Loyalty is always rewarded.

Summary: Megatron is not as dead as was at first thought, and Barricade has found out and joined him in his new hiding place. Megatron has been alone too long, and like any other mech, has needs. Luckily for him, Barricade will be happy to fulfil them. Oneshot.

Rating: M for smut and violence.

Warning: Don't look for any plot in this, you won't find one. This is pure smut.

Continuity: 07 Movieverse.

Disclaimer: Not mine. This belongs to Hasbro and Dreamworks/Paramount.

Loyalty is always rewarded.

A/N: 1 joor=6.5 hours.

Barricade entered the dark and unused hangar that had been abandoned to slowly decay by the dominant creatures that infested this world. Although very wasteful, at the moment the fleshling's neglect of a structure they had already built was a good thing for Barricade and his Lord Megatron.

Barricade had heard about Megatron's death in Mission City, a victory for the humans and Autobots that had cost all involved the AllSpark Cube. All that was likely left of it was charred slag welded to the ground of Mission City, of use to nobody and nothing.

Hiding from the hated Starscream, and grieving quietly for his fallen Lord, Barricade had been surprised to receive a communication on a private band he thought only Megatron knew. Upon answering it curtly, he had been gratified to discover that it was his Lord Megatron. It seemed that rumours of his deactivation had proved premature, and after self-repairing enough to escape from the Laurentian Abyss, he was returning to land to finish recuperating, and planning to deal first with the treacherous Starscream, (whom Megatron knew had fired on him alongside the human jets,) whenever the Seeker chose to return to the planet, then with the fleshlings who were so arrogant as to think they could succeed where so many others had tried and failed, to get rid of him.

Barricade paused to allow his optics to adjust to the darkness, and spotted burning red optics set in a dark mass at the far end of the hangar. Switching to night-vision, he saw it was indeed his Lord. Barricade had a brief moment where he considered running over and throwing himself at Megatron's feet, but it soon passed: Barricade was a proud mech, had never yet grovelled at Megatron's feet despite the fact that bigger and tougher mechs had done just that. He wasn't about to start now.

He walked over to Megatron, raised a clawed hand to his chest in a salute, but stood tall and proud, not bowing his head or body, meeting those fierce red optics with his own. Barricade thought he saw approval flash in those optics as Megatron said "Barricade, I have need of you."

"I have come in answer to your call, my Lord," Barricade said. "How may I serve you?"

"I have need of you, Barricade." Megatron responded. Barricade looked at Megatron in slight confusion, and then realised what Megatron was saying at the same moment that the larger silver mech lunged forwards, seized Barricade with one large silver hand, and shoved him up against the hangar wall with such force that the structure shivered dangerously, but stayed erect.

Barricade resisted the instincts that were telling him to meet the violent action with resistance, and instead allowed himself to hang where he was held, his feet dangling fourteen feet above the hangar floor. With a snarl of lust, Megatron bent the elbow of the arm pinning his frontliner to the wall, and pressed his mouth to the other's mouth fiercely.

Barricade responded as Megatron's glossa invaded the inside of his mouth, pressing against Barricade's sharp teeth so hard that they pierced the glosssa's surface. Barricade whined as he tasted Megatron's hot energon in his mouth, grabbed at his leader with his own hands as Megatron shifted his grip so he could leave Barricade's chest exposed. His other hand moved to stroke up Barricade's leg, tickling around the sensitive chest catches and making the smaller mech squirm before moving to the catches to release them, and pressing his chest against Barricade's, who was still pinned by Megatron's other hand and now his body, at Megatron's chest-level above the ground.

'Primus!' Barricade thought, he hadn't realised that Megatron was that needy, although he supposed that many vorns of travelling through space followed by further vorns encased in ice could to that to a mech. So long alone, so long unattended…of course his Lord would be needy! He keened, his legs and arms twitching as Megatron's hot Spark met and merged with his own.

The power and intensity of that Spark almost caused him to offline, but he struggled to stay conscious even though his optics whited out. He felt himself released from the wall, carried in spreading but careful hands, tipped forwards and then put face-down onto an uneven metal surface. Then he felt those hands press down on his back, and tense. He felt the claws dig ever so slightly into his armour and pull. He heard high-pitched squealing sounds as Megatron's claws dug metal shavings from Barricade's back armour.

He responded without thinking, his body responding to the attack on his armour by pushing his own hands against the surface he lay on, using his hydraulics to curl his own fingers, digging his claws into the surface of his attacker's armour. He heard a gasp as the surface beneath him shivered, and then his optics onlined. He found himself lying on Megatron's chest, saw energon oozing from the puncture marks he had inflicted on the silver exoskeleton, and pulled his claws back, realising his instinct to attack back when he was attacked had caused him to hurt his leader.

In response the claws scoring his back dug harder.

"Continue." Megatron ordered, and Barricade's overload-fuddled processors suddenly realised that Megatron's actions had been quite deliberate, he had wanted Barricade to use his claws.

