Megatron was in heat.

Megatron was in heat… and also high on Dark Energon.

A combination that had caused the entire ship to go into “every-con-for-themselves” mode by day two.

You had tried to ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t happening. Maybe it would pass. Maybe someone would sedate him.

Nope.

“Darling…” The voice echoed through the corridors. Distorted. Feral. Absolutely unholy. “Come out.”

Nope. No thank you.

You ducked lower in the vent, shivering. You vents were cycling hard—not from arousal, but pure survival fear.

If he found you, you were going to get fragged into the nearest wall, floor, ceiling—or maybe all three—and you knew he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied. And considering Megatron’s stamina and enhanced dark energon-fueled state…

Yeah, you weren’t going to be able to walk. Ever again. Possibly never transform again.

There was a soft sound behind them.

Too soft.

You froze. Very slowly, you turned.

There, in the doorway—Megatron.

His optics glowed a deep violet, corrupted by dark energon. His vents were flared, lips curled into a low snarl, and his frame looked huge—tense, twitching, ready.

“I found you,” he purred, voice like static and heat. “You ran.”

“Megatron,” you tried, holding up your servos. “Listen. You're not thinking straight. You’re under the influence. You need to—”

He growled. Loud.

“Mine.”

“—Okaywe’redoingthisIguess—”

You didn’t even get a chance to turn before you were yanked backward into a very warm, very vibrating, very feral chest.

“Megatron, no—!”

“Megatron yes.”

“NO—!”

“YES.”

You were thrown over his shoulder like a sack of high-grade and promptly whisked away deeper into the ship. Possibly into his quarters. Or the pit. Or both.

Oh you were fragged LITERALLY you were gonna need new hips after this