Subtle Poisons [Transformers, Starscream/Megatron, R]

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

Title: Subtle Poisons
Author: Atalan (childofatlantis)
Rating: R
Warnings: dubious consent, although one suspects that for Decepticons consent is pretty much an optional extra anyway...
Word count: 3292
Summary: It would have been less humiliating if Starscream had used force.
Prompt: Starscream/Megatron: power struggles - Starscream finally one-ups Megatron

Notes: Don't let the wordcount fool you, it is all porn. I may not be getting back to comments until next week, as I am in the middle of Finals right now. (Yes, I did just spend my afternoon off writing giant robot porn, why do you ask?)

Trigger Warning: Intoxication/drugs used to incapacitate and take advantage.

*


Later, Megatron will realise that his security has become lax: there was a time when he would not have touched energon that had not been thrice-sampled for poisons. Later, he will acknowledge that he has failed to maintain the correct levels of fear in his subordinates: once, Mixmaster would have come straight to him to report the unusual request, no matter how he was bribed. Later, he will reflect that the graceless skirmishes on this wretched planet have dulled his sense of subtlety: back on Cybertron, when he began to read the signs in Starscream's covert smirks, he would have been on guard for more than just a weapon at his back.

Now, however, his limbs are heavy and will not respond to his commands; his optics are dim and cannot focus; his thoughts are sluggish and bright-edged with unfathomable need. Now, Starscream straddles his hips, fingers just barely brushing his chest, energy field just barely flicking against Megatron's, looking rather than touching; tense, poised ready to fly away at the slightest hint that his trap has not completely closed. Now, Megatron tries to speak, but the words are like old grease, clogging his vocaliser, and he can find no threats, no outrage, no fury; he can only stutter out a question, vague as a sparkling:

"... what...?"

At that, a slow smirk crawls across Starscream's face; he lifts a hand and, carefully, still a little warily, draws a finger up Megatron's throat. Megatron shudders at the touch, long-dormant sensor nodes flaring, and does not snarl, or grab that trespassing hand, or throw its owner to the ground, though deep in his processor it occurs to him to do so.

"What's the matter, mighty Megatron?" Starscream taunts, leaning forward, hands planted on the berth to either side of Megatron's head. "Not quite feeling yourself? Not quite up to your usual brutality? Not quite... in control?"

Megatron's optics stutter into darkness as he struggles to find some sort of clarity within his fogged mind. His hand twitches, rises a little way from the berth, but it barely brushes Starscream's knee before falling back with a dull clang.

"... what... have you... done...?" he rasps, stumbling over the sounds as though over-energised.

He onlines his optics when he hears Starscream laugh, is in time to see the whole length of that slender throat exposed as the seeker throws his head back in malicious glee. Then Starscream is sizing him up him with optics that blaze, face all alight with something that passes for joy among their kind, teeth bared in triumph. He is beautiful, the most beautiful thing Megatron has ever seen, and he would hate him for it if he could find the will.

"I have introduced you to a little mixture of chemicals," Starscream tells him, puffed with pride, unable to resist the boast, "that were very popular in Kaon, back in the day, for persuading, shall we say, unwilling mechs to be more... biddable. Of course, I had to rewrite the formula to accommodate the poor quality of materials in this place... alter the proportions to allow for your unique physiology... put up with that fool Mixmaster's haphazard experimentation... but never let it be said that I shirk a challenge."

He leans right in, dipping his face down to press his mouth close to Megatron's left audio receptor so that when he speaks, the words ghost across sensors with the movement of his lips.

"You. Are. Helpless."

For a moment Megatron would swear that Starscream deliberately presses his mouth full against the plating of his cheek, but then he is sitting back easily, relaxed now that he is sure that he is safe, hands coming to rest once more, lightly, upon Megatron's chest. His field flares smugly, lapping against Megatron's – not yet intertwining, but no longer held in cautiously close to his spark.

"The only question," he muses aloud, optics glimmering in a way that suggests that it is a question he has been pondering long and lovingly, "is what am I to do with you now?"

Megatron tries to fight the lethargy, the sense of ease and the willingness to lie still and take what comes, but it is hard, so very hard; perhaps it is even harder because he has scant memory of such relaxation in all his existence – perhaps it is a little tempting. He knows he is angry, but in a distant fashion that seems just out of reach – something to be attended to later.

