#megacracker

He reminiscences, heading towards the lift for some semblance of fresh air. Once the door opened he saw Thundercracker… focused on something, he thought nothing of it and greeted him like normal.

The seeker jumped before greeting him as well, standing at attention before the warlord. “At ease, it’s a slow cycle anyway.” He told the seeker simply, pressing a button for outside access.

They both stood in silence, waiting for the lift to stop at their designated areas. Thundercracker stood there, idling awkwardly before the lift suddenly stopped and the doors opened. They both nod and Thundercracker left.

—an hour later—

He returned back into the lift, more annoyed than ever, punching the side of the lift he took a breather and pressed the button for the floor of his quarters.

Surprisingly, Thundercracker is also in the lift too, more confused than surprised until they locked optics with one another. “… your quarters I’m assuming?” The seeker asks. “Yes, you?” He counters.

“Same floor, I needed to converse with starscream but it lead to the top instead.” He answers, rubbing the back of his helm. “Fair enough.” He says coolly, entering the enclosed space before pushing the lift’s button to go down.

“Apologies for that, shockwave installed a new update. Whenever I enter the lift it automatically overwrites its primary objective for any other bot.”

Megatron explains, making Thundercracker less confused. “Oh…. It’s a bit inconvenient.” He comments, megatron snorted at that. “Indeed.”

Megatron nods as the doors suddenly opened, both him and Thundercracker walk in the same direction. They were both very silent during their stroll, until Thundercracker decides to speak up.

“… shall I give you the status report now or…?” Thundercracker asks carefully, earning an arched optic ridge from the high ranking commander.

“It isn’t due until next week, you finished it already?” He asks, looking more intrigued at the prospect. “Y-yeah, I tend to do my work now rather than later.” He shrugs, earning an occasional impressionable hum.

“Very well, I shall review it.” He says, taking the data pad from thundercracker’s shocked servos, not giving the seeker enough time to react.

“W-wait that’s not the-.” He tries, but his voice is lost when Megatron actively read the continents of his data-pad.

Megatron blinked in surprise as he stopped in his tracks, seeing how well written thundercracker’s work is… despite it not being the report he expects.

Smirking, megatron turns to the light blue outlier seeker, taking note of the red faceplate and steam escaping from said seeker’s frame.

“This isn’t the report, soldier.” He testifies, earning an embarrassed and strangled. “M-mhm!” And a nod from the seeker. Without looking he hands thundercracker’s data-pad back.

“I expect your report on my desk after your talk with starscream.” He says, immediately having the object expectedly snatched out of his servo.

“I-I apologies for t- that. I-it wasn’t-.” Thundercracker stammered, holding the object of his embarrassment close to his chassis. “It’s quite alright.” He waves off, turning back to the embarrassed mech before him.

“I actually enjoyed that. It’s beautifully written and quite inspiring.”

He says, before turning to walk away, leaving a very dumbfounded seeker behind him as he turns a corner. The expression the seeker had on his faceplate before he left made him smile, it was incredibly expressive and quite endearing.

‘Even the seekers wings were expressed in that same way, very endearing indeed.’

He thinks, replaying that moment with thundercracker’s flustered and steaming faceplate with that wide eyed, face fallen look of utter shock at megatron’s casual expression of interest.

His thoughts then derailed to the other seekers when he did the same thing, they had the same experience and somewhat different expressions…

But there was one detail that made him really think about those interactions.

Out of all the bots, all the fliers, all the seekers even…

… how come it’s thundercracker that he finds more endearing?

_____________________________

… yep, here it is. My big secret that I’m throwing out there.

I also really like megacracker. While yes megop is my otp ship… it also shares that title with megacracker too.

I’m not sure what it is… but I really like the magnetic appeal it has, Y’know it’s something new, something different. Gotta be fair here, I’m also a multi shipper.

@starscream-is-my-wife and I think @doomspoon888 are the big inspirations for this fic, I just… went with the wholesome route… *kicks dirt* cause yes-.

Quick note: I’m not putting this ship in the same category as the parental megatron franchise, because it’s a seperate thing and… I really like Optimus being a dad too despite making a whole different ship for papa/mama megatron’s lore.

While Thundercracker missed Skywarp when they were apart for missions, knowing that he wasn’t limited to being alone in their habsuite was a comfort. They had agreed that while apart, they could keep the company of their own choosing.

