned to him. “Primus, Megatronus, please, yes, more—”
Megatronus’ vents stalled as Orion spiraled open to welcome that first thrust. His calipers stretched and clung, grasping greedily for every millimeter as Megatronus filled him. The sensor clusters encircling his spike came alive as they met the nodes in Orion’s valve walls, their perfectly-matched placement delivering exquisite flares of charge.
His tanks tightened, a shudder rocking through his frame.
Slowly, he withdrew, growling as Orion’s valve clutched tight in an attempt to hold him in place. When Orion made a frustrated sound, he thrust back in, deep and fiercely, plunging several inches further than before.
A deep, quavering moan tore free of Orion, drawn from the very depths of his trembling frame, and his spinal strut bowed as he pushed himself back against Megatronus pelvic plating. His field erupted and sank down, down into Megatronus’ very circuits, down into his core. Now he could feel Orion’s ecstasy like a second skin, kissing every inch of his armor and burning pleasure into his circuits.
“By the Pit,” Megatronus breathed. “My wondrous, perfect, incomparable Orion…”
Orion tried to look at him, helm turned to the side and cheek pressed into the berth; but Megatronus withdrew, and then thrust back in, and whatever Orion had intended to say was replaced by an aching moan.
“Primus,” Orion gasped. Megatronus watched in awe as the optic he could see rolled halfway up into Orion’s helm, glazed and glitching. “I love you. You are a thousand times better in reality than in my dreams.”
Megatronus purred and leaned in close, adjusting his position so that he could stroke Orion’s spike as well. He withdrew again, and thrust, and sank far deeper this time, deep enough to feel Orion’s calipers struggling to stretch around him.
It was an exquisite squeeze. Orion was warm and wet and fitted perfectly to his spike, welcoming his every thrust with a charge-laden embrace. Patiently, he worked himself up to a good pace, deeper every time. Orion bit his derma so hard Megatronus half-wondered if he would break the protoform. He looked entranced, optical shutters fluttering as Megatronus slowly began to pick up speed.
Finally, he bottomed out. He had to pause, vents breaking, at the intensity of the sensation: the clutching hold of Orion’s valve, the shudder of Orion’s field, the stunned, ecstatic look upon Orion’s face, the hot pulse of his spike. Megatronus’ whole frame wound tight with desire, plating shuddering. He had seldom ever seen Orion so open, so wholly undone by anything; to be the cause of that undoing felt like the most delicious victory.
Megatronus vented out, then drove himself inside Orion deep and quick.
Orion’s optics flashed. Stilted, stuttering moans began to escape him, growing in volume and length the longer Megatronus was inside him.
“Megatronus—” he cried. “Oh, Primus, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
“Never,” Megatronus promised. “Never, my Orion. Not until you beg me to.”
Orion cried out, plating shivering and fans wailing. His field rippled with the echo of a coming release, promising a rapturous climax—but beneath his ecstasy, Megatronus sensed a growing terror: a kernel of fear that was both unexpected and troubling.
“Something wrong?” he whispered.
Orion shook his head, frantically, arching into Megatronus’ frame. “No! Nothing, no, just—hah—promise me I am not dreaming. Promise me you’re really here, that this is truly happening.”
Of course. Megatronus should have known. He smiled, lavishing Orion’s shoulders and back with kisses, and murmured, “You are not dreaming, Orion Pax. You are awake, and in my quarters, and I am making love to you; and in perhaps the next few minutes, I think, you are going to overload for me, and I am going to love it. Yes?”
“Yes,” Orion moaned. “Please, yes, I need it—!”
Megatronus vented pure steam. “I know you do.”
He altered the angle of his thrust just slightly, to ensure he struck that lovely sweet spot in the depths of Orion’s valve. He bucked forward, and felt himself strike home, Orion’s spike sliding through the squeezing circle of his digits.
Orion’s struts tightened all at once, every biolight on his frame flashing red.
“There! Please keep doing that,” Orion panted. “Please, it’s perfect, you’re perfect, don’t stop—”
Megatronus grinned and kept going, mercilessly grinding himself against Orion’s ceiling node. Orion’s leg struts shuddered, his spinal strut arching, and waves of pleasure echoed through his field, each one cresting higher as the minutes ticked past.
“Oh, yes,” Orion hissed, through gritted teeth. “Oh it’s—I’m—I’m so close—Megatronus please I’m going to—”
And then, with one last shudder, Orion erupted.
His overload was fearsome and incredible. Orion writhed, helplessly, captured by the grip of his charge. His spike twitched in Megatronus’ hand, transfluid spurting over his digits as Orion shouted, shouted for Megatronus, his valve rippling wildly around Megatronus’ spike. It was almost too much for him. But Megatronus held back, grimly, and drove Orion through it, keeping up that same angle and pace until at last he ceased to shudder and shout.
“Hhuh,” Orion panted, sagging atop the berth.
Megatronus carefully pulled out, his charge licking his frame. His spike, still stiff and aching, bobbed between his legs as he sat back, admiring the view: Orion’s thoroughly fragged valve and silver aft, now covered in paint transfers from Megatronus’ armor. His trembling legs. The perfect curve of his spinal strut.
Orion pushed himself upright on shaking arms. With a sigh, he turned around, crawling over to Megatronus and climbing into his lap.
“Oh! Hello,” said Megatronus, grinning. “So eager to be close!”
Orion leaned forward to kiss him. “You have not overloaded yet,” he murmured. “And I would like to give you that.”
“Mmm. But do you not wish to—” Megatronus choked on the words as Orion broke away, gripping Megatronus’ spike and guiding it back to his valve. “—rest—?”
“Later,” said Orion, with a frown of concentration. His optics cycled and glitched as he sank down onto Megatronus’ hot, thick unit, a gust of air pouring out of him. “Hh—want—your fluids—inside me—”
Vector Sigma. Megatronus stared, stunned, and gripped Orion’s hips as Orion carefully worked himself back down, all the while making marvelous, debauched expressions. And when at last he reached the base, he sighed, almost in relief, and began to ride Megatronus in earnest.
