(MegatronxOptimus-centric chapter. Sorry for the wait guys. :/ I've been so lazy lately.)

SEX IN THIS CHAPTER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

As always, thanks to Speedstreek360!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Transformers. They're Hasbro's.

"Get off."

Optimus sighed, too sated to really take Megatron too seriously. He pulled his body closer to the silver mech's back, enjoying the way Megatron's aft pressed against his codpiece. "Ok."

Megatron growled, trying to scoot away. He only succeeded in grinding into Optimus further. The Prime purred, nuzzling Megatron's neck. "I'm serious. Off."

"Ratchet said that being close helped." Optimus pushed his lips against sensitive cabling as he spoke. The form in his arms shuddered, and he resisted the urge to grin. He almost felt ashamed; Optimus never acted this way –

Until it came to Megatron. The mech drove him crazy though, so it couldn't be helped. It didn't help that the Matrix was practically patting him on the back for pretty much ending the war, either. Of course, he wasn't sure – even with the artifact's amazing amount of wisdom – if the war was truly over. Megatron had made it rather clear that he wasn't ready to surrender.

Which was odd, especially coming from a mech who had just given Optimus the greatest sex of his existence.

"Close doesn't mean cuddling, idiot." Megatron elbowed him in the middle hard enough to hurt. Optimus grunted, unhooking his arm but keeping his head on Megatron's neck.

"The closer the better."

Megatron growled, the sound not as threatening as usual. Optimus knew he was exhausted. "I think I've had enough closeness to you for a while."

Optimus sighed, making sure to blow the warm air over Megatron's audial. The other mech barely concealed a shiver. The Prime moved away, turning completely over. He stared at the wall, somewhat frustrated. Why did Megatron continue to be difficult? It only made things harder. Especially for himself. Optimus snorted quietly as he thought of a certain Earth saying.

He'd cut off his nose to spite his face.

Megatron wasn't going to say anything else, and so Optimus made himself comfortable on his half of the berth. He listened to the sounds of Megatron's systems shutting down for recharge. The low hum eventually lulled him to sleep.

He felt as if he hadn't been asleep long; Optimus onlined his optics, feeling something pressing into his back. Not used to having anyone in his berth, Optimus had a moment of panic – until he woke up a little bit more and realized he wasn't in any real danger.

Well, sort of. Megatron was always dangerous.

"Whu..?" Optimus felt an arm wrap around his middle, pulling him backwards. It took a few more seconds, but he finally put it all together. He smiled, placing his hand over Megatron's. The other mech was probably still asleep, not aware that he was, in fact, cuddling with Optimus. The Prime held in a chuckle as he started to settle back into recharge.

"P-Prime," Megatron muttered, his voice strained, and Optimus was nearly instantly wide awake. He sat up, turning. Megatron's arm, now having nothing to hold, curled in around silver plating. Optimus noticed the shaking and before he knew it he had Ratchet on his personal comm.

"I'm on my way," Ratchet said, his voice nothing more than a drawn out sigh. Optimus said nothing, cutting the line. He scooted closer to Megatron, not sure what to do with his hands.

"What's wrong?"

Megatron's optics had been lighter than usual, but now they were literally pink. Megatron only shook his head, curling further into a ball. Optimus sighed, irritated. Why would he wake him up if he wasn't going to tell him what was wrong?

The door opened, and Ratchet wasted no time shooing Optimus away from the berth. He sat down, grabbing Megatron's arm. It was pitiful how little trouble the medic had with moving Megatron. Optimus stood back, watching. It had to have been bad for Megatron to wake him up. The glitch was stubborn as anything, after all. To say it was worrying was an understatement.

"Can you sit up?" Ratchet asked, his voice a lot nicer than Optimus was expecting. Megatron pressed his palms into the berth to sit up, but stopped, biting his bottom lip. He shook his head, starting to wrap his arms around his middle again. Ratchet swatted at his arms, turning to Optimus. "Help me get him sitting upright."

Optimus walked to the other side of the berth, grabbing Megatron's shoulder. After getting him to sit up against the wall, Ratchet pulled out what could only be a cube of low grade – where had that come from?

"Hunger pains," he said, his voice flat. "I was afraid this would happen."

The cube was pressed into Megatron's lips and he opened his mouth. The moment it entered his mouth, he held up his hands, cupping the cube in his palms. Ratchet sighed, making sure Megatron didn't down the entire cube too quickly. Optimus watched, confused, as some of the fuel missed Megatron's mouth and dripped onto his chest. When the cube was empty, Ratchet pulled it back, staring at Megatron. The silver mech, panting, stared at the two Autobots, his optics darkening to a semi-normal color.

"I don't understand," Optimus finally said. Ratchet handed Megatron a rag, and he began cleaning himself off. "Hunger pains?"

"Megatron's systems aren't coping well with the sparkling. His body and the sparkling are fighting for fuel." Ratchet waved his hand dismissively. "It's nothing that can't be fixed."

Optimus stared at Ratchet, suspicious. "So – "

"You are feeling better, aren't you?" Ratchet began prodding Megatron's middle. The silver mech nodded, grimacing at the touches. "I'll get more low grade."

