Okay so... this is probably the last chapter. As in, really.
WARNING: Contains a little violence and good ol' Transformers SLASH (yay)
Transformers belongs to Hasbro.
Tell Me It's Not True
Aaaand Another Bonus Chapter!
How in the name of the Allspark could this have happened? How? He didn't know. It should have been impossible. How could it be that he, Optimus, the most skilled underground mech of the planet, he who knew every nook and cranny of this city, every single tunnel and alleyway, who had bested the greatest efforts of the most elite of Megatron's security force with ease and laughed while he did it, how could he have been captured? He strained against the shackles that kept him suspended in the air, although he knew it was futile; they were reinforced grade six chains with a protective force field around them- not even Omega Supreme had the strength to break them.
He was way too busy gasping for air anyway as Megatron was toying with his intimate circuitry, large gray helmet between silvery white thighs, a wickedly active glossa making the smaller bot sob with pleasure. This was wrong on so many levels Optimus didn't even know where to begin. And he couldn't do anything about it... and what was even more wrong with that was that his own helplessness excited him. It was disturbing really. But... oh sooo good. His thighs started quivering with his approaching overload, his moans got louder. Oh Primus. How had they even managed to turn a situation such as this into a session of, well, messing around? He wasn't sure he remembered right now. And frankly, he didn't care as overload crashed through him.
"Have you changed your mind yet?" Megatron asked, still holding him by the hips when his processor cleared again, kissing the inside of his thigh warmly. Optimus groaned, squirming.
"Too bad. I guess I'll have to continue, then." The red and blue mech hissed when large black fingers were shoved up his oversensitive port and started pumping in and out in a lazy rhythm. It was divine torture.
"You... aaah... I'll never..." he couldn't think straight anymore. The self- proclaimed emperor stood back up to his full height, never ceasing his assault on his little Prime's port as he nibbled on his neck. The small wound on his own neck was still throbbing, although it had stopped bleeding energon; Optimus' teeth might have been blunt, but they had still been able to inflict serious damage to the thinner metal of his neck earlier.
"You're lucky my dear, since I've got a lot of time on my hands, just for you. Mmmh... I could do this for decacycles." Megatron whispered tonelessly before his fingers picked up the pace. He was rewarded with a rather undignified squeal from his captive. "Of course this would be much more comfortable for you if we could take it to my private chambers, but I fear you will have to make up your mind first."
"Frag you!" The large gray mech merely chuckled at that. Oh yes, this evening was proving to be most entertaining.
"With pleasure." He whispered into his pretty captive's audio, withdrawing his fingers to replace them with his spike; his arousal had been bothering him ever since he had received the news of the other mech's capture. He could be so very impatient when it came to his little Prime. Normally the warlord would have been irritated by such notions- after all excitement on this level was barely appropriate for a mech of his caliber, it was almost an insult to his maturity. On the other hand, Optimus was the hottest thing in the known universe, so maybe it could be excused.
The smaller mech groaned as his port was stretched to its limits. No matter how riled up the former Prime was by now and how much he was leaking thanks to Megatron's administrations, being entered by the considerably larger mech never ceased to be a little uncomfortable at first. But oh, the friction...
He mewled while Megatron set a slow, gentle pace. He didn't necessarily need to go fast to drive the beautiful rogue in his arms insane, in fact, he very much felt like making Optimus beg. Oh yes, he could do with some begging right now.
And Optimus should have been shouting and growling and spitting at him, but... he was beyond that now, merely hanging there in his chains, legs around the other's hips and enjoying the slide of the thick spike in his port.
It was then that the warlord's focus on his lover was disturbed as unexpected noise from the hallway made its way to his audios. He growled. What were those imbeciles he had as guards out there up to now? Hadn't he told them to keep it down and take care no one disturbed his privacy? He growled when he identified the noise as the sounds of battle- weapons were being fired, blades crossed, mechs injured and yelling... he knew it all too well.
The volume increased, meaning the fight had now moved close, very close to the room they were occupying right now. Grudgingly, he pulled out of Optimus and covered himself up, facing the door. Whoever had the audacity to attack him in his fortress, in an inconvenient moment such as this nonetheless, would feel his wrath should they dare enter this room.
The red and blue mech, still hanging in the heavy chains, hissed at the loss of contact, but kept quiet otherwise, having noticed the sounds himself. His own panel snapped shut quickly, but he was still covered in his fluids- not that there was anything he could do about it now. He didn't know who was fighting outside. He had given his bots strict orders not to try and rescue him in case he ever got caught since the chances of it being successful were slim at best and he didn't want to endanger his team. Megatron might have had his reasons not to kill him, but that didn't mean he would hesitate to terminate his followers.
So unless they had gone against his orders, which he hoped was not the case, whoever was out there might have been an enemy, a potential threat, to himself, not only to Megatron. Which was why his chains bothered him now, even more than moments earlier.
"Release me, Megatron!" He growled, struggling against his bonds once again. Megatron ignored him, focusing on the door instead. The noise had stopped. "Megatron!"
