Top Secret [Transformers (G1), Multiple pairings, R-ish]
Title: Top Secret
Author:
jill_dragon
Rating: Hovering somewhere between PG-13 and R
Warnings: Non-explicit: slash, pornography, BDSM, sex toys, bestiality and a whole wack of other kinky shit - none of which is meant to be taken seriously.
Prompt: [Nov.14] Transformers (G1), multiple Autobots; embarrassment - "How is it that when Ravage breaks in here, the Decepticons get all sorts of valuable information, but when we break into their base, we only come back with their porn?
Word count: 2,498
Summary: The Autobots discover the perils of poking around in Soundwave's private files. Pure and utter crack. I'll warn you right now that the pr0n is very bad, but I deliberately wrote it that way so hopefully it'll make a few of you guys laugh a time or two. ~_^
“Well it was a Pit of a mission, but you done us proud ‘Raj,” Ironhide clapped Mirage on the shoulder in congratulations. The ex-noble gave a graceful half-bow to the assembled officers and presented Prime with the precious data chip it had taken him so long to acquire.
The mission had been meticulously planned out months ahead of time by the Autobot Intelligence team lead by Jazz. Silverbolt and the Arielbots had flown a sweep over the Decepticon base to lure them into raising their Tower to come out after them. During the confusion of battle Slingshot had dropped a cloaked Mirage onto the deck of the Nemesis before taking off with his wingmates back to the Ark. Mirage had spent several joors hidden on the Decepticon base, leeching off their powergrid to maintain his invisibility cloak. When he managed to retrieve the information they were after, he had sent out a coded signal and with the aid of Seaspray had escape the Nemesis by water rather than take the more obvious route in an attempt to foil any pursuit.
Meanwhile Jazz hadn’t been idle, he’d been working on creating a decryption algorithm to decode Soundwave’s files. He interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckle joints, “Alright mechs and femmes, lets see how well my key fits into the lock.” Prime chuckled and handed him the data and chip and with a flourish the saboteur plugged it into the system.
A slew of scrambled symbols filled Teletraan-1’s view-screen and the hiss of static assaulted everyone’s audios rising to a high-pitched mechanical whine that had everyone covering their receptors.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Jazz apologized as he made a few adjustments and the sound thankfully died down. “Initiating decryption sequence…now.”
The scramble of symbols on the screen shifted and altered as if some force was pushing them into place. Then they flickered and snapped neatly into place revealing a single open-access data track titled simply ‘Classified’. “Hah! Eat that Soundwave,” Jazz crowed triumphantly, “Prime, Prowler, this baby’s all yours.”
Prowl, who loathed that nickname and any others Jazz came up with for him, gave the saboteur a withering look which he returned with a look of wide-eyed innocence. The Autobot second-in-command shook his head as he turned away, typing in the command on Teletrann-1’s terminal to play the file.
An image of what looked like a dimly-lit corridor appeared on the view-screen and as they squinted they saw what looked like Skywarp and Drag Strip come into focus.
“What are they doing?” Prowl muttered at the pair of Decepticons who looked like they were struggling on the floor, “Are they fighting?”
“I don’t think…” Optimus began. Then the audio kicked in and dispelled any doubts as to exactly what was going on in the recording.
Drag Strip gave a low, quivering moan, “Oh Skywarp…oh yes!” He writhed against his partner, drawing him down into a rough embrace.
The seeker sniggered softly, “So who’s the better 'facer now, hmm?” He did something with his hands that must have felt good if the reaction it drew from Drag Strip was any indication. “F-frag you, Warp! Aah!” the Stunticon cried out, arching his back.
The Autobots were all caught flat-footed and spent several moments staring open-mouthed at the scene playing out on the view-screen.
“The frag?!” Ironhide demanded, jerking away from the screen as if it were a venomous turbosnake.
“Apparently our friend Soundwave has been spying on some of his follow ‘Cons,” Ratchet said dryly after he’d rebooted his optics a couple times.
The loud moans and cries went on unabated and Skywarp seemed to have managed to pin down Drag Strip despite the young Decepticon’s struggles to dominate the seeker. That seemed to bring Prowl out of his shock and he lunged for the recording control, his faceplates tinged red with mortification as he advanced the recording to the next segment.
It started in what looked like someone’s private quarters then the recording panned around to focus on the unmistakable hulking form of Motormaster, the Stunticon leader, tied to his berth. The powerful silver and purple mech strained against his bonds, his vents heaving with exertion.
An electro-whip flicked out, striking him across the chest, drawing a sharp cry. “Now, now, don’t be a naught boy, otherwise I’ll be forced to punish you!” Incredibly it was Dead End uttering those words and wielding the whip with so much visible enjoyment. “If you persist in misbehaving, I’ll have to get stern with you,” he chided as he cracked the whip suggestively.