"Wouldn't it be more convenient to keep me in the medical bay?" Megatron glanced at Optimus, and the Autobot leader almost felt offended. Sure, he was the enemy, but it still kind of hurt. "Prime –"

"Is the mech you need to stay close to," Ratchet said, his voice soft. "I'll be right back."

Optimus was going to have to talk to Ratchet, but decided he'd wait until everyone wasn't half-way asleep. He looked down at Megatron and frowned. The silver mech was glaring at him. It would have been frightening if Optimus' processor hadn't of been telling him it was adorable. Since when was Megatron glaring at anyone cute? Everything was so messed up, and he couldn't help but think it was all his doing. Optimus couldn't think of that right now, though. He had spent enough time wallowing in blame and self-loathing for a while.

"Let me guess," Optimus said, taking a seat on the berth. "This is all my fault."

"You're damn right it is." Megatron moved away from Optimus. It was surprising the mech used human curses, but Optimus didn't think it was a good idea to bring that up at the moment. "Could you just – not talk? Not say anything?"

Optimus rolled his optics but nodded. He remained silent, only staring at Megatron. The silver mech seemed not to notice, his attention focused on his middle. His dark hands traced random patterns over the protruding metal. It was still nearly non-existent, but Optimus could see the swell. He knew Megatron noticed; if the contemplative frown on those full lips was anything to go by. Of course, his body was practically waging war on itself so how could he not notice?

"Would you stop staring?" Megatron was trying to sound angry, but only came off as tired, maybe frustrated.

"What can I do to help?" Optimus saw Megatron's optics harden and added, "besides frag off and die."

Megatron's frown deepened. "Remain silent."

This was going nowhere. Optimus was actually getting frustrated – he could take a lot, but this interface-then-pout routine was grating on his circuits. Megatron looked absolutely miserable, and the Prime wanted to help. In fact, he wanted to help so much that not being allowed to was making him angry.

"Oh, I know what's going on." Optimus stood, turning toward the bed. Megatron stared at him, his bright optics piercing, even with the overhead lights on. This, for unknown reasons, caused more irritation. "We're still in a war, right? We're still fighting."

Megatron had made it clear that the war was not over – why was Megatron so stubborn? Why couldn't he see what the war was doing to them all? For him to go on fighting, even after this, was just…selfish. But what else could Optimus expect out of Megatron? The Prime had, rather naively, thought that the mech could change. No, he hadn't planned on getting him sparked, but upon finding out Optimus had hoped Megatron would see that the war was pointless. That somehow having a sparkling would rearrange his twisted perspective.

Megatron opened his mouth, but Optimus continued, ignoring him.

"Of course, fighting doesn't include fragging your opponent, last time I checked – "

"Really?" Megatron howled, sitting up. Optimus continued to glare, his resolve yet to be broken. Megatron would see the error in his ways, if not for himself, then for their sparkling. "Did you actually just say that? To me." The mech's face formed into something angry, hateful. "I – I can't even – you!"

Optimus watched, somewhat shocked, as Megatron lunged at him. The next thing he knew he was on his aft, a very pissed off Megatron grabbing for his neck cables. The Prime seized the mech's hands, actually grunting with the effort. For a mech who seemed so pitiful not moments before, Megatron was putting on a good fight.

"Stop – Megatron!"

"No!" Megatron kneed Optimus in the middle, far harder than he should have been able to. Optimus gasped, his grip on Megatron's hands loosening. "I can't believe you, you Prime, are so fragging selfish!" Optimus regained some composure and tightened his grip on those black hands once again.

"I'm selfish?" Optimus, as gently as he could, threw Megatron off of him. It wasn't too gentle, but Megatron barely winced as his back hit the side of the berth, so Optimus wasn't too concerned. The mech looked like some sort of wild animal, his optics glowing with fury. "You're the one insisting on continuing the war when there is nothing more to fight about! This sparkling – our sparkling Megatron, ours – will prevent anymore fighting, can't you understand that? Our sparkling is forcing us to unite."

Megatron suddenly slumped against the berth, the anger draining from his form. Optimus sat up, rubbing his middle that still hurt. He looked at the other mech's face, hoping to see some enlightenment, thought, anything.

Optimus growled when Megatron wouldn't meet his optics. "Megatron, the war is over."

Or, he was going to do everything in his power to make it so.

Megatron looked up, his optics regaining some of their previous edge. "If you say so."

Optimus felt his processor begin to ache. "What does that even mean? Think about our spark –"

"Would you just shut up about the pit-spawned sparkling!" Megatron slammed his fist into the floor. Optimus flinched back, not expecting that. He guessed he should have, considering who the mech he was talking to was. "It's hard enough living with this-this thing without you constantly saying it's ours – yours."

Megatron groaned, folding his arms over his middle. Optimus just noticed how shaky the silver mech was.

"We've…we've been fighting for millennia, Prime. That's a long time, even for us." Megatron paused, his breath hitching slightly as his arms tightened around himself. "And here you are, telling me to stop fighting. I was practically made to for war, Prime."

Optimus was beginning to wonder what was taking Ratchet so long.

