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Megatron wasn’t a mech who took good care of himself. He did the basics most of the time—getting some of the mud off his pedes, refueling in the morning—but he would often shirk even these most basic responsibilities when caught up in planning. Being the leader of an entire faction, he just simply didn’t have the time to go to sleep early, give himself a good polish, or do anything else of the sort.
It was for this reason as well that the warlord often forgot to empty his waste tanks.
On this particular day, Megatron was engrossed in tactical planning, so he at first dismissed the need as merely an annoyance. It quickly worsened, however, until one leg was bouncing on the floor, with a message flashing behind his optics to alert him that his tank was at 93% capacity. He really wanted to get this task done, so he decided to hold on until he finished his work, at which point he could relieve himself and then perhaps try and actually recharge for more than just a few hours. Letting out a soft sigh, Megatron pressed a firm servo on his codpiece, rubbing it slightly to keep himself in control before getting back to work.
A few minutes of anxious leg-tapping later, he heard the door to his room slide open. Megatron didn’t even bother looking to see who his visitor was. There was only one mech bold enough to enter his room without permission—Starscream. It was also quite late—he truly doubted any attempts on his life were going to happen.
He was quickly proven right, as bright blue talons slid around his side and gently scraped across his chest, causing his powerful motor to rev in delight. The talons continued to roam up and down his chassis, providing a welcome distraction from his tank and paperwork…
That is, until the petting stopped and Starscream swung himself to the side and over the chair, and Megatron had the breath knocked out of him as a heavy seeker plopped into his lap with a hungry smirk. Megatron felt his tank clench from the jostle, while at the same time, his spike began to throb behind his codpiece. This wasn’t ideal.
“Starscr—“ He began, but was shushed as a single perfectly painted talon rested on his lips. Starscream began to rock his hips, aft scraping along the bigger mech’s codpiece, and Megatron could feel the desperation oozing from his Second in Command; the way heat expelled from Starscream’s vents; the dampness of his lips as he panted; the thick, heady scent of lubricant in the air, and the whisper of “ Megatron ” through clenched denta. Starscream wanted him, and Megatron’s tanks clenched in want. And desperation.
His interface array pinged, and though charge was crackling through his frame, it was no use. His spike had barely pressurized—arousal overrode by the now- critical need to relieve himself.
“Starscream…” He tried, knowing that if he simply pushed the seeker off, that was it. No amount of desperation would keep Starscream from storming out if he was offended. Megatron gripped at the other mech’s waist, trying to slow him for just a moment, before pressing his nose into the cabling of Starscream’s neck near his audial. “One moment. Just one blasted moment, let me up to take care of something—I’ll come right back and devour you .” That last part came out as a growl, as lust and frantic desperation mixed together.
Starscream was not so easily persuaded. He ground down stubbornly, and Megatron saw tanks at 98% capacity flash in his optics.
“I don’t know what’s so important…” Starscream started to say, but Megatron didn’t let him finish—trembling violently, he snatched the seeker’s hand, trying to get him off.
“To the pit and back Starscream, I need to piss !”
There was a moment of silence, as both of them froze. Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose in humilated exasperation…
...then let out a guttural cry as Starscream’s free servo slid down and pushed on his abdomen, right against his waste tank. He felt a small spurt shoot from the tip of his spike, wetting the back of his codpiece housing as his vents began to roar alongside the internal warning noises in his processor that were warning him of an immediate accident.
“What are you DOING?” Megatron gasped out, shaking his lover’s wrist as a devilish smirk appeared on Starscream’s face.
“Why, I’m simply speeding the process along.” Starscream’s shameless response immediately hiked up Megatron’s internal temperature several degrees.
Megatron began to try and wiggle Starscream off, but the movement just made the sloshing in his tank more apparent. He ground his denta, seriously considering just throwing the seeker off, consequences be damned. “And for what reason?”
“Humiliation.” Starscream replied easily, smirk growing. “After all, who else gets the privilege of making the leader of the Decepticons wet themselves? Oh, the stories I could tell…”
Megatron was growing furious, and was about to toss Starscream aside and bolt to the bathroom—when he felt it.
Lubricant. Warm and sticky, oozing onto his leg and lap from Starscream’s panels, which had opened at some point. The warlord had been so occupied with his other problem, he’d failed to notice that his Second-in-Command was rubbing his plush, bared valve slowly along Megatron’s leg. Megatron glanced at Starscream’s cheeks and saw the faint blush, as well as his exposed fangs chewing his lower lip.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
“ Humiliation .” He growled, and a hand suddenly slapped down on Starscream’s aft, causing the seeker to let out a surprised yelp. “My humiliation should result in your childish laughter or have you jumping up and down with joy, not… dripping lubricant all over my leg.”
Starscream let out a squeak in reply as Megatron surged up with him, every bit of his frame fighting against the powerful urge to relieve himself.
An image flashed in his processor—of holding Starscream in one arm, sliding his spike between those gorgeous red thighs and letting go.
