Chapter Text
After working all morning, Impactor returned to the house covered in lather.
“Feeling better?” Terminus asked, trailing him into the kitchen.
“I’m fine,” Impactor groused, flipping on the sink. “When’s Krok and Soundwave leaving?”
“I’m not sure,” Terminus said, glancing in the direction of the stairs. “What’s got you knotted up about them?”
“Nothing!” Impactor growled, glaring down at him. “I just… want Soundwave to leave.”
“Did he offend you?” Terminus said, fetching a towel for Impactor to dry off with. “He was good with Meg.”
“No.”
“Oh. Was he mean to Krok?”
“Huh? Oh no, Krok’s fine.”
“Then what—”
“He needs to go,” Impactor said flatly, snatching the towel from Terminus and scrubbing his arms with it.
“A shower might do you more good,” Terminus said, observing the smears of dirt still decorating his chassis.
Right on cue, Krok and Soundwave headed downstairs, the twins all tucked into their slings.
“Well, it’s time we high-tailed it out of here,” Krok said, double checking the straps on his sling.
“So soon?” Terminus said, rolling over to them. “You know you’re always welcome, the both of you. It’s been so nice to see these little ones.”
He reached up to brush his knuckles against the bottom of the twin in Soundwave’s sling.
“Affirmative,” Soundwave said kindly. “Hospitality: wonderful. Return venture: soon.”
Impactor stood by the counter, glowering at them; Soundwave tactfully ignored this and tightened the straps of his sling.
“Impactor: farewell,” he said. “Soundwave—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he said, shoulders hunching up. “You two get on out of here.”
“Impactor!” Terminus scolded him.
“You can’t talk to my wife like that,” Krok said, stepping in between them. “Apologize to him—”
Soundwave touched his arm and turned to pay attention to Impactor.
“Impactor: uncomfortable. Krok, Soundwave: should depart.”
“But he—”
“Comply,” Soundwave pressed, and without another word Krok relented. “Terminus: farewell.”
“…good-bye,” Terminus said, lifting his hand.
Soundwave guided Krok outside and made sure to shut the front door after them. Once they were gone, footsteps crunching back down the driveway, Terminus whirled around to fix a glare at Impactor. Instead of a righteously angry stare in return, he saw tears forming in Impactor’s optics.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why do you care now?”
Impactor rushed past him into the nearest room—inconveniently, Terminus’ berthroom. He tried to slam the door but it bounced off a fallen bitlet-toy and wobbled open again.
He couldn’t stave off the raging ocean of emotions any longer. Slumping against the far side of Terminus’ berth, he choked out a ragged sob and hugged his knees tight against his chest.
Megatron, raped. And if that was someone forcing themselves on him, what did that mean for Impactor, forced onto someone else?
Forced! Both forced!
Terminus quietly rolled into the room, carefully navigating the end of the berth to look down at Impactor, already a mess of snot and tears.
“Did something happen?” he asked softly.
“No,” Impactor wept. “Yes.”
“When? Was it Soundwave?”
“Do you remember when I went with Horri-Bull to that, that place?”
“The club?” Terminus said. “Yes, I do.”
Impactor swallowed hard and took in a shuddering breath.
“You’re a real mech, aren’t you?”
He whimpered and shifted his grip up to his helm.
“Impactor,” Terminus said, unsure. “What happened?”
“You told me that you can’t force others to interface,” Impactor managed, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“That’s right,” Terminus said, rolling closer. “You should never force someone else.”
“Then why did they force me?” Impactor sobbed. “They forced me into f-forcing them and, and—”
He couldn’t say any more. The words gummed up his vocalizer and he spat static, crying hard.
Terminus didn’t need to say anything. He put the brakes on his chair and pulled himself down onto the floor, scooting over so he could finally put his arms around Impactor.
“Let me hold you,” he murmured. “You don’t need to carry all of this by yourself.”
Two Weeks Later
“So I’ve told you about what I want to do,” Megatron said, marking out the edges of their future garden. “What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” Rung asked, holding the other end of his measuring tape. “I’ll have my hands full when the bitlet arrives.”
“That’s several months from the date of conception, which at this rate, is going to be some time from now,” Megatron said, slightly embarrassed. “What are you going to stay busy with while we watch our c4bb4g3s grow?”
“You know,” Rung said, putting one hand on his hip and staring out at the road. “I have been considering something. Doing something.”
“Oh?” Megatron asked, walking out a ways and marking the ground with his shovel.
“I’m a psychiatrist,” Rung began. “Well, was a psychiatrist. But if my time out here with you has been any indication the mecha in this area need help. My kind of help.”