Megatronus’ vocalizer turned to static, a hideous, garbled noise escaping him. His focus narrowed to the feel of Orion flexing around his spike, and the pure, molten pleasure building ever-higher inside him.
As Orion writhed and bounced in his lap, he bent and lavished Megatronus’ chest with kisses, moaning against the metal. It was intoxicating. Vaguely, Megatronus recalled the mention of sparkmerging in Orion’s dreams. Was that what Orion was asking for? Was he asking for anything at all? Megatronus’ thoughts were clouds, his systems sharp with pleasure. Charge had begun to pull his struts tight, a hard knot in his tanks. It tore composure from his grasp and wrecked his self control.
He stopped thinking entirely and let his chest snap open.
Orion stilled as the light of Megatronus’ spark spilled over him. For a moment, Megatronus came back to himself, terror flooding his circuits. What if he had mistaken Orion’s desire? What if Orion found this to be too forward, and fled Megatronus’ embrace?
But Orion’s face softened and shone with love, his digits gently brushing the edges of Megatronus’ gleaming sparklight.
“Oh, my resplendent Megatronus,” Orion breathed, tenderly. “Are you truly willing to sparkmerge with me? I wished for it so much, but I was terrified I might overstep in making the request…”
It was a high almost as intense as overload to feel both Orion’s fear and his own melting away. Megatronus smiled, cupping Orion’s face in both palms, his spark flashing bright and warm. “I would be honored,” he murmured. “I have even dreamt of it, just as you dreamt of me.”
“You have?”
“Yes. Quite recently.” Megatronus stroked Orion’s cheek, contemplating his handsome face. “In my dream, I held you close, and together we shared a merge. Nothing else; just the merge. I would like to experience that with you, if you would be willing.”
“Every night I woke and was denied a merge with you,” said Orion, fiercely. “Every night I ached to give you my whole soul, my very essence, and to have yours in return. Yes, Megatronus, with all my spark; I would love to merge with you.”
He did not wait for further prompting. Orion’s chest transformed and opened, exposing his glittering golden spark. Its light was blinding, beautiful, brighter than the stars. It reached for Megatronus’ spark the instant the barrier was removed. Their chests met with a hard clang, and their sparks tangled together, all triumph and jubilation.
Megatronus groaned when the first glimmers of Orion’s energy rushed through him. It felt like molten metal and fireworks in his lines, spreading pleasure through every part of him. He could feel a taste of Orion’s physical responses and thoughts as they interfaced: the pleasure of the stretch and tug when Megatronus thrust inside him, the way Megatronus tasted and smelled, how handsome Megatronus looked to him. The intimacy of knowing what he was doing to Orion, without questioning or imagining it, was astonishing.
The initial stage over, the merge unlocked. More of their sparks entangled, a hotter pulse building between them. It felt like liquid lightning this time, crackling and sharp, the very air between them beginning to smell of ozone. He shuddered and rasped Orion’s name, clutching at his hips, as Orion arched in his lap and cried out in reply.
He could feel it, now: not just Orion’s spark and physicality, but also his emotions, and his dreams, and how the past month had unfolded for him. His spark spoke directly to Megatronus’, offering explanations: how frightened and confused he’d been, to realize the emotion he’d so long harbored for Megatronus might be love; to understand that with that feeling came desire and lust, a physical need to be united with his beloved. How ashamed he had been, believing he was using Megatronus as some kind of tool. How much he had ached, and how hard he had struggled to come to terms with feeling sexual desire for the first time in his functioning.
Megatronus shared his own experience of the last month in reply, often scolding, but always affectionate. There was Soundwave, presenting the post; and there, Megatronus’ thoughts as he read it. How frustrated he had been to discover his flirtations went unrecognized. How hard he had pushed to make Orion see, and how greatly he had feared to push any harder. How long he had burned for Orion to be with him like this.
Orion’s kiss deepened, and so did his open spark, dancing with Megatronus’. Forgive me, my love; forgive me for not knowing.
Forgive me, my beloved, for not being clearer, Megatronus’ spark replied. For not telling you from the first moment when I realized I desired you.
Orion broke the kiss, optics dim, a smile upon his face. He kissed Megatronus’ forehelm as if in benediction; then, with a satisfied grin, he began to ride Megatronus in earnest, calipers rippling exquisitely around Megatronus’ spike.
Megatronus gasped and held on, as if he would be flung into space if he let go. He had never hurtled towards the peak so fast. But now that he could feel both his own pleasure and Orion’s, his systems were quickly overpowered. He could feel his spike throbbing inside Orion, conveyed through both spark and field; better, he could feel Orion shattering, how easily Megatronus drove him to pieces. Orion was unraveling again before his very eyes.
Orion shuddered and gave a shout, armor plating trembling; and just as overload hit him, Megatronus reached it too. Hot, bright pulses shot through him and out, spilling inside Orion, and as he spilled, he shouted Orion’s name, shouted so loudly he felt his vocalizer short out. His whole frame tightened, tremors wracking him, until at last he wound down with a sharp whine of his fans, every strut turning to jelly.
Sitting up suddenly seemed like a difficult proposition. With the last bit of his energy, Megatronus lifted Orion off of his lap, lying beside him and tapping his chest in invitation. Orion immediately crawled to him, slinging one leg over his waist and nestling his helm against Megatronus’ shoulder.
“Oh,” Orion whispered, hoarsely, optics half-closed.
Megatronus hummed in reply, reveling in lazy satisfaction. He had spent so much of the past month on edge—but no more. His joints felt soft and buttery, so much so that he half-believed they would not hold if he attempted to put weight on them. Better, he thought, to stay where he was, enjoying the warmth of Orion’s frame curled in his arms.
They lay together in pure, contented silence as the minutes slowly ticked by. Occasionally Megatronus turned and pressed a kiss to Orion’s helm, and Orion replied in kind.
Then Orion gathered himself and propped himself up on one elbow, all smiles.
“Hello, Megatronus,” he said, beaming. “It’s good to see you again. Been well?”
Megatronus laughed, rolling over so he, too, could prop himself up. “Better for seeing you,” he replied. “Thank you for the belated greeting, although it is perhaps an hour and a half, or two hours, too late to be considered polite.”
