Chapter Text
Tension was palpable aboard the Nemesis. The leader pointedly strode to the control console where the Chief of Communications stood occupied, diligently working, digits clinking against the backlit keys fluidly, never ceasing. The commander’s wings flicked at the lack of recognition he earned from his deputy as he moved languidly to hover behind the lithe mech, servos tucked neatly at the base of his compact spinal struts. His wings twitched a second time, fanning out and perking up though spreading his EM field out and around (as if he needed to—he wasn’t out to conceal his presence, after all). He slipped close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his lieutenant. He was aware his deputy was fully informed he was a servo away (he just had the gall to ignore his superior, not that it was a new behavior). The commander’s flaunted EM field insistently swelled, prodding at his subordinate’s retracted one.
The obsidian officer was deeply immersed in his work, slightly hunched over the console. The violet biolights that lined his plating created a soft glow in the absence of overhead lighting. The seeker inched ever closer to his deputy, gradually but consistently squandering whatever personal barrier that lie unspoken between them. In fact, he stood so close to his lieutenant, that the mech trying but failing to retain some illusion of focus at the keyboard could detect the smothering warmth of the seeker’s vents against his upper spinal plating. It tickled as it ghosted over the sensor laden armor.
Soundwave tensed. It was rather unobtrusive if he didn’t focus on it much, he decided, only a tease of warm vents against his sensitive armor panels. It was a far, distant observation though, as most of his cognitive functioning was at the moment occupied processing code, and meticulously receiving strings of information through a feeler that was jacked into the main computing console. He was a mech who excelled in multi-tasking, but there was a touch of something about the other’s proximity that distracted the miniscule, unoccupied portion of his processor that usually functioned as his thinking module while he worked. One that brought those mentioned sensitive panels into a considerably more vulnerable state. One twitched (followed closely by another). Then following, another shifted, reacting to the seeker’s proximity and the heat emitted from his frame. Soundwave swallowed thickly.
Excessive heat, it seemed like. Soundwave wouldn’t give the seeker the satisfaction of letting on that the lack of breathing room between them was thoroughly distracting him—it was making him hot and bothered, and flustered for no slagging reason! The second in command vented an inaudibly soft sigh (Primus above), and supposed he should have been used to Starscream’s goading. He swore it was in the seeker’s energon, inherent and destined to slowly drive Soundwave insane. This solar cycle was different, though. The last thing he wanted was to fall into the pattern he had prepared himself so meticulously for, and lose focus. A loss of control was a sign of weakness, and he couldn’t afford that.
No, not with Starscream.
He attempted to give it no mind, he really did. He was the most stoic mech in this Primus forsaken base, he wouldn’t let something so minor break that. He would not let Starscream of all mechs take from him any more than he already had. The situation at hand required none other than a good flesh-piercing glare, and a standoff between himself and the pompous Air Commander who always seemed to be trying to pry into his personal life (and not to mention space). He had tried to blow off the flier in enough ways that Soundwave had presumed Starscream had gotten the hint. Too bad for the lieutenant, because that seemed to perk the adamant seeker’s interest further, to the point which Starscream had started to hover. Soundwave decided he could deal with it—(he adamantly ignored the persistent flier, and it had worked out for a good while) that is until nature had arrived to spite the spy. There was no doubt the Communications Officer was a very capable mech. Yet, his ‘leader’ found ways of slipping into his personal space more often nowadays and lucky him, a familiar burn had decided only three megacycles ago that now would be the opportune time to activate heat protocols. Fragging. Heat. Soundwave felt like smashing his mask into the console, and observing his commander’s reaction to that.
The heat from Starscream’s armor caressed the veins that ran closer to the surface of his plating, turning Soundwave’s processor towards things that were far from work-oriented. It pried at the more primitive wiring of neural network, tantalizingly inviting. He internally cringed. The seeker did not fit into the role of a superior in his processor, and it felt wrong to consider the seeker his commanding officer. He knew the flier strived off of authority, so this display would have been waved off easily, if not for the tingling sensations twisting through his sensornet and inspiring unsavory inquiries to pop up, successfully interrupting his unbreakable focus.
“Soundwave, how is everything coming along? You’ve been at this since the early morning.” Starscream observed in a voice laced with a hint of frustration. Ego dampened slightly would do the jet a world of good. Soundwaved huffed.
“Mining site faring well: collection rate up by 10%. Eradicons working on bringing last of energon: into Nemesis storage banks by tonight.” The assassin mech spoke using a strange combination of Knock Out’s vocalizations. The spy reveled in the prickle that came from Starscream’s EM field in response. Soundwave had been thoroughly convinced that this (whatever this was precisely, he still wasn’t sure) was what the seeker had wanted. Megatron was a mindless heap of metal somewhere in the ship, with a thick, singular tube sprouting from his spark chamber, optics as lifeless as Earth stones. It was, to Soundwave’s disappointment, the inevitable outcome that Starscream should take his place as the successor to the Decepticons. As much as the Communications Officer wanted to believe his ex-leader and former friend would be functional again, it was a lost cause. It was more for himself than anything that Megatron lie all tied up in wires and tubes. He had meticulously collected information, taken precious time to study his unresponsive lord, scanned every inch of the Primus condemned ship and the ground below for something.
Anything.
He tired his systems by desperately searching for where he personally went wrong. He considered that he had missed something in the grand scheme of things, which put him to shame—he was a fragging spy, for Primus’ sake!! But his efforts were cut short by a certain superior.
Your time searching for a resolution that doesn’t exist is better suited to continuing work here. He is gone, Soundwave. If you want to keep him, fine, but the war doesn’t cease just because his funtioning did. So the warlord remained in the bowels of the ship because Soundwave had postured at the remark from Starscream that their former leader was taking up space. There had been no more mentioning the lifeless frame downstairs.
A surge of irritation surged through Soundwave’s protoform, and was promptly combatted by the heat that skittered across its surface.
The seeker was no fool. He had grown keen to Soundwave’s reclusive demeanor and behavioral patterns in a short time he had been his legitimate leader, and noted their significance, however minute they were. The deputy had been ordered by his new lord specifically to tend to his station, here, in the control room. He wasn’t to stray from the upper decks unless ordered. The Commander knew all too well with whom the spy’s loyalties had been with. He was not about to let down a chance to assert his dominance over Soundwave; to come between the mech and that glitch of a leader they had all suffered under for so long after his sanity had gone to the Pit. Starscream wasn’t cruel. No—he might have been full of himself, he might have been traitorous to a tee with Megatron, but he would not break Soundwave. That was not his goal (not now at least). He wouldn’t deny that the temptation had been there, at a time, and he had strongly considered giving the entitled glitch a taste of how he felt being the less favored of the lot…but that was the past. He had thought it through, and decided a different course of action. He would prove himself superior, keeping Soundwave on a tight leash, but not out of spite. He didn’t loathe Soundwave the way he had Megatron…it was only a matter of rank. He required Soundwave’s cooperation to keep the Decepticon army in prime condition. It would take time. He was willing to wait for it though, as Soundwave was a valuable asset.