“I agree,” Megatron said, gesturing for Rung to move to the next spot for marking. “Do you want to invite them to our home?”
“Not really,” Rung snickered. “I’d like this space to be ours, and ours alone. However… for the initial sessions to scrape off my rust that might not be a bad idea.”
“Then you would need your own room,” Megatron said. “But the spare room is going to be the nursery.”
“Would you object to curtaining off part of the sitting area?” Rung asked. “That way it doesn’t need to be permanent, but it will still act as a closed space for a session.”
“Sure,” Megatron said, making the last mark. “There. I’ll hand plow this section, just to make sure it’s properly readied.”
“And the rest?”
“I’ll use the big plow,” Megatron said, contemplating the field. “Not yet, though. When we’re ready to seed.”
Rung trotted up to him and took his hand.
“Perhaps we could purchase a curtain when we go to town to pick up the seed,” Rung said.
“Absolutely,” Megatron said. “And perhaps an armchair your size.”
“Now you’re really pushing the budget,” Rung giggled. “Let’s just start with a curtain. I can sit on a stool if necessary.”
“And have you risk toppling off with precious cargo?” Megatron teased, sauntering up to put his hand on Rung’s yet-empty abdomen.
“As soon as there’s cargo to topple, we can upgrade,” Rung said, grinning.
…
The tur-nips next to the walkway had gone to seed without anyone to pull them, so Megatron carefully collected their bounty and dried it. Tur-nips would go well in their new garden patch.
After going to town, they had twenty bags of c4bb4g3 seeds kept safe in the farmhouse, right next to the box of seed p0t4t03s and seed packets waiting for the vegetable patch. He had it all planned out—when he would plow, seed, and finally, harvest the crop; Powerside, another newbuild from his batch, was a combine harvester and would be willing to help them out for the right meal afterwards.
“He’s picky,” Megatron said, fixing up the fence by the road. “He likes steak, but not with p0t4t03s. He likes those fancy c0114rd greens Headlock rotates in.”
“I know how to cook that,” Rung said, offering him another nail. “Don’t worry.”
“Really?” Megatron asked.
“Oh yes,” Rung said. “You bring me fresh milk and I’ll even churn butter for the meal.”
“You know how—Rung, I would have bought us a milking g04t if you told me that,” Megatron gushed. “How do you know how to do all that?”
“I’ve been around the block a time or two,” Rung said, winking. “I went through a holistic foods kick around my three millionth vorn. I know how to make all sorts of things.”
He helped Megatron lift the next board into place and held it while he tacked it down.
“I’ve been thinking about a bookshelf,” Rung said. “In the curtained-off room.”
“Oh yeah? For what?”
“Well, you have several texts that deserve a shelf,” Rung said. “And I have one or two things to contribute also.”
He watched Megatron sink a couple more nails into the board.
“Plus,” he said, sidling up to him. “We’ll need a place to put Duck and his Friend, the Little Tractor.”
“Why?” Megatron asked, grabbing the bucket of nails.
“Because our bits are going to be educated, Megatron,” Rung said. “It may be millennia since I’ve attended primary school but everyone deserves a basic education.”
Megatron blushed. “You’re thinking about this just as much as I am.”
“I can’t help it,” Rung sighed dreamily, putting his hand on Megatron’s arm. “You started the fire, but I’m feeding it.”
“Do you want to try again tonight?” Megatron asked, and Rung lowered his glasses to peek up at him.
“I would love to, if you’re sure,” Rung purred, hugging his arm closer. “I’ll get started on dinner. Perhaps we can get you in the mood.”
…
He served backstrap, fried, with a jellied energon and gravy. He lit the lantern in place of a candle and served their supper at the kitchen table, elegantly dressed in the cleanest towel available.
“You are trying to wine and dine me,” Megatron said, drawing his chair up to the table.
“It doesn’t hurt to enjoy a little finery,” Rung said, sipping at his fuel. “I’m rather pleased with how this all turned out.”
He sampled the jellied energon while he watched Megatron slice into the backstrap. The first bite had him reaching for a second, and like a well oiled machine Megatron consumed his supper and glass of energon.
Rung had served himself a light meal. He didn’t want to be weighed down when the time came. Once Megatron was finished and relaxing happily, he took the initiative and drew his pede along Megatron’s calf. With a hiccup his cooling fans turn over.
“Perhaps we ought to go to berth,” he said, and Megatron nodded, following him up from the table when he laced their fingers together.
He led Megatron to their berth, nowadays pulled back ever so slightly from the wall, and guided him down into a kiss. Megatron crawled over him, embracing Rung’s chassis with both hands as he enjoyed the simple connection. Before long, both of them were panting in neediness and he opened his panels to expose himself.
