So, I've been working on a collection of fics centered around Megatron and Starscream in the Transformers: Prime universe. In a romantic, sexual, and, well, hateful sense, haha. I've been inspired by quite a few sources, and this includes 50_darkfics at livejournal. While I staked my claim, I do not think I've yet to be accepted. However, I don't think they'd mind if I borrowed their prompt table. Also, not all entries are 50_darkfics prompts.

Anyway, I'm sort of taking requests? I'm really interested in writing TF:P MT/SS at the moment. So if you've got a prompt or idea, send it my way. I cannot guarantee I'll fill it, but if it tickles my fancy, I can sure try.

The fics jump back and forth; it's not a linear series. So one fic might regard their first meeting, then the next, somewhere farther down the line, and then back.

Let's begin then!

and in the darkness, something more

Embracing or Destroying: PG/-13

Based on: 'ravished'

The beginning had not been near as tumultuous as it was now.

There had been a time when the two called themselves comrades without sarcastically undermining any loyalty or skill. A time when they worked side by side without worrying the other was about to plant a knife in their back. In the beginning, as so many things tended to be, it was something much more simple and respective.

Their ideals did not clash as they did now. Starscream honored Megatron's desire to bring Cybertron out of the shadows that lingered at her horizon. Ignored by the ignorant and blind Autobots, a society who thought of nothing but stagnation and simplicity in their little, common lives. Their dreams were empty, nothing, the populace; but they did-they dreamed frequently. About reaping the true potential and power of their homeworld, to bring her into a glorious bloom no radiance could ever compare. And many would call their ideals insane and immoral; they were able to plot in the safety of those shadows the Autobots turned a blind eye from.

Megatron found the Seeker was competent and reliable. He'd never imagine how wrong he'd be in the future. He saw great intelligence, wit and a mind of wicked schemes. Megatron was the strength of this war, the power that held it up like the world on Atlas's shoulders. His words were hymns and biblical in proportion. Starscream, small and sleek, slipped and wound through the shadows, worked strings and spoke sweet and saccharine words and persuasions. Together, they made the heart and soul of the Decepticon faction.

There was a time where Starscream would have followed Megatron to the Pit. Because he believed in the same conquest and power the tyrant boasted and gloated about. The same he promised the Seeker the day they met in the darkness behind the gladiatorial pits. Megatron's words convinced him that what they were doing was for the best. For Cybertron, for her race. And if people had to be crushed underfoot to prove this, it was well worth it.

The emotions were mild in terms of professional respect. They drew the line between superior and inferior and never crossed over. Ah, a time long forgotten, so much so, it probably never existed. When Megatron considered advice from Starscream legitimate and worthy of consideration, when Starscream believed Megatron was doing everything in his power to see to their success.

Something changed over the course of making history. Something hot and heated and unanticipated. Something neither understood or comprehended or bothered to explain. There was a night when Autobot energon was soaking the blackened, charred grounds of Cybertron, and there they stood, parting the massive sea. Bodies stretched in every directions, pieces and parts and no online sparks to be accounted for.

And there they were. Their guns were still smoking, still heaving though now emptied of all ammunition. Their bodies ravaged and damaged and dragged through Hell. Their energon intakes desert dry, vents sputtering air hot from their circuitry, vision blurred from film of soot and smoke clouding their optics. They looked at one another, standing side by side, still in battle poise. And there were words left unspoken that neither can nor wish to recall in this day and age.

It wasn't so much the actual, physical act they remembered from that night. There were many details left forgotten, in fact. But what always would remain like a ghost in their memories were the emotions. The way they felt as if they had one last day on the planet; as if they were on the edge of death and if they had one last thing they needed to do, this was it.

They had forgotten the way the wounds felt beneath their clawing, groping hands. Along bumps and bruises, dipping into tears both superficial and exposing peripheral circuitry. They would not remember wandering, feverish hands memorizing undiscovered countries. They would remember, however, just the way it felt-how they heaved, vents hitching, bodies shaking and armor rattling.