Soundwave’s slender digits flitted over the bright keys in deft strokes. He turned his helm slightly right to catch the seeker’s attention. Just a tilt. Only the observant leader would recognize it as a request for his attention. In dealing with a mech that was often so silent (and at times just blatantly stone cold in response to the seeker’s presence) he had to be alert. Starscream’s optic ridge lifted in inquiry. “Ah. Very good, Soundwave. As I suspected.”
The leader of the Decepticons hummed, as though it really deserved such recognition, and reached out to place a clawed servo on the assassin’s shoulder plating. The seeker reveled in his position, as he felt thin ligaments contract beneath his palm. A smirk tugged at his dermal plating. ‘Oh, I will win you over…’ he confirmed for himself. He felt the silent Con’s EM field retract like a rubber band in apprehension. It made the Air Commander stall for a moment, and rethink for a nanoklick. The lord was aware of the times he had used his clawed servos to inflict damage upon other cons aboard the ship. He couldn’t exactly blame Soundwave for his especially prim demeanor, although it was increasingly odd that his most bitter subordinate would express the discomfort outwardly. ‘How very unlike him…’
He left the servo there, adding to the highly reserved spy’s discomfort. Starscream squeezed the shoulder hinge reassuringly, and the action sent pleasure blooming through the assassin’s internals, straight to his pelvic region. The seeker could have sworn the plating under his servo full on shifted. It amused him to see his second so conflicted by his presence, giving him the attention he demanded as a superior officer even if it was minute. Compared to the gladiator who now lay deep within the bowels of the ship, Soundwave was smaller in both stature and build. It stroked the seeker’s ego to see Soundwave so...subservient. He had always envied the fact that it there had only been one mech who had been able to do this before. Megatron didn’t deserve the Communications mech. To lay a servo on the precious, oh so highly-valued Communications Officer was now his own right. He now solely possessed that privilege.
A smirk splayed over his silver dermas.
The spy had worth to the seeker, no doubt. He would be a reliable mech—that is, if he wasn’t tied up in the fantasy that the trashed, scrap-metal frame in the bowels of the ship was in any way salvageable. It was such a waste really. It irked him. He knew that the dark plated mech was intelligent. He realized that he would have to amplify his efforts to get through to him. In his time as leader, he also had taken time to observe the uniquely sleek build that was all Soundwave. To express it simply, there was no denying that the telepath’s frame was exquisite. The seeker often fought with his past opinion of the spy and the heated attraction he felt towards him. He was simply alluring. There was no reason he could conjure up, besides the fact Soundwave’s rebuild after his gladiator days had put him on a pedestal. No wonder Megatron had been so protective over his third in command. Starscream felt his shoulder plating prickle with annoyance. ‘To think that Megatron was so close to Soundwave…’
The thought of his former leader and his lieutenant fragging created an acrid sensation that laid bitter in his mouth. His dermas turned down and he debated clearing and purging his CPU later on just to rid that image from his processor. He took in a deep vent, and nearly lost his cool. There was something amiss…he wasn’t all too sure, but there was a scent that lingered heavy over his glossa. It stirred something within him. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself—it wouldn’t do for his cooling fans to kick on here. He cleared his throat.
“Soundwave. I would like you to meet me in my quarters after your shift is finished. There are some matters that I wish to discuss with you personally,” the seeker grazed his clawed servos over the cabling that wound up and into Soundwave’s neck plating, trying to make it seem unintentional. A chill passed through the Chief of Communications, and his plating trembled. Soundwave cursed his traitorous frame. It didn’t go unnoticed by the seeker. Nor did the muted series of clicks that escaped the dark-plated mech’s vocalizer unhindered (undoubtedly signaling unwanted acceptance at that touch). Soundwave wished the floor of the ship would open up and envelope him. Starscream dared to push in closer to the mech’s sensitive spinal plating; his hips pushed flush against the spy’s lower back. Soundwave was burning up. “Actually, now that I think about it—that is an order, lieutenant. I will be expecting you.” Starscream leaned in to brush the officer’s audial before squeezing Soundwave’s shoulder joint again. He then turned, and walked away, his heels marking his retreat. He glanced back and noticed that for once, the assassin’s servos were still, hovering idly over the glowing keys, his slender digits trembling. How nice of his commander to worm his way into his space and not deliver (not that the spy wanted him to).
“Yes: Commander Starscream,” it came out interrupted and static-filled with the recording, which was in fact Knock Out’s smarmy vocalizer echoing from Soundwave’s vocoder. Starscream paused and turned to regard his deputy. In an effort to save face, Soundwave mocked his leader the best way he knew how at the moment. Soundwave didn’t spare him a glance. The Air Commander clucked his glossa.
“Mocking me will not get rid of me, dear lieutenant,” Starscream found his patience running thin momentarily, as he retreated into the darker area of the room. He rubbed at his nasal sensors. “It would do worlds of good for you to get it through your processor early on, lest more ‘talks’ be implemented. It is for your own good, after all.” Starscream replied, his sharp tone back where it should be. The silver flier’s wings perked up just slightly as he exited the Command deck, rubbing at his nasal sensors as the sweet scent dissipated. Primus condemn his CPU, he would not run back in there. He would wait like a civil mech and ascertain his suspicions were true.
~
Soundwave eased his feeler from the two-way connection port, forcing as much of the useless scrap that had wound its way into his processor back into the machinery where it could be rid of. The clawed tip trailed current and sparked as it disconnected from the port. He just stood for a moment in contemplation. The ghost sensations of clawed servos against his plating caused his internal temperature to spike, and a dizziness to take hold in his processor. His fuel tanks flipped in a way that unsettled him, but it was not from sickness. He shook his helm and put a servo to his forehelm. Everything had happened too fast.