“My apologies. I was… distracted.” Here Orion’s gaze wandered over Megatronus’ frame, his free servo quickly following suit. “You are utterly sublime, Megatronus. No fantasy I ever conjured matches the reality of you.”
Despite himself, Megatronus smirked, engines purring. “I am delighted to hear my real self has successfully outdone my dream world’s counterpart,” he said. “But if you think such fine compliments will permit you to avoid the forthcoming discussion, I’m afraid you will be sorely disappointed.”
“Discussion?” said Orion, blinking. Then understanding dawned. “Ah. You wish to talk about a certain post?”
Megatronus scoffed, rolling his optics heavenward. “Yes, Orion, a certain post,” he growled. “We are about to have words on the subject.”
Orion’s face fell. He leaned in, staring earnestly into Megatronus’ face. “You are not angry with me, are you?”
Losing that wondrous smile cut like the edge of a blade. “Angry? No, certainly not,” Megatronus assured him. “Do you imagine I would have greeted you in the previous fashion if I was angry with you?”
Orion blushed. “Ah. I suppose not.”
“You suppose correctly… for once,” Megatronus grumbled. Then, softer, fonder: “No, Orion; I am not angry with you. I wish you had told me of your dream, and how it made you feel, so that we could have discussed it sooner—but that is neither here nor there.”
“Awfully rich coming from you,” Orion retorted, optics narrowing. “All these years, and yet you never once told me how you felt! Why?”
Megatronus’ field bled offense, but only for a moment. Orion wasn’t wrong to question him. Even Soundwave had told him he ought to be more direct—Soundwave, who eschewed every social grace in favor of his own silent, self-contained inner world.
He hummed in thought, servo coming to rest over Orion’s spark. He could not stop touching him, now that he was permitted to do so. It felt too good, too right. “It appeared to me as though you were ignoring my flirtations, or deliberately rejecting them,” he replied at last. “Thus I did not press more directly, until Soundwave discovered your post.”
“I should have anticipated that,” Orion grumbled. “Nothing ever escapes his notice. But how did he recognize me? There was no method by which to track me…”
No method by which to track him? There had been so many small details peppered throughout both the post and his remarks that had given him away. How could he not have known? “You were less cautious than you ought to have been in the elements you revealed,” said Megatronus, reprovingly. “The minutiae made plain who you were, and who I was—at least to Soundwave and myself. I’m far more curious how you guessed you were speaking to me in the comments.”
Orion’s digits smoothed a path across Megatronus’ cheek. His whole being seemed to shine, his every caress adoring. “I will always know you, my Megatronus, and your voice, no matter where I encounter it. I have emblazoned its cadence upon my spark. Centuries of studying your essays and reading your messages have ensured it. How could you have imagined otherwise?”
An unfathomable tenderness stole Megatronus’ vents, leaving him momentarily speechless. “I take your point,” he said at last, warmly. “And I will treasure its conveyance as long as I live.” He paused, smirking, tapping Orion’s lips. “So, where is your confession, then, my archivist? Tell me everything.”
Orion’s cheeks heated, turning a pretty shade of energon-blue. “You know everything already! You have read the posts—and taken me to berth, now, even. What more can I tell you?”
“I want to hear you say it,” Megatronus purred. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me all about this lewd little dream that brought you to my arms at last.”
“You have experienced my confession in deep and vivid detail. What can I say that is more eloquent than that?” Orion’s optics danced down to Megatronus’ lips, and he leaned in, field burning with desire. Megatronus let him bend a little further to steal a kiss, slow and soft and passionate. He couldn’t resist pulling Orion closer, feeling the hum of his spark pressed warm and near.
It took an enormous effort to pull himself away again.
“You are attempting to distract me,” he growled.
Orion blinked innocently. “What do you mean? I merely wished to kiss you. Surely you would not deny me that?”
“There is very little I would ever willingly deny you, archivist mine,” Megatronus replied, all gravelly and hungry. Orion shivered, optics flashing with desire. “But I’m afraid I must insist on hearing the woeful tale of your dream—or rather, dreams. You dreamt of me in your berth every night for the past month?”
Orion gave a rueful laugh. “Yes. Every night since our quarrel about my absence. Even at Minerva Terminal. It was terribly uncomfortable to wake in such a state with others near to hand; but nothing compared to that first night, coming out of the dream only to hear your voice in my audial.”
Megatronus smirked. “You moaned my name, you know, when I first spoke to you.”
Orion’s field pulsed humiliation, finials flicking in surprise. “I did?”
“You did,” said Megatronus, smugly. “How enticing it was, to hear you speak my name with such desire—and how crushing, to find you so bemused about it afterward!”
“Forgive me, my love. It was too new a notion then for me to accept it—at least to my conscious mind.” Orion’s stare became unfocused, wandering absently over his frame. “It felt as though I had summoned you to me.”
“You did, after a fashion. If you had told me of your dream right then, we might have resolved this particular dilemma far sooner, and without the aid of our many fellow Cybertronians.” Megatronus examined Orion’s face. He understood it better now that their sparks had spoken, but he still wished to hear Orion’s answer to one specific question. “You seemed so terribly afraid of desiring me. Why?”
Orion paused, considering. His digits tracked a gentle path over Megatronus’ frame, tracing his chest and transformation seams in wonder. “What I feel for you is like nothing I have ever known,” he said at last, quietly. “The admiration, the passion, the desire. I have loved before, and interfaced before, but nothing in my experience compares to what you have inspired in me. I connected with you so deeply and so intimately that it consumed me. It… frightened me, I suppose. Overwhelmed me. I even wondered if some part of me had malfunctioned. And then, when I finally accepted my desire for you, I feared what might happen if I confessed. At times, I felt as though I was betraying your trust, to dream of you so vividly and so carnally. I did not wish to use you as so many other mechs have done before.”
“You are nothing like those mechs,” Megatronus said, fiercely. “And I desire you every bit as much as you desire me.”
Orion smiled. “Every time you say so, my spark feels as though it will burst.”
“So does mine.” Megatronus leaned in and nuzzled against his helm. “My marvelous, handsome archivist… more precious than all the coffers of our planet, more astonishing than the stars… I have ached so long for you to be mine. To claim you now is beyond my best hopes; it is a miracle.”