Oh, it had been so long since he had last thought of indulging this kink. There had been so many nights alone, in the washroom, on the berth if he was charged enough, with waste fluid spattering onto his chestplates or a heavy stream hitting the washroom wall.
And he’d be lying if he hadn’t imagined Starscream on his knees, mouth open wantonly as Megatron let him drink freely from his voiding spike.
Just those memories were enough—his tank squeezing in desperation as he carried Starscream to the berth and practically dropped him onto it. His Second-in-Command made an offended noise, but Megatron couldn’t bring himself to care; not with his tank about to burst, not when lubricant was trickling down Starscream’s leg and his face was bright purple.
“You want this, don’t you?” Megatron growled, a hand smoothing over his codpiece to hold back, just for a moment more. “You want to be marked , covered in my wa—“
“S-shut up!” Starscream’s vocalizer was laced with static, and his position clashed with his words, legs spread obscenely open as he sprawled on the berth. “I—I don’t…”
Megatron snarled . He was at his limit, and had absolutely no time for games.
“If that’s true, I’m going to the washroom.” His voice was deep and dripping with possessive want, but the pain in his abdomen was too much to ignore. If Starscream was really going to refuse…
He took a step back, threateningly, clenching his denta. Maybe the seeker really didn’t want—
“WAIT!” Starscream squeaked, and Megatron watched as he spread his legs wider, fanning his wings out in submission.
The warlord’s internals clenched in want.
“...Fine.” Starscream whispered, voice shaking. “Fine, I want you to...to…”
A deep breath, and then Starscream whimpered, “ Mark me, Megatron …”
Megatron had never moved so fast. Warnings were exploding behind his optics about immediate waste disposal, and he closed them all as he released his codpiece—and watched his half pressurized spike twitch up. He grabbed it—felt how heavy and warm it was, twitching with desperation.
Megatron had reached his limit and large, full tanks ached as his spike gave one twitch—and with a low growl, he finally let go. And it didn’t start slow. No—Starscream had pushed him past his previous limit, and he burst. It came out fast and hot, a jet of liquid that hit the seeker right on his abdominal plating, leaving the lightest streaks of yellow as it began to trickle down his stomach, dripping into his seams.
Starscream squirmed and gasped, and as Megatron’s stream of piss continued to drench his plating, the seeker’s codpiece folded away and a stiff, leaking spike sprang free.
Megatron didn’t hesitate as he directed the stream downwards, and watched Starscream claw at the berth in bliss as the warm liquid sprayed over his spike. Megatron’s optics were glued to the sight in sensual fascination, watching the seeker’s stiff length twitch with pleasure under the pressure of his stream. Soft hisses of “ Oh yes ” and “Use me ” fell from Starscream’s open mouth.
Arousal hit the warlord hard and the noise he made was utterly humiliating—a low, shuddering groan of relief and pleasure. Thick fingers slid slowly up and down his spike, and he resisted the urge to let another humiliating noise escape. But Primus, it felt good.
And Starscream looked good, twisting and arching his frame up so Megatron had easy access to all of him.
“M-Megatron.” Starscream whimpered, wings fluttering furiously and smacking the berth as Megatron directed the stream onto the inside of his thighs. It trickled down the thick, cherry red metal, leaving behind little streaks of wetness.
He was a big mech, and he had a big tank. This could often be cumbersome when he needed to quickly relieve himself, but now it felt like a blessing. He gripped the thick shaft of his spike, let the stream splatter briefly on Starscream’s node before traveling up. The action earned him a shrill, desperate noise.
“Ah—ah—I…” Starscream choked on his words, red optics following the stream of urine. Megatron pinched the bottom of his spike, directing the stream to wash over the seeker’s cockpit.
“Use your words, Starscream.” Megatron growled—far from angry, just overridden with lust. Having barely voided past the point needed to subdue his critical release protocols, it was too hard to just *stop*, but he managed to slow the stream while Starscream fought to find his glossa.
“Just…!” Starscream sputtered, face bright purple as a few talons slid to pinch and rub at his node. “I-I want to drink it. Happy...?!”
Happy? Megatron’s internals were boiling. He wasted no time in cradling the side of Starscream’s face with one hand and bringing his trickling stream to the seeker’s mouth.
He half expected Starscream to suddenly change his mind, but the mech obediently opened his mouth and allowed the flow of warm liquid to splatter over his glossa, wetting his plump lips. Even more shocking, and maddeningly arousing, was when he tilted his head up and took the tip of Megatron’s spike between his lips. Megatron felt the joints in his knees weaken at the sight. The noises the seeker was making—obscene gulps and moans that had fluid trickling out of his mouth—were a level of submission Megatron had never heard or seen from his Second-in-Command.
If Starscream kept this up—suckling at the tip of his spike and swallowing his piss like it was the finest Energon—he was going to overload. Without even experiencing that wet, fat valve snuggled between Starscream’s thighs.