Starscream hovers above him, fingers tapping idly on Megatron's chest, still watching him, perhaps making sure, quite sure, that his drug has done its work.

"I could hurt you," Starscream says with such strange gentleness that a shiver trickles through Megatron's sensor network. "Oh, yes. I could pay you back for all the times you've bent my wings or torn my wiring."

He dips his fingers into the gap (wide and vulnerable with his head tilted back like this) between Megatron's jaw and neck, hooks a finger under one of the cables there, tugging it slowly, then giving it a hard yank, so that a spear of pain spikes down into Megatron's chest. Starscream plays with the cable for a while, running it idly between finger and thumb, and the cruelty on his face melts into something slowly smouldering as Megatron's systems hitch from the stimulation.

"But pain would mean nothing to you..." Starscream murmurs. "So another form of... reprisal... seems in order..."

His fingers curl in deeper under Megatron's jaw, winding themselves through the cables and coolant lines, delving deep enough to brush the bundles of fibre-optic nerves so very carefully, sinuously, that there is no pain, only darting pleasure. With his other hand, Starscream slowly traces the Decepticon symbol on Megatron's chest, some unknown thought bringing a satisfied smile to his lip components, and the brush of fingertips is so maddeningly light that a small sound escapes Megatron's vocaliser before he can prevent it. Starscream laughs, low in his throat, and his hand drifts to the side, briefly dipping into Megatron's shoulder seam before passing on, down the arm, coming to rest possessively on the barrel of his fusion cannon. It occurs to Megatron that Starscream could have disarmed him as soon as he entered – could have held him down and ripped the gun from his arm, instead of hovering, and watching, and then taking up his perch like a cat finally done stalking its prey. Later, he will wonder why he did not.

Starscream frees his hand from Megatron's neck, and despite himself Megatron yearns a little after the touch – but then both of his second's hands are on his cannon, deftly, carefully releasing the fastenings, not just at the elbow but all the way down to the wrist, all the little catches and wires that render the weapon a part of his body. Starscream's fingers slip around and over the mountings on his arm as the cannon comes loose, almost stroking the smooth grey metal, long languid touches that seem to activate every single point on the sensor net under his dermal plating. Then just as he's craving a little more, a little harder, Starscream's hands vanish from his arm, lifting the cannon away to hold it up between them like a prize.

"I've always wondered," Starscream says, idly turning the cannon this way and that, playing with it – the same way he was playing with Megatron's arm a moment ago – and he offlines his optics rather than let them follow those deft fingers, "why it is so much less efficient in this mode. One might almost think that you had been purposefully designed so that you could not operate at your full capacity... alone."

He feels Starscream shift his weight to one side, and there is a loud crash of metal on metal. Megatron's optics power up with a flash, and he turns his head just a little, enough to see his cannon rolling to a stop on the far side of the room. A flicker of fury licks up through his processor, but Starscream has settled back in place, and now he is toying with the seam at Megatron's waist, running his thumb along it again and again, digging a little deeper – creating stronger pulses of pleasure – with every pass. But even with the drug in all his systems, weighing him down body and spark and processor, he is Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, and he can – he will – find the words.

"I need..." he rasps, and Starscream's optics flare brighter, and forcing out the next word gives Megatron pleasure of a different kind, "no-one. No... one!"

Starscream snarls his anger, optics flaring bright. He dives forward, then, and suddenly his mouth is on Megatron's, lips parted, teeth nipping at sensitive plating, hot and demanding and sending sensor flares right to Megatron's spark. One of Starscream's hands scrabbles for the vents on his abdomen, scraping fingertips up and down the slats with a harsh, clattering noise. The rhythm of it doubles, triples the sensation until Megatron can barely think.

No-one has ever touched him like this – he has had lovers, of course, the finest of eager recruits begging for his attention (but not Starscream, never proud Starscream, for all he's always coveted those wings and that rebellious spark) – but he has always been the one to take them, to hold them down and do as he wills, and beyond the fevered clutching and impassioned scratching of fingers, none has laid hands upon him.

