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Tribute	By : swordqueen Category: Transformers > G1 > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2118 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no money doing this, and I don't own Transformers or Hasbro. I suck.

Chapter List
- 1-Tribute
- 1
A/N: Kink request, again. Not so hawt, but snark is good. And I found writing Soundwave to be really funny.

Hope you enjoy!

******

Starscream spoke before the assembled Decepticons, only a vorn after Megatron’s mysterious disappearance. “Our leader is gone. We simply must face facts. Megatron, honored be his memory, is no longer with us.” He pause, pulling a face he thought looked mournful, though hewas fighting a smile. “In times like these, though, someone must step forward and take command, so that our armies do not fall into disarray and that Megatron’s glorious legacy does not wither. I am but a poor shadow of Megatron’s great leadership, but I shall do my best,” he smirked, “to emulate his great example in all things.”

A rush of sound—praise, Starscream thought, at his foresight and leaderly assertiveness.

“Which leads me to my first point. As you all know, Megatron had a…unique way of confirming loyalty with his subordinates.” Pause for effect. “I am, as I said, merely a candle compared to the blazing light of Megatron’s glory, so I shall….” His capacitor swirled with glee, “endeavor to be more democratic. All members of the Decepticon forces in charge of strike force or above, shall, ahem,” so hard to keep from bouncing, “confirm their loyalty to me at their soonest convenience. Which shall be downloaded to their datapads.”

They looked at him—glorying him, really. Awestruck silence, it must be. Expecting more. Well, he was a leader who would give them more. “The rest of the cycle, we shall celebr—mourn Megatron’s doubtless heroic demise. Let the high-grade energon flow!”

That was a sentiment even the most slag-headed followers—whom Starscream most definitely did NOT want to confirm loyalty to him—could get behind. A cheer roared up out of the assembled crowd, which scattered to begin what promised to be a most memorable party. In honor, of course, of poor, dearly departed Megatron.

Thundercracker rolled his eyes so hard he almost fell over. “Can you believe this slag?”

“I’m not sure how he got the ‘candle’ line out without cracking up. Or throwing up,” Skywarp added.

“No gag reflex,” Thundercracker said, snidely.

Skywarp snickered.

“He expects us to ‘confirm our loyalty,’ I presume.”

“I think we might be first.”

“Oh,” Thundercracker rolled his optics again. “What an honor.”

*****

Starscream lounged in Megatron’s spacious throne. So much…extra room. This chair just begged to be used for something other than merely sitting around listening to impossibly tedious reports. He checked his chrono. Almost time for his first appointment. He thought of the times Megatron had taken him on this very chair, of his own body straddling the shape sitting in it. Now he’d be straddled. Serviced. Cossetted. This was Starscream’s supreme moment.

Thundercracker stepped into the room, looking around, carefully. Awww, how cute. Thundercracker was shy now? Starscream twitched. Dying to know what was making TC so skittish. He was normally so uninhibited. Starscream bit his lip in anticipation.

TC’s face moved—probably just moved at the spectacle of his Trinemate done good, at last, and came forward. “Starscream,” he said, his voice husky.

“Thundercracker,” Starscream smirked. Oh, he’d been looking forward to making Mr Tough Guy pay for a long time. “So good to see you. I wanted to be…fresh for your arrival.”

Oh, I’ll just bet. Thundercracker forced his eyelids to droop, trying to look shy.

“Oh, come now,” Starscream said, leaning back in the chair, fingers teasing the armrests. “We’ve interfaced before.”

“Yes,” Thundercracker said in a low voice, stifling a snicker, “but…now, you’re so…important!” He was glad the effort of putting on the act left his voice sounding a little breathless. And glad that Starscream was such a narcissistic idiot. He watched his trinemate’s chassis swell with pride. Oh yes, he thought. Enjoy this now, Starscream. Be so very, very proud. While you can.

He knelt in front of the massive chair, lowering his eyes. “How can I serve you, my lord.” The only way he could get that out was by staring very very hard at the floor.

