Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise, Transformers and associated stuffs are property of Hasbro/Takara and the various comic publishing companies.

Author Note: Friv, this is your fault.

---

Diagnosis

Sometimes, being an evil genius had its drawbacks. Megatron too often found himself stressed and overly tense after, for instance, a particularly disastrous clash with those accursed Autobots; sometimes even the sheer stupidity of so many of his soldiers drove him to the edge of nervous breakdown. Oh yes, it was taxing, being an omnipotent tyrant. Primus bless downtime.

It was often that it happened, but there were times when Megatron simply needed some time spent on himself that did not involve plotting destruction. In these cases, Megatron would delegate Soundwave, one of the few bots at his command who he could actually trust to not make a complete scrap of things, to supervise activities, leaving about a groon or two to relax and forget the inept morons he dealt with on a regular basis.

Sadly, those inept morons seemed to be even more infuriatingly useless today than usual, and Starscream had disappeared to Primus-knew-where so he didn't even have anything to vent his ire upon. To make it worse, Dirge and Thrust had returned from a reconnaissance mission with more parts missing than when they left, both of them blaming an Autobot attack. Megatron had had to send them to their quarters before he terminated them himself for their failure.

His head hurt. Giving up on the computer terminal he was working at, Megatron sought out his tape-deck lieutenant, at last spotting him sitting at a console in the corner, lovingly petting Ravage.

"Soundwave!" He called, getting the blue robot's attention. Wordlessly, the communications officer called Ravage back into his chest and stood, walking to his lord calmly. "I have business to attend to, look after affairs here while I am gone."

Soundwave nodded his obedience silently, and Megatron turned his attention to the Constructicons, only five of whom were currently present in his company.

"Where's Hook?" He demanded of Mixmaster. There was a throbbing in his central processor that threatened to rapidly morph into the equivalent of a migraine unless something was done about it very soon.

"He's already in the medical bay, mighty Megatron, already in the medical bay!" The Constructicon wheedled, a cackle finding its way into his speech mid-sentence like some sort of disturbing tic. For a moment, the warlord stared at his alchemist, trying to think of a suitable response, but in the end he settled for a mere glare before he turned away. He needed some better subordinates – Mixmaster, those fragging Insecticons, the Stunticons, Vortex, Starscream, Ramjet... all of them were insane, and insane idiots were infinitely more difficult to deal with than sane idiots.

Making his way down the corridors of the underwater starship to the medical bay, the Decepticon overlord passed Thundercracker and Skywarp, who were pressed up against a wall apparently trying to reformat themselves as one model. Thundercracker, ever the one with his head on right, pulled away as soon as he saw his master, and had the decency to look embarrassed, whereas Megatron doubted Skywarp would fully comprehend the situation anyway. He spared them one of his most chilling glares and carried on walking. There would be time for punishments later, unless they both managed to redeem themselves.

At least Hook was reliable. While he might complain a lot, he was a perfectionist and an artist, accurate to a fault in his diagnoses and his treatments.

Megatron opened the door to the medical bay, and he was surprised to find the room shrouded in darkness. There was not a single light on.

"Hook?" He called impatiently, and there was no response. Taking a step into the darkened room, adjusting his optics to a more light-sensitive level as he went, he was unable to detect anything out of the ordinary. "Hook! Get out here!"

"Here, Megatron." A voice replied at last, and it didn't sound like Hook's at all. Megatron turned just as a figure fell between him and the door. He saw the silhouetted form for but a moment before something very solid connected with the side of his head at a velocity that would certainly leave an impressive dent.

His optics offlined, followed quickly by his central processor.

---

There was an incessant and deeply irritating tapping noise somewhere around the vicinity of his audio sensors. Megatron growled at it instinctively before he even realised that he was conscious again. From the feel of it, he was horizontal, his wrists above his head and his legs held apart, fastened down through some nefarious means to what felt like Hook's steel operating table.

The warlord turned on his optics. Whereas the medical bay had been dark before, now it was illuminated by a single dim light. At last, that tapping had stopped and had been replace by the dull thud of regular, measured footsteps.

"Ah, you are awake at last, o mighty Megatron." That voice from before sneered, and Megatron narrowed his eyes in ire, fighting against the bonds that secured him in place.

"What the frag are you doing, Starscream?" He snarled as the smirking face of his wayward lieutenant came into his line of sight. "Where's Hook?"