He is aware that he is pressing up against Starscream, feeling the heat of the other mech stretched out over his chest; he cannot stop himself from opening his own mouth, all too willing, or from groaning into the kiss as Starscream's tongue darts inside to explore. Then Starscream is easing back, trailing down his jaw and then pressing his face into Megatron's neck, working the edge of the plating there with his teeth, and Megatron throws his head back further, baring his throat, and cannot hold back the needful, urgent noises that escape his vocaliser.

"Why, Megatron, I think you like that..." The words send vibrations through sensitive relays at the juncture of neck and shoulder armour. Starscream bites down, hard, and Megatron gasps with mingled pain and pleasure. "Mmm... and that, too, it seems... I think I'd like it if you screamed my name... I wonder what it will take?"

One hand still scraping up and down his vents, Starscream works the other beneath Megatron's body to grip the cylinder on his back. Megatron arches upward, shocked by the sensation even as he craves it: Starscream shouldn't know how sensitive it is, not unless he's noticed, somehow, in the middle of battle, the minute shiver when his fingers brush across the barrel of Megatron's gun mode. Starscream's hand tightens, sliding achingly slowly up the length of the tube until his knuckles are level with Megatron's shoulders, then dragging down again to the small of Megatron's back; he lifts himself up so that he is studying Megatron's face, optics burning and lips parted.

The heavy blanket of the drug's euphoria dulls all care, begs him to submit, loosens his vocaliser so that he cannot hide his reactions, cannot quite keep silent the half a gasp, the faint hitch of air intakes, the first syllable of a word he cannot finish. Megatron tries to raise his head, desperate to bring their mouths together again – but when Starscream laughs, low and breathless and oh-so-slagging triumphant, it is enough to prompt in him some last scrap of resistance. He lets his head fall back on the berth and turns his face to the side, offlines his optics so that he doesn't have to see Starscream's exaltation.

"Oh, come now, we can't have that..."

Starscream is playing out his energy field now, letting it skitter against Megatron's as teasingly as the fingers on his body, and even with optics dark Megatron can feel him, all brilliance and jagged-glass edges and exquisite treachery, and despite himself, a secret, long-fought wanting surges up in his spark.

"... we can't have you missing half the show..."

Pulse, flare, pulse, and Megatron's field is juddering in rhythm to it, whole body clamouring to wakefulness. Starscream's hands are sure and smooth, but his vents hitch, barely audible, and Megatron can feel ripples of excitement stroking against his own arousal.

"I can bring a mech to overload just by letting them watch me, you know... you wouldn't want to pass up your one and only free pass, would you? Especially," and Starscream does something Megatron has never experienced before – lets his field fall into synchronisation with Megatron's, but slightly out of phase, so that every twitch and shudder and blaze of sensation feels off-balance and out of control, "when I'm doing so much more than just letting you watch... when I'm trying so hard to please you, mighty Megatron... won't you say my name for me?"

Starscream's foot-turbines roar suddenly to life – muted, damped down, but sending powerful vibrations up Megatron's legs and deep into wiring that never normally experiences sensation. Megatron groans aloud, self-control shattering all at once like a star going nova, and somehow he finds the strength to raise his hand, grasping hold of Starscream's thigh and gripping as though he will fall without it. Starscream makes a sound that Megatron cannot interpret – it isn't triumph, or mockery – and he forces his optics online, turns his head to look, even as their fields surge together and all but drown thought from his processor.

Starscream's own optics have dimmed, and his hands are grown unsteady on Megatron's vents, breath coming in quick pants. His wings are shaking faintly – whether with the vibrations from his turbines or from some unnameable emotion, Megatron cannot tell. He wants to touch them, wants to pull Starscream full down over him and scrape sharp fingertips over their surface until the seeker sobs from sensation – but he cannot do more than move his fingers in tiny, needy circles on Starscream's leg, and drink in the sight above him. He believes Starscream's boast, for who could remain unmoved by such unashamed, abandoned sensualism?

Some small, dangerous, never closely examined part of his processor wonders why Starscream bothered with the drug.

The feeble movement of his fingers wrings a disproportionate response from Starscream – his second moans aloud, hands coming up to grip Megatron's face in a gesture that is an odd contradiction of tenderness and dominance, and he swoops down to devour Megatron's mouth, body shifting in agitation, scraping with agonising pleasure over hyper-sensitive sensor nodes. For long moments there is nothing for Megatron but the feel, the taste, the heat of him, as his energy field sprawls helplessly wide, encompassing and encouraging.

