“Are you sure?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Starscream said, perhaps a little testily, but Rodimus had asked him half a dozen times already. Yes. He was sure.
“You’re Liege Consort, Rodimus. Have a little more confidence.”
Rodimus’ eyes flashed, his hands tightening around Starscream’s hips, talons pricking through his feathers. “I’m a smol. I’m not supposed to do this.”
Starscream braced himself on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. “You can do whatever you want. You’re not in Iacon anymore. Forget the rules. Focus on what feels good.”
Rodimus visibly swallowed, his gaze dropping down to Starscream’s antrum, which surely glistened with slick. His tongue flicked over his lips, his clava bobbing eagerly in the air. It was far more excited than he was.
“Don’t let me hurt you,” Rodimus insisted as he inched ever closer, the head of his clava nudging at the soft featherdown rimming Starscream’s antrum.
He shivered, talons clutching the pillows of his nest, insides knotting with eager anticipation. “You won’t. I trust you, Rodimus.”
The other smol’s eyes went liquid with affection. “Okay,” he said, breathing deep. “Here goes nothing.”
Starscream bit back a sharp retort. Rodimus wasn’t prepping to go into battle for Adaptus’ sake. Why had he ever offered to help the poor confused brat out?
Rodimus’ clava nudged at his antrum, slipping slowly past the edge, and Starscream moaned, his hips tilting upward.
Oh. That was why.
Mmm, but the sacrifices he made.