Orion made a desperate, aching sound, pressing close to him. “I love you,” he said, solemnly, holding Megatronus’ gaze. “With all my spark.”
Megatronus’ spark pulsed. He reached up and curved a hand over Orion’s audial, gently stroking the blue metal as he held Orion’s grave gaze. “I have loved you longer and more deeply than you will ever know. From this day forward, everyone, especially you, will know it.” He pulled Orion’s lips to his for another lingering kiss. “My Orion. My archivist. My beloved. Always. Yes?”
“Yes,” Orion breathed, smiling. Then he grew serious again. “I am sorry it took me so long to recognize what I felt, and what you intended.”
“I am sorry I was not clearer, and did not address the matter in a fashion you understood,” Megatronus said. “Despite the trouble it has caused us, I am glad you made your little post.”
Orion chuckled. “So am I. My return might have been a disaster otherwise.”
Megatronus grinned, tilting his helm curiously. “What would you have done, do you think, if you had kept your dream a secret?”
“Oh, I suspect a quite embarrassing ping to your comm would have undone the charade eventually,” said Orion, sighing. “Or perhaps an awkward awakening upon your couch. Imagine walking out your door one night to hear me moaning your designation, with my panel wide open!”
“Believe me, I have imagined that,” Megatronus replied, hungrily. “Many times. You cannot fathom the things I have done to you in dreams.”
“Hmm. Perhaps I would like to fathom them,” said Orion, very seriously. “Preferably in deep and intimate detail.”
“How fortunate that we have well over a week to do so, then.” Megatronus cast a glance down to the mess of their arrays, all sticky and damp with lubricant. “But first—I believe a trip to the washracks is in order.”
“That certainly seems a wise choice.” Orion grimaced as he brushed his digits over his array. “I’m afraid a break is likely in order, anyway.”
Well, that didn’t bode well. “Did I hurt you?” Megatronus asked, frowning. That was the last thing he had intended; but he had certainly been rougher than he’d planned.
“No! No, not at all,” Orion assured him. He blushed, making an awkward, uncomfortable sound. “It’s just… this morning, when I woke… I overloaded twice more to the sound of you, before I went to work.”
Megatronus’ engines revved, hard. “Twice?” he repeated, optics gleaming. “How promising! But I imagine your poor equipment will need some time to recuperate, given how actively it has been used today.”
“That is most likely for the best.” Orion glanced down, digits tracking a path down Megatronus’ abdominals, towards his spike. “You, on the other hand…”
Megatronus laughed, leering. “You are welcome to get your mouth all over me, if you like,” he said. “I’ve certainly imagined it before. But let’s not start that particular event just yet. The solvent shower awaits.”
THREAD: ADVICE - Interface dream about best friend?? - UPDATE
Here is a lesson learned, my friends: sometimes, a dream about interface is indeed simply about interface.
I write this update from my “friend’s” habsuite, having been granted leave to visit him far earlier than expected. You will be pleased to know that we did indeed sit down to discuss the subject of his feelings for me, and mine for him… albeit not *quite* how I intended.
Suffice it to say: those of you who assured me my ‘friend’ felt more than friendship for me were, in fact, correct. We are now
Orion paused, considering the datapad in his servos with a frown. “What term shall I use to describe our relationship?”
Megatronus, who was only paying cursory attention to the post, and focusing the rest upon Orion, kept both arms locked firmly around Orion’s waist. His engines hummed quietly in the background as he nuzzled Orion’s audial, kissing the interior of the perfect circle. “What term do you prefer? I would consider us lovers, in an exclusive and monogamous sense, although you are free to say simply that we are interfacing and leave it at that, if you like.”
Orion cast him a scandalized look. “On a public forum?”
Megatronus arched an optic ridge, incredulous. “Are you referencing the very same forum where you wrote a lengthy essay on the subject of interface with me? The forum in which you responded to a comment from some anonymous stranger with the details of said dream?”
Orion blushed, eyes bright and sparkling with humor, delight echoing through his field. “Now that you mention it, ‘some anonymous stranger’ wrote so much like my beloved that I felt no particular qualms about offering up those details to him.”
“And how glad I am that you did!” Megatronus chuckled. “They were quite useful in recreating elements of the scenario upon your arrival, and will continue to be so the further we engage. Once we have recovered, of course.”
Recovery was quite a ways off, now. The solvent shower had not been as chaste as he had intended. He blamed Orion for that. It was Orion who had gotten down on his knees, kissing his way down Megatronus’ plating, to take Megatronus’ spike in his mouth. He had looked so gloriously erotic with Megatronus’ transfluid upon his lips that Megatronus hadn’t been able to resist temptation. He’d pulled Orion into his lap and stroked him to overload once, and then again with his spike buried in Orion’s port. The solvent had turned ice-cold before they had finished, but it had been worth the chilly shower to hear Orion crying his name, to feel him unraveling beneath Megatronus’ touch over and over again.
Now Orion was bundled in his lap, with Rustrose petals clinging to his thighs, the box of truffles open upon the bedside table. Orion had absently eaten two while typing, and fed Megatronus one when Megatronus kissed his helm. He’d been surprised by how much he liked it—though perhaps he’d been influenced by how much Orion seemed to enjoy them.
“I’d better finish this soon,” Orion mumbled, yawning into the crook of his arm. “A month without proper recharge has left me wearier than I have ever been. I will wish to sleep soon.” His face momentarily fell, and then brightened, as he turned to look up at Megatronus. “May I wake you if I dream again tonight?”
“You are ridiculous,” Megatronus laughed. “Yes, obviously, you may wake me if you dream again! In fact, I will be rather put out if you do not. I wish to be of service, should my dream-self leave you wanting.” He kissed Orion’s audial again, murmuring softly, “Well, go on, then. Finish out this little tale, so we may go to bed.”
Orion smiled, leaned back, and began once more to type.
… We are now, as my paramour has chosen to phrase it, lovers. Consorts. Mates. ‘Friend’ was never really the right word for what we were, and now I know that for a certainty.
To make a long story as short as possible: my lover’s friend discovered this post as it gained popularity within the forum. Said friend then passed along the post to my lover, noting that it was undoubtedly written by me.