"Aww, how cute, you're concerned about him." The seeker mocked, twirling a long thin piece of apparatus between his fingers expertly as he hauled himself to sit at the edge of the table, by Megatron's feet. The warlord strained his leg, trying to kick out at that smug fragger, but Starscream's cobalt hand came to rest on his ankle as he continued teasing. "Hook is indisposed, so I'll be your doctor for today."

"Don't be ridiculous." The silver warlord retorted. "If you have any sort of medical qualification, then I'm a slag rectifier."

"You'd best start rectifying slag then." Came the calm response as Starscream studied the instrument he was holding with exaggerated concentration. Megatron took the opportunity to look it over too – it was thin, almost as long as Starscream's forearm, and cylindrical in shape, with a slightly larger sphere at the far end. The tip of the other end of it crackled live energy, leaping from two points in small beams of blue-tinted lightning. It was made of transparent material, possibly glass, and looked to be filled with some sort of dark red liquid.

"Let me free, Starscream." He warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Let me free and I might let you live."

It did not bring about the reaction he wanted. Instead of cowering in fear and obediently releasing him, Starscream laughed outright and jabbed the live end of the thin cylinder he was holding into Megatron's ankle.

A shock of intense and focussed pain shot up the warlord's leg and he snarled in response to it, feeling the thick cables in his body tense up in preparation for more of the same.

"You appear to be unnaturally tense." The 'doctor' spoke conversationally. "It could be hazardous to your systems. We'll have to do something about that. And you are going to obey me like a good patient, because otherwise it could be pretty unhealthy for you." As though to demonstrate, he pressed his shocker into Megatron's leg again, and the warlord's torso jolted from the table involuntarily at the searing agony.

Starscream's fingers trailed up the metal of his master's inner calf, brushing feather-light touches that left the nervous wires in those areas tingling faintly until they finally reached the join at the side of Megatron's knee. The seeker carefully slid one blue digit into the gap between the plates of metal that formed the calf and the thigh, watching Megatron's face and smirking at the tightened expression that crossed the silver when his exploration took him to touch a bundle of sensors. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, but Megatron would be damned if he let his subordinate know that.

However, he could not deny that he wished for more now that Starscream had started, and when the jet pulled his finger back out, Megatron had to consciously quash the expression of disappointment that attempted to escape his vocaliser.

His captor turned away, his attention on Hook's once-tidy work surface, which was now strewn with various medical instruments, each one of them looking slightly more violating and pain-inducing than the last. The cylindrical shocking mechanism was placed carefully next to another two or three objects of similar shape, and Starscream's hand hovered over something that looked like...

Primus, what the frag did that look like?

It was almost reminiscent of the devices that humans called 'scissors', though there were no blades. Instead, where the blades would normally be were rounded plates of metal, slightly curved. A strange tinny whistling ran through Megatron's audios as he realised quite what it would usually be used for.

What the frag was Hook doing with one of those – and, more to the point, why was he stupid enough to keep it somewhere that Starscream could get his malevolent, cruel, but wonderfully skilful hands on it?

"Where the hell are you planning on putting that?" Megatron hissed, somehow managing to keep the apprehension from his voice as Starscream picked up the speculum and turned back to his captive leader, grinning wickedly.

"Be quiet." He murmured sensuously. Megatron had to suppress a shiver. "You don't want me to make a mistake now, do you...?"

Then he pressed the business end of the speculum none-too-gently into the join between the dark pelvic structure and the silver of the thigh plate, sending electric impulses coursing through the warlord's body as the flat edges opened, prying the metal apart and exposing the cables beneath.

It was an exquisite mixture of uncomfortable twinges and fleeting pleasure as the inner wires, not usually exposed, had the cool air of the operating room blow over them. Almost without his control, Megatron's optics dimmed as Starscream pressed his fingers against those wires, searching, exploring without hesitation...

"Hmm..." The insubordinate officer's voice was seductively low as he ran his expert fingers back and forth over the sensitive wires. Megatron could no longer control the shudders that this caused in his hips, and he let his head tilt back so that Starscream would not have the satisfaction of seeing whatever expression was there, betraying the pleasure he felt.

Then, all too soon, the fingers were gone and the speculum was withdrawn. Megatron groaned in frustration at the loss of contact as the plating re-adjusted itself with a faint crunching noise.

"Hm?" Starscream feigned innocence with his tone, though the devilish smirk on his dark face gave away that he knew precisely just what feelings he was igniting in his leader. "What was that you said?"

Megatron growled at him.

