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Tarn kept thinking about how he let his charge get away. His coiled his servos in anger. Damn it. How could he let them get away? He was Tarn! Leader of the Decepticon Justice Division! One word from his mouth and mechs would writhe in pain!
That was why he wasn’t surprised when Megatron called him to his throne room. Tarn would probably be punished, likely by getting beaten up and thrown around. His panels heated up at the thought of Megatron touching him, but he quickly denied the thought. It was blasphemous to think of his Lord that way, at least when he’s being punished.
Tarn walked to the throne room, where Megatron was sitting in his throne, alone. Tarn, without even needing to be told, went on one knee and bowed his helm. “Greetings, Lord Megatron.”
He lifted his helm just to see Megatron, who stared back at Tarn. “You know what this is about, and you know there are consequences.”
Tarn nodded.
“Good. On your knees and servos behind your back. Afterwards just stare at me.”
Tarn obeyed without hesitation. He loved staring at his Lord. Tarn expected Megatron to come towards him, maybe grabbing an electro-whip from somewhere to whip him into shape - Tarn shivered at the thought- but instead his Lord stayed on his throne and spread his legs open.
Tarn’s optics widened as Megatron placed a servo on his modesty panels and started rubbing. Tarn’s fans kicked on.
Tarn wanted to look away, to avoid his Lord’s gaze as he made a neutral expression, but he couldn’t. Both because of Megatron’s command but also because of Tarn’s growing arousal.
It was like that for a few kliks, just Tarn staring at Megatron rubbing himself, until his Lord spoke.
“Tarn, have you fantasized about me?”
Unlike most commands given to Tarn, it took a few moments for him to realise his Lord said anything and to reply. “In what way, my Lord?” He had many fantasies. Sometimes it was domestic, sometimes it was with Tarn with a collar being held by his Lord, sometimes it was when he was Glitch and somehow he met Megatron during his gladiator days.
“Sexually. Tell me, what did you think about? What positions did we have? How much did you enjoy them?” Megatron smirked, which grew wider as Tarn just stared at his master.
Finally, Tarn spoke. “I always served you, in my fantasies, like how I do currently.” He felt his panels heat up immensely. “I would take off my mask and suck your spike, or maybe lick your valve, touching you, craving you.”
Megatron hummed. “And did you or I spike?”
Tarn paused. “I… you always spike, my lord. I could never let myself imagine spiking you, of course.”
Megatron rolled his optics. “What a shame, I’ve always been a valve mech.”
Tarn flinched at the indirect insult. He should have known his Lord wouldn’t care for the traditional dynamics of spike and being spiked! Even after Vorns of serving his lord and abiding the past ado, he still somehow thought in those regressive ways.
“I apologise, Lord Megatron.” He said simply.
“No need.” Megatron hummed, still rubbing his panels plainly. Was Tarn supposed to help arouse his Lord?
He began to stand up. “Lord Megatron-”
“I didn’t say to move.” Damn it. Another mistake. He kept making them. He should KNOW not to do anything unless Megatron directly commanded it. “You are to stay in that position and not move. Do not move to touch me, do not move to touch yourself, do not move to walk away.”
Like he’d ever walk away from this current sight. “Yes Lord Megatron.” He went back to his original position.
Finally Megatron’s panels opened. Tarn looked at Megatron’s spike, thick and long. Not as big as Tarn’s, but anything of his Lord’s was better than of his. Megatron’s valve was an equally delicious sight, even if it wasn’t lubricated much. Tarn began salivating at the view, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t disobey his Lord. No matter how much his valve was lubricating underneath his panels.
“Have you fantasised about other mechs?” Megatron began stroking his spike slowly.
“Of course not, lord Megatron.” That would be treasonous. Even that Delphi Autobot, he just wouldn’t let himself fantasise.
“And if you were to pick a mech, any other mech, who would you choose?”
Obviously it couldn’t be the Autobot. One of the DJD? But that would be using his position as their boss to his advantage- ignoring what’s happening right now. Overlord? Tarn growled at the idea, but then thought about it. Maybe as a consequence. Overlord deciding to disobey the Decepticons, and so needing justice. But his actions were too serious for simple death, no, he needed something… More.
“Maybe Overlord.” Tarn said. Overlord was a mech even bigger than Tarn, but not so big that his intake or valve wouldn’t be tight, if Overlord was ever tight. Tarn would not be surprised if Overlord recharged with other mecha so much that his bottom lips were as loose as his facial lips.
Megatron tilted his head, a rare look of confusion on his faceplate. “And how would that go?” The movements of his servo slowed down but then went back to its previous pace.
Tarn can see it now. “I have tied Overlord up, legs spread. He disobeyed you, to the point that he needed something to remember before his death. He hates losing, he hates being dominated, even by better mechs like yourself,”
Another optic roll.
