#fics: megawarp | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dacialogansuperfan · 6 months ago

Text

megawarp fic under the cut

rated m

also edited and posted on ao3!

it’s hard to tell, but he thinks megatron might be obsessed with his wings. his thinking face is identical to his glaring face, which is also pretty much his default expression.

but he keeps staring. at skywarp, sometimes, but mostly just at his wings. his optics snag on every movement and linger, over the insignia in their center, the tiny twitches they make under his continued gaze.

and okay, it could just be that skywarp’s wings are particularly expressive, especially around megatron, but he’s never seen him stare so hard at anyone else. he spends practically every waking moment with starscream, but his optics never stray too far from his face, and even then it’s only to dart down and check his servos for any active weaponry or experimental poisons.

none of the other fliers have said anything, so at the very least skywarp is the only one who’s noticed. except maybe soundwave, who’s taken up staring at skywarp’s wings during mission briefings as well, possibly trying to figure out what all the fuss is about.

skywarp is fairly sure megatron doesn’t speak wing, but soundwave on the other hand…

information is his thing, but so is discretion, and skywarp hopes that if soundwave does know what all their fluttering in the war room actually means, he hasn’t told megatron about it. because it’s embarrassing, mostly, but also because he doesn’t want it to affect his assignments. he doesn’t want to be pulled from active duty, from the small pool of mechs megatron trusts to carry out the more sensitive operations, because of a stupid crush. despite what everyone thinks, he’s good at his job, and he wants to keep doing it. wants to keep helping the cause - and megatron - in any way he can.

still, he can’t stop the tremors that run through his wings when megatron looks at him - at them - like that.

his whole, formidable attention on skywarp’s wings, optics like the hottest part of a flame, at the very center, on every minute change.

once, he’d even lost his train of thought, trailing off in his explanation of their latest raid as skywarp’s wings flared out, puffing up under his undivided attention.

the longer he stared, the more restless they became. fluttering, for primus’ sake, arching up and away from him before spreading out, the ailerons twitching out, then pulling back towards the body of the wing in a lascivious wink.

megatron has no way of knowing that, of course, but his optics track the movement either way, the soft derma of his lips worried between sharp denta.

it’s a tense, charged minute before he speaks again, optics finally leaving skywarp’s wings to study the map before them. his distraction is noticeable, but nobody comments on it. megatron’s optics remain fixed on the blueprints in front of him for the rest of the meeting.

skywarp tries not to feel disappointed.

the best thing about skywarp’s outlier ability is, arguably, being able to just disappear from places and situations he’d rather not be in. thundercracker has to physically walk out of the hab if he wants to escape starscream’s latest attempt at bullying one or both members of his trine into acting as test subjects for his newest experiment, but all his attempts so far have been met with starscream ruthlessly grabbing a wing and yanking him back into the room.

with a mock salute in thundercracker’s direction, skywarp warps himself to the safest location he can think of - all the way across the ship.

- and promptly collides with something large and solid enough to be a wall, if walls could grunt. there’s warm metal at his back, the gentle vibrations of an idle engine sending little tremors through the surface of his wings. oil and gunpowder in the air, a scent that sends his tank tumbling down into his pedes.

megatron. he’s just crashed into megatron. the hands carefully settled on either side of his waist to steady him belong to his supreme commander, and if skywarp could travel through time as well as space and just take starscream’s stupid, untested concoction, ushering him peacefully into the allspark, that would be great.

processor currently and entirely occupied panicking, it takes him a while to realize megatron still hasn’t let go. well, a while by his standards, anyway - the processing power required to shift his entire mass instantaneously through space is considerable, and despite certain trine-leader’s frequent - and unfounded - complaints, skywarp is usually quite quick on the uptake. too quick, sometimes. it isn’t his reaction time that’s the problem, it’s the thinking things through part, which usually happens sometime after The Consequences.

like accidentally warping straight into your commander’s arms, because you forgot to check whether or not the hallway you intended to escape to was currently occupied.

still, it can’t be more than a few earth seconds before skywarp comes back to himself enough to realize he should probably move. seconds where megatron’s hands remain pressed to his plating, holding him up with barely more effort than it would take skywarp to pick up a cube of energon. one of the small ones, even, the kind for personal consumption rather than the outsized ones they use for mining resources. he’s seen megatron sling those around like they weighed nothing, too, which is a thought he should really stop having while he can still feel those powerful arms bracketing his frame, the soft brush of air from megatron’s ex-vents against his wings.

“uh, boss?” stupid, skywarp. if there was a ranking for terrible times to address your commanding officer informally, mid-accidental bear hug would definitely make the top five, possibly even top three. before he can correct his mistake, though, megatron answers in the form of a noncommittal hum. skywarp can feel it vibrate all the way down his back strut.

