(Slipstream/Megatron) (Rating; T, T+)

(The Cavern Base, Lake Erie, Earth)

Whoever said that Decepticon Warlords don't get confused, don't have emotions, or don't have things other than conquest on their mind was a complete and total idiot.

Megatron heaved a sigh through his vents, shaking his head. He leaned back in his comfy throne, sifting his arms so they rested against the armrest. Red optics glanced at a small stack of Data-Pads on a table near his throne, along with a goblet waiting to be filled with oil.

His servos tapped against the cold but comfortable throne, as his processor wandered, optics offlining. A certain femme soon came to mind, as she always did. Soft-looking metal skin, a curvy body type that would look so perfect writhing under him, sharp wings, beautiful faceplates usually accented by an enticing and flirty smirk, and long shapely legs… almost on cue, his mutant spark began to pulse faster, beating lustfully in his spark chamber.

He sighed again, rubbing his helm, reaching up to his audio and tapping it. He quickly opened a comm. link with his most loyal charge; Shockwave.

:: Shockwave. :: (Megatron)

There was a soft clatter of metal and glass, before the decidedly noble-born vocal tracks of the shape-shifter replied.

:: Yes, my lord? :: (Shockwave)

:: Send Slipstream, the Femme Seeker, to my throne room immediately. :: (Megatron)

:: Yes, my liege. May I ask what you need her for? :: (Shockwave)

:: No, you may not. :: (Megatron)

:: As you wish, my lord. :: (Shockwave)

He cut the comm. link, closing his optics and leaning father back into his throne.

Slipstream, when Shockwave had suddenly walked into her shared quarters (with her brothers and idiot of a creator), would have been okay with blasting the shape-shifter's head off. Thundercracker and Ramjet had been annoying her about the size of her aft, and really, she didn't need another mech staring at her… particularly one she often had no idea where he was staring.

"Slipstream." He looked down at her, shifting slightly. Well, he was tall.

"What do you want, one eye?" she glared up at him, ignoring the looks her brothers were giving her; aka making sure they didn't taunt Skywarp when she was talking with someone else.

Shockwave's single optic narrowed in the slightest. "Lord Megatron wishes to see you in the Throne Room."

"Really, now?" she raised an optic ridge, shifting on her pedes. "What for?"

"He did not say." The tall mech said, turning to leave the Seeker Quarters. "Now please; come with me."

He left the room, followed by the Seeker femme, who quickly glared at her siblings in a 'hurt Skywarp when I'm out and I'll rip your interfacing units out'.

She noticed the shape-shifter's single optic occasionally drifting to her, focusing on her swaying hips or chestplates, and once in a while on her aft. Her face blushed slightly, as she tried to walk straight with the swaying action.

"Don't make me kick you in the crotchplate, one eye." She hissed at him when she failed at fixing her posture, baring small fangs at him. "'Sides, I thought your type was small and yellow."

Shockwave stiffened, his optic narrowed and glaring at her, wisely staying silent, and wisely looking away. She smirked up at him, wingtips twitching triumphantly.

A few minutes passed before Shockwave finally led her to the large doors of the Decepticon's Throne Room. He opened the door, standing out of her way as she waltzed inside. He rolled his optic at her attitude, closing the door and walking back to his station.

Meanwhile, Slipstream watched the door close with a hint of nervousness in her Spark-Shard. She had heard stories of mechs and femmes left alone with the Lord of the Decepticons, them becoming seduced by the Chaarian, and later being disposed of… in the form of the warlord's feared fusion-cannon.

Megatron was sitting on his throne, leaning back. One of his hands was resting on an armrest, the other against one of his swords. His optics were closed, and it seemed that he was asleep… and she was alone with him.

Her Spark-Shard felt like it was going to burst out of her chestplates. She was alone with him… "You wanted to see me… sir?"

His optics opened, and turned to look at her. Deep maroon-red burned into slightly-pinker red. "Hm? Oh yes, I do."