“Oh, I think you know what I want,” Starscream said, leaning forward, tracing one slow finger across TC’s lips. TC parted his lips, sucking one finger into his mouth. He looked up to see his trine mate’s eyes glow. Yes, exactly what he wanted: Starscream totally buying it. TC leaned forward, sucking the finger into his mouth, teasing it with his glossa, moving to brush Starscream’s white thighs with his own fingertips. The thighs parted, easily. Starscream’s eyes were on him, his own glossa teasing at his own lips, as TC bent down to lick Starscream’s valve cover. Starscream’s hand, freed from TC’s mouth, moved to the back of his trine mate’s head, clutching against the helm as TC drew a long slow spiral with his glossa over the surface of the valve cover.

TC nipped the cover’s latch with his denta, gratified at Starscream’s hiss of pain-aroused desire. “You like this?” he said, keeping his face close enough so that his vocalizer vibrated against the valve. Starscream squirmed, auto-releasing the valve cover.

“I don’t know,” TC said, “I don’t think I’m worthy enough for this honor.” He closed his eyes so his trine mate couldn’t see them rolling.

“Yes, you are,” Starscream breathed, “Do it.”

“Do what?” TC blinked, innocent looking. “Tell me what to do, great leader.” He bent down, licking at the valve’s rim, enflaming his trine mate’s desire.

“Take me, please!”

“Please? Leaders do not say ‘please’.”

The hand tightened behind his head. “Take me. Now.”

Oh, so easy. Almost too easy. TC’s grin was unfeigned, as he rose up on his knees, releasing his spike and, in one slow smooth gesture, thrusting it into Starscream’s valve. Its lubricant coated the valve as it went in, causing the other jet to moan at the sudden wet friction. He pulled out, slowly, agonizingly slowly. He had to suck in a steadying breath to force himself to freeze at the end, watching his trine mate writhe on the chair. Starscream was an ass, but he was fucking hot. “Again?” he asked.

“Yes! Again! Dammit! Fuck me!” Starscream tried to lever his heels against the throne’s front, to thrust his valve onto TC’s extended spike.

“Fuck you? Hard?” He began thrusting, short, sharp movements of his pelvic frame, the banging of metal on metal audible over the slick sound of spike against valve. “Hard like this? Harder? Tell me what you want, leader.”

Starscream had a hard time getting his next words out over the gasps he made at every one of TC’s powerful thrusts. Finally he just settled for “Yes!” and “Yes!” and some incoherent “Ooooaaaooooh” sound.

TC felt his overload building. He wasn’t done with Starscream by a long shot, but this…this was just good. He leaned in, thrusting faster, changing rhythm just enough to topple Starscream’s own building overload. He heard his trine mate cry out in frustration, having to start again. Starscream’s eyes were closed, his hands reaching behind him, gripping the top of the chair’s back. Yeah. Wonder how many times he’s been in this position, getting drilled by Megatron, TC thought, pausing to grind his hips against his trine mate’s, once again throwing off both of their rising overloads. He looked over his shoulder, signalling with a jerk of his chin. Behind him, Skywarp crept forward, low-threshold stasis cuffs at the ready.

TC leaned over, licking his way up Starscream’s cockpit as he thrust in harder and harder. As they both cried out in overload, Skywarp slipped the cuffs over Starscream’s wrists. TC lay for a minute, feeling his still extended spike wash in the fluid of his overload, feeling Starscream’s valve tremble around him. He looked up at the back of the throne, grinning at Skywarp.

“Your turn,” he mouthed.

Skywarp nodded, jerking the cuffs upward, hard enough to hurt.

“What!?” Starscream cried out, his blissed-out eyes snapping open at the sudden pain. Skywarp grinned down at him as TC pulled away.

“We live to serve you,” Skywarp said, yanking at the cuffs again, pulling a numb Starscream off the chair and onto the floor, reaching for the spike cover. He settled himself on Starscream’s extended spike, handing the cuffs over to TC to hold over Starscream’s head. “Am I serving you well,” Skywarp said, sliding himself up and down on the spike. He reached behind him, probing with his fingers into Starscream’s wet valve. He licked his finger showily, and then brought some more of it to Starscream’s lips. “Taste how eagerly we serve you,” Starscream tried to turn his face away, but Thundercracker held his head. He moaned at the taste of TC’s transfluid. Skywarp twisted his hips, shifting Starscream’s spike deliciously in his valve. The black jet moaned, his hand unconsciously drifting to stroke his own spike. He looked down through lidded eyes at Starscream, whose gaze was transfixed by Skywarp’s actions.