“are you alright?” his usual gruff, curt tone softened to a murmur, megatron sounds distracted. which is better than furious, but with the threat of retaliation for his mistake gone, skywarp wishes suddenly he could see his face.

he starts to step away, out of the loose circle of megatron’s arms to face him, saying “yeah, um, totally fine! all good here, sorry about…” he trails off when megatron’s hands tighten around his waist. not painfully, just enough to keep him in place. still with his back to megatron, wings pressed close against a broad chest.

he hasn’t really been paying attention to what they’re doing, too busy being mortified and terrified and then just… confused, but he’s horrified all over again to find that the damn things won’t stay still. skywarp’s processor might have decided it was time to pull away, but his traitorous wings have decided to protest that idea, loudly, by jolting suddenly and forcefully outward. megatron has to pull skywarp closer to himself, trapping them against his chest to avoid getting cold-cocked in the optic.

skywarp starts to apologize, but the words die in his throat when he feels a hand leave his waist and carefully, touch so light as to be almost nonexistent, trace the bottom edge of a wing. it goes ridged under his hand, along with the rest of skywarp’s frame as his vents stutter to a stop.

fingers find seams and trace them, softly, the rough calluses on megatron’s digits leaving tiny sparks in their wake. skywarp’s held vents come out in a small, hiccuping sigh, and slowly, scared of shattering whatever fragile moment he’s literally fallen into, leans a little more of his weight onto megatron.

for a brief, spark stopping moment megatron stills, palm flat on the surface of skywarp’s wing, the fingers of his other hand curling reflexively on skywarp’s waist. then he shifts, wraps the arm supporting him more securely around skywarp’s middle, fingers just brushing the edge of his cockpit. like this, crushed to megatron’s chest and trapped under the weight of his arm, he can feel the way megatron’s fans have kicked up, not yet audible but running fast enough to shake his frame lightly.

not really sure what to do with his hands, or just what to do in general - he’s so far outside predictable events his decision matrices are just throwing up errors, and one lone suggestion to warp both himself and megatron somewhere private (and more horizontal) that he ruthlessly dismisses before he has time to think about it, and give his frame the chance to embarrass him farther - skywarp brings one up to rest against megatron’s forearm guard. the metal is hot under his palm, and he follows it’s slope down to megatron’s scarred knuckles without thinking about it.

this seems to be the signal megatron was waiting for, because his other hand starts moving over his wing again. it follows the edge, fingers catching on bolts and swirling around them in a way that is definitely, and highly suggestive, ruining all of skywarp’s attempts at dismissing increasingly urgent demands from his hud to online his cooling fans. the sound of them spinning furiously is amplified by the nemesis’ curved hull, but with his helm so close to skywarp’s audial, he doesn’t miss the small, pleased noise megatron makes when they click on. or the tightening of his arm around skywarp’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer to megatron’s front.

he really, really shouldn’t say anything. the careful exploration of his wing feels good, really good, and in his millennia of experience skywarp saying something is usually the precursor to things going horribly, catastrophically wrong.

of course, knowing that hasn’t actually stopped him in the past.

“so, is this like, a wing thing?” this time, when megatron pauses, skywarp is there to thread his fingers through the larger ones cupping his cockpit, gentle encouragement to continue and also possibly ignore everything he just said, because it was stupid.

but, after a few seconds mulling it over, all the while his fingers are doing absolutely devious things to the hinges nestled in the center of skywarp’s back, megatron answers. “is that…” skywarp is more than a little gratified to hear the huskiness in his voice, gravel over a road that was already hewn from stone. gratified, and a lot turned on, “what you think this is?”

it takes him a second to answer through the shaking, tremors rocking his frame back, into the long strokes megatron is making over the tops of his wings, thumb tucked into the front and applying just the right amount of pressure, and forward, into the hand teasing over his pelvic plating.

“um, kinda?” a breathless laugh tumbles out of his mouth, along with a rush of words he’s far to distracted to stop. “you’re not exactly proving me wrong here, boss, but…” thankfully, megatron stops him before he can say something really stupid, catching a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his wing. unfortunately, he stops talking to gasp, and then moan when megatron doesn’t let up on that spot, which is arguably worse.

“but?” megatron asks, and then he does stop, when skywarp doesn’t answer. which almost prompts the most humiliating noise of skywarp’s life by far to leave his vocalizer. he only just manages to turn it off in time, which has the added bonus of giving him time to think about how he’s going to un-dig the hole he’s made for himself.

by the time his vocalizer clicks back on, he’s decided on frag it, might as well go all in. if it backfires, he can blame half his processor being so far down his interface protocols it’s become functionally useless.

“but, i was thinking…” he’s become so accustomed to it, he’s actually surprised when this isn’t immediately met with a derisive snort, “it’s not just a wing thing?” it comes out like a question, which it is.

skywarp takes a cautious step forward, out of megatron’s arms because he thinks he should probably see his face for this. seeing how it’s become, disgustingly, a feelings thing now. maybe. skywarp, at least, is starting to have an uncomfortable amount of them.

this time, megatron lets him go, but his hands are back on skywarp’s hips the moment he turns around fully. it’s reassuring, as is the look on megatron’s face. softer than he’s used to seeing, optics over-bright with charge. it’s a good look on him, and skywarp is overcome with the desire to kiss him.

it would have been a ridiculous idea, before, but the only reason skywarp doesn’t, before he loses his chance, is because he’s fairly certain he won’t.

“it’s a me thing, too?” he still sounds hesitant, unsure, but megatron nods, optics darting to skywarp’s lips like he’s having the same thoughts.

skywarp grins, relived the talking part is over. although megatron didn’t technically talk, and he looks almost surprised, optics cycling wide when skywarp leans up to actually, finally kiss him. the supreme leader of the decepticons is surprisingly cute when he’s confused, but skywarp recognizes the slack shoulders of relief before he’s lifted the rest of the way up to the press of megatron's lips.

seconds, minutes, or hours later, skywarp has to warp them both out of the hallway before the entire constructicon gestalt finds them with their panels half open, doing things with their mouths that are far superior to talking.

#megawarp #heavily suggestive canoodling #i've been struggling to write and this is the only thing i've managed to finish...#my stuff #fics: megatron #fics: skywarp #fics: megawarp

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