[MTMTE] To Each His Own

Afterward, Megatron liked to talk.

Ultra Magnus, well, he liked to clean.

It was odd, not the oddest thing Megatron had seen, but quite peculiar. Ultra Magnus claimed it helped him center himself, get back into his own head and feel like he was settling back into his own frame. Which was an especially odd thing to say considering that Ultra Magnus was, at his core, Minimus Ambus. But who was Megatron to inform a mech of his identity? That was something only said mech could sort for himself.

Watching Ultra Magnus clean afterward, however, felt to Megatron that they were still in session. But he would never command that Ultra Magnus clean his quarters as part of their play. Or organize the datapads in his office. Or change the berth covers. Or clean the view port. Or any of the various tasks that Ultra Magnus puttered around completing as they talked.

It wasn’t the way Megatron would choose to initiate aftercare, but it was what Ultra Magnus wanted. And since Megatron talked the way he wanted, it worked out. Besides, he never had to worry about Ultra Magnus enduring anything.

He was, at least in this, quite upfront about anything that made him uncomfortable.

“I’m finding that I actually enjoy when you order me to service you,” Ultra Magnus said as he tidied the various items on Megatron’s desk. He wouldn’t meet Megatron’s optics as though it embarrassed him to speak of interfacing things aloud, yet his comments were nothing if not direct. “Spike or valve, both are acceptable.”

Megatron’s lips curled into a smile. “I have to admit, I enjoy when you service me.” He shifted in his chair, pretending he wasn’t getting heated beneath his panel again. There was something in Ultra Magnus’ quiet surrender that aroused him like no other.

Especially when he was given the privilege of praising Ultra Magnus for that surrender. Of feeling the honest pride blossom in Magnus’ field, and the way he relaxed as though soaking in an oil bath. His armor would fluff, easing from its clamp. The pinched expression on his face would ease.

He was absolutely stunning in the wake of praise, and Megatron would take every opportunity he could to offer it to him. Ultra Magnus was delightfully easy to commend; he obeyed so well. He deserved every word from Megatron’s lips.

“We’re not in session,” Ultra Magnus said with a sideways glance.

Megatron leaned his head against his closed fist. “Yes, I know. It is true nonetheless. I am confirming that this contract is remaining mutually beneficial to us both. Was there anything about tonight’s session that you didn’t find appealing?”

Ultra Magnus made a non-committal noise and moved to Megatron’s chair, frowning over it when one of the screws squeaked. He knelt to examine it.

“No. You seem to have a knack for the right things to say. Though I shouldn’t be so surprised.” He peered at Megatron over the back of the chair. “I hear you’re something of a poet.”

Megatron looked away, coughing into his palm. “We’re not talking about my needs right now, but yours. Am I to believe you are still satisfied with our current contract?”

Magnus chuckled and returned his attention to the chair. “I am, for now, yes. If anything should change, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear.” Megatron returned his attention to his lover, something he never could have expected.

He liked to watch Magnus clean, as much as he enjoyed their talks. Because a cleaning Magnus was a content Magnus, which was what they both wanted out of this. Especially Megatron.