TC looked up at Skywarp, winking, as he guided Starscream’s bound hands to his still extended spike. The white hands closed over TC’s spike, sliding in the slick lubricant, squeezing at the spike, mirroring the actions Skywarp was performing on his own spike.

Skywarp cried out, as both of his systems overloaded. His overload took Starscream with him, with a shout and a hard squeeze of his hands over TC’s spike. Skywarp’s transfluid fell in silvery droplets across the white wings.

TC growled, rolling off the floor. “Not done,” he said, all pretense of the game thrown away as he pushed his spike into Starscream’s mouth. Skywarp teased the white jet’s valve with his fingertips, encouraging him. Starscream moaned around TC’s spike, but his glossa swirled around it. TC groaned, bracing one hand hard against one of Starscream’s shoulders. “You are the leader,” he said, knowing that flattery overrode everything with his trine mate. In response, Starscream’s mouth worked a little more eagerly at his spike. “You are such a good leader,” TC continued. Starscream, oblivious to the contrast between the words and his actions, worked his glossa harder, more urgently, against the spike. Skywarp leaned forward, drawing TC into a kiss, squeezing his valve against his trine mate’s still extended spike.

TC groaned, overloading in Starscream’s mouth, his own mouth locked on Skywarp’s.

It was Skywarp who broke the ensuing silence. “Have we proven ourselves worthy and loyal enough? Or do you want more?” Starscream moaned, undecided.

A voice from the doorway broke the tie. “Objection: Others,” Soundwave said in his flat voice, “have yet to prove theirs.” His eyes were impassive over his face mask, but Skywarp could swear he saw a fraternally wicked wink.

They waited until Soundwave had reached Starscream’s form on the floor, TC handing over the stasis cuffs with a formal nod. “Mind if we watch?” TC whispered. Soundwave shook his head, eyes glinting again.

Skywarp and Thundercracker retreated to the throne, each resting on an armrest, watching eagerly as Soundwave unfastened the catch to his interface equipment. “Directive: Confirm loyalty.” He unsheathed his spike, lifting Starscream by the stasis cuffs, twisting the jet around, onto his knees. He pushed into Starscream’s valve from behind, muttering something as the jet cried out, rising up on his knees. Soundwave’s arms wrapped around the jet’s waist, hands closed over the stasis cuffs, jerking Starscream back down against his spike.

“Oh!”

“Interrogative: Am I sufficiently loyal?” Soundwave thrust harder into Starscream, not letting him put a coherent sentence together, driving his spike into the slick valve with unrelenting force. The jet arched his back against him, his valve rippling with an overload. Soundwave froze his motion, tightening his grip against the jet’s wrists.

Starscream shivered out of the overload. “You’re hurting me,” he said, his voice small. Soundwave dropped his grip on the jet’s wrists, one hand on the jet’s thigh, the other wrapping around the jet’s erect spike. “Apology,” he said, simply, stroking the spike, beginning to move slowly again inside the jet’s valve.

“Oohhhhhh,” Starscream moaned, leaning against Soundwave’s chest. Soundwave’s other hand pulled the jet back by the cockpit, kicking on his speakers to send a bass tone vibrating through the jet’s frame. “OooooohOOH!!” The jet overloaded from his spike, silvery transfluid squirting up onto his own cockpit, his thighs, his lower wings. Soundwave grunted, continuing to thrust, vibrating his bass against the jet’s back, until he abruptly shoved the jet off him, sending him tumbling to the floor. Soundwave’s overload spattered across the rear of the jet’s pelvic frame.

Soundwave pushed himself to his feet. “Loyalty: Demonstrated.” He turned, with a brusque nod to the two Seekers, and left.

“Who’s next?” Skywarp whispered to TC, running one hand down his blue trine mate’s thigh.

“Onslaught,” TC replied.

“Oooooooh, how do you think he will be?”

“Strategic.”

Onslaught entered the room, checking his datapad against his chrono. Apparently, just as punctual as Soundwave. TC grinned at Skywarp, running the tip of his foot down the black Seeker’s instep.

“This is,” Onslaught said, clearly unhappy, “truly necessary?”

“Oh yes,” Skywarp said. Starscream was struggling up onto his elbow, still shaky from Soundwave’s audio vibrations.

Onslaught frowned. “Very well. And you must witness?”

TC nodded.