So he had to pull away. Starscream made a pathetic noise that had the warlord wanting to plunge right back into his mouth. But he restrained himself, because his tanks were still straining with fullness.
Starscream’s thighs were pleasantly damp, slick enough from piss and lubricant for Megatron’s spike to slide easily in between them, smearing the mess on himself as his pulsing spike nudged at Starscream’s entrance. A feral sort of need overcame him, and he pressed onwards, unable to repress a groan at the feeling of Starscream around him, at how receptive the seeker was. Starscream was making all kinds of desperate little noises as Megatron pushed deeper, feeling callipers stretch to accommodate and warm mesh squeeze his spike tight till he was fully sheathed inside.
Starscream whined and Megatron growled a warning, though he felt no real anger. Rather, he felt a delicious possessiveness creep through his fuel lines, bending over Starscream till hands were on either side of his second-in-command and his heavy bulk had Starscream pinned. The seeker’s spike twitched against his frame and his engine revved in delight.
“You like this, don’t you?” He purred, and Starscream, oh so beautiful in his desperation, raked blue claws over Megatron’s arm.
“ Megatrrrron.” The seeker whined, and Megatron decided that was answer enough. He caught Starscream’s lips in a deep, bruising kiss as he began to thrust in and out with a harsh, punishing rhythm. Starscream arched his back, wings slapping frantically against the berth as his cries were swallowed up by the kiss. Megatron allowed himself to freely moan as well, the filthy squelch of each thrust into the wet valve beneath him sending pleasure shooting up his spinal strut.
So caught up in fragging his lover senseless, he almost forgot his original goal—but when he felt that familiar coil of pressure inside his gut, he knew what was to follow after.
He overloaded into Starscream’s greedy little valve with a bellow, burying his face into Starscream’s neck as the seeker wrapped arms around the back of his neck and raked his talons along the metal. He was sure the little brat was peeling off paint—but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was focused on each pump of transfluid that coated Starscream’s insides. His entire frame trembled with the intensity of his overload, made only the better by Starscream mewling underneath him.
The whole ordeal had turned his vicious Second-in-Command into a whimpering, submissive puddle—and that possessiveness from before came back with a vengeance as Megatron felt the last spurts of transfluid leave him, and another feeling took place. His waste tank sloshing as he shifted to kiss at Starscream’s neck cables, gaze drifting over the seeker’s body as he settled himself in a comfortable position. He noticed the streaks of transfluid across the seeker’s stomach and had to smirk.
Starscream’s valve had fluttered around him earlier when he had been overloading, which meant he had overloaded from both sets of equipment. Megatron’s possessiveness only grew from the smug realization.
Which is how he found himself stilling, half-hard spike still in Starscream’s valve—and with a sigh of great relief, he finally let go the rest of what he had been holding in. All too desperate, the stream had no time to build—it splashed powerfully as soon as he pushed himself in a little further, past the clench of Starscream’s valve.
Piss gushed out steadily, filling up Starscream’s valve quickly with warm liquid, and the seeker’s optics flashed, mouth falling open to moan. Megatron found his wrists and kept him pinned, even as Starscream began to squirm from the piss filling up his valve. Perhaps leaking into his own tanks, Megatron fantasized, his spike giving a twitch at the thought.
It didn’t take long for it to spill out—a fast trickle soon becoming puddles as Starscream’s valve reached max capacity. Fully emptying his tanks came with a pleasurable relief, and the fact he got to do it inside this soaking little valve? Megatron had no words for such a glorious feeling. He could feel the wetness and pressure all around him as he groaned in bliss, lips searching blindly for Starscream’s own to capture in a kiss, moving his hips shallowly forward to rock up into that wetness.
He didn’t even realize what Starscream was doing till his own stream began to die down, and he heard the noise and recognized the sensation—a steady hssss of warmth against his lower abdomen. He caught Starscream’s optics, and the seeker let out a whine.
“T-too much pressure. I couldn’t hold it.” He gasped, pressing his spike forward so the gush of piss splattered out all over Megatron’s armor, making the warlord’s spike harden oh so quickly.
“ Starscream.” He hissed, unable to think coherently—and resorted to a hand around his Second-in-Command’s waist, pulling out temporarily to flip Starscream around. The Seeker situated himself on his knees, face pressed into the berth as his valve continued leaking transfluid, and his spike sprayed piss across the berth. It was all quite a picture—two of the most feared Decepticons, soaked in each others fluids. Megatron knew he’d never forget this.
But for now—he slid back in without so much as a warning, jolting Starscream forward and watching the puddle that was growing on his berth. He pressed his face into the back of the seeker’s neck and began to fuck him, really fuck him, letting his seeker relieve himself until he was ready to mark him again.
After all, they weren’t stopping anytime soon. He was sure his waste tank would be full again in no time. And Starscream? Judging by the noises he was making and the fact seeker’s had notoriously small tanks…
He grinned into the cables on Starscream’s neck, jerking his hips forward and delighting in the filthy noises it produced.
Yes, it looked like they had quite the night ahead of them.