Megatron tips his helm this way and that in the reflection offered by the black screen of the offline monitor station, not necessarily alarmed but certainly a little disgruntled by the visible crimps and punctured crescents left all over his jaw and throat.
No doubt there are more littering the rest of his frame.
He's hardly opposed to the existence of the cosmetic damage. No, it's how to explain all the bites that troubles him...
There could be more.
Optimus watched him from the berth, sat on the edge with his pedes on the floor, optics narrowed to a thin sliver of blue, and considered this. Megatron was all the way over there when he should be on the berth with Optimus. ...right now.
"Megatron," he rumbled, kneading at the sheets. "Come back to berth, please?"
Optimus Prime. The puppet master who cursed his fucking dick.
When did Optimus get up? He was so sure the truck was out cold and snoring after the... Primus, third round? Fourth?
"I jes' wanted some coolant," Megatron mutters obstinately, thumbing at a particularly deep mark with a low grumble of his engine before turning back around to eye the mech on the raised berth in the middle of the room.
The sheets and pillows and all these things he's been piling up in Megatron's quarters over the weeks and months, as soft to the touch as Optimus was. Figuratively speaking. And yet. Here these soft things remained, stuffed into the cavity of Megatron's existence. He hasn't the spark to try and eject any of it.
The insatiable Autobot included.
He saunters back into the Prime's proximity as asked, his field curling with dark amusement as he smirks at the mech sat in front of him and nudges Optimus' knees apart with one of his own.
"You're going to have to take responsibility, Prime. Dorothy'll come after your aft for damaging park utilities."
Optimus cast his optics over the marks with deep satisfaction- he left those there. No one else. "I wouldn't stop you from refueling, of course." All the better to keep going, after all.
Megatron was something beautiful, a work of art wrapped in gunmetal silver. As he approached, Optimus reached out, settling servos on Megatron's hips and squeezing them, blue optics burning dark. "I'll have to see if she'll forgive me, just this time."
She couldn't begrudge him this, not when he wanted Megatron so thoroughly as to be consumed by him.
When he couldn't think of anything, of anyone else.
Drawing Megatron closer, he peered up at him, fins tipping forward. "I want you in berth with me. There are a few spots I've missed, and if I'm going to get in trouble..." His engines guttering into a growl. "I may as well keep going. After all, one bite of seven won't matter." The servos on Megatron's hips squeezed, just a little tighter.
"Let me ruin you."