Megatron Megatron Megatron…why? His leader had always been there to oversee and act as the guiding force for the Decepticons. Had always been the force that had been his initial inspiration to take control of the old life they had pursued side by side. The uprising had happened with them at the pinnacle, and now…well, nothing seemed to make an iota of sense anymore. The warlord had driven him to work harder, press on, to continue silently and obligingly, but not without a say. He had never questioned the motives of Megatron. Yet, in the shutter of an optic it was all torn away. Whatever was his dignity now? Oh, yes, whatever pieces of it that had existed fallen away with the demise of a mech he had trusted, that he sacrificed and gave everything for…and Starscream recognized what he was without Megatron.
What even was he now?
What in the Pit was he supposed to do? For Primus sakes, even tracing back to his role in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon, he had never felt such complete and utter anxiety in his entire existence. He might have been a cold, unapproachable shell of a mech on the outside, but on the inside, the assassin’s spark twisted in real fear. He couldn’t accept that this was the current situation. The tables had turned so drastically, and it left him disoriented thinking about how far he had fallen in these short orbital cycles without Megatron. And that seeker…he had reacted to him. No, he had given him what he wanted and more—outwardly! He knew the silver flier had been closer than he normally would have dared to press and the vocalizer against his audial had filled him with…with…
Soundwave clenched his servos into fists.
He dragged himself from the glowing screens, from his lewd thoughts that blared through his processor with intensity that the Communication’s Officer couldn’t shake. His plating crawled with a strange combination of anticipation that left him feeling nauseous as he exited the deck and headed down the main corridor. He tried to calm his overheated systems that were reacting to the unwanted emotions that swam through him. His pedes carried him to his old master’s berthroom. It was surreal to him. It had to have been at least three orbital cycles. But he couldn’t, couldn’t look at this room in the same way, for the love of Primus. He requested admittance. Typed reluctantly into the panel outside the door.
There was a distinctive ‘click’.
The door retracted and he entered, trying desperately to ignore the burning that had culminated between his legs, in his hot core, and walk like a mech of his status should. He forced his helm to attention and sauntered in, warily taking in his surroundings. He immediately caught sight of Starscream. He was seated on the plush desk chair, and leaned back to take in his very much expected guest. The seeker’s chassis shined, and Soundwave took note of the glossy finish that highlighted the points and sharp edges that wound around his leader’s defined torso. He immediately drew his gaze away, his face stinging with the embarrassment that followed. A smirk threatened to intrude the winglord’s smooth faceplates. Soundwave. The blue-tinted lights rippled over the spy’s plating like water and it made him more than pleasing to the optics. Starscream watched as his lieutenant took tentative steps towards him (although there was an awkward element to his stride that wasn’t characteristic of the spy). He imagined the mech would be uneasy in the dorm of their previous leader and he observed his suspicions were not far from true in the least. He could feel it the telepath’s EM field.
“Soundwave, you poor thing, you look absolutely exhausted—come here, don’t be shy—take a seat,” the seeker beckoned to an idle chair that bordered the wall. It was the one closest to the ebony desk, enabling conversation to take place without any hindrance. Soundwave eased between the desk and the shelves that lined the walls, making sure not to knock anything out of place. There were so many objects—semi-assembled contraptions, and vials of liquids unknown to the spy. He settled into the seat stiffly and awaited Starscream’s next words. There was a ‘pop’ and then the tell-tale fizz of highgrade. Some spattered to the desk surface, and over the Air Commanders fingers. Starscream had no problem laving the liquid off of his fingers. Under his mask, Soundwave’s optics widened and a flush rose to his faceplates. His Commander pressed each digit dutifully to the surface of his dark, cobalt glossa, as though it was normal etiquette in all the customs of Cybertron. Soundwave’s vents hitched, and his interface array made itself known (even as Soundwave denied the possibility of that happening at all). He looked away from the glistening, dexterous appendage curling over the seeker’s talons, and considered the state of the transformed quarters of his former lord instead. The glasses clinked against each other as Starscream filled them. The silver mech leaned over to hand the assassin a bubbling glass of the violet liquid. Soundwave hesitated momentarily, but reached out to take it nevertheless.
Soundwave nodded his thanks. He looked down into the cylinder of swirling, fizzing liquid, and tried to ignore the way his throat tightened.
“This is some of the best highgrade Vos had to offer. I’ve been saving it, as you can imagine I wouldn’t go wasting it, the rarity it is,” the seeker spoke, setting the bottle down, and swirling his own drink before sipping at it. Soundwave considered that the jet’s words might as well have been sarcasm. Starscream cared little for him, and he less for the seeker. It only served to confuse him. Starscream had saved highgrade from before the war (which meant that there was more somewhere, being kept from the Decepticon army). “It brings back fond memories…” Starscream hummed contemplatively as he ran than dexterous glossa over his dermas.
Soundwave nodded, and shifted in his seat, glancing down at the cup, and wondering what he would say to that. He knew of Vos, but…but what of it? Starscream’s origins were in Vos…
The realization that Starscream was attempting to make small talk with him had him nearly choking on air. He balked at the idea. Heat shot up his spinal strut, and he suddenly felt cornered. A throb began behind his panels, focused particularly lower where his valve was situated. It fluctuated around nothing, recognizing that there was potential for more than talk. Soundwave sputtered internally, trying desperately to configure his voice components. He didn’t have recordings adequate enough for this sort of thing…he hadn’t use his voice alone in centuries, only a select few times in special occasions in Megatron’s presence and the other times were significant enough for its use. He emitted static.
His voice eventually pierced the air, after a considerable amount of fumbling. “Vos…unique city: Soundwave has heard,” his vocalizer fretted halfway through his comment. “Immense and s-spectacular as…claimed to have been. Soundwave: has never seen another city that compares.” His vocals were severely rusty from lack of use. They didn’t receive much attention. He had never really relied on them, for reasons that were significant, but now unimportant. Neither had he really ever relied on his social skills. He had been a gladiator, after all; there had simply been no need.
The seeker’s optics widened a fraction. His wings tilted forward in interest. He could have sworn…he needed to know for certain. He continued to speak to his once presumed silent second.
“Well, of course I would think so—it is where I was sparked, after all.” Starscream purred. “What are your connections to Vos, Soundwave? Or do you have any? I don’t recall your kind significantly contributing to the population of my city…or anywhere really. You are one of a kind, aren’t you?” He took another sip of highgrade, then awaited a response. There was a series of clicks emitted from the telepath’s vocalizer before he could speak again.
