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"What are you reading?" Megatronus says from behind Orion's audial fins.
Orion had taken reading material to berth again, his faceplate illuminated softly by the blue glow of the datapad as he lay beside Megatronus. "Mm? Oh... It's just Teravolt's dissertation about identity and function in the post-Quintessonian era," he says, half-turning toward Megatronus with a smile. "I'm almost done."
"Hmm. Tell me about it," Megatronus says, catching Orion's hips in his hands and pressing his lips to the back of his neck.
"Well," Orion frowns at the datapad in his hand. "I can basically see where he gets his ideas from, although they hail from the old functionalist school of thinking, which we still see traces of in contemporary writing, all these millions of years later..." He trails off when he feels Megatronus's glossa dart out and trace up the cables of his neck. "What are you doing?" He laughs softly.
"Nothing. Keep going." Megatronus growls against him.
"The fundamental flaw in Teravolt's argument is that he treats the dualism of identity and function as an ultimately tragic consequence," Orion continues, a smile in his voice as Megatronus's mouth continues to move along, over the sensitive exposed cabling that ran from nape to shoulder. "Whereas more modern scholars have argued that the conflation of the two is a more recent phenomenon, constructed socially and imposed by cybertronians who benefitted most from the arrangement."
He feels a strong arm gently take the datapad from his right hand and set it aside, as another arm firmly takes his hips and rolls him onto his back - and then Megatronus was on top of him, mouth and glossa tracing a line down the middle of his chestplate. Orion shivers and throws his head back, optics flickering offline, as he feels his frame growing hot, engines softly humming to life.
"The... The essential argument is that there is a certain set of programming and hardware that a bot is forged with, and that part of them is unchangeable - and within a society, the most efficient system of management is to assign to each individual a role based on a set of physical characteristics, including core programming, and alt-mode... and that the individual is much more likely to be content within their social assignment."
He hears Megatronus rumble his displeasure against his lower chassis. "Outdated, useless rhetoric."
"Absolutely!" Orion exclaims. "For how can a system of government function while denying the autonomy of the individual? Although it preaches contentment, all the functionalist theory does is strip a bot down to their physical capabilities, passing over the- the spiritual side of personal fulfillment, in favour of the streamlined functioning of a bigger system - a-ah-" he gasps, as Megatronus runs his glossa against the slit of his interface panel. And then he's springing open, and Megatronus has a hand stroking him as he licks along his length - oh, Primus-
"A system that is flawed in its very premise," Megatronus says. Orion's breathing is coming out in short breaths, his servos grabbing at the berth underneath them as he rides the buildup of heat inside him.
"Mm- because instrumentality is the very nature of a social framework built around the extrinsic function of its members! And where power is in the hands of those who stand to benefit by the system, it is naturally in their best interests to maintain it - through media propaganda advocating social adherence, through legislation, and through an historical erasure of evidence of- of resistance-" and he draws a long, sharp intake of breath as Megatronus works a servo inside of him, making small movements that brush delicate circuits as his other hand continues to pump up and down, lips and glossa working at his tip.
"And what of the opponents who hold anecdotes of class mobility as proof of the system's integrity?" Megatronus prompts.
"Ah-" Orion's first attempt at speech comes out as a short, staticky moan. He tries again. "O-Of course, any social framework that claims to be have a sound basis has to have exceptions - examples that the proponents can point to to say - 'look, any lower class that has a legitimate reason for advancement is capable' - Megatronus," he says, laughing, "this is getting a little - difficult -"
And Megatronus responds by sliding his lips down and taking the whole of him into his mouth, tongue running against the underside, and Orion arches his back, pressing his helm into the berth. "Ohh- and, and it serves as a convenient method to discredit those who, in their opinion, petition for undeserved privileges - those who were meant to have them already have them, or have the capacity to have them, you see - "
And he feels Megatronus pull back from him, strangely, and he gives a small whine of frustration as his optics flutter online. Megatronus had shifted up to straddle him, his face now level with Orion's, his optics looking at him with a lover's intensity. And when he kisses him it's rough, and Megatronus presses his chassis against his, plating hot and thrumming. And he feels Megatronus's pressurized spike against his abdomen, and then Megatronus was taking both of them in his hand and pumping, servos sliding roughly along his length, and Orion moans against his lips.
They break apart for air, and Megatronus's breathing comes short to match his own, and he's still got Orion caught in those brilliant, beautiful blue optics. "Keep going," Megatronus says.
Orion returns his gaze through half lidded optics and tries to transmit, the intense joy, and bliss, and peace and safety in Megatronus's companionship that he feels, his gratitude, and love, in all the forms he could manage, through his optics and through every close-range channel in his comms array, and it leaks out and fills his EM field, as he opens his mouth to speak, through the hot waves of pleasure - "There is no more subversive, more powerful form of resistance than taking control of one's designation - an individual who controls their name controls the primary way in which they are perceived by others, in a system that presumes a concrete, objective way in which one is to be perceived - it's - it's not only an insult to the social order, it's a public, point to rally behind, it's a call to action, and on a personal level, it's a statement - a commitment to shaping your own destiny - M-Megatronus...!" And this last name he moans as he tilts his head back, his optics flickering offline, static overtaking his voice as overload hits him, and he thrusts into Megatronus's grip through the aftershocks - and then, after a moment, he feels Megatronus tense above him, giving himself a few hard pumps, and then he's coming too, and Orion's optics flutter dimly as he watches the tremors go through Megatronus's powerful frame. Then he's collapsing to the berth beside Orion, scooping him up with his big arms and holding him close.
Orion relaxes in the glow of their post-coital EM fields, his vents still coming deep, feeling the rise and fall of Megatronus's chest against him, and the satisfied sensation deep in his spark spreading throughout every inch of his body. Megatronus presses a kiss to his audial fin and he wiggles in pleasure. "You are a talented orator," Megatronus rumbles, "And an absolutely shameless one, at that."
"Well, I learned from the best," Orion says, and laughs when Megatronus rolls them both over in response. Then Megatronus presses his helm softly against his shoulder, and Orion wraps one arm around Megatronus's big chest and rests his helm there, listening to the steady pulse of his spark, and as his optics softly offline he felt as if this moment would last forever.