Another gruff nod. Onslaught paused to look around the room’s scant furnishings, grunting as he saw the low table. He swept down, grabbing Starscream by the stasis cuff connecting links, and striding toward the table, dragging the white Seeker with him, hopping along on his knees.

“Wait!” Stasrcream protested, stumbling against Onslaught’s legs as he stopped suddenly. “I am the leader. I am in control.”

“Like hell you are,” Onslaught replied, curtly. He hauled Starscream up by the cuffs, throwing him onto the table, spreading the white armored thighs wide with one rough hand. He gave a mildly disgusted look at the seeping valve, rolling his optics up as if asking for strength, and probed the edge of the valve with one sturdy finger. Starscream hissed with pleasure.

Skywarp and Thundercracker ambled over. “Need any help?” TC asked.

Onslaught considered. “You,” he directed Skywarp, “the wings. And you, the turbines.” The two took their positions, Skywarp running light, teasing fingers in intricate patterns over the white spread of Starscream’s wings, while Thundercracker bent to tease the turbines in the jet’s chest with hot blasts of breath. Starscream moaned, his captured hands clutching at the air between his trine mates, his hips bumping awkwardly against the bare metal of the table as Onslaught continued teasing the valve with his fingers.

“Sad state of affairs,” Onslaught said. “When this is in control of the Decepticons.” Skywarp smirked.

Starscream’s eyes blazed. “How dare you—OH!” Onslaught thrust two of his fingers harshly in the Seeker’s valve.

“How dare you?” Onslaught retorted. “Pitiful, writhing creature.” He twisted his fingers in the valve, the circular action causing Starscream to groan, rolling his hips to follow the movement. “Lying here coated in transfluid. Your valve is a mess. And you,” Onslaught paused, pinching the sensitive node at the end of the jet’s spike for punctuation, “enjoy it. You wanton filthy slut.”

Thundercracker grinned as Starscream moaned under Onslaught’s touch. “He’s right, you know,” TC said, tracing his finger over Starscream’s lips the same way the white Seeker had done to him, earlier, feeling Starscream turn his head to suck at the tracing fingers. “Slut.”

“Definitely filthy,” Skywarp added, running his fingers through little spatters of transfluid that silvered the white jet’s wings. “But I like a leader who gets a little dirty.”

“Yes,” TC said. “No one likes a leader who is afraid to get into his responsibilities.” He stroked his hands down Starscream’s arms, held over his head, prodding the sensitive wiring of the jet’s underarms, first firmly, then gently.

Onslaught frowned at them, apparently not sharing their sense of humor. Then again, he hadn’t had to spend megacycles stuck with Starscream. The two notions were definitely connected. He gave an aggrieved sigh, and, wiping his slick fingers along Starscream’s cockpit with some distaste, smearing it with the mixed transfluid and lubricant of the others, he flipped Starscream over, gesturing the trine mates to help raise him high enough to flip him around his wings, and sank his spike into the valve from behind. Starscream cried out, face down, bound hands dangling over the edge.

Skywarp shifted his attention to Starscream’s back wingspread.

Onslaught pressed down one hand on the top of Starscream’s pelvic frame, thick fingers splayed across the armor plating, pinning the mech down by his center of gravity. TC shivered, watching Onslaught’s spike slide into Starscream’s valve, his own spike leaking lubricant. With a wink, Skywarp stepped aside, concentrating his wingteasing on only one side. TC lifted up Starscream’s head by the back of the helm, holding his spike in front of Starscream’s open, moaning mouth. TC groaned as Onslaught’s thrusts rocked Starscream back and forth on the surface of the table, the ‘leader’s’ mouth sliding up and down his spike. Skywarp reached over with one hand, pulling TC into a kiss. Onslaught closed his eyes: not in desire, but out of a desire to ignore the other two, and continued his, well, onslaught against Starscream’s valve. Who else made sex into such a chore? Suddenly, TC thought, Starscream didn’t seem quite so bad: at least he wasn’t a bent rod like Onslaught here.