“And so I would make him feel helpless. I would take him in every way. Licking his valve, sucking his spike, having him suck my spike - jaw locked open so he doesn’t bite it, putting my digits in him, placing my spike in his valve, my valve on his spike, maybe even tearing some wounds into him and fragging those too.”
Megatron was rubbing his spike faster the more Tarn talked, but slowed down when Tarn got onto the more… Distasteful part. Understandable. His Lord must have not been a freak like him, that was why Tarn was simply his follower. Tarn growled. He hated that the thoughts of Overlord, along with the sight of his Lord, were making him so aroused. He shifted slightly.
“My Lord, may I touch myself?”
“You may not.”
Tarn let out another involuntary growl that he automatically stopped once he realized he was doing so. No. Do not go against your Lord. “May I open my panels?”
“You may not.”
Frag, but he cannot disobey his Lord. He felt the lubricants seep out of his panels.
“Tarn, do you want to know what mechs I desire?”
“Of course, Lord Megatron. I am willing to listen to anything you say.”
“Hmm, well then, one of the first mechs I’m thinking of is… Starscream.”
A spike of anger pierced the purple mech. Tarn glared at Megatron, who tsked.
“Aren’t I your leader, Tarn? Should I not have the ability to have any mech I want? Even the traitorous ones? You said it yourself you wanted Overlord.”
He was right. Tarn should never question his Lord. Megatron must’ve wanted to put Starscream in his place, understandable.
“I can imagine it now, Starscream has defeated me, usurping me as Decepticon leader.”
Tarn’s engine growled instead of his vocals. “No, my Lord, that would never-”
“You’d resist, of course, and try to save me.”
Tarn paused with shock at the interruption, but then nodded. Yes, he would.
“But sadly not before it happens.”
Tarn’s eyes widen.
“Starsscream would take me, like how you would take Overlord. Maybe he’d shock me every time I struggle and protest.” Megatron unfortunately seemed to be more aroused by this idea, his strokes of his spike quickening and his other servo starting to prod his valve. “He’d claim me, maybe even record it so that all of the galaxy knows about it.”
No. No no no no no NO!
“No Lord Megatron, I would never let it happen.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You would’ve seen the video, broadcasted to all the colonies, and come to save me. Afterwards, logically, I would…” Megatron dipped his digits inside his valve, then took them out to suck on them. He looked directly into Tarn’s optics. “Reward you.”
Tarn’s modesty panels automatically snapped open, spike pressurizing and lubricants leaking out of his valve.
Instead of anger, Megatron simply chuckled. “Couldn’t handle it, hmm? So desperate? So desperate for my spike in you?”
Tarn nodded. Frag he- he needed Megatron’s spike. No, not even his spike. He’d be satisfied licking at Megatron’s valve, or even just touching and caressing the mech. He needed to touch Megatron, he needed it.
“Come closer, still on your knees.” Tarn perked up at that. “Do not touch me, just get close enough for me to touch you.”
Tarn obeyed eagerly. Once he got close, he could smell the sweet scent of Megatron’s valve. He had to…
“Lord Megatron, permission to-”
“Permission denied.”
Frag. He needed it.
“Please, Lord Megatron.” Tarn begged, looking at the optics of the superior mech. “Please please let me touch you.” He sees the big and red anterior node. “Just one lick.”
Megatron shook his head. “This is a punishment, Tarn.” Megatron’s digits widened to show Tarn the inside of his valve more. So tight… So perfect for Tarn’s spike to fit inside.
Wait.
Oh Primus, so this was what the punishment was. Tarn wondered why Megatron just decided to exhibit in front of Tarn. Frag, and it was a good punishment too. This was worse than anything any of his crew could dish out.
Tarn could feel his servos shaking beside him. Wait, when had they moved position?
Megatron stuck some digits into his valve and spread the lubricants on Tarn’s face. Tarn began humping the air, wishing to get more touches, for Tarn to touch Megatron.
Megatron dug his digits deeper into his valve and went quicker on his spike. Megatron overloaded with a chorus of ‘please’ from Tarn backing it. The transfluid from the spike and valve covered Tarn’s mask.
“Permission to clean this, Lord Megatron?”
Megatron chuckled, array now hiding under panels once again. “No, you walk out of here with my fluids on your mask and your array fully out, mostly as a punishment for opening it without permission.”
Ah, so this is a consequence for breaking that simple rule. “So, I am dismissed now, correct?”
Megatron nodded. “You are now dismissed.”
Tarn gracefully stood up and walked out of the room, hoping Megatron didn’t notice his frantic movements.
When he entered the main hall, there were a couple bots there to see him. Thankfully his reputation seemed to protect him, as when every time a mech walked by him, they looked away and walked faster than before, fear in their optics. It seemed like the last thing they wanted was to risk his ire, even in such an embarrassing situation.
Tarn walked quickly, the thoughts of what Megatron had done still plaguing his processor. He found a storage closet, good. He entered it and locked the door.
He placed his back to the door and sighed in relief. He shoved three digits straight into his valve, fantasizing that it was a specific other mech’s.