“Oh yes- please!” Motormaster gasped out, “I’ll do anything you want, Master!”
This time Prowl was ready and stopped the video before things went even further.
“Aw, just when things were getting interesting!” Jazz protested.
“Who’d have thought Motormaster of all mechs would be a sub?” Ratchet shook his head in disbelief.
“What in the Pit are y’ trying to pull ‘Raj?!” Ironhide demanded, “You told us it was vital info, not a bunch o’ Cons bouncin’ each other bolts!”
“Are you telling me I don’t know how to do my job?” Mirage demanded, “I brought back the information I was sent to retrieve-“
“All right, settle down everyone,” Optimus broke in, looking relieved to have something else to focus on besides the recording. “Mirage, is there any possibility that you may have downloaded the wrong files?” he enquired gently.
“It’s highly unlikely, sir,” Mirage said stiffly, his entire demeanor making it clear that he was still highly offended, “Jazz and I have been hacking into the Decepticons’ computer network for groons and I’ve spent a great deal of time observing the command staff while I was cloaked inside their base. Everything we’ve learned and that I observed indicated that Soundwave was storing all the data from his espionage activities against our forces in this data track.”
“Optimus, our intel was as sounds as it gets,” Jazz chimed in, spreading his hands helplessly, “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe you just weren’t as stealthy as you think y’are,” Ironhide needled.
“Hey, if you want to take a shot at it yourself 'Hide, be my guest,” Jazz returned, “Nothing gave us any clue that the ‘Cons knew we were poking ‘round their computer banks and the chances of them detecting us were so small they ain’t worth mentioning.”
“Yeah well how d’you two geniuses explain that,” the weapons specialist jerked a thumb at the frozen scene of the trussed up Motormaster.
“Perhaps it was put in as a decoy,” Prowl suggested thoughtfully, “Soundwave is clever enough to try and disguise vital information; so it maybe very well be imbedded in the middle of all this,” he wrinkled his nose, “slag.”
“So you’re saying that we need to watch this all the way through,” Ratchet said, looking like he’d swallowed something unpleasant.
“Hey, it’ll be fun Ratch. Just think of the blackmail we’ll have on them,” Jazz said with a predatory grin.
“Is this truly necessary?” Mirage asked, expression contorted in a moue of distaste.
“Blackmail or no, I did not need to see Skywarp getting off…or Motormaster, or any of them!” Ratchet growled, “I have enough nightmares as it is.”
“Prime?” Prowl enquired.
The Autobot leader looked like he was caught between hiding his face in embarrassment and bursting out laughing, “Well I suppose in the interests of intelligence-gathering we can’t ignore any possibilities...” He was obviously fighting to keep a straight face. “Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed.
Prowl nodded briskly and skipped to the next sequence.
Reflector - or rather two of his component mechs - were interfacing quite enthusiastically with each other. Right away the Autobots noticed that interspersed with the passionate sounds they were making was an odd clicking.
“Yeah, hold it right there,” they could hear Swindle say in satisfaction and he appeared on-screen, standing off to the side snapping pictures of the pair with Reflector’s third component. “I can guarantee this will make you rich mechs - this is hot stuff, they’ll just eat it up!” the Combaticon promised, his expression greedy.
“So does this count as voyeurism or masturbation for Reflector?” Jazz wanted to know.
Click. Prowl promptly flipped to the next section.
Two of the coneheads, Thrust and Ramjet, were together, the empty energon cubes scattered across the floor giving lie to their inebriated state. Ramjet was leaning forward, bracing his arms against a table and Thrust was behind him on his hands and knees doing…something.
“Huh?” Ironhide squinted at the screen in confusion. Then it hit him what Thrust was doing to Ramjet, “Oh. Oh!” he rebooted his optics several time in disbelief, “Never seen ‘em do that with their heads b’fore!”
“I guess that’s why he’s called ‘Thrust’” Jazz snerked.
“You know, as a physician I didn’t even think that was physically possible,” Ratchet commented, looking highly disturbed.
Click.
There was footage of the Decepticon medbay where the Constructicons had clearly found new and inventive uses for their tools and were testing them out on each other.
“You know, that might actually be interesting,” Jazz said thoughtfully.
“No Jazz,” Ratchet said firmly.
”But-“
“I said ‘No’” the medic repeated, not even looking away from the screen.
“Fine.” Jazz pouted visibly.
“Is it too much to ask that you all at least try to be professional about this?” Optimus asked, not looking terribly hopeful.
It was then that the door to the command center opened. “Hi guys, I’m here for my shift,” Bluestreak’s cheery voice cut across the noise from the video. The young mech paused in the doorway staring at the view-screen “What are you -“
“No!” Prowl acted quickly, jumping to his feet and clapping a hand over Bluestreak’s optics.