“What a good boy,” he said, affectionately patting the heavy armor under him as he sat up tall, his legs straddling wide hips.

Thundercracker thought he had chosen rather well. At least for now.

He wouldn’t have considered Megatron an appropriate partner to take home long-term, but the occasional companionship was worth the effort and blatant violations of the chain of command.

The first time he had Megatron over while Skywarp was out, Thundercracker hadn’t known what exactly to expect. On reflex after his many years of trying to get Skywarp to behave, he had remarked in the midst of a rather vanilla coitus on how well Megatron was doing… and had made a fascinating discovery.

Who would have thought that for all of Megatron’s needs to be in control of situations, that didn’t necessarily extend to the berth.

Or sofa, in this case, given that it was the only place in Thundercracker’s quarters short of the floor that his temporary paramour would fit. Megatron was too wide, unfortunately, but the sofa unfolded into a wide-enough surface to splay out Thundercracker’s prize.

His own spike was pressed snugly against his partner’s larger one. Despite being sturdily constructed to withstand the extreme forces of high-speed flight, Thundercracker felt almost delicate in comparison.

Grinning, he rocked forward, watching as Megatron did absolutely nothing about being flagrantly patronized.

“So good,” Thundercracker reiterated, sliding his palm up the sides of their spikes. “So, of course, you remember the rules.”

The sofa’s supports creaked underneath them as Megatron nodded.

The rules included being quiet unless told otherwise—with the exception of using the safeword—and letting Thundercracker lead the encounter. And, of course, most importantly, no overloading without permission.

Not that there was really any punishment aside from a passive aggressive scolding.

“Good, good, that’s what I thought you’d say.”

He finally closed his fist around their spikes, stroking up and down. Some of their mingled, violet prefluid eased the way, but he had had the forethought to add generous dollops of more durable synthetic lubricant while they were getting settled into position. Easier that way than haphazardly mucking around with the bottle in the middle of things.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, bucking his own hips and thrusting his own up into his hand. The snug pressure against the warm ridges of Megatron’s spike drew a groan out of his own throat.

Of course, Thundercracker knew that it wasn’t fair that he could be as loud as he wanted, could overload as much as he wanted, and do whatever he wanted, but that was the idea. Megatron was allowed to do whatever he wanted outside of their occasional intimate liaisons. This was Thundercracker’s chance to relish some of that power without consequence; Megatron, however, seemed to enjoy the opportunity to let go, if the trembling of his armor was any indication.

“Does it feel good? I bet it does,” he continued, a wide, warm smile on his face. No malice, no secret agenda. It was probably a relief for Megatron to cede momentary control to a lover who could be trusted to have no interest in stabbing him in the back. “Remember, don’t move. Stay nice and still for me—What a good boy!”

Megatron’s spike twitched at the praise as it leaked more violet fluid, but that could be forgiven as involuntary. Thundercracker let his fingertips linger over the slit on the upstroke.

A tingling sensation began to build at the head of Thundercracker’s own spike, accompanying a growing tension in between his hips from his covered, neglected valve. It wouldn’t be neglected for long.

Megatron’s hands gripped at the sofa’s soft padding as he struggled to remain still while Thundercracker had his way. There was just something appealing about having this level of power over someone like this. He could so easily stop Thundercracker if he so chose, but instead he was being obedient, doing as he was told and taking whatever he was given.

Thundercracker ventilated faster, his vents forcing hot air into the room as he pumped their spikes more fervently.

If Thundercracker was getting close, Megatron probably was too, though the stoicism combined with the rule about noise made it difficult to tell at times. The only real tell was the heavy thrum of air being pushed out of Megatron’s wide open auxiliary vents as he strove for composure.

Just to make it that much harder for Megatron to obey, Thundercracker kicked the pace up higher, his hand racing up and down their shafts.

“Don’t you dare overload; you’re not—“ He huffed, struggling to get the words out as he raced towards his own climax. A groan dragged at every word as it escaped. “You’re not… not… allowed—“

Thundercracker’s groan turned into a scream as his vision whited out, his frame shuddering as pleasure shot through his spike. Transfluid pulsed out as he gripped their spikes together. He could hear the hot, silvery liquid splattering thickly across Megatron’s plating.