“Soundwave…was sent to scour area for purposes pertaining to: collecting supporters for the Decepticon cause,” he answered Starscream, keen to leave out certain details that might break the unsteady peace of the moment. Soundwave shifted in the soft, plush metal of the seat. “Soundwave’s creators were from eastern Vos…not central. Soundwave never had the chance to experience Vos: before the war began. Research and archives: are heavily relied upon.”
There was a pause from the Commander. “I see,” Starscream mulled over the provided response, more focused on the fact the spy was actually speaking to him using a vocalizer that he had never heard. He never realized Soundwave even had a genuine vocalizer (with the recordings speaking for the mech whenever he had conversed with the telepath in the past), and until now, he hadn’t ever really put thoughts towards it. There were nanokliks of breaks in between words, but it was to be expected. Soundwave was a perpetually silent mech. When had he ever spoken in the past? He had never heard the assassin mech speak a word with this strangely broken, yet rhythmic voice. Starscream pondered over if the scrap heap downstairs had ever heard the mesmerizing vocals of his faithful third. It didn’t really matter—not now. Not when he had the mech here, at his mercy. He ogled the way Soundwave had begun to fidget in the seat in the absence of a response.
Soundwave quickly became increasingly uncomfortable. His reclusive behaviors slunk up and bit him in the aft as he feared he had done something to incite the seeker’s displeasure. He was out of his element. The drink felt heavy in his servo. He wondered if the Commander thought his resistance to consume the treasured Vosian beverage inconsiderate. He debated internally if he had brought the past up too soon? He balked at the thought of revealing his face to his new leader when he did take a sip of the drink. It was the only thing he had solely to himself anymore. It overwhelmed him, the lack of control, and the overwhelming disappearance of his reticence in front of Starscream. Heat flushed thickly through his neck cables and crept into his faceplates. He strongly considered retracting half of his visor. It would only be polite—the seeker had invited him (no, ordered him to sit and drink highgrade with him). What difference did it make?
Even if it was only a form of trickery to get beneath Soundwave’s plating, there was nothing else to do in this situation. If he refused, it might be taken as a sign of weakness, and he had done enough of that in the past few orns. The spy reached up to pluck at the latches to his mask, all the while watching those intense red optics that definitely did not turn his insides to mush. His digits did not quiver as he plucked at them. They were tightly hooked, for good reason. He felt the seeker’s EM field fluctuate in curiosity. There was a ‘snick’ as the mask loosed up slightly, and forfeited the filtered air from inside to the outside atmosphere. He lifted it just enough to allow his dermas room to make contact with the glass. He could have sworn the cylinder shook in his servo, but hoped it was only the Primus fragging heat getting the best of his CPU.
Starscream roved his optics over the small glimpse of dove grey facial plating revealed. The seeker eyed those dermas…soft, plush dermas that formed over the edge of the cylinder of energon with such perfect eloquence, he couldn’t help but be utterly fixated on them. The liquid glistened like small crystalline fragments upon their smooth surface. Highgrade dribbled down light chin plating, and over hairline scars that wound down into the chin cover. A servo came to catch the spilt highgrade before it descended further, and dentae bit into the bottom derma after all was said and done. Alright, that did it. Starscream fought his fans and feigned disinterest, although the lust that had consumed the flier’s plating earlier came back in an instant.
“I-inquiry, Commander?” Soundwave’s vocals were clearer without the mask, but still had mechanical undertones to them. The Communication’s Officer picked up on the heat imbedded within the seeker’s EM field and nearly froze up. He definitely had NOT been mistaken earlier. He felt the pull in his abdomen respond, the heat returning full force, insistent, and pulsating. The servo that wasn’t occupied holding his highgrade clutched the edge of the seat. His own systems reacted to the stimulus regardless if he wanted them to or not. He couldn’t pull away from the sickeningly heady and tempting feeling of Starscream’s evident arousal. It was heavy in the air, and pronounced in his olfactory sensors. Soundwave’s processor nearly stalled as the feeling of it intoxicated his processor in the best kind of way. He felt dizzy.
No. No way. He couldn’t do, wouldn’t…it was against everything his past was rooted in and his future had begun to sprout into (if his own coding hadn’t decided now was the time to betray him). It was treason in the most blatant form. Treason to…an offline mech…maybe permanently…
No, he couldn’t afford to think like that! This wasn’t him—no, it was his aching, molten core speaking for him, the insatiable fire that glowed like embers deep within his belly, aching for him to cave and satisfy it.
“You have been hiding your face away, Soundwave? Why? You’re no less decent than any other mech I’ve seen.” No, Starscream’s processor provided, it’s almost sinful to call those dermas only ‘decent’…how about kissable? Plump and Primus-fragging-delectable, just asking to be nipped, explored, worshipped by him. He refocused his CPU. “How long were you planning to keep such an important fact from your lord? I think as your leader, I should know such a defining factor…” the seeker drawled, but there was no anger in his voice. There was a husky, rumbling quality to it. The flier downed and then set down his drink and stood. His wings splayed, fanned out to his sides and angled upward.
The nerve?! As if the spy had any control in this situation in the first place, he completely lost whatever amount he might have retained as the drink in Soundwave’s servo doused his chassis in highgrade. The assassin watched in mortification as the cylinder rolled past Starscream’s pede, clunking into the nearest shelf. Soundwave’s optics widened under his mask. The liquid dribbled off of his armor and onto the plush chair, onto the floor—it was a mess to behold, and behold it the Air Commander did, with those starved garnet optics that had a wicked sparkle to them. That was the final straw—Soundwave wanted to fold up on himself and hide for eternity; he envied Lazerbeak right now, perched in her loft in the safety of his own quarters. She was in repair from an accident a few solar cycles back and therefore was in deep recharge, waiting for internal healing to catch up with her recalibrating systems. Soundwave didn’t like the searing sensation that assaulted his face plates as the Commander sauntered over to him. His helm dropped away from Starscream, whose expression reflected exactly what he thought of his lieutenant’s predicament. Soundwave looked anywhere but the one responsible for demise of his stoic mentality, the squandering of normalcy, and wondered why it had to -be him to be here, hot and wanting (or needing, rather). He would not succumb to it—this was preposterous!
Starscream tasted the absolute humiliation that tainted the assassin’s field. There was a part of him that would have reveled in the fact that he had one-upped the telepath—but something rubbed him the wrong way as Soundwave turned his helm away. His spark fluctuated at the suddenness of the alteration in Soundwave’s demeanor. His servos itched to touch the dark metal, to trace every purple, glowing stream of biolights and seam. He would tread carefully…well, as carefully as a mech could with that aphrodisiac of a scent soaking his sensors.