"Cyclonus." Slipstream nearly jumped as the shadows next to the throne moved, revealing a dark purple Seeker. Megatron didn't move, past a slight turn of his optics. "Leave us. I will call you when needed."

Cyclonus bowed, before walking stiffly past the femme Seeker.

"He likes you. Be on your toes." She heard a dark, vaguely familiar voice mutter, and caught the deep red optics of Cyclonus. She blinked in response, turning to watch the tall Seeker leave the room.

Now she really was alone with him.

Oh Primus, she was slagged. Alone with the Seducer...

He turned his optics back to her, simply staring with those beautifully frightening red screens. She stood still, repressing, barely, her body's subconscious urge to shiver. His gaze was piercing, almost like everything about her was laid out before him, waiting for him to snag her like she was his prey.

Slipstream didn't fear much; only Megatron (and the basic fear of falling that all Seekers were sparked with), but he was the also only being she respected. Then again, who couldn't respect him? He was fearsome, intelligent, deadly, handsome, and… perfect. Everything she strived to be, and wanted in a mech. Pit, she wouldn't mind being with the Decepticon Warlord… well, other than the whole 'using' thing. She hated people using her.

He apparently finished his scanning, as he leaned back into his throne and leaned on his fist.

"Pray tell, what part of Starscream are you, my dear?"

She glared at him. "None of your business… sir."

"Hmmm… I believe it is." He countered, an enticing smile spreading slowly on his pale faceplates. She shivered; that smile was unbelievably sexy. His deep, husky, eternally calm voice wasn't helping matters either… Primus, at this rate, her fear would most likely vanish and be replaced by complete and total desire. "After all, I am your leader. You said it yourself, once."

She was quiet, before she responded to his original question. "I am unsure as to what part of Starscream I am. I truly cannot tell, sir."

He was silent, for a few seconds, simply looking the sad look on her faceplates. She didn't hear him get off his throne, and walk towards her. She did, however, feel him lift her faceplates to lock optics with him.

His optics glowed deep maroon, meshing with the light of her own pinkish-red optics. That small, enticing smile gently pulled at his lips, making her Spark-Shard beat faster.

"I too did not know who I was, at one time." He said, in a barely audible whisper. "How… strangely coincidental."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, hands shaking as he leaned closer to her face. His hands grasped her upper arms, holding her still, causing her optics to widen.

'What… what is he going to do?'

"Mega… Megatron… sir? What are you doing?"

His lips were barely a breath away, optics staring into her's. "Do not question it, femme… feel honored by it."

He pressed his lips against her's, glossa licking at her closed lips, trying to get her to open her mouth. She tried to squirm away, trying to pull out of his strong grasp. He tightened his grip, pressing against her more, prying her lips open, and plunged his glossa inside her mouth.

She felt the slick intruder lapping at the roof of her mouth, before she suddenly relaxed in his grip, optics dimming. One of his hands had moved to her left wing, stroking the super-sensitive appendage, effectively making the fear fade from mind, and be replaced by mounting desire. She leaned into his touch, glossa shyly pressing against his larger one.

He let go of her other arm, placing the hand onto her hourglass-like hip, and curled his glossa around her's. She let out a muffled moan, arching against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His optics opened to simple slits, staring at her faceplates.

Said faceplates were tinged purple around her cheekplates, pinkish-red optics were nearly offline and darkened to a deep magenta, glossa tangling with his desperately.

He pushed her glossa away, mapping out her warm mouth, hand stroking her wing edge again. She surrendered to him, arching her thin body, letting out a muffled whimper.

Slowly, he pulled away, a string of coolant still connecting their glossa. Slipstream panted, arching into him, wanting more…

"Mega… Megatron…" she breathed, looking up at his pale, handsome faceplates. "Please…"

He rubbed her hip with his large black hand, servos molding her soft metal skin, and nuzzled her thin neck. Her helm fell back, allowing him more room.

"Yes, my dear Slipstream?" he whispered, huskily, into her audio. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, clawed servos digging into his broad back as he licked her neck, warm coolant spreading across her neck-cover.

