Part Three

For the most part, Galvatron’s attitude remained very much the same.

That was to say, he did not appreciate being interrupted, did not like being stared at, stood near, or gossiped over. Cyclonus could, at the very least, be grateful that Galvatron was still as irritable as he always was. The difference now, the most alarming change, was that Galvatron did not see fit to beat anyone who sought to irritate him. Galvatron would snap, and whine, and grumble, but he was not standing up from his throne intent on bashing their processors in.

Considering that time was off the essence, Cyclonus wanted to get Galvatron alone as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Galvatron was too weak to chase off the other Decepticons, and they seemed to be basking in his obvious weakness and not leaving. Cyclonus would have been more than content to remove them himself, but it would not be interpreted as a desirable act by Galvatron. Rather, Galvatron would see it as being babied. So, Cyclonus was stuck where he was. Standing, quite restlessly, by his master, feeling every bit as gloomy as he was certain he looked. His spark was still threaded in Skyfire’s overloaded energy, which was every bit as distracting as he could have expected. Not bad, just… distracting. Even a little bit surreal.

Scourge, given that he actually gave a slag about Cyclonus’ existence to some extent, did not wait long before approaching him.

‘I need to be alone with him,’ rumbled Cyclonus, low enough to avoid Galvatron’s audials from perceiving him.

Scourge shrugged a bit, glancing back at the other Decepticons. He looked back at Cyclonus. ‘Well you aren’t going to be if you don’t do something,’ he responded casually, his wings stretching lazily.

Cyclonus was simultaneously embarrassed and grateful that Scourge had not seen fit to question him further. Scourge was far from being the most perceptive Decepticon around, but he knew Cyclonus well enough to make a guess at what he intended. It wasn’t that Cyclonus was particularly… secretive over his attraction to Galvatron – mostly because he did not entirely understand the concept of deception, despite his faction allegiance. He was perfectly content in bragging his loyalty to Lord Galvatron, his status, his adoration.

‘Perhaps, if you would just create a distraction for them, or… something,’ started Cyclonus awkwardly – he was not used to suggesting ideas, he was used to giving orders. This situation was most unusual, to say the least.

Scourge smirked a bit and glanced back at the others. ‘Or maybe you could lure Galvatron away,’ he said.

‘Unless you’d rather do it on this throne,’ remarked Starscream dryly.

Cyclonus would have been less angry if it hadn’t been true. But, unable to respond to the seeker without drawing Scourge’s suspicion, he merely stood there and silently fumed. Scourge, unaware of the context, somehow took this apparent fury as a direct order.

‘I’ll get them out of here,’ said Scourge resignedly, beginning to walk towards the group of Decepticons.

Cyclonus smirked despite himself. At the very least, he could still intimidate his subordinate – even if it was over something this overwhelmingly humiliating.

If Scourge was anything at all, he was useful. Not the best company to have around, but Cyclonus did feel some sort of strange kinship with him that may or may not have been intrinsically linked to his former life, if he truly did have some part of the seeker left within him. Whatever the case, Cyclonus was grateful for Scourge’s distraction – which mostly consisted of sparking an argument and then fleeing. The Decepticons had followed after him eagerly, either to beat him to slag or to see him beaten to slag.

Cyclonus wasn’t particularly distressed – Scourge could take care of himself, and the others knew better than to go as far as to kill or permanently maim him. Besides, it did pay to have identical but dumber clones around…

For now, Cyclonus had more pressing matters.

Galvatron had wanted to chase after them and rile up the fight more. He had sat up a bit, hands on the armrests of his throne in an attempt to hoist himself up. He did not go as far as to try and stand, though – not when he realized just how trying that would be.

‘Lord Galvatron,’ said Cyclonus, walking over to him with a smooth confidence that he hadn’t been aware he possessed – perhaps Starscream’s spark was affecting him. ‘Perhaps you should relax.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Galvatron sulkily, sinking down in his chair. ‘I don’t need your concern!’

Cyclonus begged to differ – and normally he would push the point, regardless of any beating it might elicit. However, that would only waste time and valuable energy that could be spent elsewhere.

Perhaps it was his recent bonding with Skyfire that gave Cyclonus the grace to enter into this with any sort of confidence.

Slowly, Cyclonus moved to stand in front of Galvatron, gazing upon him admiringly. The scarred, dimpled metal and the scorches of battle – Galvatron was never so vain as to have these painted over or buffed away. Every mark, every singe was left as a proud symbol of his bravery – or his insanity on the battlefield. Either way, Cyclonus felt his spark stir with arousal just by looking at these marks. The prospect of touching them – tracing them with his fingertips, his glossa – was overwhelming.

Despite his fascination with the marks, Cyclonus’ first motion was to touch Galvatron’s helm, lightly tracing the proud crests. While Galvatron was confused – he made a growling sound that sounded almost animalistic – he didn’t seek to fight Cyclonus off. After a few tense moments, Galvatron relented, his optics dimming as he succumbed. Quite unlike him – still, it made things easier.

