There was no thrashing however. After the angry attempt at... well, at kicking Optimus which obviously failed because without being able to put one foot on the ground independently of the other, he didn't have enough leverage to snap the other leg up.

Clearly, the spreader bar was doing its intended job, and Megatron growled before silencing his vocaliser again and relaxing onto Optimus' lap. If he couldn't avoid or redirect this into something else, he'd take it as it was.

Pain was nothing new, and nothing he couldn't handle, even as scattered error messages from where Optimus was so very... ahem, deftly hitting him shrieked they were getting abused. It made Megatron automatically tense his hands into fists, attempt to get a grip on the floor and leverage as cables tightened in response and anticipation of attack.

But this wasn't fighting, or even a spar; the hits were calculated and not intended to cause damage. Not the sort of damage that could be defended against, anyway.

Megatron glared at the floor and refused to reply, even if he had the perfect such in his processor about Optimus' humour for punishments being bad. Glared, and ignored the heat that came in response as sensor nodes reset themselves as Optimus' hand drew back.

It was nothing, and it would stay nothing.