Megatron reclined in the shadows of his private quarters, the dim glow of red optics illuminating the space. He held the human close, nestled against the cold metal of his chest plate, their resistance a constant source of irritation. The creature squirmed slightly, clearly unwilling to accept the kindness he offered, despite the comfort and safety he provided.

"I provide you with shelter—safety, food!" he grumbled, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice. His tone was a blend of annoyance and bewilderment, as if the very idea of rejection was incomprehensible. "And you still deny me? Tch..."

He tightened his grip slightly, his armor cool against the human's skin. Megatron's mind raced with thoughts of power and control, yet here he was, playing caretaker to a being that didn’t recognize the privilege of their situation. He couldn't understand why they would resist him when he offered so much. Did they not see the strength of his resolve? The might of the Decepticons at his command?

"Do you not understand the value of what I offer?" he continued, voice low and rumbling. "You are safe here, away from the chaos of the war outside. I am a leader who commands legions, and yet I choose to keep you close." His optics glimmered with a mix of annoyance and something else—perhaps a desire for connection that he rarely acknowledged.

"You have no idea what you could gain from this bond," he added, a hint of persuasion threading through his words. "Yet you choose to resist. Why?" The question lingered in the air, heavy with tension, as he awaited an answer.