After all, when had Soundwave experienced close contact? He was solitary, work-oriented, and generally kept himself, tucked away from the rest of the crew on board the Nemesis. Starscream could change that. It could be for the better. He grabbed a towel from a shelf and continued his on his path towards Soundwave, keeping his wings lower to possibly give the spy a sense that he wasn’t out to undermine him.
The seeker’s wing tips twitched in anticipation as he approached, and reached out to take one of the assassin’s servos. Soundwave instantly pressed back into the cushions of the chair, as though wary the seeker would wrench his very spark from his being. This close—this was in no way acceptable. The burn in his lower stomach kindled into a blossoming want, and the spy cursed Primus and Unicron and all other entities worth defiling for the sake of it. It gave him no more liberty as his leader as he pressed in on his space. The spy’s fans clicked on, and Soundwave was up and out in a nanoklick—never had he moved so quickly in his entire existence. He shot to the other side of the room, his stance defensive. A baritone growl rumbled deep within his chest, morphing into something close to a strangled purr halfway through. Starscream observed the Communications Officer’s behavior with curiosity, considering his temperature spiked at the concept of giving chase to Soundwave’s retreat.
“Soundwave?” The seeker inquired, his wings flared once more. “What the Pit is your malfunction?!” Starscream demanded, noting the way his deputy’s lips pulled up in something similar to a snarl. Soundwave’s silver dentae glinted in the low lighting. Starscream threw his own servos in the air, letting the towel loose—he had only wanted to help the prudish spy out (in more ways than one, but his offer was a genuine one). The Air Commander’s wings went ramrod straight, angling upward on his back, gleaming silver points of wings, signaling his growing interest and highgrade inspired sensitivity to Soundwave’s chaotic EM field. I am the best, they said. The optimal pick, battle-ready…or frag ready, depending on the particular circumstance…Optic to optic, the two mechs stood, restless energy swimming in the enclosed space. Soundwave bristled. Starscream felt the urge to move closer, feeding on the fire in his belly, even though the smallest movement made his deputy tense.
“Starscream wants Soundwave here for what reason exactly?” Soundwave bit out, his vocalizer increasingly strained. Starscream quirked an optic ridge and looked past the intoxicating scent that his subordinate gave off. He recognized the scent, though it was not exactly as he remembered it in his past. It must have gotten much sweeter, he thought, because all he saw was Soundwave, who as of now, never looked better. He clutched his claws into fists and focused on the glossy mask concealing mystery optics that the flier desired to drink in.
“I am not out to mock you, Soundwave—I merely wanted to discuss your demeanor,” the seeker knelt down, without breaking optic contact, and retrieved the cylinder from the floor. He set it on the desk surface and turned his focus back to his extremely uneasy and slightly hostile guest. “Tell me what I did wrong and we can resume just that…your comfort is my priority, Soundwave, and I can tell you are uneasy. Let us handle this like civil mechs.”
Soundwave shook his helm. “Negative, Lord Starscream…” the spy bit out, caring less that he had just denied the wishes of his commander and more that he was trembling with need. Fragging heat… “Get to the point. Handling this: should be simple enough. Discussion: taking stellar cycles. Soundwave: should be departing.”
“Hold on—what? Soundwave…” Starscream sighed, exasperated, and for once not wholly concerned that he was not earning subservience that he deserved. It was more primitive than that. Starscream itched to tackle the reluctant assassin mech and show him that he could quell a heat cycle better than any. Soundwave, you dolt, do you or don’t you want help? Starscream took a few steps forward, not giving Soundwave’s throaty growl any mind. “I might be tied up in my own agenda, Soundwave, but I’m not that oblivious…when did you start it?”
Soundwave balked then. “Come again?”
“Your fragging heat…when did it come about?” Heat, the Air Commander decided, was not the fitting definition for what Soundwave was giving off—this was a lust-inducing toxin that lured Starscream in. This put seeker heat cycles to shame, and that was saying something. “Don’t give me that look, it’s been a sauna in here since I welcomed you in.”
He was found out. Soundwave didn’t respond immediately. He sized up the flier, and debated his chances of exiting the room…but that would leave his needs unsatisfied, and ultimately set him up for failure. He wouldn’t be able to focus, wouldn’t be able to work. Earlier, it seemed more manageable, but now…Soundwave swallowed thickly. Now his CPU wandered towards the thought of using his commander to satisfy it. Because that’s all it would be! It wouldn’t be anything significant—just a wildly satiating, necessary means to quieting the symptoms that would only get worse as the megacycles passed by. Begrudgingly the spy accepted the rationality of that thought. He weighed his options…and conceded to the desire that flooded his CPU.
“…six megacycles ago.” The spy responded to the inquiry.
“How’s that feeling?” Starscream worked hard to suppress a smirk.
“How does Starscream: think it feels?” Soundwave snapped back, clearly not amused.
Starscream scoffed. “Don’t know. Never had one before. Why don’t you give me a taste, and maybe I could lessen the load, hmm?” The seeker leered. When the assassin didn’t respond, he huffed. “In all honesty, mech, what do you have to lose? You like your work more than any of us on this Primus forsaken ship, it’ll give you a chance to get back to it sooner than later.”
Good question…and point taken…although there was the notion that he would be betraying the mech who stood by him for thousands of stellar cycles…did he really want to suffer now and regret not taking up the offer? Even if it was with his new leader who he despised—yet, who looked perfectly put together and convincingly…well, qualified for the task. Heat cycles were the Pit, and he could name an expansive number of reasons why he didn’t want to suffer through one alone. In a few long, certain strides, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Starscream. The seeker’s optics darkened to a warm burgundy.
“Starscream should not want to know: what heat feels like…” Soundwave reached out almost tentatively, and scraped his digits over the Air Commander’s intricate chest armor, his digits catching on the points. It was healthy, sturdy armor that wound into thick shoulder guards and finely wired wings that contributed to Starscream’s definite height advantage. “But…he will know soon, regardless…” Soundwave rumbled low in his chassis, and shoved Starscream back with a considerable amount of force. Starscream shuttered his optics. Did he just—? Soundwave slunk forward and shoved him again, harder this time, and rasped out a feral, yet enticingly needy sound. Starscream answered the lean assassin with a throaty growl and stepped forward, undeterred by the taunting jabs. This close, Soundwave’s field was an inferno, and he’d offline before holding himself back from delving right in. This was a side of the spy he had yet to experience.