Still, Onslaught knew what he was doing—for a straight up, vanilla, boring, no fun at all spiking. He overloaded, briskly, efficiently, into Starscream’s valve, causing the white jet to try to moan, but TC’s spike still filled his mouth. TC jerked his spike away—Starscream had a tendency to bite when he overloaded. Skywarp dropped to his knees, eagerly taking TC’s spike into his own mouth, inches from Starscream’s face. The white jet came out of his overload to the spectacle of his trine mate’s eyes blissfully closed, his glossa teasing the sensitive undernodes of TC’s extended spike. TC overloaded into Skywarp’s mouth with a moan of contentment. Skywarp turned to Starscream, kissing him around TC’s transfluid. By the time Skywarp climbed to his feet, and TC had opened his eyes after enjoying the after ripples of his overload, Onslaught was gone. The two trinemates rolled their optics at each other with a giggle.

“This…,” Starscream managed, rolling to one side on his cockpit, “was not what I had in mind.”

“Oh? Don’t you like how much loyalty your followers have for you?” TC smirked, dragging one finger in a spatter of transfluid, wiping it on Starscream’s lips.

“Loyalty is good,” Starscream whined, “But…do they have to be so rough?”

“It is hard to contain ourselves in your almighty presence.” The three Seekers turned to the doorway, from where Shockwave spoke. Wow. Shockwave had discovered sarcasm. Unless he was serious. Which would be…fraggin’weird.

Starscream struggled, trying to pull his bound hands under him to turn around. It was a vulnerable position he was in—aft to the door.

“Must fluid be exchanged?” Shockwave asked TC. “Mission parameters were unclear.”

TC exchanged a glance with Skywarp. “No, not necessarily. What matters, of course, is that our great leader feels, ahem, comforted by your loyalty."

“Certainly,” Shockwave said, dryly. He pinned Starscream mid, flip, balancing awkwardly on his elbow and hip. Shockwave lifted Starscream’s uppermost thigh, and drove his left arm, his gun arm, into the Seeker’s valve. Starscream gasped, twisting his body. Shockwave’s gun arm thrummed as he powered up a mild EMF pulse, that vibrated against the valve while sending electric tingles throughout the white jet’s sensor net. Starscream moaned, long and loud, his body thrashing on the table. Shockwave held firmly to the Seeker’s upper thigh with his other arm, keeping the field in contact with the jet’s sensitive valve nodes.

Starscream howled, his backframe arching, landing him hard on his back, as an overload rocketed through him. He kept whimpering, panting, begging in fractured words for Shockwave to stop, no, don’t stop, no, please, too much, no, harder…. Shockwave let go of the leg just long enough to jerk Starscream’s bound hands down to touch his spike. The Seeker began stroking his spike frantically, so hard that his hips jerked forward with every pull, until his screamed his way into another overload, more silvery droplets spraying his frame, the table’s top, his slick fingers, his cockpit.

Shockwave withdrew his gun arm abruptly, leaving the jet panting, unable to even open his eyes, shudders racking his body.

“Niiiiiiice,” Skywarp said, impressed.

TC shrugged. “Bug zapper, really.” He caught Shockwave’s steady look. “But it did the job.” Skywarp’s eyes were fastened to the glossy fluids on the barrel of Shockwave’s gun. “Can do my job anytime,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the table.
“Really?” TC said. “Skywarp, are we horny?”

“Unsurprising in the circumstances.” Skywarp crossed over to inspect Shockwave’s handiwork more closely: Starscream lay, limp, his thighs wide spread. He knelt down, licking the rim of the valve with his glossa. Starscream managed a distant moan. Skywarp gave an answering moan against the white jet’s valve, tasting the mixed fluids and lubricants of the other mechs, overlaid with an ionized sharpness from Shockwave’s EMF generation. Wrapping his arms over the white thighs to keep them apart, Skywarp began teasing the valve, one hand teasing Starscream’s half-extended, half-sated spike, as his glossa worked its way around the valve, his lips moving to suck more of the combined fluids. “Uhhhhhhh,” Starscream breathed, a shiver running through the valve.

Skywarp felt his own aft heaved up, and, a moment later, Thundercracker’s spike slide into his valve. He moaned, even louder, into the overworked valve of his trine mate as TC began a slow, coaxing rhythm, pushing in gently, withdrawing sharply. Skywarp shifted his knees back further, spreading his legs wider and higher to improve TC’s angle. Above him, Starscream’s hands clutched weakly around his cockpit, only managing to smear the fluids together in a sticky mess. Skywarp’s eyes glowed, as much aroused by the spectacle, and Starscream’s shivering moans as Thundercracker working inside his own valve.

