Short n sad Megarod set in my rally!AU (Maximum Attack) and Self Esteem fit perfectly with my poor boy Roddy
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Rodimus slowly opened his eyes, awakened by a faint ray of light lazily filtering through the window. His head throbbed, a clear testament to how much he had drunk the night before.
Slowly, he rolled onto his side, letting the cool fabric of the sheet slip over his naked body.
When he found himself facing Megatron’s still-sleeping expression, something tightened painfully in his chest.
Shit. He had done it again.
A soft snore escaped Megatron’s parted lips, his warm breath brushing against Rodimus’s face. The boy allowed himself to watch him for a moment. Sleeping, Megatron looked calm -almost serene- so much less… exhausted than he did during the day.
His face was relaxed, free from the tension that usually tightened his jaw, narrowed his eyes, or curled his lips before scolding Rodimus for something.
Deep in sleep, his broad chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, the sheet covering him just above his waist. Megatron looked irritatingly handsome.
Rodimus wished he could do what normal people did: wait until Megatron woke up so they could stay in bed together a little longer. Maybe they would talk. Maybe they would have sex again. Maybe they would get up and drink coffee together, dressing slowly as the morning unfolded.
But theirs wasn’t a normal relationship.
It never had been.
Rodimus had shown up drunk after yet another victory; not to celebrate, but to ask without words, begging him to fill the emptiness inside him.
And like every time before, Megatron had tried to send him away.
And like every time before, he had eventually given in.
Rodimus slipped out of bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Every inch of his body ached, each pulse accompanied by blurred memories of the night before.
Bites on his shoulders. A hand pushing his head into the pillow, forcing his back to arch.
Bruises blooming along his pale hips where Megatron had held him.
As he pulled on his pants, his gaze caught his reflection in the mirror.
Dark eyes stared back at him, heavy with shadows beneath them. His red hair was more disheveled than usual, and his abdomen had become a canvas of marks; silent evidence of the night before.
The boy staring back at him looked utterly miserable.
Rodimus quickly pulled on his T-shirt.
Quietly closing the door behind him, he walked down the hotel corridor with a bitter realization settling in his chest.
He didn’t care if this was the only way he could be with Megatron.
He would come back the next time.
And the time after that.
Every time his thoughts became too heavy. Every time his heart felt so full it threatened to suffocate him, Rodimus would return to Megatron.
He would feel like a complete mess for a few days, and then he would come back again and again, hoping -vainly- that something between them might change.
Stopping to tie his shoelace, he let the weight of that awareness wash over him like the pale light of morning.
For every night of wild happiness in Megatron’s arms, a morning of painful clarity awaited him.
Of pity.
Of self-loathing.
Of that desperate need to be loved.
Maybe, he thought, if he hated himself a little less… Megatron might actually want him.