They would not remember the noises. The cries, the snarls, the groans and whimpers. But they would remember the feeling behind each. Pleasure, pain; annoyance, victory; stress, relief. Submission, domination and how they blurred together depending on where they pushed and pulled and touched.

The taste of metal, the feel of jagged teeth, shadows to the emotions. A blinding light, there was that; they would always remember that. They might have forgotten how deep that heated moment got if not for the eternal residue of a spark bond hiding and tucked behind their souls. The very light that whitewashed their vision and temporarily blinded them as they clashed together. It was so strong that even faintly recalling merely a second of the act send shivers racing down their backbones.

When it was over, they said nothing. They both knew this was not the time, nor the place. This did not belong. And they saw, felt, heard, tasted, smelled the lust and how there had been no love. They never loved one another, and they never would. The moment of glory had taken them into a whirlwind and they rode it without fighting back. That was all there was to it.

If it were only that simple. They had not seen love, but they had seen so much more. The quiet, subtle doubts and desires that worked against the other. They could sense a small rift, very tiny; but as with everything on the planet, there was more than meets the eye to even the tiniest of fragments and wounds. Still, now was not the time to address it and as long as it stayed quiet and subtle, there would be no need to ever address it in the future.

And as it was only natural, a catalyst would bring their relationship into a new dawn. An era as dark and destructive as Cybertron herself. Instead, those moments where they felt equal, fleeting as they were, disappeared. Consumed by those tiny nagging voices. Starscream could see that no longer was the planet's best interests in his best interests. And Megatron could see that Starscream was mistaking greed for nobility.

Power corrupted even the strongest of titans. Soon, Cybertron's glorious future no longer mattered to them. It was now about being the strongest in the universe. The superior race to become the superior race. Autobots were no longer blind, misguided fools but mindless obstacles with no sense of feeling. Where there might have been compassion there was now only endless need. And somewhere down the line, the race became personal, until it was between commander and subordinate.

That same manipulative wit Megatron had admired was now turned on him. Starscream's honesty was more and more polluted with lies. Defeated battles and arguments turned violent and fierce when once they had simply gone separate ways to cool off. Megatron might have dropped everything he was doing to come to his best warrior's aide, but now he hesitated at even the slightest mention of trouble or danger to his second-in-command.

What was once valuable was useless. What was once respect was now disgust. The day the two met and saw in each other advantages and a balance was now just a diluted fantasy.

But it wasn't to say the passion was gone. It was just... different now. Dangerous, fatal, wicked. And then their knives were sharpened and their eyes always open. They slept vigilance and alert. They spoke careful and calculated. They were ticking time bombs now, not associates, not companions. Who was the first to cross that line they drew and honored so long ago. They eagerly awaited when that time would come, because then they had all the justification they needed to bring the other down to ruins. For now, their boundaries were safe in their uneasy alliance and with the pros still outweighing the cons, they did not push or taunt the other into making that fateful move between life and death, loyalty and treachery.

And so a more quiet little war waged beneath the Decepticons and Autobots. It was between them, Megatron and Starscream and anyone who got in their way was simply collateral damage. A constant battlefield they stood upon when together, each on their own side, each ready and willing to go for their gun. And sometimes, the war outside their world seemed insignificant; moments where they'd lose themselves in private affairs. But they would make no mistake as the encounter that night when the skies were red and the planet's surface bloodied.

Ravishing them little by little as the days, months, years and centuries passed. Always tiptoeing around the edge and along the line. Neither quite making the blow that would finish and decide everything once and for all. But their ammunition was always stocked, in both a literal and figurative sense.

Inside, they were storming and itching and ready and willing. Outside, they smiled and offered only the best of condescending flattery and praise and trust.

END

Thanks to carrioneater at livejournal for helping me out with this prompt. The title of this drabble is from a quote by Eugene Kennedy.