Then Starscream is drawing back, though not to his proud perch of before. His own control is wearing dangerously thin: Megatron can see it in every line of him, sense it in the chaotic surges of his field, and now, now would be the time to turn the tables, to show Starscream yet again why it is that he will never overthrow Megatron – now would be the time, if Megatron desired anything other than to lie here and let him do whatever he wants.

Starscream's hands are on his chest, scrabbling at the plates, and Megatron knows a moment's shock as he feels them unsealing of their own accord. No-one has ever looked on his spark, much less touched it – no-one has ever coaxed such an intimate response from him. Even in the drug's cloying embrace, he fights it, and has some measure of success. Starscream hisses his displeasure, fingers working the seams, creating such sensation that Megatron throws back his head and cries out and fights, fights with everything he has, to keep his chest closed.

"Open..." and Megatron honestly cannot tell if Starscream is begging or commanding. "Open for me..."

A thumb sliding up the crack in his plating, Starscream's turbines kicking up a notch, a white-hot spike in their combined energy fields – it could be any of those things, or all of them, or perhaps he can blame it on the drug, working its way deeper into his systems – but Megatron cannot stop his chest from opening, from exposing his spark. Starscream half-gasps, and even in the midst of his arousal and his triumph edged with spite, the flicker of fascination crosses his face, the allure of something never seen before.

He reaches in, and Megatron finds his voice, growls, "No."

"Oh, but yes..." whispers Starscream, and touches his spark.

Megatron arches up, curses and pleas and not-words spilling from his vocaliser, both hands finding purchase on Starscream's waist, not in protest but pulling him closer with what little strength he has. Starscream's fingers, Starscream's field, brushing, and cupping, and crackling into his spark – it's like nothing, nothing he has ever experienced. It is exquisite and it is terrifying and it is utter surrender, and Megatron knows even in the midst of uncontrollable sensation that he will never, ever permit it again.

"Say my name," Starscream gasps, and dimly Megatron sees that Starscream's chest has started to open, and that he has flung up a hand to cover it, as if to hold it closed, even as the other runs one agonising finger up the side of Megatron's spark chamber. "Say it."

Their fields are flaring out of all control now, mingling freely, snapping wildly, and the vibrations from Starscream's turbines are rumbling through both of them, through the berth and the walls and maybe the world, and with every touch on Megatron's spark he feels that he will shake apart himself – yet he clamps his vocaliser into silence and will not give Starscream his satisfaction.

"Pit damn you," snarls Starscream, frustration making his lovely face even lovelier. His fingers tighten on Megatron's spark, much too hard, and pain wrings from him a howl despite his efforts, and Starscream does not miss the way that it is not quite a cry of protest. His furious optics narrow and a smile curves his sulking mouth.

"Now that is interesting," he murmurs. "I shall have to remember it."

The strokes of his fingers grow bolder, harder, dancing the line between pleasure and pain, crossing it without hesitation. Megatron bucks and moans and clings to only one thought, that he will not acknowledge Starscream, that for all his dignity is in tatters and his power taken from him, this one thing he will not surrender. Starscream hovers over him, each new peak of Megatron's arousal driving his own higher in response, and Megatron is close, so close, to the edge of a precipice he cannot avoid, and though he craves nothing more than to tumble over it, he knows he cannot trust the winged creature above him to save him from the fall.

He opens his mouth to speak, to make some final, necessary defiance – but then Starscream dips his head, blows hot air into Megatron's open chest, and then – as Megatron is still reeling – he presses his mouth to Megatron's spark and hums, low and harsh and possessive.

And all Megatron's hard-won self control is for nothing, as he overloads screaming his second's name.


- end -

Comments

[artoni.livejournal.com]

I love you.

[mmouse15.livejournal.com]

OMG, that was fantastic!

[siadea.livejournal.com]

Oh damn, that is awesome.

Coherency later.

Maybe.

If I can reread this and have any. Which is doubtful.

[beckyh2112.livejournal.com]

I do believe I have been seduced. Delicious and wicked.

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

Will you marry me?

That is the most awesome, incredible, beautiful thing I've ever read. And they're both so perfectly in character . . . this might just be the penultimate in Starscream/Megatron right here.