My beloved proceeded to comment upon the post, whereupon we debated back and forth awhile about the meaning of my dream. I grew suspicious from the moment he first commented, as his writing is quite distinctive to me. This suspicion triggered several discussions that led us closer to an understanding.
The night prior to my visit here, we shared a video call where much was clarified between us, without explicit mention of the post. Later, I dreamt of him again and called him, on purpose this time. During that call, we exchanged further confirmation of our mutual desire.
Today when I arrived, I intended to discuss the post with him in more frank details; but my intentions were almost immediately derailed.
Readers, I kissed him the moment I saw him.
He knew. I could tell he knew. I did not need to speak a single word. I flung myself into his arms, and the rest, as they say, is history.
I truly wish to thank you all for your patience and advice. I am incandescently happy, and if I must cancel something in the future, it will be a trip back to my home city and not to him.
I love him. He’s wonderful. I am only glad my processor knew it better than I did myself.
And now, my fellow dreamers—I wish you a good night.
May all your dreams be as sweet as mine.
(Orion's final post update, English version)
(Orion's final post update, Cybertronian edition)
Chapter 7: Epilogue
Summary:
Megatron bumped his faceplate to Optimus’ one last time, and then settled back, bossily grabbing for the datapad and pulling Optimus down with him. “Now, then… how best to bid the post farewell, and close the narrative for ourselves…?”
Notes:
Sorry this one is a little late - I was writing it literally up until the last minute XD I'll add the mockups I created of what D/Cipher looks like later this evening :D
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Approximately 5 million years later…
For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Lord Megatron was content.
He sat ensconced upon a couch, under a roof he had built with his own servos, in a media room he had designed for both himself and his beloved. A recent Cybertronian film from a Newspark director was playing, and his Conjunx was draped across his chest, settled comfortably in his arms.
Megatron wasn’t really paying attention to the film. It was no great cinematic masterpiece, and he’d already guessed the most likely possible outcomes of the plot. He focused instead upon his lover’s blue helm and red shoulders, the shifting expressions upon his face as he reacted to the movie. He was as glorious as he had ever been, if older and wiser and sterner. His self-contained stoicism was far more familiar now than the ancient, open naivete of his past self; but flickers of that young mech still remained, and showed themselves often, now, in retirement and post-war.
Megatron hummed and kissed his sparkmate’s helm, smiling against the royal blue metal.
From his place on Megatron’s chest, Optimus frowned.
Megatron very nearly bristled in offense; but it soon became apparent that Optimus wasn’t frowning because of him. The Prime—still Prime, but not the Prime, now, and no longer the sole leader of all Cybertron—gently disentangled himself from Megatron’s grip, rising and striding towards a workstation built into the wall.
Megatron propped himself up on his elbow and glowered.
“And just where do you think you are going, Optimus Prime?”
Optimus cast a fond glance over his shoulder, blue optics crinkling with good humor. “I received a ping from an archivist contact. I believe she has sent me some content to review from the Hall of Records.”
Megatron’s scowl deepened, optics narrowing at the mention of the Hall of Records. “And that is more important than spending an afternoon with your Conjunx, is it?”
Optimus turned back to the workstation, heedless of Megatron’s sulky tone. “It will only take a moment.”
Megatron grumbled to himself, lip curling over his fangs. “It will only take a moment,” he parroted, mockingly. “Lest you have forgotten, Optimus, we are supposedly retired. Or does retirement only apply to me, now?”
Optimus chuckled. “No need for that ancient, jealous inflection. This is not a work request. Besides, the Hall no longer has the power to deploy me on a whim. I will not be torn from your side upon the eve of an intended visit.”
“I would have words with them were it otherwise,” Megatron muttered. “Bring it here, then, if you must view it immediately.”
Optimus, helm bowed, gave a quiet laugh. He transferred the message to a datapad, tucked into the workstation’s storage port, and returned to Megatron’s side, tucking himself beneath Megatron’s massive arm. Megatron relaxed at once. He absently kissed Optimus’ helm, watching with faint curiosity as Optimus opened the ping on the datapad.
It bore a link, and a single line of text, and nothing more.
Thought you ought to know about this: [link]
Megatron and Optimus both frowned as one.
“Hmm… strange,” Optimus murmured.
“Perhaps Soundwave should scan it first…” said Megatron; but Optimus had already tapped the link.
“Ah. Yes, I suppose that would have been wise,” said Optimus, chagrined. “Although it is unlikely to lead to anything dangerous, given its original source…”
He trailed off, and so did Megatron, as a page upon the Grid opened up. It took a moment for it to load, which was unusual these days—a sign that the content was likely old and the tech that had run it obsolete. As the page began to emerge, details became clearer. The content was not just old, but ancient, the UI dated, the colors a popular set from long before the war. A purple, pink, and blue background appeared, and then a forum logo, one Megatron recognized immediately…
Megatron froze. His optics cycled, flaring with bright red light, as he took in the colors, and the forum title, and the name of the post in question.
(D/Cipher D/Dreaminterp forum homepage, with Orion's post at the top)
(Orion's initial post)
Optimus sat bolt-right up, optics flaring wide. “Oh, no.”
“How…?” Megatron choked out, also sitting up. “The forum was restored?”
“So it would seem.” Optimus sounded dazed and looked horrified. He began to scroll through the archaic post, which might easily be considered a primary historical document now, and all its comments—and there, right at the top, was a comment Megatron had never seen before, and an ever-growing series of replies.
U: M6CHXV9J
So I stumbled across this story while doing deep-dives into old Grid sites, and, uh… does anyone else think this sounds *very* familiar?Like, “an archivist from Iacon and a gladiator from Kaon” familiar? As in *Optimus Prime* and *Lord Megatron*?
Listen, I’m not one to jump to conclusions, but all the details are right there.
Let’s break it down, shall we?