"For it to end this way, for me to slagging bear your offspring – " He paused, shaking his head. "It's a sick joke."

The room grew quiet. Optimus had no idea what to say.

"Oh for spark's sake don't tell me you feel bad now." Megatron actually smirked, and Optimus was completely confused. What was this?

Before he could say anything more, Ratchet returned. The medic looked at the two sitting in the floor and growled. "Optimus."

The tone was frightening. Optimus stood, and began to help Megatron up, but Ratchet swatted at his hands. He glared at the Prime before turning his full attention to Megatron. Ratchet kneeled in front of the silver mech, holding out a cube of low-grade. "Here. Don't worry about moving; by the looks of it you wouldn't be able to anyway."

Why was Ratchet mad at him? Ok, sure, he had gotten angry, but how could Ratchet know that? He wasn't in the room. And it wasn't like Optimus had wanted Megatron to lunge at him…

"Slow down!" Ratchet grabbed the cube and held it back. Megatron frowned, reaching. "Slowly, please. If you take too much at once your systems will just reject it and you'll end up purging." He handed the cube back to Megatron, who thankfully did as he was told. Ratchet stood, turning to his leader.

"What happened? Why is he in the floor?"

"He – "

"My back began to hurt, so I asked Prime to help me onto the floor."

The two looked down at Megatron, who took another sip of energon. Ratchet didn't seem convinced. "Your back? Why was it hurting?"

Megatron gave Ratchet a nasty grin. "Well, Prime's rather rough during interface."

Optimus resisted the urge to slap his palm to his forehead. Where had this come from? Not moments before Megatron was trying to rip the cabling out of his neck – and now…well, this. The Prime looked at Ratchet, knowing he still wasn't convinced.

But he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "I brought more fuel." Ratchet took a few cubes from his subspace and placed them on a small table by the bed. "Make sure he ingests all of this before morning – but not all at once."

Megatron groaned, readying himself to stand. "What about sleep?"

"Just set alarms."

Megatron seemed even less pleased with that idea. Optimus grabbed his arm, helping him onto the berth. "Thank you, Ratchet."

"I'll comm. you when I want him in the medbay tomorrow." And with that, Ratchet left.

Optimus sighed, looking at Megatron.

"Lay down," Megatron commanded, grabbing Optimus' wrist. Optimus fell onto the berth, giving Megatron a suspicious look. Maybe it was the energon – had Ratchet put something in it? Optimus laid down, his wrist still in Megatron's hand.

"What is this?" Optimus asked, not liking how tired he sounded. Megatron chuckled – chuckled – and slid closer to him. He pressed up against Optimus and began nuzzling his neck. "Oh. You're horny."

That would explain why Megatron could suddenly tolerate Optimus. Really, he was going to literally end up with a horrible case of whiplash from all the back and forth with Megatron. Was living with him always like this or was it the sparkling doing this to him?

Megatron ran his tongue of sensitive cables. "You can go to sleep if you want to. I'll just take what I want."

He laughed. Optimus didn't think he could go to sleep with Megatron touching him like that anyway. He felt a hand press into his codpiece and sighed. He wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

Optimus circled his arms around Megatron, grinding into the hand on him. "Think I'll just tire you out."

"Oh really?" Megatron's cooling fans kicked on, and Optimus wondered how long he had been turned on. Maybe it was the physical fighting that did it. "Good luck with that."

The Prime sighed, faking his frustration; since when was interface a nuisance? He sat up, pinning Megatron to the berth. Optimus positioned his legs so that they were on either side of the other's thighs. With a feigned bored expression, Optimus told Megatron to open up.

"So sexy."

"Just do it, I'm tired." Optimus watched as Megatron reached down and pushed back his panel. Of course, it wasn't that simple; the silver mech took his time, grinding his hips when his fingers touched his codpiece, making small, wanting sounds when it opened, rubbing past his spike and finally pushing his fingers into his valve –

Optimus was pushing his spike into Megatron before he knew what was happening. Megatron gasped, grabbing onto Optimus' shoulders.

It took four overloads, but Megatron was finally sated. Optimus pulled out, shuddering. Interfacing with Megatron was always a good experience, but that had been…well, amazing. That was the only way Optimus could describe it. He looked down at Megatron, who was already halfway to recharge. Optimus clicked, gently patting Megatron's aft. "You need to refuel."

Megatron sat up, holding his hands out. Optimus stared at him, trying not to laugh at the pitiful sight.

He sat beside the silver mech, cupping the back of his helm, pressing the low-grade to his full lips. "Here, let me."

Megatron didn't seem to like this, but allowed it anyway. He held his head back, and Optimus poured the energon into his mouth. He really didn't know what he was doing; he knew this was going to turn him on. Of course, anything Megatron did turned him on…

Oh they were so messed up.

Finally the cube was empty. Megatron laid back down, and before Optimus could get back to the bed after disposing of the cube, was asleep.

The whole thing was confusing – one moment they were fighting, the next fragging…

(Geez that was a weird chapter. I had some fun with it though. I kinda made Prime an ass, but that may just be me. Tell me what you think. Next chapter we'll see what's up with the rest of the Decepticons.)