*purrs and loves you and is incoherent*

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

Only penultimate? I shall have to try harder! ;) Thank you! I'm glad you found it beautiful... that was kind of what I was going for, despite the consent issues.

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

For some reason, consent issues don't squick me in Transformers-ville the way they do in human-fic.

I have this elaborate daydream that I've been contemplating since reading this, involving Starscream staying there, caressing and stroking and talking softly to Megatron as the drug wears off, defusing Megatron's sense of anger and embarrassment so by the time the drug's run its course they're both good with what happened. Then Megatron pins Starscream down and gets him off in much the same fashion. :)

It was very beautiful. Especially with regards to Megatron's . . . valuing . . . the relaxation that he never gets otherwise. Kind of sad, how he doesn't feel he can afford to ever have anybody's hands on his spark again, even though it felt that good. I'm hoping, personally, that Starscream manages to talk (pleasure?) him out of that resolution.

*much love*

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

I feel the same way - this is a fic I would never have written for any other fandom, or indeed for anyone other than the Decepticons. But something about giant, evil, alien robots makes me see this scenario not as abuse, but as seduction.

And oh, wow, that image is gorgeous, I love it. The question I've been debating with myself since plotting this one out is whether or not the drug induces amnesia. It would make sense - and however much Starscream might want to hold this victory over Megatron, he might have just that little bit of caution. But even if it is, Megatron has backup systems that Starscream isn't aware of, with the result that he would remember it all, while Starscream thinks he's got away scot-free. Which in turn would probably lead to Starscream pushing his luck by trying to drug Megatron a second time... and Megatron playing along with it right up until the moment Starscream gets too worked up to stay in control, at which point there is a certain amount of revenge. :D

... I need a non-silly Megatron/Starscream icon. ^_^

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's seduction in sort of the typical romance-novel fashion, which I usually hate, mostly because there's gender-role and power issues, and cultural implications for the lack of respect for the other's consent.

I'm wondering if, due to physiological and cultural differences, they might have no concept of rape as we humans understand it.

There's no concept of gender, or if there is, no mostly-exclusive heterosexuality, and when the joining-sparks concept of interfacing is used, there's no physical difference between fucker and fuckee, so between the two there's no permanant overclass that can be physically satisfied by doing things by force while being pretty much completely safe from ever suffering it themselves, and the act is by nature pleasant for both parties; there isn't the limitations of human sex, where one can get off while the other feels nothing but invasion and pain. Also, there's no shame associated with interfacing, no loss of "purity" or concept of being "ruined." And, yeah, they're Decepticons, they consider it acceptable to fight and beat up and sometimes kill each other, and I'm thinking forced interfacing might be considered comparable to beating someone up, except more physically pleasant for both of them.

(Why do I get the feeling that this comment is gonna be found and trolled by a bunch of entitled human males who go "hey, sounds good, let's apply that concept here?" Um, no. Read the reasoning.)

This is mostly why I'm fond of my after-daydream. I can easily see Starscream deciding he likes just interfacing with Megatron; prefers it, perhaps, to their usual antagonism, wants to continue, to have access to Megatron's spark in the future, and to that end tries honey rather than vinegar, so to speak. And I can see him thinking it's a good idea to defuse Megatron's anger before Megatron can find that anger. To say nothing of that I suspect Starscream of masochistic tendencies, and certainly wouldn't find it odd for him to enjoy tending to Megatron, as a subordinate, if he found a way of doing so that didn't put it at odds with his dignity. Which, Starscream seems to be rather attached to. He doesn't seem like he has a real lot of self-esteem. He likes feeling powerful too much, at the expense of self-preservation and good strategy. I think he needs to feel, at least supported, when not in control.

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

I vote not-amnesia. I want Megatron to remember---deliberately---what it feels like to have Starscream's hands on his spark, what Starscream looks like in the middle of lovemaking, and that Starscream gave him what he wanted without waiting for him to say his name. I want him to remember that Starscream had ultimate power over him and used it only to give them both pleasure.

And I want him to want it again.

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

Dude, you have just won the prize for totally getting this fic. :D You make me so happy.

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

*is very happy too*

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

... I need a non-silly Megatron/Starscream icon. ^_^

*points to icon* If you want.