“Give it to me then—what’s the holdup?” Starscream smirked, and wasn’t surprised to feel Soundwave’s deft servo back at his chest, but this time instead of shoving him, they were tugging him forward, so that their chassis were flush against one another. He was so close, he could feel the assassin’s hot ventilations against his face and chest. Starscream lifted his fingers to pull at the latches to the mask and get to it already, but found his servo caught midway in sharp ebony digits. Annoyance flitted through his processor.
“Not a chance,” the telepath chided, tightening his grip on the seeker’s servo. Clearly the winglord had overstepped a boundary, “Mask: stays on.” Soundwave demanded with no hesitation. Starscream could have rolled his optics, but refrained as he felt slender digits ghosting over the sensor rich plates of his abdomen, daring to dance lower.
“Fine.” The Air Commander bit out, and moved in for the kill. He tilted his helm to the side, nosed his way obtrusively into the space where the mask did not cover, forcing his dermas to his lieutenant’s. The spy’s dermas were soft at first, as he hadn’t expected the sudden contact, but hardened to return the kiss with ferocity. Soundwave tensed, and dug his digits into his commander’s plating. The molten heat that was his insides shifted, unsatisfied and hungry for the offering…the spy pressed in the contact, forcing his pelvic plating to grind against the seeker’s. Starscream hummed his approval, and licked at the sweet mouth that moved against his, reveling in the glossa that pressed against his own. He caught an obsidian thigh and drew it up, thrusting his hips forward into the burning interface panel. “Mmm, now that’s more like it…”
No more Vosian highgrade. EVER. Soundwave’s CPU went through an extensive list of reasons why he should simply succumb and open his legs to this mech, and none of them should have sounded rational in the least. The telepath’s core temperature started to climb to heights he had not experienced since the Pits of Kaon. Through his mask, he could read those crimson optics like a data pad, and where there was authority usually was now filled with raw, unbridled lust. There were servos clutching his thigh plating, squeezing the pliable metal—how had they gotten there? Did it really matter anymore? They were warm and scratched insistently against his armor, massaging. The seeker nuzzled his helm into the telepath’s neck wiring and sucked. Hard. He licked and mouthed the sensors that were imbedded deeply in between them. Electricity flitted, tickling against the winglord’s glossa, urging him to dig the appendage further between the intertwined cables. A gasp left Soundwave and his entire frame quaked in reaction. Starscream chuckled and breathed heavily against the neck cabling.
“That’s it,” he hummed and bit at Soundwave’s jaw. He lapped along the chestplates that glistened with slowly drying highgrade. He paid careful attention to the dock-area meant for the little flier cassette and drowned in the moans that started gradually filtering from his obstinate lieutenant. He worked his glossa in between hairline-tight seams and across abdominal plating that shivered and twitched delightfully. He could detect remnants of cleanser from the wash racks as well as the strong burn of Vos energon as he licked and sucked. A servo hesitantly brushed against his cheek plating and he hummed throatily in response. The heat that radiated from in front of him could be felt clearly against his faceplates. The scent that permeated the air was deliciously sensual, and up close made his CPU sing. He trailed his servo in between dark and dampened thighs, and used the other against trembling spinal connectors to steady Soundwave.
Soundwave wanted to keep himself in check, he really did, but he also wanted to be fragged senseless…no, he wouldn’t think about who the berth previously belonged to. No, he wouldn’t think at all. This was not the Starscream he had known…the old Starscream wouldn’t have laved his glossa over every inch of his plating, worshipping every seam in his possession as though he were sparked for that sole purpose. It must have been a cruel joke, humiliating mockery in order to force him to submit, but frag it felt divine. His thoughts reflected doubt momentarily before a servo came to rest over his interface array. It palmed over the sensitive, heated metal with care, pressing, stroking tantalizingly close to the dampening edges. The seeker leaned into the assassin’s sleek abdomen, pressing his cheek into the warm metal there. How had he ever been such an oblivious fool? The plating trembled, and he caved to whatever his deputy wanted, and what the heat pulled him to desire it likewise.
“Just feel…” Starscream said huskily, and pushed back against Soundwave’s hips until the backs of his calves clunked against the end of his berth. “Have no doubts I will treat you well,” the palm of his servo pressed more insistently against the interface panel, grinding down harder into the sensitive covering. Lubricant seeped out of the side seams, meeting the servo that influenced its excess. Soundwave sighed. He felt the urge to move his hips into the hot palm. Pressure was quickly culminating under the panel. Soundwave’s vents hitched as the seeker moved to continue his oral exploration, focusing now exclusively on his inner thigh. The commander felt the damp, static-heat against his glossa and marveled in it. If Soundwave’s fans had been on for a while, there was no mistaking them now. They whirred with the pleasure that was being dealt dutifully to his frame. And oh did it feel equisite…
“Yes…L-Lord Starscream,” he choked out through a strained vocalizer (loathing himself for the way he had let that title slip). He caressed the seeker’s sharp jaw, trailing his pointed digits carefully over the outcroppings of Starscream’s helm, and focusing on the most prominent rouge protrusion in front. He thumbed it delicately, transitioning from there to the shoulder plating that had previously caught his optic, lost at what to do with his servos at the moment. He moved to focus his servos over the elegant wings that he knew from experience were extremely sensitive. He was familiar enough with seeker builds to know how caress, where to press; he fondled the wings as gently as his shaking servos would allow. He was rewarded with a hum from below and wings that pressed right back into his servos. An inkling of a smile pulled at Soundwaves dermas. The assassin lavished the flier’s wings in the most attention he could offer with the twitch of his abdominal plating, and the hot mouth so close to his nether regions at the forefront of his mind. Primus…the seeker’s breath was oh so hot against his interface panels.
Lubricant continued seeping out from the edges of the panel that sealed off the spy’s most intimate areas. The heat made sure that the fluid was thin enough to drip through the interface panel’s seams, He felt it drip down the insides of his thighs. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was tempted to quell the heat that radiated from beneath the panels on his own at this rate. It was overwhelming. Starscream scratched lightly over it and Soundwave’s frame shook. The spy’s servos tightened on his wings.
He looked up into the flushed lower faceplates of Soundwave, who had since bit his lower derma in order to retain some hold over his self-control. Starscream could tell that behind that one-way mask, Soundwave was staring him down, waiting for him to do something. Anything. Starscream traced a digit through the innermost moist seams. A hiss escaped the assassin mech as he did so. The pressure on his wing increased as well, but he didn’t give a frag at the moment that it was on the verge of pain. The seeker eyed his deputy with hunger.