His frame shuddered into a sudden overload, tearing a half-formed word from his throat, that echoed through the white jet’s valve. He fell back, still in the throes of the overload, laughing, TC landing on top of him, his own overload forgotten.

“Weirdo,” TC said, leaning over to kiss Skywarp’s cheek. “Not an echo chamber—that’s his head.”

They untangled themselves, and TC was about to go back to work on Skywarp when they heard a too-familiar footstep. Their optics widened in alarm. “Party’s over,” TC whispered, urgently.

*****

“What in the name of—STARSCREAM!!” It’s not like Megatron had to look very far to find the culprit behind the…absolute chaos of his throne room—he was sprawled on the conference table, sticky and glossy with fluids. More fluids—the clear of lubricant and the silvery shimmer of transfluid—spotted the wall, the table…the floor beneath the table…a round spot in front of his throne…his throne…! HIS THRONE?!

Starscream rolled weakly to one shoulder. “My—my lord,” he managed, weakly. “What a…pleasant surprise?”

“My—I don’t even know what to call you this time, Starscream.” Megatron looked him up and down with something like contempt. “What have you done to my throne room?”

“I-I? I didn’t do anything! Honestly!” Starscream struggled to stand, but had to lean back against the table as his knees threatened to give way. He held out his bound wrists. “You see? I am the victim!”

“Victim,” Megatron snorted. “The only thing you are a victim of is your own ego.” He stepped closer, eyes on the silvery shimmers dotting his Second In Command’s wings, cockpit, thighs, hands…even one lone drop on his cheek. “By rights I should offline you.” Still. Megatron found himself licking his lips at the sight. Starscream was such a wanton little thing. The sight of him, the SMELL of him, the tang of transfluid and the sweetish oily scent of lubricant—intoxicating. Just thinking of, just picturing it happening….

He strode to the table, jerking Starscream toward him with one rough hand. He forced his glossa into Starscream’s mouth, growling at Starscream’s gentle return kiss, his glossa flirting shyly with Megatron’s.

Megatron yanked the jet by his bound wrists to the throne. “You enjoyed my throne, I see,” he said, blandly, “without me.” He tossed the jet onto the throne, opening his spike cover. “Not acceptable.” He shoved his spike into the jet’s valve, grinding his pelvic frame into the jet’s valve, stabbing the entire length of his spike against the top of the valve. Starscream squirmed, wincing.

“Not acceptable,” Megatron repeated, pushing in hard and fast, gritting his teeth as his thrusts juddered the jet’s helm against the back of the throne. Starscream twisted, raising up on his elbows, his hands feeble across his chest. His optics were heavy lidded, his head rocking back and forth in time to Megatron’s thrusts. Starscream couldn’t manage more than heavy panting through parted lips.

Megatron grunted, overloading hard into the jet’s valve, pushing himself hard into the depths of the valve, feeling his fluid slick and mix with the others’ fluids. Starscream tilted his head back, his whole body quivering. Megatron’s overload dribbled out of the valve, onto their joined pelvic frames.

Megatron slipped his spike out of the jet, pulling him down onto the floor by his bound wrists. “Look at this, Starscream,” he murmured, thrusting his fluid coated spike into the Seeker’s face. “So very dirty. How many mechs, Starscream? Can you even remember? Look at all of it. So….much.” He grabbed the jet’s chin with one hand. “Clean it.”

Starscream turned his face away, protesting. Megatron gripped the chin more strongly, digging one finger under the jawline, causing the hinge to release. He thrust his spike into the jet’s mouth. “Clean it,” he repeated. He watched eagerly as the jet began working his mouth around the spike, the same gentle, feather touches with the glossa teasing the nodes on the jet’s underside.

“Yesssss,” Megatron breathed. Starscream murmured against the taste of the fluids in his mouth, the silky slickness of the lubricated spike. “Good.” He grunted into another overload, his breath hissing as he felt his fluid fill the jet’s mouth. “Presumptuous little jet,” he admonished, softly, as Starscream’s glossa cleaned his spike. The jet released the spike, ducking his head to lick more of the sticky fluid off of Megatron’s pelvic plating. “You know something, Starscream?” he said, his hands reaching to cup the jet’s audio, “I figured you would do this, given the chance. You vicious little slut. This whole thing,” he smirked, “was a test. You failed.”

“Did I?” Starscream said. He lifted his optics, and as he dropped back on his knees, Megatron could see them glint with victory.
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