Chapter Text
Smokescreen was trembling so violently by the time they reached Starscream’s quarters that the young mech’s plating rattled. Even so, frightened as he was, a part of him was grateful that the Seeker had opted not to frag him on the bridge in front of everyone as Megatron had done to Optimus.
His tanks still felt queasy at the thought. Smokescreen had almost purged watching helplessly as his Prime was forced to submit and let the tyrant take him on his servos and knees like a mech-animal.
And even worse, having not just his interface array but also his spark bared for the Cons to leer at.
Optimus was the Matrix Bearer!
He was supposed to be sacred. The Chosen of Primus. He should be treated with reverence.
How could Megatron treat him like some cheap rent bot?
Even worse, after being forced to merge with the evil monster, Optimus was almost certainly carrying Megatron’s sparkling. Or sparklings. Even as young and naive as everyone thought he was, Smokescreen knew basic biology. Multiple sparklings were common. Especially for large mechs like Optimus and Megatron.
Their Prime’s frame was utterly limp after being defiled. Optimus just lay there sprawled on the floor. His red and blue coloring a stark contrast to the purple Decepticon symbol beneath him.
His optics were dark. Optimus’ open interface panel dripping transfluids and lubricant.
Smirking smugly at having fragged his rival into recharge, the Decepticon lifted his lanky frame and draped the unconscious Prime over his spiky shoulder. “I expect every Autobot to be sparked as soon as possible,” Megatron said as he left the bridge, lewdly fondling Prime’s bare aft as the elevator door closed behind them.
Starscream’s low chuckle brought the young mech back to the present and his own dire situation. “Calm yourself, Autobot. If you keep shaking like that your armor is going to fall off.”
A mental picture the Seeker obviously enjoyed. “Although, I must say, getting my servos on your soft protoform is not an unpleasant thought.”
The young mech hugged himself tightly, attempting to bring his fear under control.
Or at least minimize the rattle.
“So, I take it I am to be your first?” The Seeker sounded almost giddy at the prospect of deflowering the young Autobot.
For a moment Smokescreen just stared at him in utter shock, but then shook his helm almost violently. “No,” he gasped, glaring in defiance.
The Autobot not a virgin and he was glad of that. Starscream would not be the one to take his seal. He and Bumblebee had taken each other’s seals only a few weeks ago.
Although not before a long lecture from Ratchet. The medic had very quickly realized where the two young mechs’ cyber-hormones and curiosity were leading. He gave them some advice on how to proceed without injuring or sparking one another.
Yes, Smokescreen knew that it had been necessary, but Primus, that had been an awkward conversation.
At least he and Bumblebee would have that sweet memory. There had been laughter and mashed nasal ridges, but they had both enjoyed it immensely.
He tried not to think of what was, at that moment, happening to his friend at Soundwave servos.
Or tentacles. (Ew.)
“Really? You seem like you are just into your adult upgrades.” The Seeker looked a little surprised. “So, what is your secret to looking so young? Do you moisturize?”
Smokescreen bristled. He had watched enough Television with the children to understand the joke. “I was capture and put into stasis on a Decepticon prison ship when Iacon fell,” he admitted without hesitation. It did not matter if the Decepticons knew now. “I can only guess there was some sort of catastrophic event. All I know is that I woke up alone in a storage bay with no Decepticons, or even other Autobot prisoners in sight. The only thing still working on the ship was the computer that was counting down to autodestruct and a couple of escape pods. I was lucky there were more pods than mechs when the ship was abandoned. And I do not know why I was not either taken with them or deactivated? Maybe they forgot I was there?”
“That explains a lot. No one connected that empty Decepticon escape pod we found a few months ago with the new addition to Prime’s little group,” noted Starscream. “Ah well, enough small talk. Since Megatron has likely already sparked up your former leader, it would be embarrassing for me not to do the same to my pretty slave.”
Smokescreen’s face plate flushed, and his spark constricted. He was nearly hyperventilating when the Decepticon started to stroke his back. “Calm yourself, Smokescreen. That is your designation, correct?”
“Y-yes.” He was embarrassed by how close his vocalization sounded to a sparkling’s chirp.
“Well, since you are not a virgin, you at least have some idea of what comes next,” said Starscream, appraising the pretty mech. “Do not worry. The rumors that we are a bunch of sadists are not true. We Decepticons do not enjoy hurting our berth partners. Well, most of us anyway. And as Megatron says, we want sparklings. Harming you would be counterproductive to our goal.”
He looked at the young mech thoughtfully for several moments. Then he smiled. “Get on the berth and open your array.” He ran a servo over the young mech’s helm, petting him gently. “And do try to relax. I really do not intend to hurt you.”
Suppressing a whimper, the young mech obeyed. There was no point in resisting. The Autobots had surrendered. They were slaves.
His helplessness almost overwhelmed him. But he refused to cry or beg. They had not been defeated. Megatron cheated, using those Terrorcons to force their compliance.
Besides, Smokescreen was a member of the Elite Guard. Never mind that he had just graduated the academy weeks when Iacon fell. He would not let the Decepticons see him break.
Once the sleek racer lay back on the berth, his optics shuttered, and he gripped the mesh on the berth. Smokescreen stiffened as Starscream fingers stroked the sensitive folds of his valve. He even leaned down and licked the tip of the young mech’s spike. Despite the situation the touch felt surprisingly good. It was not long before young mech was biting his lower lip plate to keep from moaning as a charge began to build.