"Don't make me sedate you." The seeker warned, his voice falsely jovial as he reached for another tool from the stainless work surface. Megatron's optics narrowed when he saw what it was; an enlarged version of the hypodermic syringes that the flesh creatures used. The needle that protruded was long enough and thin enough to slot comfortably into his joints and reach the wires without Starscream needing to use the speculum again. This was almost a disappointment.

Starscream pressed the point straight into the cable he had just been caressing, and he levered it to the side. The Decepticon leader moaned forcefully at the invasion and the pain that his stabbed wire was conveying to him, and yet at the same time the moving of the syringe from side to side brushed the neighbouring cables delectably. The seeker's spare hand stroked along the warlord's inner thigh, and Megatron's body thrust upwards off the operating table again, out of his control. Pleasurable signals pulsed through his limbs and straight to his core.

Once again, Starscream pulled out too soon for Megatron's liking, and this time the jet did not turn for another implement. He simply stood there and watched Megatron sucking air into his vents and twitching uncontrollably as his body sought out the source of the pleasure.

"St-Staaarscreeeam...!" The tyrant expostulated in frustration, his shoulders straining upwards as he tried to break free of the bonds fastening him securely to the table. "You – you - !"

"The examination is all finished, mighty Megatron." There was a dark humour in Starscream's voice as he spoke. With exaggerated consideration, he added: "Unless.. unless there is something else you want me to look over?"

An incoherent rumble emanated from Megatron's vocaliser as he both tried to ask for the touch and stop himself belittling himself in such a way at the same moment.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that..." The smug git could barely keep the laughter from his voice.

"Please!" Megatron exclaimed vehemently, as the desire for that contact won the internal battle, the word escaping his vocaliser with much more force than was necessary, spat out as though it was some sort of deadly curse. Starscream chuckled, placing one hand on Megatron's thigh to lean on it while stroking his chin ponderously with the other.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me, you slagging Primus-forsaken Pit-spawned bastard."

That caused the jet to smirk. "What a dirty mouth you have, Megatron. I don't think you deserve to be rewarded, you've been nothing but rude to me, and all I was trying to do was solve your stress problem."

Unhappy at being denied, Megatron tried to press his leg against Starscream's hand. He wasn't sure what his lieutenant had done to him, but every nerve wire felt as though it was on fire, the sensitivity heightened deliciously. Even so, the platonic touch was nowhere near enough to satisfy him, and, on top of that, Starscream pulled his hand away as soon as he realised what Megatron was doing.

"Naughty, naughty." He murmured lazily, watching his leader's quivering form on the table, enjoying himself far too much.

"Doctor..." The single word fell from Megatron's lips in a gasp as he again tried to take air into his vents and cool his overheating systems, and this time it was Starscream who shivered.

"Very well..." He acquiesced, letting his hands fall to rest on Megatron's chest, where they stayed perfectly still, barely even any pressure put upon them. Megatron growled in impatience, writhing beneath Starscream's motionless limbs, trying to encourage his seeker to move them of his own accord.

"Starscream!"

"Was this not what you wanted, great Megatron?" The air commander asked, faux innocence rich in his hoarse voice. "You asked me to touch you, is that not what I am now doing?"

"Get those fingers inside me now or I am going to gut you like a Sharkticon, you miserable excuse for a Decepticon!"

With a feral grin on his dark features, Starscream hauled himself on to the table so that he was kneeling astride his leader's hips, leaning forward so that their chests were brushing contact. Megatron's gaze pierced into him as he ran his lips over the contours of the tyrant's silver cheek, down his jawline and then down his throat.

Fed up with the game that Starscream was playing with him, Megatron opened his mouth and bit his subordinate hard on the nose. It earned him a slap about the face as Starscream's vocaliser whined, more out of surprise than pain, and the seeker pulled upwards. Megatron's torso, reluctant to lose the contact that it yearned for, arched off the table, trying to follow the retreating seeker.

"One more stunt like that and I'll gag you." The jet warned, causing Megatron to bare his teeth in defiance at the submissive position he currently occupied. The action was belied by the rest of his body, which was quivering in excited anticipation.

Smirking at the control he had over his leader, Starscream slowly lowered himself back down, his pectoral vents brushing over Megatron's silver chest plate as his lips resumed working the cables of the warlord's throat. Megtron tilted his head back to give his seeker better access. The smug bastard was far too good at this...

Then Starscream's expert fingers found their way underneath the metal, exploring the unseen wires hidden beneath. Megatron clenched his hands in response, willing himself not to make a noise as his lieutenant ran his touch along first the primary arterial cable, then the minor nervous cables. Each new wire he found was twice as pleasurable as the last; Megatron felt as though he was drowning in the exquisite sensations this sparked within his body, and he arched up off the table into his seeker's hands again.