Barricade was not one to disobey an order from his Lord, and immediately dug his fingers into the holes that were already healing. Barricade had forgotten that Megatron's AllSpark-altered body was so swift at repairing itself. He pressed harder, making the holes bigger, and licked slowly at the energon that oozed up around his claws. Megatron shuddered beneath him again in pleasure and pain, the claws on Barricade's back engraving patterns in his plating, shavings of metal curling up in their wake. Their touch became gentle as they trailed down his legs to his feet, and then relaxed by his side.

"You seem to know what I like, my loyal soldier, but I do not know what brings you pleasure. Tell me, Barricade, what do you like, where do you want me to touch you, what do you want me to do to you?"

Barricade, who was more well-versed in sexual politics then he had ever let on to anybody, even his previous lover, the now-deceased Blackout, recognised Megatron's wording as cover for something he would never admit in plain language. Megatron was one of those mechs who sometimes tired of being the one giving the orders, but would never let another take over on the battlefield, or in a duty or leadership situation. However, when it came to interface, a safe situation with a loyal friend, he wanted to once again taste what if felt like to take orders from another. With a thrill, Barricade realised his leader wanted him to dominate him.

Well, first things first: Barricade needed to be in a more dominant position than sprawled over Megatron's chest, so he sat up and slid forwards so his legs could straddle the larger mech's neck. He squeezed them tight, locking them behind Megatron's neck as if they were a living collar. He leaned forwards on Megatron's face, putting his claws out and drawing then down Megatron's face deliberately too lightly, tickling him. Megatron's face twitched but as his hands came up to stop him, Barricade spoke sharply.

"No! You are not permitted to use your hands, not yet. Use your vocal processor to tell me what you want me to do, and your glossa to stimulate me. If you do well, I will give you what you want, and maybe give you permission to use your hands."

The silver mech's hands dropped back down to his sides.

"Harder, Barricade, more p-pressure." He said.

"As the humans say, 'what's the magic word?'" he teased, giving Megatron's cheek another tickling caress. Megatron growled, releasing control like this was hard for him, but equally, in a strange way, he craved the release, the handing over of responsibility to someone else in a non-critical situation.

"P-please, Barricade, more pressure!" he said. He remembered Barricade's earlier instruction as he felt the other lean forwards further, bringing his abdomen down over his mouth. He flicked his glossa up, was rewarded as Barricade flinched and pressed harder on the cheek with a gasp.

"Yes, good, you're doing as I asked. Keep on and I will reward you further, hmm?" Barricade said, his voice edged with amusement. Megatron groaned in response, brought his glossa up to lick and stroke over Barricade's body, curling it around so the narrow tip could probe at the side seams, an action that had Barricade writhing against Megatron's face, his claws twitching and drawing energon, which just added to the arousal of the silver overlord. Barricade recovered enough composure to mimic Megatron's earlier attentions to his back on Megatron's cheeks, etching swirly patterns with a squeal of metal cutting metal, sliver curls falling from the patterns, pink energon welling up to fill the light scratches, energon that Barricade eagerly licked up.

Megatron arched his back sharply: had Barricade not locked his legs earlier, he would have been unseated. He keened as Megatron's clever glossa found enough room between his side-seams for the tip to enter and tease and lick at nodes and cables. Barricade mewled and twitched, dislodging the glossa-tip accidentally. He lay back down to allow it to re-renter, but Megatron had other plans: he withdrew his glossa to the back of his mouth, applied suction to draw Barricade's abdominal plating down to his mouth, and used his front teeth to nip him sharply.

Megatron felt hot spicy energon trickle into his mouth as Barricade cried out in unexpected pain. It was more than a scratch, but was not a serious wound: it would heal in a few joors time. He allowed himself a grin, then suckled on the wound, drawing Barricade's energon into his mouth, swirling his glossa in it and using it to lick and soothe the ragged edges of the bite. Then he swallowed the mouthful of energon, and continued to run his glossa over the damage, pressing against the damaged tubing to assist the healing process, while still enjoying the taste.

"Barricade, let me use my hands, please?" Megatron asked, feeling that Barricade was close to overload already and wanting to finish the job.

"Y-yes, y-you've e-e-earned it." groaned Barricade. Megatron brought his hands up to seize Barricade's shoulder tyres, rubbing and kneading them, using just his palms and lower digit joints, and Barricade shuddered as this last stimulation pushed him over the edge.

He threw his head back in a primal scream of lust and desire and pleasure, as his overload coursed through him, his joints unlocked, and Megatron lifted the smaller mech off his neck and pressed him to his re-opened chest as blue-white tendrils of energy sparked on Barricade's armour and arced from his chest and head and joints. As the energy leaped between the two mechs, and Megatron caught the tail-end of Barricade's overload, it was all he needed to follow him into the haze of pleasure only such a complicated and inventive interface could bring him.

As the surge of energy ebbed, Megatron realised that Barricade had offlined. He turned on his side, careful to cradle the smaller mech without putting pressure on him.

"My loyal Barricade. My loyal friend," he murmured in Barricade's audio tenderly. "I called and you answered. You learned something that Starscream never did. Loyalty to me is always rewarded."