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

Thankyou! But I actually adore making icons and haven't had a chance for months, so I'm going to be having fun doing some of my own. :D

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

K :)

[sister-dear.livejournal.com]

*joins the incoherency club*

Because... damn.

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

*icon love*

[ladyrazorsharp.livejournal.com]

I have to admit I haven't read your fic yet (will soon) but Oh my goodness I just had to say your icon rocks. XD

[ladyrazorsharp.livejournal.com]

Okay. Just read it and OH my heavens. *faints* Whew. Whew!! that last line is a KILLER.

Yow! XD

[raisedbymoogles.livejournal.com]

*faints and is insensible for the rest of the month*

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

OH NOES! *resuscitates* You need to be conscious to enjoy all the rest of the robot porn! :O

[raynos.livejournal.com]

omg. Complete GUH.

Hot porn. Hot IC porn.

... I'll be in my bunk.

[mimi-sardinia.livejournal.com]

Wow!

[12012.livejournal.com]

wow...that was something else! I thoroughly enjoyed that ♥~

LOVE your icon XD!

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

I need more TF icons. :D THere is so much crack in G1.

[dairokkan.livejournal.com]

I'm not normally a fan of this pairing, but that was nothing short of spectacular.
The sheer sensuality of your descriptions...wow. *fans self*
I pray you only use your awesome powers for good!

Note: The definition of "good" in this context naturally includes giant robot porn.

Clearly, an afternoon well spent.

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

I have to say that this is my absolute favourite pairing in the whole series, so I'm glad you liked it, especially if you normally don't!

There will be more giant robot porn. I have just finished my finals and now I can write ALL THE GIANT ROBOT PORN IN THE WORLD. :D :D :D

[kyra-neko-rei.livejournal.com]

now I can write ALL THE GIANT ROBOT PORN IN THE WORLD. :D :D :D

I APPROVE OF THIS PRODUCT AND/OR SERVICE!!!!

[saltedpin.livejournal.com]

Okay, that? Was freaking awesome. I don't know if you intended it that way but what I got from it was that Starscream just knew he could both control and infuriate Megatron far more by giving him pleasure than just poking at him painfully with an electroprod (in a non-fun way XD) or something. Pain Megs understands and is something he knows how to dish out, but pleasure I get the feeling is something he feels much, much less comfortable with, especially if Starscream's the one who's giving it out.

This was so great :D

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

:D :D :D :D I did intend it that way. As far as Starscream was concerned, he was doing this entirely to one-up Megatron in a way that would leave a much more subtle, permanent mark on his dignity. At least, that's HIS story, if you can conveniently ignore the way that he was enjoying himself far, far too much up there.

*has entirely too much fun with Starscream's ability to convince himself of his own motives*

[angelus2402004.livejournal.com]

Wow! That was awesome! Good job!

[twicepea.livejournal.com]

I've been wrecking my computer by trying to frantically search for a sequel - only to find there is none. WHY IS THERE NONE (and why is the rum always gone)?! It is an insult to humankind, to write something this perfect and delicious and then not to even continue it...

Ohhh, Gods, I can beg on my knees. *nods convincingly*

Seriously, it is not often that I come across something so well written. Believe me (and I think you know yourself), there's a lot of crap out there. A LOT of it.

Yeah.

*coughs, bows deeply and tiptoes away*

[childofatlantis.livejournal.com]

... okay, I shall take this in the spirit I presume it was intended, and thank you very much for the compliment. Worth bearing in mind, though, that it's generally considered bad form to nag for sequels, especially in aggressive terms. I'm afraid there isn't one for this, it's a oneshot. I will be writing more Megatron/Starscream - just not as a direct follow up. Keep an eye on my writing journal at brightwanderer for more fic, and thanks for the review!

[twicepea.livejournal.com]

.. Ooh, I'm so, so, so sorry. ._. I didn't want to seem like I was, as you said, "nagging for a sequel", and not aggressively. And I didn't really MEAN it, if you know what I mean. All I was saying that it was really awesome, worth a sequel, but I guess it turned out really wrong (since Australia is generally making my sense of humour even more twisted it was in the beginning). I'm reeeeally sorry, seriously.

Sometimes I just don't know how to behave myself. *shame* But thank you for telling me this, some forums I'm in are specialised in nagging for sequels, so I couldn't have known... I'll never do it again, promise! ._.