“Open for me.” Starscream’s voice was deep with desire. The scent, the warmth, and Soundwave…what a privilege to have Soundwave to himself. The ‘click’ of the retracting panel was loud in the room. The commander carefully slipped a servo into uncharted territory. His digits were met with slick, glorious heat. Thick and unexpectedly plump lips, paired with the heat made the valve swell larger, made it wetter…
A series of high-pitched clicks met the air as the seeker pushed a singular digit painstakingly into the drenched, taut valve. He observed as it clenched hard around his singular digit. Soundwave was incredibly tight. It served to quell Starscream’s curiosity pertaining to the spy’s past lovers (for now), not that he had suspected that Soundwave got around. Soundwave’s thighs parted further to allow for more of the seeker’s touch. He wanted Starscream nearer.
“You like that, Soundwave? You’re so hot down here.” Starscream hummed in gratification. It stroked his ego in so many ways seeing the mech who usually didn’t acknowledge his existence now so desperate for him. He moved down further and guided a shining black leg to drape over one of his shoulder plates, between his wing and his neck. The valve of the telepath matched his dark plating. He glanced up before leaning down and dragging his glossa slowly up and over the engorged mesh. It quivered and caused the spy to cycle air more quickly. “If this is early on in your cycle, I can’t imagine what is to come…” Starscream licked his dermas. “Mhmm, taste fragging good.” Soundwave’s frame jerked, and a high-pitched trill left his vocalizer as Starscream bent back down. It sent chills up and down the seeker’s spinal struts.
He lapped dutifully at the folds momentarily, contemplatively, before thrusting his entire glossa into the swollen passage. It contracted like a vice as he licked and sucked forcefully on the mesh. The servos that had been on his wings stroking now held on for dear life, careless in the harshness of their grip. Starscream glanced up to see the beauty of a mech with his helm thrown back, gasping as he thoroughly indulged in devouring his valve. Starscream’s spike pressed desperately against his own interface panel. He would definitely find out how much patience he really had, watching the telepath writhe under his ministrations. Soundwave hips canted into his commander’s dermas, desperate for more, more of that sweet sensation that sent his sensornet aflame. Starscream gave it to him. Between the gasps and whines that slipped from Soundwave’s dermas, there were the moans of enjoyment that echoed from the seeker who had found that his own arousal had spiked in response. He pulled his mouth away from the plump valve, much to Soundwave’s evident disappointment. The scowl that marred the Communication’s Officer’s dermas mirrored his irritation. He was genuinely confused and miffed. He had been so close…
“Shhh, easy…easy,” Starscream soothed as he worked three long digits into the molten, quickly accommodating valve. He pressed into the soft heat, caressing the inner walls with defined pulling motions that tugged at the velvety insides. The steadily pooling lubricant allowed his digits to moved unhindered, making it so that he could stretch his deputy painlessly. The spy gasped. Starscream moved up Soundwave’s body, pressing him into the berth, and connected their dermas once more. Soundwave sighed his immediate approval and kissed back fervently. Starscream tasted good, the spy admitted, even if he would regret that thought come the morning. The hot mouth against his caused his spark to swirl in its casing, and his EM field to project the need that had been closed out for too long. He wanted everything that the winglord could deliver. His most primitive instincts screamed out for it. He had never felt such a strong pull for something he had long ago dismissed as all but useless. He was fragged in the processor if this wasn’t necessary. Soundwave’s valve clamped hard on the intruding digits, pulling them in further. The seeker rumbled with approval.
This was his mech now—his loyal telepath.
“I do believe I owe you for more wrongs than I can list, Soundwave…my lieutenant,” he said as he wrapped the assassin’s legs around his waist and hoisted him further up the bed until Soundwave’s helm came down on…soft. His momentary confusion ended in a purr as he embraced the comforts of the massive berth, and he allowed his thighs to fall open as the tension left them. Soundwave was light—how he was ever a gladiator, Starscream would never know. The spy’s digits hadn’t released his plating as he worked to ease him into the berth. Soundwave held onto the seeker as if he would disappear any nanoclick. “Let me do you a favor, for once.” The enthusiasm was motivation enough for Starscream to deliver due attention to the supine mech below.
“Soundwave requesting…” the assassin started as he panted, petting the chest plating of the seeker, and caressing the vents imbedded in the sturdy, silver sides. He felt the need to pull the seeker close and hold him there. To never let go of those wings that were hitched upon the seeker’s back in such a perfectly primal display. Starscream leaned into Soundwave and pushed his own panel against the bared interface array of the other, gathering sticky kisses from the sopping valve of his berth partner. The spy moaned as his naked valve was met with the hot panel concealing exactly what he needed to satiate his lust. Soundwave wanted to feel the shift and pulse of his commander’s spark beneath those thick, intricate chest plates, feel another thrust from the delightfully hot panel that pressed flush against his aching valve.
“I want to hear you,” the Lord of the Decepticons purred as he released the pressure that prodded against his interface paneling. The ‘click’ of his retracting panel was pure relief. “Don’t stop talking now.” His spike emerged from its housing, hot and turgid against the air of his quarters. It came to rest against Soundwave’s inner thigh, and Starscream watched the assassin vent heavily in response. Soundwave dipped his helm, as if trying to get a peek. He ran a servo tentatively down the seeker’s abdomen and felt the long spike which nudged against him. It was hot, and pulsed against his servo.
“Soundwave desires…Lord Starscream inside him,” the assassin mech said through unsteady vocals. Starscream could feel the throbbing heat of the valve against the sensitive underside of his spike. Primus help him…he would not leave his deputy wanting—it was cruel, after all. He moved to nip at Soundwave’s collar plating before aligning his spike with the opening of the telepath’s valve.
“Who am I to deny you?” The winglord whispered. He let the heat swarm the overly sensitized metal before nudging the head in. There was resistance right away, but Soundwave didn’t tense up or give him any sign he was experiencing pain, so he continued. Starscream did give his word to please Soundwave as a sort of repentance for his past wrongs, so he was going to do his best to keep it. He pushed slowly and carefully into the barely accommodating sleeve of the valve, which rippled around the intruding spike. Soundwave whined ecstatically and gripped his leader’s plating. It was a beautiful burn—he wanted this.
Yes, Soundwave pressed his helm back into the pillows, oh frag yes. He could feel every movement of the seeker within him and it was divine. Starscream couldn’t help the groan that left his dermas as his spike was clenched by the narrow valve. It gripped him in such wonderful ways. It was a very snug fit for the seeker and it took a good amount self-control to seat himself gradually into the twitching and squirming con under him. He felt when he skewered far enough into the valve that he struck the swollen cluster of ceiling nodes, and was assured by the sudden tension that gripped the assassin’s frame. Soundwave vented shakily at the pleasure that came from that simple action.