An absolute mess, confirmed once his optics finally reset.

Megatron remained still, optics narrow in concentration and auxiliary vents throwing off more hot air as the transfluid started to cool and dry on his front. They would need to wipe that off before too long. It would only get in the way of the afterglow when they were truly finished for the evening.

Thundercracker’s frame shook as he came back down, plating juddering as he let his spent spike retract into its housing. His empty valve clenched rhythmically on nothing, locked away behind his panels as he gently patted the stiff spike in front of him.

“What a good boy, you didn’t overload at all.” Thundercracker smiled, turning the pats into a lazily paced series of strokes. “I bet you were really close too.”

He had better places for that spike to go anyway.

The cover over his valve slid back.

“Good boys get to finish inside,” he said pushing himself up on his knees to line up their arrays. “But not yet. You have to be really good for me first.”

He lowered himself slowly, letting just the tip of the spike’s round head kiss where his already wet folds parted. The light pressure against the pliable silicon gave way slightly, promising more. Pushing down, he let the head just penetrate the first ring of calipers.

“So patient.”

Just to rub it in, he sat back up as the calipers tried in vain to hold the spike in place.

After breaking the contact for a few seconds, Thundercracker set himself back down, barely touching the spike to the warmth of his valve as their fluids smeared together. He pressed the head in partway once more, just enough to promise more and then take it away.

“I don’t know if I should.” Thundercracker chuckled.

He repeated the motion, allowing only the shallowest ghost of penetration before escaping. Over and over again, just to be aggravating, just because he could.

Megatron glared up at him, but Thundercracker knew by now that it was the face he made when focusing. An unfortunate side effect of his construction. Instead of fear, Thundercracker only felt pride that he made the game difficult enough for his partner, that it required so much of his active concentration.

How many misunderstandings in the past could Megatron have avoided if anyone else had simply realized that a glare wasn’t always the same as an actual threat?

Alas.

Taking a deep ventilation, Thundercracker lazily lowered himself down, finally letting the thick spike push into his valve as he groaned. The glacial pace allowed him to adjust to the pressure while also forcing Megatron to wait and ride out every single caliper flutter as Thundercracker enveloped him.

It took a few minutes to fully seat himself, far more time than was strictly required, but it was such a delight to tease.

He leaned back with his hands braced against Megatron’s knees, shuttering his optics as he relished the feeling of a comfortably full valve. He sighed, a contented smile on his face as he squeezed his valve around the spike, making it twitch inside him.

“You’re waiting so patiently. Isn’t that nice?”

He sighed again, circling his hips just to feel the stretch as Megatron trembled underneath.

“Maybe one day I can trust you to be good enough to do the heavy lifting without being naughty.”

One of the few times he had Megatron put him on his back, the larger mech had gotten rather too enthusiastic about the words of praise and hadn’t been able to hold back, overloading before Thundercracker had told him to. So, for now, Megatron was on probation and banned from being on top. He needed more practice.

“But, today, if you wait and do what I tell you, you can come inside,” he continued, reiterating his earlier promise, “maybe more than once if you don’t get too tired. You won’t get too tired, will you?”

Megatron, jaw still locked in place to keep quiet, shook his head.

Spikes were unfortunately easy to tire out due to the strain on oil pressure. Such a shame, but they always had alternatives. Hands and mouths and valves and nodes. There were many ways to reward good behavior.

Still, Thundercracker would get plenty of use out of this spike before he would finally let Megatron have his release. These sort of games could be very taxing on a mech’s energy, but he knew that if anyone had the stamina to tolerate a marathon of being edged, it would be Megatron.

He reached forward patting one of the hips underneath him.

“Buck up now, nice and easy,” he ordered, “gentle and slow, okay?”

Thundercracker wasn’t about to do all the work himself.

“We’ve got all night,” he added, affectionately rubbing that hip as Megatron started pushing upward as instructed. With each small, restrained thrust, the spike bumped up against the end of his valve, sending sparks across Thundercracker’s visual feed as he settled back against his hands once more.

If allowed, he knew that Megatron would be holding Thundercracker in place by his hips and going wild. That could be fun sometimes, sure, but this forced pacing, the power of holding such a strong, willful mech’s leash….

Thundercracker moaned quietly, his valve tensing in anticipation as he pushed down to meet the gentle thrusts.