"I… I… ohhh!"

He smirked, and groped the wires in her back connected to her wings again. She cried out, panting, her face blushing a deeper purple.

A little voice in the back of her cortex was whispering to her, saying 'Don't do it! He's just going to use you! Stop!' Sadly, those thoughts were drowned out by 'Oh Primus, take me Megatron! Make me yours! I want you!'

"Ahh…" she rubbed his back, dipping into the wells where his swords were normally hidden. He let out a rumbling purr, licking her neck again.

"Hmmmm… you seem warm, my dear. Is something the matter?" his voice, deep and husky as it was, was steady. Baffling. Completely baffling.

"I… I… you… oohhh…"

Megatron smiled at her, before he picked her up bridal style, and carried her out of the room towards his quarters.

When Slipstream's systems came back online from the multiple-processor-blowing-overloads she had just experienced, she nearly bolted upright in shock.

Megatron, lying next to her with his arms wrapped around her waist and chest, shifted. His head was buried in her neck, nasal ridge pressed against her chin. His large arms stopped her from leaping from the berth and hiding under a rock in mortification.

She managed to hide her face with her hands, blushing deeply. Oh dear Primus, she had just interfaced with the Supreme Lord of the Decepticon Army! He… he had seduced her! Oh slag, she was offline scrap metal!

That nagging little voice in the back of her cortex started talking again; 'Run! He's gonna wake up and kill you!' Like last time, there was another voice, this one saying, almost humorously, 'Wow. That was… wow.'

She leaned back into his embrace, letting out a sigh through her vents, figuring there was no chance of getting away. Her hands lifted, sharp servos gently grazing over Megatron's handsome faceplates. She had to admit, he certainly was very attractive.

Her servos brushed over his slightly parted lips, feeling the outtakes from his inner vents. The servo moved to trace the black tattoos on his near-white faceplates, until she noticed his mouthplates were lifted at the corners, like…

"You slagger, you've been awake this whole time."

Megatron's optic screens lit up, his bright red optics staring almost smugly at her. His lips drew into a small smirk, as he pulled her closer to him. "And if I was…?"

She rolled over onto her other side, mindful of her wings, and glared at the wall. His hands gently rubbed her stomach, his head nuzzling against the back of her neck.

"Come now, why so sensitive…?" he asked, almost as if he was simply curious… she curled into a fetal position, pulling his hands off her body.

"Because you're just going to end up using me, and then offline me when you're finished." Slipstream grumbled, crossing her arms over her legs and pouting.

Megatron sat up a little, looked over her helm, and stared at her faceplates. He began to chuckle, and laid back down. "You are acting like a sparkling that did not get it's toy, my dear. It is quite adorable."

"Hmph." She blushed, pouting more. "Your plan isn't gonna work on me, slagger."

"Plan? What 'plan'?" she glanced over her shoulder at the warlord, catching a glimpse of his confused faceplates. "I can assure you, my dear, I have no 'plan'… oh. I see what you mean."

His arms wrapped around her again, pulling her back against his large frame. "My dear Slipstream, just because I have the nickname 'Seducer' amongst my army, does not mean I have no interest in a… what is the word? Oh yes; 'normal' relationship. To be truthful, you fascinate me."

"I don't believe you."

Silence, then a sigh. "My dear… are you aware of how many mechs and femmes your creator has seduced? The number is far greater than my… victims."

"Is that what you're calling them?" she frowned, trying to squirm away from his strong arms. She felt his lips, pressed against her neck, curl into a smirk.

"That is what they are, my dear."

"Am I one of your 'victims'?"

He pressed a kiss to her neck, smirking still. "You can be, if you wish, my dear."

Slipstream was silent, before she managed to get the warlord's arms off of her. She sat on the berth, legs and arms crossed, pouting.

"I'll think about it… sir."

Megatron smirked, watching her get of the berth and walk away… though, there was something of a limp in her stride.

Thanks to Karan Seraph, most of the errors that were bugging me about this drabble have been fixed!

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