His lips were covered by Starscream's as the officer bent forwards to kiss him, so the quiet fevered moan he let forth was swallowed by the other mech. The hands inside him slid down to his waist, toying with the smooth red metal there before again delving towards the joining wires inside.

Already some of his non-vital processes were shutting down in preparation for overload as Starscream skilfully manipulated his pleasure receptors. Megatron shut off his optics, revelling in the sensations that coursed through his entire body.

Starscream pulled out a little, apparently realising just how close to overloading his warlord was. Megatron hissed in irritation; he had been so close, but those same feelings were rapidly receding now that Starscream had stopped what he was doing.

"Beg me." The jet commanded, amusement rich in his tone.

"Dr-drop dead." Megatron panted in response, his vents thrumming as they tried to cool his heated systems. From above him came a hoarse chuckle.

"I'm not carrying on unless you beg me to. Otherwise I can't be sure you really want it all that bad."

Megatron forced himself upwards, almost wrenching his arms from their sockets in his attempt to break free, but Starscream's hands came to rest on his chest again, pushing him back down to the table hard.

"You will pay for this later." He growled, turning his optics on so that he could glare threateningly at his subordinate, who merely laughed in his face.

"I look forward to it, I'm sure. Now, are you going to be a good obedient patient and beg me, or am I going to conclude the examination here?"

Megatron wanted to reach up and smash that gloating face in, but his processor was thick and sluggish through the arousal Starscream had successfully pressed him into, and the lust to reach his overload far overrode any rationality. This once, Megatron allowed himself to be in a position lower than complete control, and he begged.

"Pl... Starscream, please do it."

"Doctor Starscream to you, insolent fool!"

"Doctor!" The warlord twitched convulsively beneath Starscream, his control over his vocaliser suddenly disappearing as the jet seemed satisfied by the pleading he had elicited from his leader and resumed his teasing, tortuously good touches.

Those fingers, those wonderful fingers spidered down from Megatron's waist to his dark pelvic plating and worked their way through the gap and beneath the metal, stroking over the thick nervous cables there, caressing the bundle of sensors that resided near the centre of the warlord's body.

That was all it took.

Megatron's systems went straight into overload, electric impulses shooting all through his body, straight down to his extremities and back up towards his core. He shuddered and arched beneath Starscream, who smirked and pressed harder on that same bundle of hyper-sensitive cables. Colours exploded before Megatron's optics as the energy surge caught him like a tidal wave, wracking his body with shudders.

He offlined.

---

"There now, that's much better, isn't it?" Megatron came to a few minutes later, vaguely aware that the medical room was now fully lit rather than the dim illumination in had had in their playing. Starscream was speaking to him, but the words were slurry and disjointed through the tyrant's central processor, which was sluggish as though operating through honey. Even now, his limbs were still twitching after the intensity of the overload Starscream had brought him to.

"Hm?" He managed, willing his optics to transmit a clear image. There was a cacophony of dark greys swimming above his vision, and, as he managed to focus on it, he realised it was Starscream bent over him. He moved a hand to rub his forehead and was surprised to find that it had been released from its bond.

"That dealt with your stress problem." The seeker spoke, sounding very amused at Megatron's struggling to get a grip on his functions. "You're certainly relaxed now."

"And you had your fun." The warlord grunted as he finally regained a shred of control over his vocal processor. While he was speaking, he ran a quick internal check – all functions present and operational, if somewhat unresponsively at the moment.

Megatron hauled himself into a sitting position, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the operating table. Beside him, Starscream took a nervous step backwards.

"Where is Hook?" The tyrant asked at last, turning suspicious optics onto his lieutenant.

"He's alive, I think he might regain consciousness soon." Came the airy response. Megatron chuckled darkly.

"You understand, Starscream, that the normal punishment for what you have just done would be instant termination?" He ran dark fingers lovingly over the barrel of his fusion cannon, which was, surprisingly enough, still attached to his arm. Starscream was becoming complacent if he had not thought to remove it – or perhaps he was relishing the idea of being punished?

Starscream had almost backed up to the door now. Megatron smirked a predatory expression, and it turned into a grin when his subordinate shuddered.

"I'll give you half a breem. Start running."

Starscream took the opportunity, disappearing from the medical bay in a flurry of panicked limbs. Megatron smirked, stretching out. Yes, he did feel more relaxed now.

When he caught Starscream, because he would, he would have to make the seeker's punishment sufficiently... rewarding.