- In his initial post, OP states that ‘Friend’ is famous both as a “sporting star” and as “an orator”, “despite many attempts to drive him back into obscurity”. It’s true that various athletes were outspoken about their political views, but very few could be described as “orators”. Not to mention, most athletes from regulated sports were mid to high caste, and the likelihood that anyone would attempt to ‘drive them back into obscurity’ is pretty slim. Gladiators, on the other hand, were mostly from the lowest castes, and they were definitely not meant to have any kind of platform. The fact that Megatron(us) managed to create one made him extremely dangerous to Functionalism, and we know from ancient records and historical documents that Sentinel’s government attempted to silence him multiple times, via assassination and multiple other methods.
- In the same initial post, OP mentions that he and ‘Friend’ come from ‘vastly differing backgrounds.’ and that they ‘live in different cities’. The difference between an archivist and a gladiator is pretty vast, in my opinion. I shouldn’t even need to point out Kaon and Iacon here.
- This is where I went a little crazy. OP says a few times that he visits ‘Friend’ approximately once every month/quartex. I figured I could track this to see if it matched up with Orion’s schedule by looking at the historical record of Megatronus and Orion’s joint speeches. Here’s what I found:
- Joint rallies with both Megatronus and Orion Pax in attendance consistently occurred at intervals of about one month/quartex, just like OP’s visits. There is time-stamped and dated video and still images of them that prove this. See my compiled data here.
- This story was posted one month and two days after Orion attended a rally in Kaon with Megatronus, which matches up with OP’s one-month timeline and expected visit.
- According to Optimus Prime’s historical record, this story was posted the night before Orion Pax and Ultra Magnus left on a mission to deliver the Reforged Cosmic Gravitron to a research facility called Minerva Terminal, under orders from Cybertronian Intelligence & Security.
- Orion Pax was *not* in attendance at the joint rally that occurred the day after this post was first written. In his speech, Megatronus mentions that Orion is doing his duty and will return when he is able.
- There is a paparazzi shot of Megatronus and Orion Pax wandering around in Kaon that was taken the day after the final update on this post, two months after the last time Orion was in Kaon (and by the way, that shot of them is almost straight-up PDA. Orion has both arms wrapped around Megatronus’ waist, with his face tilted up to look at Megatronus like he’s about to kiss him. As for Megatronus, I’m about 99.9999% certain his servo has a death grip on Orion’s aft. I can’t really tell from that angle, but his arm is behind Orion’s back and seems to be sitting lower than it should be, so. Make of that what you will).
- TL;DR—the timeline for Orion’s visits to Kaon matches what’s described in this post.
- In an early comment, OP states that ‘Friend’ is a celebrity “among gladiatorial circles” specifically, confirming that ‘Friend’ is a gladiator and not a different kind of athlete. Right after that, OP states he is a “clerk”—which Orion Pax/Optimus was.
- In a later comment, OP tells another D/Cipher user that ‘Friend’ wears his armor bare and polished, with the exception of his accents, which are painted. Megatronus’ armor was all polished silver except for the occasional red accent paint around his joints.
- OP confirms to a commenter (who writes a lot like Megatron does, for the record) that he is Iaconian. Other commenters refer to ‘Friend’ as being from Kaon, although OP never outright says as much. It’s inferred from him being a gladiator, I assume.
- A lot of commenters who stumbled across this post after OP’s last update reference Megatronus and Orion Pax, and a few (fellow gladiators, acquaintances of the pair, and so on) mention that they are almost certain Orion Pax is the author of the post, and Megatronus the ‘friend.’ One commenter even says he received direct confirmation from Megatronus himself that such was the case.
- Worth noting that several of the gladiators who commented mention that Orion Pax and Megatronus were *definitely* fragging each other. So, putting aside everything else, we now know Megatron and Optimus have fucked, loudly enough to break soundproofing protocols and frequently enough that a couple gladiators say they even *switched habsuites* to get away from it. See comment here.
I’m not trying to start a conspiracy theory, but it seriously looks like Orion Pax and Megatron(us) started dating because of this post, long before the war itself began.
Also, Megatron/Optimus Prime sex dream??? 👀
Tell me I’m not crazy here. Or give me a solid reason to believe I’m wrong.
Megatron stared at the screen, stunned. After all this time, after millennia of warfare, someone had still managed to revive the post, and had put names to the anonymous two mechs whom it was written about.
Not that it took any particular skill to do so, Megatron thought, somewhat sourly. Optimus had not been nearly as cautious in those days as he was now. He had revealed far too much identifiable information, and even then had been too recognizable to avoid detection.
Optimus began to scroll, his optics cycled wide, as more incoming comments were revealed. There were thousands. And older ones were being bumped to the top—their own personal thread being one. But there were others from before the war that Megatron had never seen before, left years after the post’s initial creation.
Perhaps unwisely, Megatron reached over Optimus, scrolled back up, and tapped the linked gladiator comment thread, both dreading it and needing to know what it said.
U: TTKE0TY7
… Is this about Megatronus of Kaon? I know of no other gladiator who is famous for both his speeches and his battle skills.U: OF5RN7SB
Vector Sigma, I think you’re right. Doesn’t Megatronus also have an archivist friend he’s close with?U: OITK0LB6
“Close with” is certainly ONE way to describe it. Those two have been clanging one another for, like, a decade.Source: my own fraggin’ audials. (lived nextdoor to Megatronus in the gladiators’ barracks for awhile. Asked to move because every time the cute librarian came to visit, my recharge cycle got interrupted at least twice every night, minimum. Soundproofing protocols my aft).
U: APETH78X
Can’t really blame Megs tbqh. I mean, have you SEEN Orion? I’d be blowing out Orion’s backstruts night and day too.
“Reactivating the Grid must have brought online many of the older sites,” said Optimus, faintly. “But the odds of anyone stumbling across that post…” He turned to Megatron, optics cycled wide, and asked, “What are we going to do?”
It took a moment for Megatron’s processor to catch up. It was still stuck upon the very particular images the phrase blowing out Orion’s backstruts had conjured: ancient memories of writhing, panting, moaning Orion clinging to his frame, EM field pulsating with the richest, purest desire Megatron had ever felt…
“Megatron?” said Optimus, blinking. And then, a moment later, when an echo of what Megatron had been thinking about flashed through their sparkbond: “Megatron. Really? Is that the particular part of this thread you should be focusing upon right now?”