There was a bang from outside the door, then another one. Someone was trying to kick the door in and from the way it sounded, this someone would be successful in a matter of seconds. Optimus squirmed desperately. He didn't like how Megatron was his only line of defense, he didn't like it one bit.
After a few more kicks, the door finally gave and was smashed out of the doorframe, but when Optimus saw who had just forced his way into the room, his energon ran cold. Stepping away from the corpses of two guards in the hallway was his young son, a massive rifle in his hands, aimed at Megatron.
"Let him go, Megatron!" He snarled, but his voice was shaking a bit, betraying his nervousness. Megatron just stood there for a moment, staring at he young mech before him. Then a laugh rose deep in his chest, gaining volume until it echoed down the hallway. He turned around halfway then to address the chained mech behind him.
"Really, Optimus? This is your magnificent team? He's barely out of his sparkling frame." Optimus said nothing, merely staring at his son. Megatron frowned. His head snapped back around when a warning shot was fired, scorching the floor right in front of his feet.
"I mean it! Let him go!" Cheimon yelled.
"Or what, brat?" The large gray mech spat. This little mech was starting to annoy him.
"Or... or I'll make you!" That earned him a chuckle. This child wanted to take on Megatron, the Decepticon warlord who had slain thousands of capable warriors himself? Ridiculous. It was almost a shame the little one wouldn't live to regret this foolish mistake.
Cheimon didn't even have time to pull the trigger before Megatron was right in front of him and had slashed right through his weapon, turning it into a sparking piece of scrap. Then he grabbed the much smaller mech and threw him over his shoulder effortlessly. The youngling hit the floor with a yelp, but managed to roll across the cell and get back up on his feet before his opponent attacked again.
Megatron advanced again- this was too easy, it wasn't even fun to fight the little mech. He would end it quickly. What he didn't expect though were the twin swords the youngling drew the last second to block the killing blow before lunging to the side and out of his reach to get himself away from the wall. Maybe there would be a little fun after all.
Cheimon was scared out of his mind, cursing his own stupidity. Megatron was far quicker than he had anticipated, far bigger and stronger, too. And he had millions of years of battle experience. There was just no way he could hope to defeat him, he could buy a little time at best. And then? Megatron would kill him for sure. He dodged two more blows, but it didn't feel like his opponent was doing his best, rather playing with him than anything else. Cheimon on the other hand had to go to his limits just to avoid getting slagged by the mock attacks.
The third time Megatron simply hit the back of the other's hand with the hilt of his sword, making him drop one of his weapons while grabbing the other hand in his much larger one before he kicked the youngling's midsection, taking his second sword as the small body was hurled against the wall. The impact was harsh and made Cheimon see stars. The next thing he knew was that a large hand closed around his neck and lifted him up, pressing his back into the wall.
"It is a pity to offline you, really. You are actually rather talented." Megatron smirked at him, now at his optic level. "And pretty, too. In fact, you almost remind me of..." He suddenly fell silent. Red optics widened. The smirk disappeared. A second hand was lifted to the youngling's face to turn it slightly. Cheimon stared at Megatron, shivering. He didn't understand. He was lowered back to the ground almost gently, Megatron let go of his neck and put his hands on his shoulders instead.
"Why didn't you tell me, Optimus?" He said, still facing the youngling and studying his features intently. In a way, it was absolutely obvious whose offspring he was, now that he was looking at him more closely. The big, blue optics. The beautiful lips. The rest of his facial features, which were quite a bit sharper than his carrier's and so much more like his own. The strong, lean body. The way he moved. His voice. "Why didn't you tell me I had a son?"
Optimus didn't answer. How quickly everything had gotten out of his hands. Cheimon, however, understood now. Now he understood only too well. He yanked his shoulders out of his sire's grasp and stepped away from him, shocked. Then he looked at his carrier. He didn't dare look up into his creation's optics, the shame too painful to face.
"Tell me this is not true. Tell me... tell me he is not my father." Cheimon whispered, but he knew the answer already. Optimus said nothing. There was nothing to say. It was now that his son noticed the drying lubricants on his carrier's abdomen and thighs. He felt disgusted. His creators were disgusting, both of them, as was he himself. The spawn of a tyrant and a terrorist.
"Keep away from me. Both of you. Don't try to contact me, ever." His voice had never sounded this cold, neither had he ever felt so... uprooted. He turned around and took off running.
Optimus looked up, then threw a glance at Megatron, whose face was now sporting a deep frown. "Release me." He demanded again and this time, Megatron complied without another word, holding him up against his own body so he wouldn't fall while he took him off the chains carefully. The red and blue mech turned to leave immediately after he had been lowered to the ground, but was held back by his upper arm.
"I need to find him. Now." He stated urgently, but Megatron only pulled him closer.
"Will you come back?" Optimus paused, they looked at each other. There was no trace of slyness in those red optics then, no humor, only the concern and hope of a mech who was deeply in love with another, as Optimus knew he was. Blue hands reached for a gray helmet to pull the larger mech's face down toward his own. The kiss they shared was gentle, loving.
"I always do." He said, and was gone.
THE END (for real)