[TFP] A Peaceful Moment
Title: A Peaceful Moment
Universe: TFP, pre-canon
Characters: Soundwave/OFC
Rating: M
Warnings: tactile interfacing
Description: After a training session, Soundwave and Fyre Fawkes take advantage of the quiet and privacy to intimately indulge.
Commission for falldance, who owns Fyre Fawkes.
A sharp turn and her leading wing caught the starlight, orange and silver combining into an appealing hue. Soundwave’s gaze swept over her frame, the angles and curves of it, remembering with a brief pang the blockier shapes of her groundframe. This flight mode was beautiful in its own right. He only wished she were more comfortable in it. Her lack of ease was present in every hesitant ascent and stilted curve.
Fyre Fawkes dipped toward the horizon, nosecone pointed downward, a dive that was very nearly a freefall. She whipped toward the ground, the fortress spires rising to greet her, before she abruptly pulled up, at a speed so rapid it must have hurt. Despite the distance, Soundwave could hear her engine straining and her thrusters roaring.
She spun as she ascended, starlight flashing over her armor. Her thrusters burned an orange the same shade as her paint. In a single moment, every motion screamed delight, and for once, there was confidence in her behavior. As if she had, in that second, truly loved her alt-mode.
She looped into a lazy spiral and aligned herself to the horizon with the barest of wobbles. Fyre Fawkes pointed her nosecone toward Soundwave unerringly, finding him without the slightest of bobs.
Good. Very good.
Soundwave admitted he was not a skilled teacher. But in this moment, he felt proud of his femme. Apparently, he was not as bad an instructor as he believed. Though Starscream would have suited better perhaps.
Pity Fawkes had little admiration or love for Starscream. Then again, one couldn’t blame her. There were days Soundwave often struggled to understand why Lord Megatron kept the querulous and bothersome Seeker around. Surely it wasn’t for his scintillating wit.
“Fyre Fawkes much improved,” Soundwave said as she returned to his side, her engine rumbling as she throttled back to match his pace.
Her ailerons flapped, betraying her pleasure. “Thank you,” she said, and scooted close enough he could feel the heat of her afterburn. “Enough to earn us a break maybe?” Her tone was coy. Suggestive.
Soundwave’s field bloomed with appreciation. “Break earned,” he agreed.
Fawkes sidled up closer, until he felt the delicate touch of her energy field. His own rose to meet it, engaging softly. “Somewhere private?”
“Yes.”
But of course.
Soundwave knew every nook, cranny, outcrop, overhang, and spire in this fortress. He knew at all times where he was, and where everything was located in relation to him.
He banked to the right, and was pleased when Fyre Fawkes banked with him, without so much as a wobble. She followed in his wake with ease, the furthest edges of their energy fields still knitted together.
Soundwave found a jutting underhang on the exterior of the fortress and led Fawkes to it. There was an overhang above it, and it held an alcove just large enough for both of their frames if they didn’t mind a little close contact.
Fortunately, they didn’t.
Soundwave swooped in and transformed as he landed, coming to a rest on his pedes with barely a sound above a tap. He turned to watch Fyre Fawkes’ descent, observing her transform and land as well. She remained a little wobbly in that half-second transition, but didn’t lose her balance.
Improvement was improvement. She would only continue to get better with practice.
Fawkes rested her hands on her hips and looked around. “Private and a great view,” she commented with a small smile. “I approve.” Her wings hiked upward, announcing her delight.
Soundwave’s spark warmed. Her joy was a gift to him. He held out a hand to her, fingers crooked, and she tilted her helm toward him.
“Is that an invitation?”
“Affirmative,” he said. They had so little time to spend together, he did not want to waste what they had now.
Fawkes’ smile brightened. She stepped closer to him, her fingers settling around his. “It leaves a little to be desired,” she said with a laugh. “You could at least give me a come hither look.” She squeezed his hand, amusement peppering her field and infectious for all that.
Soundwave luxuriated in it. The warmth of her emotions. The genuine nature of them. So different from the heavyhanded, backstabbing prickle so prevalent in the command center.
He rested a hand on her waist and tugged her closer, tucking Fyre Fawkes’ smaller frame into his embrace. She fit quite neatly under his helm, and he appreciated the chill of her against his armor. She ran colder than he did, by virtue of having more minicons Soundwave suspected.
He only had the one, after all. Laserbeak, currently docked and recharging, was an energy and heat leech as well.
“Though this is nice, too,” Fyre Fawkes murmured. Her free hand curved around him, easily encircling his waist. Shorter she might be, but Fawkes had more width, more mass. He appreciated that about her. “A little privacy. A nice view. It’s almost like you’re trying to seduce me.”
Soundwave freed his hand from hers and tipped a finger under her chin. “Fawkes more likely to seduce,” he said.
“Well, that’s the truth.” She grinned and tilted her helm into his hand. She reached up, curling her fingers around the back of his helm, pulling him down to press her forehelm to the apex of his visor. “Someday, I’ll sweep you off your pedes, and you won’t even know what happened to you.”
Soundwave nuzzled his helm against hers as their fields entangled and meshed, pulsing in tune. “Fyre Fawkes already guilty of such.”
“Oo, the things you say,” she said and pressed closer, the chill of her seeping some of the warmth from his frame, easing the overheat of abrupt flight. “Does that mean you won’t mind if my hands wander?”
Her arm shifted from around his waist, fingers stroking over and seeking out his spinal strut. They walked up each and every armor plate, teasing into the seams. A thrum of pleasure raced through Soundwave’s lines, and his knees wobbled.
“Fyre Fawkes welcome to explore,” Soundwave rumbled, his helm rubbing against hers as his field wrapped around her. He pulsed affection and pleasure into it, and heard her gasp a soft moan.
“And so are you,” Fawkes said, pressing harder against him. Charge eased out from beneath her armor, tingling where it raced over Soundwave’s.
He shivered. His arm tightened around her, hand rising to play with the flat planes of her wings. She might not be used to this frame, but there was no denying the pleasure to be found in teasing delicate sensors.
Fyre Fawkes’ plating shivered beneath his touch. More charge crackled out, lighting up the narrow, dim alcove. Her optics brightened with need.
“Advantage Soundwave’s,” Fawkes murmured as his long, slim fingers easily slipped into her transformation seams, stroking the cable-webbed protoform beneath. “Perhaps next time I can convince you to tease my spark.”
Soundwave’s spark flushed with desire. “Whatever Fawkes wishes,” he replied softly. They truly were too exposed here to risk such a thing, but the very thought of it sent another tremor of need through his frame.
Fyre Fawkes’ spark was beautiful. She made the most delightful sounds when Soundwave caressed it. The way she arched her backstrut, the way she clung to him, yanking him down and close. Soundwave enjoyed all of it.
Fawkes hummed low in her intake and moved against him, her armor sliding over his in a low chirr of metal against metal. “My but you are so much more charming than anyone gives you credit,” she purred as her clever fingers dragged up and down Soundwave’s back as though tracing every strut.
“As are you.” Soundwave nuzzled their helms together again, careful to avoid catching his spurs on the curves of her face.
Fyre Fawkes laughed. “Mm. Touche.” She moved against him, frame a slow and careful undulation, all sleek curves and polished lines.
Charge filled the space between them, leaping between their frames. Soundwave made a low, soft sound as his lines sang with pleasure. His spark throbbed within his chassis, nearly enough to stir Laserbeak until he soothed the avian cassette back to recharge.
Fawkes’ wings shivered, and Soundwave stroked them again. She moaned quietly, the low sound carrying straight to Soundwave’s audials. He loved the music of her pleasure, the way her field pulsed against his, warm like an embrace.
Desire flooded Soundwave’s lines, making them tingle. Electric fire raced through his frame, gathering into a heavy ball just behind his spark. His ventilations quickened as his frame heated.
Fyre Fawkes shivered against him. Her teasing words dissolved to little gasps and moans of pleasure. Her optics were bright, so bright, as charge spilled out from beneath her armor in brilliant bursts of static.
Soundwave curled a hand around the back of her helm and pressed their forehelms together. Her optics were half-shuttered, her lips parted on a soft ex-vent. Soundwave’s spark pulsed in sympathy, and he swore he heard the echo of hers as well.
Oh, how he had missed this intimacy.
Between one moment and the next, ecstasy gripped Soundwave. His vocalizer crackled, vision striping with static, as the gathered charge released itself in a burst. His frame went taut as bright sparks spilled out from beneath his armor, leaping against Fawkes’.
She shuddered, her hands gripping tightly to him, pulling them as close as was physically possible. Her field flared, flooding with pleasure, and she overloaded as well, Soundwave’s names on her lips. Her optics widened entirely, the left flickering back and forth between amber and crimson as it often did when she gave herself to pleasure.
It was adorable.
Soundwave held her through the last tremors of overload, his own making him feel languid and at ease, as he so rarely did these days. The war did not allow for much downtime or peace. Or moments like these, spent with those he cherished, he lamented.
“Very nice,” Fyre Fawkes said on an ex-vent, giving her frame a little shake. Her lips curved in a smile. Her wings twitched and twitched.
“Yes,” Soundwave agreed. He stroked a hand down her back as her armor gave little shudders before resettling around her protoform.
Fawkes hummed with satisfaction, the sound resonating in her intake. Soundwave leaned his helm against hers, feeling the vibrations of her hum against his armor.
“That was a good taste,” she murmured, her hand curving around his waist, resting a bit possessively on his hip.
He didn’t mind.
He folded her into his frame, wrapping his arms around her. Here, tucked in the back of the alcove, they were perhaps invisible to prying optics. Well, save for their biolights.
“Pity we can never find time for more,” Fyre Fawkes added.
“War long,” Soundwave said, and could not hide the regret in his tone. “Challenges many.”
“Mm.” Fyre Fawkes made a soft, noncommittal noise.
Soundwave listened, counting the pulses of her sparkbeat. His own spun in yearning. Their fields pulsed in sync. Soundwave wanted to indulge in it.
But there was always work to be done.
“Does Fawkes wish to practice more?” he asked, and hoped she could read the reluctance in his tone.
She leaned in against him, tucking her helm under his chin, her audial pressed to his chestplate. “No. Not right now.” Her wings twitched before settling into a calm position. “We have so little time together. Let’s indulge while we can, hm?”
Soundwave stroked a hand down her back, beneath the hinge of her wings, keeping the touch chaste. “Yes.”
“Besides,” she continued with a little laugh, “I know Lord Megatron is going to summon you sooner rather than later.”
Soundwave’s field pulsed with humor. She was right, of course. They were preparing for another major offensive against the Autobots. Lord Megatron would call for him when he was ready to lay the final plans.
“Practice can wait,” Soundwave replied and tilted his helm against hers, letting himself soak in the sensation of her frame against his, and the tangled strings of their fields. He was allowed this one indulgence, was he not?
“Yes, I thought so, too.” Fyre Fawkes chuckled. Her hand slid down Soundwave’s arm, stroking him softly. “For however long we have.”
***
a/n: Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/346201.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
Universe: TFP, pre-canon
Characters: Soundwave/OFC
Rating: M
Warnings: tactile interfacing
Description: After a training session, Soundwave and Fyre Fawkes take advantage of the quiet and privacy to intimately indulge.
Commission for falldance, who owns Fyre Fawkes.
A sharp turn and her leading wing caught the starlight, orange and silver combining into an appealing hue. Soundwave’s gaze swept over her frame, the angles and curves of it, remembering with a brief pang the blockier shapes of her groundframe. This flight mode was beautiful in its own right. He only wished she were more comfortable in it. Her lack of ease was present in every hesitant ascent and stilted curve.
Fyre Fawkes dipped toward the horizon, nosecone pointed downward, a dive that was very nearly a freefall. She whipped toward the ground, the fortress spires rising to greet her, before she abruptly pulled up, at a speed so rapid it must have hurt. Despite the distance, Soundwave could hear her engine straining and her thrusters roaring.
She spun as she ascended, starlight flashing over her armor. Her thrusters burned an orange the same shade as her paint. In a single moment, every motion screamed delight, and for once, there was confidence in her behavior. As if she had, in that second, truly loved her alt-mode.
She looped into a lazy spiral and aligned herself to the horizon with the barest of wobbles. Fyre Fawkes pointed her nosecone toward Soundwave unerringly, finding him without the slightest of bobs.
Good. Very good.
Soundwave admitted he was not a skilled teacher. But in this moment, he felt proud of his femme. Apparently, he was not as bad an instructor as he believed. Though Starscream would have suited better perhaps.
Pity Fawkes had little admiration or love for Starscream. Then again, one couldn’t blame her. There were days Soundwave often struggled to understand why Lord Megatron kept the querulous and bothersome Seeker around. Surely it wasn’t for his scintillating wit.
“Fyre Fawkes much improved,” Soundwave said as she returned to his side, her engine rumbling as she throttled back to match his pace.
Her ailerons flapped, betraying her pleasure. “Thank you,” she said, and scooted close enough he could feel the heat of her afterburn. “Enough to earn us a break maybe?” Her tone was coy. Suggestive.
Soundwave’s field bloomed with appreciation. “Break earned,” he agreed.
Fawkes sidled up closer, until he felt the delicate touch of her energy field. His own rose to meet it, engaging softly. “Somewhere private?”
“Yes.”
But of course.
Soundwave knew every nook, cranny, outcrop, overhang, and spire in this fortress. He knew at all times where he was, and where everything was located in relation to him.
He banked to the right, and was pleased when Fyre Fawkes banked with him, without so much as a wobble. She followed in his wake with ease, the furthest edges of their energy fields still knitted together.
Soundwave found a jutting underhang on the exterior of the fortress and led Fawkes to it. There was an overhang above it, and it held an alcove just large enough for both of their frames if they didn’t mind a little close contact.
Fortunately, they didn’t.
Soundwave swooped in and transformed as he landed, coming to a rest on his pedes with barely a sound above a tap. He turned to watch Fyre Fawkes’ descent, observing her transform and land as well. She remained a little wobbly in that half-second transition, but didn’t lose her balance.
Improvement was improvement. She would only continue to get better with practice.
Fawkes rested her hands on her hips and looked around. “Private and a great view,” she commented with a small smile. “I approve.” Her wings hiked upward, announcing her delight.
Soundwave’s spark warmed. Her joy was a gift to him. He held out a hand to her, fingers crooked, and she tilted her helm toward him.
“Is that an invitation?”
“Affirmative,” he said. They had so little time to spend together, he did not want to waste what they had now.
Fawkes’ smile brightened. She stepped closer to him, her fingers settling around his. “It leaves a little to be desired,” she said with a laugh. “You could at least give me a come hither look.” She squeezed his hand, amusement peppering her field and infectious for all that.
Soundwave luxuriated in it. The warmth of her emotions. The genuine nature of them. So different from the heavyhanded, backstabbing prickle so prevalent in the command center.
He rested a hand on her waist and tugged her closer, tucking Fyre Fawkes’ smaller frame into his embrace. She fit quite neatly under his helm, and he appreciated the chill of her against his armor. She ran colder than he did, by virtue of having more minicons Soundwave suspected.
He only had the one, after all. Laserbeak, currently docked and recharging, was an energy and heat leech as well.
“Though this is nice, too,” Fyre Fawkes murmured. Her free hand curved around him, easily encircling his waist. Shorter she might be, but Fawkes had more width, more mass. He appreciated that about her. “A little privacy. A nice view. It’s almost like you’re trying to seduce me.”
Soundwave freed his hand from hers and tipped a finger under her chin. “Fawkes more likely to seduce,” he said.
“Well, that’s the truth.” She grinned and tilted her helm into his hand. She reached up, curling her fingers around the back of his helm, pulling him down to press her forehelm to the apex of his visor. “Someday, I’ll sweep you off your pedes, and you won’t even know what happened to you.”
Soundwave nuzzled his helm against hers as their fields entangled and meshed, pulsing in tune. “Fyre Fawkes already guilty of such.”
“Oo, the things you say,” she said and pressed closer, the chill of her seeping some of the warmth from his frame, easing the overheat of abrupt flight. “Does that mean you won’t mind if my hands wander?”
Her arm shifted from around his waist, fingers stroking over and seeking out his spinal strut. They walked up each and every armor plate, teasing into the seams. A thrum of pleasure raced through Soundwave’s lines, and his knees wobbled.
“Fyre Fawkes welcome to explore,” Soundwave rumbled, his helm rubbing against hers as his field wrapped around her. He pulsed affection and pleasure into it, and heard her gasp a soft moan.
“And so are you,” Fawkes said, pressing harder against him. Charge eased out from beneath her armor, tingling where it raced over Soundwave’s.
He shivered. His arm tightened around her, hand rising to play with the flat planes of her wings. She might not be used to this frame, but there was no denying the pleasure to be found in teasing delicate sensors.
Fyre Fawkes’ plating shivered beneath his touch. More charge crackled out, lighting up the narrow, dim alcove. Her optics brightened with need.
“Advantage Soundwave’s,” Fawkes murmured as his long, slim fingers easily slipped into her transformation seams, stroking the cable-webbed protoform beneath. “Perhaps next time I can convince you to tease my spark.”
Soundwave’s spark flushed with desire. “Whatever Fawkes wishes,” he replied softly. They truly were too exposed here to risk such a thing, but the very thought of it sent another tremor of need through his frame.
Fyre Fawkes’ spark was beautiful. She made the most delightful sounds when Soundwave caressed it. The way she arched her backstrut, the way she clung to him, yanking him down and close. Soundwave enjoyed all of it.
Fawkes hummed low in her intake and moved against him, her armor sliding over his in a low chirr of metal against metal. “My but you are so much more charming than anyone gives you credit,” she purred as her clever fingers dragged up and down Soundwave’s back as though tracing every strut.
“As are you.” Soundwave nuzzled their helms together again, careful to avoid catching his spurs on the curves of her face.
Fyre Fawkes laughed. “Mm. Touche.” She moved against him, frame a slow and careful undulation, all sleek curves and polished lines.
Charge filled the space between them, leaping between their frames. Soundwave made a low, soft sound as his lines sang with pleasure. His spark throbbed within his chassis, nearly enough to stir Laserbeak until he soothed the avian cassette back to recharge.
Fawkes’ wings shivered, and Soundwave stroked them again. She moaned quietly, the low sound carrying straight to Soundwave’s audials. He loved the music of her pleasure, the way her field pulsed against his, warm like an embrace.
Desire flooded Soundwave’s lines, making them tingle. Electric fire raced through his frame, gathering into a heavy ball just behind his spark. His ventilations quickened as his frame heated.
Fyre Fawkes shivered against him. Her teasing words dissolved to little gasps and moans of pleasure. Her optics were bright, so bright, as charge spilled out from beneath her armor in brilliant bursts of static.
Soundwave curled a hand around the back of her helm and pressed their forehelms together. Her optics were half-shuttered, her lips parted on a soft ex-vent. Soundwave’s spark pulsed in sympathy, and he swore he heard the echo of hers as well.
Oh, how he had missed this intimacy.
Between one moment and the next, ecstasy gripped Soundwave. His vocalizer crackled, vision striping with static, as the gathered charge released itself in a burst. His frame went taut as bright sparks spilled out from beneath his armor, leaping against Fawkes’.
She shuddered, her hands gripping tightly to him, pulling them as close as was physically possible. Her field flared, flooding with pleasure, and she overloaded as well, Soundwave’s names on her lips. Her optics widened entirely, the left flickering back and forth between amber and crimson as it often did when she gave herself to pleasure.
It was adorable.
Soundwave held her through the last tremors of overload, his own making him feel languid and at ease, as he so rarely did these days. The war did not allow for much downtime or peace. Or moments like these, spent with those he cherished, he lamented.
“Very nice,” Fyre Fawkes said on an ex-vent, giving her frame a little shake. Her lips curved in a smile. Her wings twitched and twitched.
“Yes,” Soundwave agreed. He stroked a hand down her back as her armor gave little shudders before resettling around her protoform.
Fawkes hummed with satisfaction, the sound resonating in her intake. Soundwave leaned his helm against hers, feeling the vibrations of her hum against his armor.
“That was a good taste,” she murmured, her hand curving around his waist, resting a bit possessively on his hip.
He didn’t mind.
He folded her into his frame, wrapping his arms around her. Here, tucked in the back of the alcove, they were perhaps invisible to prying optics. Well, save for their biolights.
“Pity we can never find time for more,” Fyre Fawkes added.
“War long,” Soundwave said, and could not hide the regret in his tone. “Challenges many.”
“Mm.” Fyre Fawkes made a soft, noncommittal noise.
Soundwave listened, counting the pulses of her sparkbeat. His own spun in yearning. Their fields pulsed in sync. Soundwave wanted to indulge in it.
But there was always work to be done.
“Does Fawkes wish to practice more?” he asked, and hoped she could read the reluctance in his tone.
She leaned in against him, tucking her helm under his chin, her audial pressed to his chestplate. “No. Not right now.” Her wings twitched before settling into a calm position. “We have so little time together. Let’s indulge while we can, hm?”
Soundwave stroked a hand down her back, beneath the hinge of her wings, keeping the touch chaste. “Yes.”
“Besides,” she continued with a little laugh, “I know Lord Megatron is going to summon you sooner rather than later.”
Soundwave’s field pulsed with humor. She was right, of course. They were preparing for another major offensive against the Autobots. Lord Megatron would call for him when he was ready to lay the final plans.
“Practice can wait,” Soundwave replied and tilted his helm against hers, letting himself soak in the sensation of her frame against his, and the tangled strings of their fields. He was allowed this one indulgence, was he not?
“Yes, I thought so, too.” Fyre Fawkes chuckled. Her hand slid down Soundwave’s arm, stroking him softly. “For however long we have.”
***
a/n: Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/346201.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.