Megatron shook himself and reset his vocalizer, forcefully dragging his mind into the present. “You can hardly blame me for becoming… distracted.”
Optimus mustered his most disapproving look. “I most assuredly can.”
Megatron smirked. “That,” he said, gesturing in the general direction of Optimus’ face, “Does nothing to dissuade me. I quite enjoy undoing your severe librarian persona.”
Optimus looked away, in a failed bid to hide another smile. “I’m afraid any sort of ‘undoing’ will have to wait. At the moment, I require the strategic mind of a brilliant former warlord. Do you happen to know any?”
“Oh, I imagine I can locate one,” said Megatron, dryly. “Give me a moment to draw him back out.”
“Thank you.” Optimus returned to the datapad, smile slipping as he continued to scroll. “So many Cybertronians have seen the post. As we have been speaking, at least twenty more comments have appeared. I… do not know how to fix this.”
“I could order Soundwave to remove all traces of it,” said Megatron; but even as he suggested it, he knew it was a futile hope. There were thousands of comments now, and no doubt saved captures of the post in drives even Soundwave was unlikely to reach. Removing it would only cause an even greater stir.
Optimus sighed, clearly having arrived at the same conclusion. “No. That would only confirm their suspicions, and no doubt draw additional attention to the post’s existence. It will move out of the forum itself and into the news if we attempt such a maneuver—assuming it has not done so already.” He passed a servo over his optics, grimacing. “I have made many mistakes in my life, but this may, perhaps, be my most humiliating.”
Yes, Megatron imagined that it was.
“The post should have been deleted once you were assured of my intentions,” Megatron admonished—but half-heartedly. Despite the immediate embarrassment, some part of him was glad to see the post again. It was a reminder of their long-gone youth; a memory of what it had been like to first fall in love. To consummate that passion with the mech who held his spark, even now, millions of years afterward.
“But since you did not,” Megatron continued, “I suppose our options are threefold.”
Optimus raised an optic ridge.
Megatron began to count off on his fingers. “One—we remove the post entirely, which will cause suspicion and draw further attention to us. Two—we ignore the post, and pretend to know nothing about it, no matter how many rumors spread. Or, three—we acknowledge the post, and claim you as its author, thus confirming these suspicions but controlling the source of the narrative.”
Optimus immediately balked. “You… wish to publicly acknowledge the post?”
He hadn’t seriously been considering the prospect before Optimus said it like that—but now that he was thinking about it, the idea was beginning to grow on him. “Why not?” said Megatron, lightly. “We are, after all, legally Conjunxed, which is certainly no great secret. The war has been over for quite some time, and Cybertron flourishes. What would be the harm?”
“Aside from the harm to my ego?” said Optimus, dryly. “Not to mention the harm to your ego…”
“What have I to be embarrassed about?” said Megatron. “I was once again triumphant in the end.”
Optimus tilted his helm, incredulous. “You do not mind the history books making note of the particulars of your youthful flirtations?”
It was always annoying when Optimus had a point. “You received this link from the Hall of Records, yes?” said Megatron, changing the subject. He caught a glimmer of amusement in Optimus’ face, but ignored that, too. “If that is so, the clerk who sent it to you must have presumed you to be the post’s author, as these commenters all seem to. And if an archivist at the Hall believes it to be so, you may be assured that the post has already been attached to both our names in the historical record. In fact, look it up right now. I all but guarantee that you will see it there.”
Optimus muttered something under his vents, frowning down at the datapad and typing away at its surface. “Even so—even so, no one else exists who can, or would, confirm the veracity of the commenters’ and Hall’s claims. Soundwave will maintain his silence, for your sake, and he was the only other mechanism who knew for a certainty that I wrote it, and that you were its subject.”
Megatron swallowed, a seemingly-innocuous recollection coming to the fore: a cherry red figure in a bathhouse, smirking, needling him until he accidentally confirmed the truth.
“That is not… entirely true,” said Megatron, carefully.
Optimus paused and looked up, optics cycling. Then, in a tired voice, he sighed, “Who did you tell?”
“I did not tell anyone,” Megatron snapped. “Not deliberately. A certain former CMO orchestrated a confession…”
Optimus blanched. “You told Knock Out?”
“He manipulated my admission,” Megatron insisted, with far more force this time. “This was directly prior to your arrival, the night you returned to Kaon. He had been following the post and recognized the particulars, which you as its author were not at all subtle about. He was apparently one of hundreds who realized we two were the subjects of your piteous tale.”
Optimus frowned, tapping the digits of his free hand against his knee. For a while he remained that way, silent, thinking over what he had learned.
Finally he stopped tapping and looked back towards Megatron. “I do not imagine Knock Out’s silence is in any way guaranteed.”
What a laughable idea. “No doubt he is gleefully relating his revelations to all and sundry at this very moment,” said Megatron, bitterly.
Optimus nodded. “As I thought. In that case, I suppose I will concede the point.” The datapad chimed, and Optimus lifted it, examining it with a resigned expression. “Ah. It seems you were correct. The post has indeed been attached to our historical records, with a note about its recent discovery and links to several gossip pages on various news sites.”
Despite his outrage, it was difficult not to be impressed by the speed with which Cybertron’s new crop of journalists had picked up on the story. They had found and surfaced all the details in record time.
“Taking control of the narrative may be the wisest, if most humiliating, course,” Optimus concluded. He did not look particularly pleased about it.
Megatron grinned. The prospect, far from being mortifying, excited him. It felt, in a way, like proclaiming that this union they shared had been both inevitable and ordained. That their bond was far more than mere politics, as some had accused it of being.
That Optimus Prime had always been Megatron’s.
Optimus took note of his smug expression and gleaming optics and fondly rolled his eyes. “You are going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes, very much.”
“You do not fear that your motives during the war will be questioned?”
Megatron scoffed aloud. “My motives during the war have been questioned every single day since it began. If I have not learned how to manage it by now, I assuredly never will.”
“And it does not trouble you that there is now a clear record of my personal sexual fantasies about you available for everyone to read?” Optimus pressed.
“Am I meant to be affronted that a Prime, whom I am now Conjunxed to and presumably interface with often, once found me so irresistible he dreamt about me every night?” Megatron countered. “I do not think so, Optimus. It seems the highest form of flattery, to my mind.”