His valve leaked lubricant down his inner thigh, but his spike remained stubbornly unpressurized.
Rung let him lay down on the berth, admiring his frame openly.
“You’re lovely,” he said, smoothing his hand over Megatron’s hip before he reached down to support his hefty spike.
“It’s not pressurizing again,” Megatron huffed, but Rung tsked and knelt next to him, using both hands to lift his spike up.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t feel good,” Rung said, bowing his helm to lap at the crown of his spike.
“Ohh,” Megatron moaned, caught off guard. “I didn’t think it would…”
Rung reached between his legs and scooped up some of the copious lubricant leaking from his own valve panel. He used it to slick his hands as he petted Megatron’s spike, stroking it carefully as he licked all around the head.
He eased closer, straddling Megatron’s thigh as he hugged his soft spike tighter.
“Is this okay?” he asked, hesitating above his leg.
“Please, do it,” Megatron urged, gazing down at him with burning optics. “Use me.”
“I’m going to participate with you,” Rung clarified, kissing the tip of his spike. “We’re doing this together.”
He opened up his array and sat firmly on Megatron’s leg as he gathered his spike in to caress, suckling on the head. Shuddering, Megatron moaned when Rung’s glossa dipped into his transfluid slit.
“Ah!” Megatron gasped, and his spike gave a hearty throb. It remained soft but pre bubbled up under Rung’s glossa, much to his delight.
“Mm,” Rung moaned, rutting lightly against Megatron’s thigh. He lapped up the pre and nursed on his slit, teasing more and more out. His hands worked Megatron’s throbbing shaft dutifully, dancing over spike sensors and seams alike.
“Rung,” Megatron choked out.
“Hmm?” Rung lifted his mouth to look up at Megatron, but his hands were still working away.
Megatron was panting, and as Rung glanced up at him his mouth parted in a soft, genuine moan. Under Rung’s gaze, his spike twitched abruptly and began unloading all over Rung’s neck and shoulder.
“I love you,” Rung moaned, coaxing him through the rest of his overload. “Oh Megatron, that feels so good, doesn’t it?”
The relief was writ all over Megatron’s face. His frame loosened up and he laid more freely in the hay next to Rung. His spike gave a final little twitch and then began its retreat into its housing. Rung watched it go with a kind smile. He moved to dismount Megatron’s leg but was stopped by a hand on his hip.
“Don’t stop,” Megatron begged. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Rung breathed. “What should I do instead?”
Megatron propped his other leg up to give Rung a peek at his own valve, lubricant already slicking his mesh.
“Please?”
Rung whimpered and his legs clenched on Megatron’s, grinding his array against the ridges of his armor.
“Please, come closer,” Megatron begged.
“I don’t know if I can,” Rung moaned. “You feel good, now.”
Megatron tolerated his rutting until he noticed Rung inching towards his own overload. He sat up, toppling Rung onto the berth, and held himself over him.
“Megatron,” Rung gasped up at him, whimpering when Megatron grabbed his legs and split them apart to slide himself between them.
His valve dripped onto Rung’s leg as he settled himself into the right angle. When their valves kissed, he moaned openly.
“Oh… Megatron…” Rung arched beneath him, pliant in his hands.
“You feel good,” Megatron whimpered, laboring.
His ground their valves together, nodes slipping across each other as he thrust. Caught off guard by the sudden change in position, Rung clung to the covers and cried out when a zap passed from Megatron’s node to his.
“Mm… Rung!”
He trembled against Rung’s frame as an overload swept through him. He cried out, shaking, and caught himself before he could fall forwards.
“Please,” Rung begged. “Finish me.”
“Finish me.”
Time slowed. Wordlessly, Megatron eased his hand between them and rubbed against Rung’s node. His slim frame pressed against Megatron’s sturdy one, and he gripped Megatron’s breastplate tightly.
He… didn’t feel anything like Scrapper. He was soft, and sweet, and slick, and when his musical cry reached Megatron’s audial he was clingy, ready to be held. So different to Scrapper. A world’s difference from Scrapper.
Once they were settled, Rung in Megatron’s arms, both hidden under the blankets, Megatron pressed his face against Rung’s helm. He could feel tears wetting his cheeks but didn’t try to stop them. Rung heard his ragged breath and turned in his arms to put one arm over Megatron’s shoulder, around his neck, and hugged him tight.
“Megatron,” he breathed, unsure.
“I’m so happy to be home,” Megatron wept, clutching him close. “I’m so happy…”