Cyclonus carefully continued to map out Galvatron’s helm, sliding his fingers down the back of his lord’s head and to his neck joint smoothly. There was a mark at the back of his neck – a wrinkle in the metal, heat damage caused by a blaster. It would have been an excruciating blow for any other, connected to so many sensory nodes that fed into the central processor–

Galvatron moaned loudly. It seemed that the area was still quite sensitive.

‘Cyclonus,’ said Galvatron, his tone far more appeasing.

Starscream did not miss the opportunity to speak up. ‘I think he likes that,’ he said smugly. ‘Perhaps you should lick him – if he’s anything like Megatron, he’ll–’

Cyclonus was indeed tired of Starscream’s running commentary. He did not, however, take the advice for granted. He pulled Galvatron forward, awkwardly leaning over his shoulder and bending down to lick at the scar.

Galvatron quivered, fingers clutching at Cyclonus’ hips firmly. Tugging him.

Cyclonus was quick to respond, climbing on Galvatron’s lap, straining to continue to exploit the sensitive wiring he had found.

‘Yes,’ rasped Galvatron – there was a perceptible spike in temperature. ‘More!’

Cyclonus was only happy to oblige, sucking and licking at the small weakness obediently, eagerly. The grunts and snarls from his lord would have been more than enough to satisfy him, but Galvatron was not content just to receive.

As Galvatron’s strength began to grow, as his spark began to sense Starscream’s complementing energy, Galvatron only became more bold, more possessive. Yet, his motions were not erratic or confused as Galvatron so often tended to be. Sensual – the feel of his hands sliding down Cyclonus’ back, across his aft and trailing delicately over his thighs. This wasn’t like Galvatron.

‘My lord Galvatron,’ said Cyclonus, leaning obligingly into his master’s touches. ‘Please.’

There was no time to waste – as much as Cyclonus would have longed to draw out this bonding, he longed even more for Galvatron to be entirely restored to his former glory. He parted his chest plates – the burst of eager light from Starscream’s gold spark was more than enough to give away the game.

Surprisingly, Galvatron looked far from shocked – his fingertip lazily dipped into the energy, sending delicious pulsing of ecstasy through Cyclonus’ body.

‘Starscream,’ said Galvatron softly, in a different voice, a different tone. He understood what this was – why Starscream was here. Perhaps the part of him that was still Megatron felt this. It was such an odd, disquieting thought. Cyclonus did not fear Galvatron – but somehow he still found himself utterly terrified of the concept of Megatron – a calculating, cold leader. No, Galvatron was nothing like that – he couldn’t hide himself in any way.

Cyclonus found he had some new appreciation for Starscream enduring Megatron for so long.

Galvatron’s chest plates parted obligingly. The spark was darker than Cyclonus would have imagined, somehow unsettling. Dense, tangible. Cyclonus did not hesitate to press closer, his spark energy lapping against Galvatron’s delicately. Starscream’s spark, on the other hand, had no such patience. The golden orb surged, pulsed into Galvatron, tangling itself into Galvatron’s circuitry. The growing energy was rapid, and Cyclonus once against felt like an onlooker – a mere bystander.

‘Starscream!’ grunted Galvatron, clutching, pulling, wrenching. The kind of possessiveness that Cyclonus had so often desired, so often yearned for – and it wasn’t even directed at him. The pleasure was the same, the ecstasy was beyond explanation, beyond comprehension – and Cyclonus could at least indulge in that raw sensation, and try to forget that a part of it was Starscream.

The ecstasy blossomed across Cyclonus’ body until it was unbearable. Overload was overwhelmingly swift for all of them, energy swelling and bursting through Cyclonus’ wiring. He cried out, arching, thrashing, Galvatron’s clutching at him mercilessly, plating bending under his grasp. The little streaks of pain were almost imperceptible in light of overload, and Cyclonus did not so much as wince.

After a few long moments, the pleasure began to ebb away into warmth, exhaustion. Cyclonus sunk against Galvatron, optics dim as his body began to ease into recharge. He thought of Megatron then – perhaps he and Starscream’s sparks were exchanging something, memories, information. Megatron had not been an unpleasant lover, and despite Starscream’s hatred of his leader, he had always craved this. Bonding with Skyfire could never quite be enough, as they had never bonded in the same manner. Couldn’t.

Starscream had bonded to Megatron, when he was different – naïve, perhaps, or enamored with Megatron’s power rather than his personality. Cyclonus could rightly sympathize.

Cyclonus stirred to feel a hand grasp painfully, possessively against his antenna. His optics lifted vaguely to look upon Galvatron – deep in recharge, but still unwilling to release his hold.

Cyclonus smirked to himself. Even if he was harboring a bond that didn’t belong to him, he didn’t particularly mind being along for the ride.