His stoicism did not last long.
Starscream’s smile widened as his slave began to moan loudly. Knock Out had given him some lubricant laced with a few chemicals that would heighten a mech’s sensitivity. All those that had been given custody of Autobots had a few tubes.
It did annoy him slightly that Megatron had not needed to use any on Optimus, but then, those two had a lot of history. And the way both mechs obsessed over one another…
It was not that surprising that Prime succumbed. Optimus had probably fantasized about being captured and ravaged by his rival any number of times.
Still, it did not matter that some chemicals were used. The very satisfying result was Smokescreen begging for his spike.
“So beautiful,” Starscream chuckled, still sliding his fingers in and out, slowly stroking Smokescreen’s ceiling nodes more vigorously. He continued to tease the pretty Grounder, watching him writhe and moan.
He had chosen well, taking this sweet young thing to his berth.
Better than Shockwave’s new toy. Ratchet was not exactly unattractive, but he was rather old and might not be able to carry. If he really was infertile, the old medic would likely end up as part of one of Shockwave’s ghastly experiment.
Then again, the emotionless scientist probably did not even know what to do with his own interface equipment, let alone a berth slave. Well, if Ratchet was fertile, maybe Shockwave would let some of the Vehicons have go at the medic. They could always use more soldiers.
Either way, Starscream did feel a little sorry for Ratchet. (Only a little, but for Starscream even that was quite surprising.)
Smokescreen gasped as as he watched in terrified fascination as Starscream opened his interface panel, revealing his spike. At least the Decepticon was not too large. (Primus, he almost fainted when he saw Megatron’s interface rod.) The Seeker was about the same size as Bumblebee.
The Autobot felt himself relaxed a little, knowing that he could take it without pain.
The young mech tried, but ultimately failed to remain relaxed as Starscream moved over him. But he stiffened and gasped as the head of the spike entered him. It was a little uncomfortable because he was so tense as the Seeker pushed deeper.
It was not painful, but his valve was clamped down on the intruder. Which brought more of his sensors into contact with Starscream’s spike. Every inch further began to build a charge within the young mech.
By the time the Decepticon was completely sheathed, Smokescreen had released the mesh on the berth and had a death grip Starscream’s shoulders. The smug Seeker was thrusting in and out smoothly, causing the Autobot to moan and eventually move in counterpoint. The charge kept building and building…
“Primus!” Smokescreen cried as a powerful overload coursed through his circuits.
Still smiling smugly, Starscream brushed a finger over the seam of his chest plates. “Open up, my lovely,” he coaxed. “We need to merge.”
Dazed from the overload, Smokescreen shook his helm. Coolant escaped the corners of his optics. He did not want that. If they merged, he would conceive.
The Decepticon leaned in close. “Remember why you and your fellow Autobots are here, Pretty Pet. As much as I am enjoying your chassis, we are here to make sparklings. Now open your chest plates or I will force them open. I do not want to hurt you, but I will if you resist.”
Fear almost kept him frozen in place. Shuttering his optics and digging deep within himself for strength, the Autobot sent the command for his chest plates to part. Had he been able to see the Seeker’s optics, Smokescreen would probably have been shocked at the gentleness in them as his spark was exposed.
He let out a cry as long clawed fingers delicately brushed the corona.
Smokescreen and Bee had not merged sparks. That seemed too intimate. They had not intended to become mates after all. They had just wanted to give each other pleasure and comfort.
Now he wished they had. For Bumblebee’s sake as well as his own. Their first time sharing the spark of another was with an enemy.
“Perfect,” whispered the Decepticon.
The young mech’s optics snapped open, despite his fear. Smokescreen almost expected Starscream’s to dark, tainted with the telltale purple of Dark Energon like his Lord. He had heard that Starscream had once used that vile poison. However, that was a long time ago and the loathsome substance must have dissipated for his spark was pure white, bright and surprisingly beautiful.
A sharp gasp escaped his lip plates as Starscream pressed their sparks together and their very beings merged.
Smokescreen felt bitterness and anger from his master. No surprise there. Starscream always radiated bitterness. But the young mech also felt vulnerability. A deep desire for approval. An even deeper longing for love. Things that seemed completely at odds with the nasty, selfish, vicious Vosian he had thought Starscream to be.
He also felt excitement from Starscream at the thought of having little Seekerlings of his own. And surprisingly, he already held some affection for the Autobot as the vessel to bring them about.
Starscream in turn felt the fear and despair in the mech beneath him. Smokescreen was so young. The Autobot was even younger than Bumblebee. And having missed the majority of the war and its horrors, his berth mate was almost painfully innocent.
Smokescreen had thought Optimus Prime was perfect, infallible. Now thanks to Megatron, his world had been shattered. His spark felt so utterly lost. Starscream found himself petting the trembling young mech and sending reassurance through their new, tentative connection. ‘You are mine. I will keep you safe. You and the little ones will be cared for, always.’
And then they both cried out in overload and more. They each felt a third presence coalescing between their sparks.
“YES!” cried Starscream.
The young Autobot was losing consciousness as the events of the day and utter exhaustion overwhelmed him. He felt Starscream carefully close his chest plates. The Seeker turn him on his side and pull him close. “Recharge, Smokescreen. You are safe with me.”
Smokescreen did not believe it for a moment, but he was too tired to argue.
Unable to even keep his optics on, the Autobot fell into a deep, thankfully, flux free recharge.
To be continued.