Optimus quashed a small smile. “Of course it does.”
Megatron considered Optimus for a moment, reaching out to smooth his palm over his audial. Optimus leaned into the touch with a soft hum of his engines. The site warmed Megatron from helm to heels.
There was a matter that was troubling him, now, although it had nothing to do with himself. “My concern is for you, primarily, and how you will feel,” Megatron said. “My motives have always been in doubt; but yours have always been prescribed to unscrupulously pure morals and incredible strength of character. Now that this has come out, some may turn on you, or proclaim your motivations are not what they appear.” He paused, then added, “Not to mention, many seem to perceive you as some sort of chaste idol of the gods, and find the very notion of their Saint Optimus experiencing otherwise normal emotional subroutines to be unfathomable. Your holy image is somewhat corrupted by this particular discovery.”
Optimus seemed to take a moment to ponder that, staring off at some distant point in their shared home and absently nuzzling his cheek into Megatron’s palm. “Frankly, I find that to be something of a relief,” he confessed. “It is… exhausting, maintaining the image of the Prime. Fitting myself to that mold. I have not, until now, been permitted to simply be; I am a hero, and a general, and a soldier, and a Chosen One, but I am not a Cybertronian, a mech of metal alloy. Optimus Prime is an ideal that I, the mech, am constantly failing to realize; but I cannot say so, or admit to it, without harming the morale of my own soldiers. Or at least, that is how it was, during the war, and shortly thereafter.” He hesitated, looking back towards Megatron, hope shining in his face. “But now… now that peace has been achieved, and now that the planet is led by mechanisms other than myself… perhaps it is time to let that ideal go, and be who I always was anyway.”
Everything shifted for Megatron, then: all soft and warm and lovely, looking into that handsome face. He had always seen through to Optimus’ core, and had known him more intimately than almost anyone; but to see him drop the public mask at last, to accept himself for what and who he was, was a precious gift, one Megatron had not imagined he would see within his lifetime.
He pulled Optimus closed and kissed his forehelm, then his cheek, then his lips, soft and lingering each time.
“Retiring the mask is no bad thing,” he said. “Lay it to rest and bury it with honor; you do not need it anymore.”
Optimus smiled and kissed him back, murmuring, “My Lord.”
“My Prime.” Megatron bumped his faceplate to Optimus’ one last time, and then settled back, bossily grabbing for the datapad and pulling Optimus down with him. “Now, then… how best to bid the post farewell, and close the narrative for ourselves…?”
From the Office of Optimus Prime and Lord High Protector Megatron
For immediate release
Direct to:
GRID>D/CIPHER>D/DREAMINTERP
ACCT:NON-ANONYMOUS[LEGAL.OFFICIAL.GOV]It has come to our attention that D/Cipher, and this post in particular, has been revived. It appears to have hit the news cycle and gossip pages, and rumors are rapidly spreading about its contents.
There is little use in pretending otherwise, given the impressively thorough research some among our anonymous readers have put into their fact-finding. Thus, we are now confirming publicly that Optimus Prime, then known as Orion Pax, wrote this post, and that it was indeed written about Lord Megatron, then known as Megatronus.
Prior to the War for Cybertron, Megatron and Optimus engaged in a long-term relationship which ended at the time of their meeting with the High Council. This relationship did not resume until after the ceasefire that allowed us to ignite the Omega Lock together and the treaty that followed.
There were NO untoward relations occurring during the time of the war.
The nature of the post makes it quite personal to both of us. It should never have been permitted to remain public. However, we have no one to blame but ourselves for its existence. The details which allowed it to become known were shared by a much younger, much more trusting Orion Pax, who sought guidance under the presumption of anonymity and who failed to recognize how the details he presented could be used to identify him.
The post was written in a vastly different time, when we were both vastly different mechs. That said, it expresses a truthful picture of the beginning of our relationship, which has now been restored, renewed, and sealed by the Conjunx Ritus.
It is undoubtedly a pointless endeavor to remove the post, now that it has garnered so much attention. Regardless, the comments will be closed as soon as this notice is published, and the post itself will be archived on the following day.
We will NOT be discussing the post or the circumstances surrounding it in any interviews, and requests for an interview on this topic will be denied.
We thank you for your abundant fascination with our histories. We recognize it is a discordant experience to see one’s leaders behaving in this fashion. We can only answer that we, too, are metal alloy and sentio metallico, and that our mistakes and joys are manifold. Our journey has been a long and painful one, but there were moments, like this one, that were absurd, and soft, and wonderful.
We were happy then, and we are happy now. Our strongest wish is that Cybertron itself, and all who live upon it, are happy, too.
Regards,
Optimus Prime and Lord High Protector Megatron
Notes:
I want to thank you all for reading this story and for leaving so many amazing, kind, thoughtful and gleeful comments. I'm constantly amazed by the generosity and support of this fandom and I'm so happy to bring you all joy with my silly stories. Thank you, thank you, thank you <3
Pages Navigation
optimushimbo (apxllos) on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 01:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 02:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
AndromedaPrime on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 01:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 02:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
VikingEggplant on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 02:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 03:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
WhiteMoonlight on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 02:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 04:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
DownTurn_Beat on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 03:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 04:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
Calyxia on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 03:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 04:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Borath on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Nahtanha on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 07:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
HenshuRin on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 09:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
RHplus on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 09:41AM UTC
Last Edited Tue 06 Jun 2023 09:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:34PM UTC
Comment Actions
RHplus on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
Yusha on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 10:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
ArchiveLogin2018 on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 01:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
RoboticMastermind on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 03:36PM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 06:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
the_moth_on_your_ceiling on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 09:57PM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Yusha on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 06:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
the_moth_on_your_ceiling on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 10:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
jeune_hibou on Chapter 1 Tue 06 Jun 2023 11:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Primaphomet on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 12:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:38PM UTC
Comment Actions
Prudabaga on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 02:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
jjkemp on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
Akita_Kira on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 05:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
kisskom on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 06:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
auri_mynonys on Chapter 1 Wed 07 Jun 2023 03:47PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation