Surplus
Title: Surplus
Characters: Megatron/Soundwave, mentions of Megatron/Starscream
Verse: G1
Wordcount: 920ish for Part 1, 2,300ish for Part 2
Rating: MA
Contains: Sticky, first-time kink, some mild D/s
Summary: Part 1 of this was originally a minific for the "first times" meme going around on LJ. I posted it to FFN and didn't mark it complete which led to people wanting the gloriously sticky details. Might as well!
Soundwave knows how to filter out others' emotions. But Megatron's emotions are a different matter. Those, he wants to sense, despite the bittersweet jealousy he feels when he picks up Megatron's memories of passionate interfacing with Starscream. Usually, Megatron is sated by the time he meets with Soundwave, but this time it's obvious to the telepath that he still has some... energy that needs burning off.
Thanks to
dogstar for beta.
The flood of emotions caught Soundwave completely unprepared.
He reached out, clutching at the nearest wall to steady himself. It was, under the circumstances, a forgivable sin. Megatron had turned away, studying a projection showing their enemies' probable positions and resource levels. He would hardly notice Soundwave.
But Soundwave was certainly noticing him.
Soundwave had no one to blame but himself for that. Usually, he kept layers of filters between himself and the other Decepticons. Telepathy was a handy weapon against the enemy, but the thoughts of his own allies would prove endlessly distracting if he opened himself up to receiving all of it.
Besides, there were things he didn't want to know. While the highest-ranked Decepticons were clever and intelligent, probing the processors of the rank and file usually yielded snatches of crass, crude, or violent impulses.
Or lustful ones. Soundwave caught himself before stumbling again as another wave of memory and desire hit him.
Soundwave: foolish, he chided himself, scrambling to apply filters he'd long ago let lapse for one Decepticon only. Such things were not for him. It would only distract him from his own duties to think of red-striped wings, dented and aching from the touch of rough hands, a dark head arched back and crying out, half in protest and half with need, setting the spark in his chest crackling with fierce desire -
He shook his head to clear it. Memories: not mine. Such things were not for him. Megatron's partner: Starscream. His place was to serve his cause and his leader, faithfully and well. To permit himself to be distracted by the heat in his valve or spike or spark would only impede his ability to do so. Starscream: undesirable. Such pleasures were nothing he bothered to miss.
And Megatron's emotions weren't usually this distracting. He never would have deactivated his filter if they had been. Megatron's emotions were intense, yes, but the Decepticon leader kept a tight rein on them.
Most of the time. Soundwave forced himself to remain still as a phantom sound filled his audios, a high keen of pleasure and desperation, a rasping, possessive voice growling in answer.
Sensing his lord's desire was nothing new. That was always there, a thin strand of flame coiling through Megatron's mind. But by the time the Decepticon leader began his day - early, long before any of the others, a practice Soundwave had also adopted, to better serve him - much of his ardor had cooled. Satiation tempered it, self-satisfied repletion that made Soundwave feel both relieved and envious, longing to tear at Starscream's wings just like Megatron did in the heat of his desire.
That, Soundwave knew. That, he could handle. That, he was used to, a sweet aching poison that he'd long ago forgotten how to live without.
This was too much, and seeing Megatron turn to face him he scrambled to reapply his filters, to remember what it was like not to lurk at the edges of his Leader's mind, to remember how to stop his spark from whirling with someone else's desire, his valve from moistening as if that desire was intended for him, his spike from pressurizing in response to passion that wasn't his to answer anyway -
- and then Megatron's optics locked on his and flared with bright, intense light, and he could remember nothing at all.
"Soundwave."
He stood, silent and attentive. It was, after all, what he always did.
"I don't believe I've ever seen you falter like this before," Megatron said, his optics narrowing for a moment. He stared at Soundwave, considering.
Soundwave could guess why. With his filters disengaged, he could sense emotions. When those emotions were especially intense, he could catch snatches of memory, imagination, and fantasy, sensing them as though they were happening to him.
But he could not read thoughts. Not without expending effort. For that, he would have to actively explore the connection between his mind and another's. To delve into the other's very processor, searching and studying.
And that was an intrusion. An intrusion that any processor he examined would detect.
He did not need to sense the plume of doubt and anger rising in the other's mind to know what his Leader was looking for.
"Megatron's privacy: paramount. Affect detection: involuntary. Filters against detection: reapplied immediately."
Then, slowly, his silver faceplates shifted into a smirk.
"Wait," he said, holding up a hand.
Soundwave froze, subroutines he'd just initiated terminating instantly in response to his lord's command. He stammered something, his vocalizer emitting a single, monotone sound that refused to become a word.
Megatron chuckled. Soundwave fought not to wince.
"Well, if it's that obvious to you that I'm not finished, perhaps I ought to do something about it."
Soundwave's spark pulsed heavy in his chest. The last thing he wanted right now was to watch Megatron call for Starscream, to sense the heat in his lord's systems spiking higher as he waited for someone who didn't deserve what he had, couldn't possibly deserve it...
"Come with me, Soundwave," Megatron said, still smiling.
Soundwave was glad that Megatron did not take him to his own quarters. He had seen them before, of course, in snatches of memory he picked up when his Leader's emotions were strong. He'd carefully pieced together an image of them, sparse and dimly lit, but impeccably neat and furnished with only the finest of materials. A Decepticon emblem had been carved into the wall facing the berth there, both as a testament to Megatron's power and a reminder of his vision, and a small desk stacked with datapads lay against another wall.
This room was as sparse, but far less elegant, a hardly-used makeshift set of quarters whose lights flickered. Megatron looked up at them, frowning, his optics bright, and a wave of his annoyance flickered through Soundwave's processor.
Still, Soundwave preferred this. He didn't deserve to be invited into his lord's private space - not now that he'd confessed to killing his filters. He'd fed on his Leader's emotions without ever asking permission to perceive them. He'd felt his lord's heat, cracking through his spark as though it were his own, his interface hardware revving into readiness even as he saw the telltale flashes of red plating and white wings that proved that Megatron was thinking of someone entirely different.
The ghost of a cry echoed through Soundwave's audios, a high shriek that could never have come from his own vocalizer. Soundwave: not Starscream, he thought. Responsiveness: likely inadequate.
But Megatron was still smiling, and he could still sense his lord's eagerness. Willing himself not to think of his own shortcomings, he moved to lie down on the berth.
Strong, dark hands forced him down. For a moment, his spark whirled in dismay. Built for war as he was, his programming told him to fight. Yet he knew immediately that he could never have resisted that weight, even if he had wanted to. Then he heard cooling fans roar to life above him and felt air gusting from the vents of someone he knew as well as he knew himself.
He spoke again - or tried, the sound refusing once again to resolve into words. It reverberated through the room, a hum in lieu of a plea.
Megatron must have understood it, because now those hands moved on him again, running over his transformation seams gently at first, then roughly, digging into the grooves in his plating hard enough to be painful. Soundwave squirmed, his broad, boxy frame making his movements awkward, as heat zipped through his circuits where Megatron's hands had been.
Then Megatron slid one hand up over his chest, tracing the door of the compartment where he usually held his symbiotes. Wordlessly thanking Primus that they weren't currently nestled in their compartment there, Soundwave arched into the touch.
But the hand hadn't finished its explorations. It ran over Soundwave's shoulder cannon - a move that had the weapon roaring to life in moments, though he would never have forgotten himself and fired. Then Megatron's hand slid over the cabling in his neck, twisting hard enough to draw another tinny moan.
When it moved over Soundwave's faceplates, he froze. He only drew his battlemask aside to refuel, and even then, only in private. When anyone else was around to see it, he ingested his fuel via a port in his side rather than by drinking it. As both an intelligence officer and a telepath, his battlemask was vital to him. It ensured that neither ally nor enemy could glean information about his emotional state that they might use against him.
"Move this aside," the tyrant growled, his fingers curling hard over the edge of the battlemask, "or I will do it for you."
Soundwave's visor flickered once as he drew it aside.
"That's better," Megatron purred, moving his black fingers over Soundwave's exposed lip plates. Soundwave shuddered hard at the contact.
Immediately, he felt the answering rush of desire lancing through Megatron's spark, sending electricity racing through his own spark and heat radiating through his interface hardware. His spike, rapidly pressurizing, thudded against its housing, and he could feel beads of lubrication beginning to seep from his valve.
He opened his mouth, his vision filling with another of Megatron's memories: Starscream's dark mouth opening and then closing around Megatron's fingertips, sucking them with shameless eagerness.
He would have imitated it. Clearly, it was something Megatron wanted. But exposing himself like this, even to his Leader, overwhelmed him. He could not will himself to open his mouth wider, much less to move against the fingers dipping into his mouth.
If Megatron cared, he gave no sign. He drove his fingers deep into Soundwave's mouth, forcing them in. One of his broad thighs slid up between Soundwave's legs, pressing against the plating covering Soundwave's spike and valve. Soundwave moaned again, his mouth opening in spite of itself, and then there was nothing but the feeling of Megatron's plating against his and of Megatron's fingers, stretching wide his willing mouth.
Both the hand and the thigh pressed against his interface panel slid away, and Soundwave hummed a mournful note at the loss, the thin metal inside his mouth and throat stinging. Another wisp of memory flickered through him at that - Starscream, aching and sore and somehow content, and Megatron chuckling in answer. That he heard twice: once in the thought he sensed, and once from the vocalizer of the mech above him. He looked up, and Megatron's optics flashed, bright burning red.
Then his lord's other hand was moving, sliding down his frame toward his interface hardware. He could see Starscream again, smirking and parting his legs, and he copied the gesture. The Starscream in his vision had already retracted the cover over his valve, and the thought sent a shiver through Soundwave's systems. Permission: not granted, Soundwave reminded himself, willing his panels to remain shut until Megatron gave the command.
Megatron's optics brightened again. He nodded, pleased, though Soundwave couldn't be certain if he was responding to Soundwave's gesture or to his self-control.
"Open," he said, and Soundwave was too far gone to ask whether Megatron wanted access to his spike or valve or both. Both covers slid aside with a hiss, and Soundwave's vocalizer emitted a gasp of desire and welcome as he felt air hit equipment he'd rarely even touched.
Megatron seized Soundwave's spike, his dark fist encircling it and beginning to move. His grip on it was tight, his movements rough. Soundwave barely noticed, the intensity of the movements only feeding the heat racing through his systems. He bucked his hips, his spark seizing to think of the insistence in his movements. Not Soundwave's place, he thought, helpless to stop himself.
It was the sort of thing Starscream might do, if Megatron had ever used Starscream's spike. None of the glimpses of memory and fantasy Soundwave had ever picked up - from Megatron thanks to Soundwave's lack of filters, or from Starscream because sometimes his lust was just that obvious - had ever included Megatron doing this. He'd always gone for Starscream's valve. Or anyone else's, on the rare occasions he interfaced with someone other than Starscream.
That thought drew another sound from him. As presumptuous as it was to think of his Leader serving his own pleasure, he couldn't deny that he'd thought of this, hoping in the quiet darkness of his own quarters that perhaps, someday, his lord might see fit to use him. He'd always imagined it like he'd seen in Megatron's fantasies, the big mech's thick spike driving hard into his valve, stretching and filling him, setting sensor clusters he'd never dared to probe himself roaring to life.
This was... different. Feeling a new wave of amusement possessiveness desire from Megatron as he moved, he dared not allow himself to deem it disappointing. His lord had deigned to touch him. That was all.
"Megatron -" he intoned, unable to finish his thought, hoping that the only word he could find to speak would express the reverence he felt. Energy raced through his systems, and he pressed himself harder into his lord's dark hand.
Megatron chuckled, slowing down and then finally letting go. His spark whirling, Soundwave droned in dismay. What did Megatron want? He didn't know, not without the images and sounds filling Megatron's thoughts to guide him.
The cover over Megatron's spike retracted with a click and Soundwave stared, shuddering, imagining what it might have done to him - what it might still do, sometime, when Megatron chose. He reached for it, intent on giving Megatron the same pleasure his lord had given him.
"No," the tyrant hissed, and Soundwave put his hand down again. "I decide when. And how."
"Understood," Soundwave answered, his spark whirling with disappointment. Megatron stared down at him for a long moment, his faceplates creased into a frown.
"Tell me, Soundwave," he rasped. "Is your seal intact?"
Soundwave hesitated. This was exactly what he wanted - exactly what he'd hardly dared to hope. And yet the lust that Soundwave had sensed had someone very different as its target. Starscream had long vorns of experience, and sometimes even watching him pass by stirred such lust in the other Decepticons that Soundwave's filters were hard pressed to block it out.
Starscream: experienced. Desirable. Soundwave: inexperienced. He would never have dreamed of offering his valve to anyone but Megatron, but he had no idea whether Megatron would see that as charming or pathetic. Soundwave had been online for thousands of vorns. Never having interfaced at all after so long was unheard of, unless the mech in question had no interest at all in such things.
"Affirmative," he said, sensing annoyance at his hesitation. "Seal: intact."
Megatron laughed.
Soundwave winced, his spark pulsing heavy in his chest, until the wave of emotion hit him and he realized that Megatron understood exactly why Soundwave had saved himself, and his spark responded to it with a surge of eager heat.
Soundwave shifted his legs again, recalling the image Megatron's mind had fed him earlier of Starscream, spread and eager. Megatron chuckled again and grabbed for Soundwave's legs, wrapping them around himself.
Then there was pain, pain and a wet heat as Megatron's spike tore through his seal. He smelled his own energon and lubricant, vividly, and on its heels came another sensory impression from Megatron: the tang of very different energon, carefully refined, spattering his frame. Soundwave's spark pulsed with jealous hunger as he heard Megatron's cooling fans roar again and felt a burst of desire so intense it nearly blanked his processor.
He did not know whether it was Megatron's or his own. The spike inside him filled him utterly, and he felt the metal of his valve shifting to accomodate it, sensors he didn't even know he had flaring to life as it thrust into him again and again.
Tilting his head back, he opened his mouth, emitting a long, steady hum. He rocked his hips, wanting more, beyond caring whether he was still mimicking Starscream. That his lord would touch him at all was enough. That he would enter him, invade him, stake his claim on him this way was a gift beyond his wildest hope.
He looked up, his visor meeting optics that glowed so intensely it stung to stare into them. That pain fed the others, a spiral of energy that only fed his desire, and he spread his legs wider. His systems crackled with heat, a need he could barely stand.
Overload: not yet permitted, Soundwave reminded himself, pressing his mouthplates shut and willing himself to hold back as static crackled in front of his optics and his spark pulsed hard in his chest. Self-control: imperative.
He did not have long to wait. With a mighty roar, Megatron thrust into him one last time, shuddering. Soundwave felt the fluid pouring out, filling his insides like a benediction. Then he felt the flare of pleasure racing through his lord's systems, bright and so intense it might have been his own.
He could not have resisted that, even if he had wanted to. White light filled his vision as his valve clenched hard, again and again.
###
When the static cleared from his optics, Megatron was leaning over him, his optics bright. Soundwave felt satiation wafting from the other mech, the smug self-satisfaction he'd so often sensed after Megatron had taken Starscream.
His spark whirled in answer. Cause of Megatron's pleasure: not Starscream. Cause of Megatron's pleasure: Soundwave. His mouthplates curled into a smile he would never have shown anyone else.
A dark hand moved to cup Soundwave's chin. Soundwave remained silent. Decepticons did not thank one another for anything, and Soundwave himself was not one for unnecessary words.
Expression of gratitude: necessary, he thought, scrambling for some way to tell his Leader what this meant to him. Encounter: unfinished.
Then a dark fingertip traced its way along his lip plates, and he felt an unmistakable surge of amusement, sharp and possessive.
He pressed a shy kiss to his lord's fingertip, hoping fervently that it would be enough.
( Part 3 is here. )
This entry was originally posted at http://stainless.dreamwidth.org/25876.html.
Characters: Megatron/Soundwave, mentions of Megatron/Starscream
Verse: G1
Wordcount: 920ish for Part 1, 2,300ish for Part 2
Rating: MA
Contains: Sticky, first-time kink, some mild D/s
Summary: Part 1 of this was originally a minific for the "first times" meme going around on LJ. I posted it to FFN and didn't mark it complete which led to people wanting the gloriously sticky details. Might as well!
Soundwave knows how to filter out others' emotions. But Megatron's emotions are a different matter. Those, he wants to sense, despite the bittersweet jealousy he feels when he picks up Megatron's memories of passionate interfacing with Starscream. Usually, Megatron is sated by the time he meets with Soundwave, but this time it's obvious to the telepath that he still has some... energy that needs burning off.
Thanks to
dogstar for beta.
The flood of emotions caught Soundwave completely unprepared.
He reached out, clutching at the nearest wall to steady himself. It was, under the circumstances, a forgivable sin. Megatron had turned away, studying a projection showing their enemies' probable positions and resource levels. He would hardly notice Soundwave.
But Soundwave was certainly noticing him.
Soundwave had no one to blame but himself for that. Usually, he kept layers of filters between himself and the other Decepticons. Telepathy was a handy weapon against the enemy, but the thoughts of his own allies would prove endlessly distracting if he opened himself up to receiving all of it.
Besides, there were things he didn't want to know. While the highest-ranked Decepticons were clever and intelligent, probing the processors of the rank and file usually yielded snatches of crass, crude, or violent impulses.
Or lustful ones. Soundwave caught himself before stumbling again as another wave of memory and desire hit him.
Soundwave: foolish, he chided himself, scrambling to apply filters he'd long ago let lapse for one Decepticon only. Such things were not for him. It would only distract him from his own duties to think of red-striped wings, dented and aching from the touch of rough hands, a dark head arched back and crying out, half in protest and half with need, setting the spark in his chest crackling with fierce desire -
He shook his head to clear it. Memories: not mine. Such things were not for him. Megatron's partner: Starscream. His place was to serve his cause and his leader, faithfully and well. To permit himself to be distracted by the heat in his valve or spike or spark would only impede his ability to do so. Starscream: undesirable. Such pleasures were nothing he bothered to miss.
And Megatron's emotions weren't usually this distracting. He never would have deactivated his filter if they had been. Megatron's emotions were intense, yes, but the Decepticon leader kept a tight rein on them.
Most of the time. Soundwave forced himself to remain still as a phantom sound filled his audios, a high keen of pleasure and desperation, a rasping, possessive voice growling in answer.
Sensing his lord's desire was nothing new. That was always there, a thin strand of flame coiling through Megatron's mind. But by the time the Decepticon leader began his day - early, long before any of the others, a practice Soundwave had also adopted, to better serve him - much of his ardor had cooled. Satiation tempered it, self-satisfied repletion that made Soundwave feel both relieved and envious, longing to tear at Starscream's wings just like Megatron did in the heat of his desire.
That, Soundwave knew. That, he could handle. That, he was used to, a sweet aching poison that he'd long ago forgotten how to live without.
This was too much, and seeing Megatron turn to face him he scrambled to reapply his filters, to remember what it was like not to lurk at the edges of his Leader's mind, to remember how to stop his spark from whirling with someone else's desire, his valve from moistening as if that desire was intended for him, his spike from pressurizing in response to passion that wasn't his to answer anyway -
- and then Megatron's optics locked on his and flared with bright, intense light, and he could remember nothing at all.
"Soundwave."
He stood, silent and attentive. It was, after all, what he always did.
"I don't believe I've ever seen you falter like this before," Megatron said, his optics narrowing for a moment. He stared at Soundwave, considering.
Soundwave could guess why. With his filters disengaged, he could sense emotions. When those emotions were especially intense, he could catch snatches of memory, imagination, and fantasy, sensing them as though they were happening to him.
But he could not read thoughts. Not without expending effort. For that, he would have to actively explore the connection between his mind and another's. To delve into the other's very processor, searching and studying.
And that was an intrusion. An intrusion that any processor he examined would detect.
He did not need to sense the plume of doubt and anger rising in the other's mind to know what his Leader was looking for.
"Megatron's privacy: paramount. Affect detection: involuntary. Filters against detection: reapplied immediately."
Then, slowly, his silver faceplates shifted into a smirk.
"Wait," he said, holding up a hand.
Soundwave froze, subroutines he'd just initiated terminating instantly in response to his lord's command. He stammered something, his vocalizer emitting a single, monotone sound that refused to become a word.
Megatron chuckled. Soundwave fought not to wince.
"Well, if it's that obvious to you that I'm not finished, perhaps I ought to do something about it."
Soundwave's spark pulsed heavy in his chest. The last thing he wanted right now was to watch Megatron call for Starscream, to sense the heat in his lord's systems spiking higher as he waited for someone who didn't deserve what he had, couldn't possibly deserve it...
"Come with me, Soundwave," Megatron said, still smiling.
Soundwave was glad that Megatron did not take him to his own quarters. He had seen them before, of course, in snatches of memory he picked up when his Leader's emotions were strong. He'd carefully pieced together an image of them, sparse and dimly lit, but impeccably neat and furnished with only the finest of materials. A Decepticon emblem had been carved into the wall facing the berth there, both as a testament to Megatron's power and a reminder of his vision, and a small desk stacked with datapads lay against another wall.
This room was as sparse, but far less elegant, a hardly-used makeshift set of quarters whose lights flickered. Megatron looked up at them, frowning, his optics bright, and a wave of his annoyance flickered through Soundwave's processor.
Still, Soundwave preferred this. He didn't deserve to be invited into his lord's private space - not now that he'd confessed to killing his filters. He'd fed on his Leader's emotions without ever asking permission to perceive them. He'd felt his lord's heat, cracking through his spark as though it were his own, his interface hardware revving into readiness even as he saw the telltale flashes of red plating and white wings that proved that Megatron was thinking of someone entirely different.
The ghost of a cry echoed through Soundwave's audios, a high shriek that could never have come from his own vocalizer. Soundwave: not Starscream, he thought. Responsiveness: likely inadequate.
But Megatron was still smiling, and he could still sense his lord's eagerness. Willing himself not to think of his own shortcomings, he moved to lie down on the berth.
Strong, dark hands forced him down. For a moment, his spark whirled in dismay. Built for war as he was, his programming told him to fight. Yet he knew immediately that he could never have resisted that weight, even if he had wanted to. Then he heard cooling fans roar to life above him and felt air gusting from the vents of someone he knew as well as he knew himself.
He spoke again - or tried, the sound refusing once again to resolve into words. It reverberated through the room, a hum in lieu of a plea.
Megatron must have understood it, because now those hands moved on him again, running over his transformation seams gently at first, then roughly, digging into the grooves in his plating hard enough to be painful. Soundwave squirmed, his broad, boxy frame making his movements awkward, as heat zipped through his circuits where Megatron's hands had been.
Then Megatron slid one hand up over his chest, tracing the door of the compartment where he usually held his symbiotes. Wordlessly thanking Primus that they weren't currently nestled in their compartment there, Soundwave arched into the touch.
But the hand hadn't finished its explorations. It ran over Soundwave's shoulder cannon - a move that had the weapon roaring to life in moments, though he would never have forgotten himself and fired. Then Megatron's hand slid over the cabling in his neck, twisting hard enough to draw another tinny moan.
When it moved over Soundwave's faceplates, he froze. He only drew his battlemask aside to refuel, and even then, only in private. When anyone else was around to see it, he ingested his fuel via a port in his side rather than by drinking it. As both an intelligence officer and a telepath, his battlemask was vital to him. It ensured that neither ally nor enemy could glean information about his emotional state that they might use against him.
"Move this aside," the tyrant growled, his fingers curling hard over the edge of the battlemask, "or I will do it for you."
Soundwave's visor flickered once as he drew it aside.
"That's better," Megatron purred, moving his black fingers over Soundwave's exposed lip plates. Soundwave shuddered hard at the contact.
Immediately, he felt the answering rush of desire lancing through Megatron's spark, sending electricity racing through his own spark and heat radiating through his interface hardware. His spike, rapidly pressurizing, thudded against its housing, and he could feel beads of lubrication beginning to seep from his valve.
He opened his mouth, his vision filling with another of Megatron's memories: Starscream's dark mouth opening and then closing around Megatron's fingertips, sucking them with shameless eagerness.
He would have imitated it. Clearly, it was something Megatron wanted. But exposing himself like this, even to his Leader, overwhelmed him. He could not will himself to open his mouth wider, much less to move against the fingers dipping into his mouth.
If Megatron cared, he gave no sign. He drove his fingers deep into Soundwave's mouth, forcing them in. One of his broad thighs slid up between Soundwave's legs, pressing against the plating covering Soundwave's spike and valve. Soundwave moaned again, his mouth opening in spite of itself, and then there was nothing but the feeling of Megatron's plating against his and of Megatron's fingers, stretching wide his willing mouth.
Both the hand and the thigh pressed against his interface panel slid away, and Soundwave hummed a mournful note at the loss, the thin metal inside his mouth and throat stinging. Another wisp of memory flickered through him at that - Starscream, aching and sore and somehow content, and Megatron chuckling in answer. That he heard twice: once in the thought he sensed, and once from the vocalizer of the mech above him. He looked up, and Megatron's optics flashed, bright burning red.
Then his lord's other hand was moving, sliding down his frame toward his interface hardware. He could see Starscream again, smirking and parting his legs, and he copied the gesture. The Starscream in his vision had already retracted the cover over his valve, and the thought sent a shiver through Soundwave's systems. Permission: not granted, Soundwave reminded himself, willing his panels to remain shut until Megatron gave the command.
Megatron's optics brightened again. He nodded, pleased, though Soundwave couldn't be certain if he was responding to Soundwave's gesture or to his self-control.
"Open," he said, and Soundwave was too far gone to ask whether Megatron wanted access to his spike or valve or both. Both covers slid aside with a hiss, and Soundwave's vocalizer emitted a gasp of desire and welcome as he felt air hit equipment he'd rarely even touched.
Megatron seized Soundwave's spike, his dark fist encircling it and beginning to move. His grip on it was tight, his movements rough. Soundwave barely noticed, the intensity of the movements only feeding the heat racing through his systems. He bucked his hips, his spark seizing to think of the insistence in his movements. Not Soundwave's place, he thought, helpless to stop himself.
It was the sort of thing Starscream might do, if Megatron had ever used Starscream's spike. None of the glimpses of memory and fantasy Soundwave had ever picked up - from Megatron thanks to Soundwave's lack of filters, or from Starscream because sometimes his lust was just that obvious - had ever included Megatron doing this. He'd always gone for Starscream's valve. Or anyone else's, on the rare occasions he interfaced with someone other than Starscream.
That thought drew another sound from him. As presumptuous as it was to think of his Leader serving his own pleasure, he couldn't deny that he'd thought of this, hoping in the quiet darkness of his own quarters that perhaps, someday, his lord might see fit to use him. He'd always imagined it like he'd seen in Megatron's fantasies, the big mech's thick spike driving hard into his valve, stretching and filling him, setting sensor clusters he'd never dared to probe himself roaring to life.
This was... different. Feeling a new wave of amusement possessiveness desire from Megatron as he moved, he dared not allow himself to deem it disappointing. His lord had deigned to touch him. That was all.
"Megatron -" he intoned, unable to finish his thought, hoping that the only word he could find to speak would express the reverence he felt. Energy raced through his systems, and he pressed himself harder into his lord's dark hand.
Megatron chuckled, slowing down and then finally letting go. His spark whirling, Soundwave droned in dismay. What did Megatron want? He didn't know, not without the images and sounds filling Megatron's thoughts to guide him.
The cover over Megatron's spike retracted with a click and Soundwave stared, shuddering, imagining what it might have done to him - what it might still do, sometime, when Megatron chose. He reached for it, intent on giving Megatron the same pleasure his lord had given him.
"No," the tyrant hissed, and Soundwave put his hand down again. "I decide when. And how."
"Understood," Soundwave answered, his spark whirling with disappointment. Megatron stared down at him for a long moment, his faceplates creased into a frown.
"Tell me, Soundwave," he rasped. "Is your seal intact?"
Soundwave hesitated. This was exactly what he wanted - exactly what he'd hardly dared to hope. And yet the lust that Soundwave had sensed had someone very different as its target. Starscream had long vorns of experience, and sometimes even watching him pass by stirred such lust in the other Decepticons that Soundwave's filters were hard pressed to block it out.
Starscream: experienced. Desirable. Soundwave: inexperienced. He would never have dreamed of offering his valve to anyone but Megatron, but he had no idea whether Megatron would see that as charming or pathetic. Soundwave had been online for thousands of vorns. Never having interfaced at all after so long was unheard of, unless the mech in question had no interest at all in such things.
"Affirmative," he said, sensing annoyance at his hesitation. "Seal: intact."
Megatron laughed.
Soundwave winced, his spark pulsing heavy in his chest, until the wave of emotion hit him and he realized that Megatron understood exactly why Soundwave had saved himself, and his spark responded to it with a surge of eager heat.
Soundwave shifted his legs again, recalling the image Megatron's mind had fed him earlier of Starscream, spread and eager. Megatron chuckled again and grabbed for Soundwave's legs, wrapping them around himself.
Then there was pain, pain and a wet heat as Megatron's spike tore through his seal. He smelled his own energon and lubricant, vividly, and on its heels came another sensory impression from Megatron: the tang of very different energon, carefully refined, spattering his frame. Soundwave's spark pulsed with jealous hunger as he heard Megatron's cooling fans roar again and felt a burst of desire so intense it nearly blanked his processor.
He did not know whether it was Megatron's or his own. The spike inside him filled him utterly, and he felt the metal of his valve shifting to accomodate it, sensors he didn't even know he had flaring to life as it thrust into him again and again.
Tilting his head back, he opened his mouth, emitting a long, steady hum. He rocked his hips, wanting more, beyond caring whether he was still mimicking Starscream. That his lord would touch him at all was enough. That he would enter him, invade him, stake his claim on him this way was a gift beyond his wildest hope.
He looked up, his visor meeting optics that glowed so intensely it stung to stare into them. That pain fed the others, a spiral of energy that only fed his desire, and he spread his legs wider. His systems crackled with heat, a need he could barely stand.
Overload: not yet permitted, Soundwave reminded himself, pressing his mouthplates shut and willing himself to hold back as static crackled in front of his optics and his spark pulsed hard in his chest. Self-control: imperative.
He did not have long to wait. With a mighty roar, Megatron thrust into him one last time, shuddering. Soundwave felt the fluid pouring out, filling his insides like a benediction. Then he felt the flare of pleasure racing through his lord's systems, bright and so intense it might have been his own.
He could not have resisted that, even if he had wanted to. White light filled his vision as his valve clenched hard, again and again.
###
When the static cleared from his optics, Megatron was leaning over him, his optics bright. Soundwave felt satiation wafting from the other mech, the smug self-satisfaction he'd so often sensed after Megatron had taken Starscream.
His spark whirled in answer. Cause of Megatron's pleasure: not Starscream. Cause of Megatron's pleasure: Soundwave. His mouthplates curled into a smile he would never have shown anyone else.
A dark hand moved to cup Soundwave's chin. Soundwave remained silent. Decepticons did not thank one another for anything, and Soundwave himself was not one for unnecessary words.
Expression of gratitude: necessary, he thought, scrambling for some way to tell his Leader what this meant to him. Encounter: unfinished.
Then a dark fingertip traced its way along his lip plates, and he felt an unmistakable surge of amusement, sharp and possessive.
He pressed a shy kiss to his lord's fingertip, hoping fervently that it would be enough.
( Part 3 is here. )
This entry was originally posted at http://stainless.dreamwidth.org/25876.html.