“Haaaah Ahh…” the Communication’s Officer cried out and clenched his thighs more tightly around the flier’s waste. Soundwave couldn’t help himself—he was so overwhelmed and…and he just wanted to touch, to feel more and more of the damp chassis armor right in front of his mask…he started to move under Starscream and reveled in the thick, filling spike that started to rub against his inflamed nodes. He reached his servos around to play with the seeker’s equally intricate spinal plating, and chirred when Starscream sighed when the spy’s digits wound into sensor laden seams.
Starscream languidly rolled his hips, while still seated deep within the other mech. Soundwave all but convulsed under him as he did, the pleasure coursing up his spinal struts, through his veins and over sensitized wiring. The Air Commander leaned in to swallow every rapturous sound and cry that came from those grey dermas. He created a controlled quick-thrust-inward, and withdraw slowly rhythm that had begun to affect him as well. He ravished his deputy’s energon darkened lips and focused on the sharp, then long thrusts that had the one below him raking his digits down his spine roughly. Soundwave was lost to the torrents of sensation brought upon him by the spike moving in and out of him. All of Soundwave, Starscream decided, was worth his time. His spike sought a certain elusive cluster of nodes in that valve with determination, and he wouldn’t slow until he had the telepath screaming his release. A sharp groan filtered into a whine, and it caught the leader of the Cons off guard. He paused his thrusts to look down at Soundwave.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked with real concern, venting hard. Coolant dripped from his forehelm, and pattered to the reflective mask’s surface under him. He leaned down and kissed the corner of the telepath’s mouth (not considering repercussions when Soundwave tensed in response) and searched imploringly for a sign he had caused his lieutenant pain. This was supposed to be a moment of…well, some kind of release combined solace for his Communications Officer. Soundwave was taken aback by the genuine tone that graced the seeker’s vocals, and that kiss that left a ghost sensation on his lower faceplates. That would not do, the spy decided, because this was a no-thinking zone…it is just Starscream’s heightened arousal. Nothing more. He pulled his leader down against him and felt the inner workings of his valve fluctuate over the spike within. Starscream gasped at both the abruptness of the pull and the mind numbing sensations brought upon by the valve wrapped snuggly around him. The seeker supposed his should have expected it. Soundwave rumbled deep within his chest, and clicked inquisitively, before making his opinion on the matter clear.
“Negative: Starscream stopped moving, why? Soundwave wants more…much more: in fact,” He caught the angular jaw of his commander between his dentae in a sharp nip, and leaned back, thighs pressing into the seeker’s sides. The spy’s fans illustrated his willingness to continue, and Soundwave had no trepidations using other ways to convince the winglord he was fine. He implemented a softer nip to Starscream’s throat cables. He wouldn’t voice his appreciation for the seeker’s concern over his own comfort, although it was there somewhere behind the barrier his denial constructed. The spy canted his hips so that Starscream’s spike delved deeper into his valve once more, clutched seeker’s shoulder plating and moaned in unadulterated pleasure. Needles to say, Starscream got the message.
He plowed into the other with acute accuracy and focused his force into making his entry smooth. His long spike hit end of the valve and it sent Soundwave vocalizing his enjoyment in bursts of static. Soundwave threw his helm back against the plush, mesh pillows in bliss. The seeker rolled his hips with fluidity that had to have been inborn, and it caressed the over-sensitized valve nodes with an expertise that caused the feeling in Soundwave’s thighs to dull until they went numb. The telepath was beside himself with ecstasy as neglected nodes were caressed over and over again.
“There l-lord…Hah..hnnnnnn…YES…yes: y-yes Starscream!” The mechanical voice spiked in frequency with each inward thrust from the flier. He held his leader to his chassis and cycled rushed intakes. The heat that had earlier resided in his lower abdomen had moved down considerably and now made Soundwave feel as though he was about to burst. He chanted and moaned his approval as the seeker picked up his pace considerably and approached the verge of shattering the continuity of their interfacing. They were mutually coated in coolant and equally searching for relief that rested just out of reach.
“Star-Starsream…hnn…Star…!” Soundwave held on as his abdominal plating contracted.
When the moment did tip into the next level of intensity, Soundwave wailed out his overload. White stained his vision as his valve cycled down on the seeker’s spike, which still pressed insistently inside him. Soundwave felt the pull of the spike in his valve acutely as he trembled and jerked from the tenderness of the engorged mesh. Starscream leaned his own faceplates into his officer’s neck as he moved in and out of the now much tighter passage. He felt his own overload teetering right on the edge. Just a few…more…thrusts—the flier growled loudly into the room and panted as transfluid emptied copiously into the now more than drenched valve. Soundwave whined as the hot fluids slicked the inside of his valve and searched for the energy to hold the flier there. It felt as though they fitted perfectly in this position, and Soundwave was insistent on keeping the satisfaction in his interface array alive.
“Mmm, Soundwave…yes, you’re good…so good…that’s it…” Starscream’s optics were bright, crimson embers in the low light of the berthroom, and Soundwave lost himself in them. The telepath’s servos shook as the seeker moved to pull himself from the soaked point between his hips, and moaned in disappointment. He didn’t want to relinquish the feeling of being filled (however wrong it was, considering who had had just fragged). Starscream moved off of his lieutenant, tucking his softening equipment away. His optics roved over the supine frame before laying down next to the spy and pulling him onto his chassis. Frag personal space—Soundwave would warm to the culture of interfacing habits, and it just seemed right. The seeker’s spark fluctuated in its casing (and he ignored it, because sparks had their own agendas), and something within him felt it was right to feel the movement of Soundwave’s restless spark energy in turn. The dark plated mech was sapped of energy and the only sounds that were emitted from his stressed vocalizer were soft whirs of contentment and exhaustion. He was sprawled on top of the seeker and he felt too drained to contemplate the wrongness of a situation that felt so right in the moment.
Starscream smiled.
The slagger downstairs wouldn’t have known what to think if he saw his previously most fiercely loyal officer, dressed in the ornery winglord’s fluids and marked by his scent. Soundwave wouldn’t have been able to walk if he had wanted to…But that didn’t matter now. No, what mattered was the hum of the other’s vents steadily cycling and the fact that his optics were shut safely under his mask.