“Hey! Prowl, what are you doing?!” he yelped flailing one arm wildly while he tried to pull away the 2IC’s hand away with his other.
Prowl physically hauled the gunner around and pushed him out the door, “We’re reviewing top secret intelligence!” he gabbled, his voice sounding distinctly panicked, “Come back later!”
“But what about my shift?!” the young mech wailed as the command center doors closed and locked in his face.
“Now you’ve done it, Prowl!” Ratchet groaned, “It’ll be all over the Ark by the next cycle.”
“What was I supposed to do; let him watch with us?!” Prowl defended himself, “It’s clearly inappropriate viewing material for a mech of his age grouping.”
“When those Pit-spawned twins try to break in and steal the footage I’ll make sure to leave them for you to deal with!” the medic threatened.
Optimus had his head in his hands like he couldn’t bear to watch the train-wreck that was unfolding before him.
“Y’ know what I find the most disturbin’ thing is?” Ironhide said, “Is wonderin’ what Soundwave is doing with all these recordings.”
There was a pause and then everyone shuddered in unison.
Prowl braced himself physically, his fists clenched, looking like a mech about to go into battle as he continued reviewing the clips.
There was Blast Off dressed up as a seeker for Astrotrain (who seemed quite excited by it).
Another clip showed a well-blindfolded Breakdown being teased and tormented by Onslaught.
The next one was of Thundercracker and Dirge.
“Huh, they ain’t even doin’ anything kinky,” Ironhide noted. Which was actually quite true as the pair of fliers was sitting by themselves in a corner of an empty storage room, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
“You know, they’re actually sort of cute,” Ratchet said musingly as Thundercracker laid a kiss on Dirge’s forehead and stroked a gentle hand down the conehead’s wings. “…In a very Decepticon-ish way,” he added quickly when everyone gave him an odd look.
“It’s probably the worst blackmail Soundwave was able to find of the pair of them, flimsy though it is.” Prime’s deep voice was muffled due to the fact that his head was still in his hands.
“It’s a relief to know that someone has some sense of propriety,” Prowl said tightly. The Datsun’s posture was very stiff, his spinal column ram-rod straight, betraying how torturous this was for the logic-oriented mech.
They went through a few more clips.
In one, Ravage was curled around Shockwave (“What’s he doing here?” “Maybe he got bored.”) and was laving the purple mech’s thighs with his long tongue.
Finally, when Mirage bolted out of the command center screaming that his CPU would never be clean again and smoke started coming out of Prowl’s audios, a sure sign that his processor was about to crash, Prime made the decision to intervene.
“Okay, enough is enough!” he said with feeling as he shut down the recording to a chorus of sighs of relief. (Only Jazz seemed disappointed, but no one paid any attention to him.)
Ratchet cleared his throat, looking self-conscious, “Well that was interesting.” He sent a glower in Jazz’s direction as if he were to blame (and it was possible that indirectly he was). “You know, I’m surprised that it was only the lower-ranking Decepticons Soundwave was recording. If he’s looking for blackmail why not spy on Megatron or Starscream - which incidentally might have actually given us some useful information.”
“Maybe not so surprising,” Optimus seemed to be making a manful attempt at getting over his mortification, “When you consider Soundwave’s apparent loyalty to Megatron.”
“Or maybe he’s the one boinking ole’ Megs,” Jazz suggested cheerfully, earning him a thwack upside the head from Ratchet.
Optimus opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not knowing what to say to that. Thankfully by this time Prowl had recovered enough to rescue him, “We must also consider that Starscream, despite his greed and arrogance, is a very intelligent mech - sufficiently intelligent to locate and disarm Soundwave’s surveillance devices perhaps.”
“But what I really would like to know most of all,” Ratchet said, “Is how is it that when Ravage breaks in here, the Decepticons get all sorts of valuable information, but when we break into their base, we only come back with their porn? -And not even good porn at that!”
“That, Ratchet, I’m afraid is a mystery the wisest among will be pondering for ages to come,” Prime said with a glint of ironic humor in his optics. “But I think we’ve all had enough ‘enigmas’ of this kind for one day, so you’re all dismissed.”
Prowl fled from the room almost as fast as Mirage had. Ratchet left muttering something about finding a cleaner strong enough to bleach the images from his optics and Jazz trailed close behind him, looking maybe a bit too eager. Prime shrugged mentally; whatever his officers chose to get up to in their off-duty time was their business.
“So was this all a waste o’ time, Prime?” Ironhide asked, “I mean except for gettin’ a decavorn’s worth o’ blackmail against the ‘Cons.”
“Well ‘Hide,” Optimus began wryly, “I think we’ve been given a valuable less on the fact that most pornography is a lot better when one is taking part as opposed to just observing."
Author:
jill_dragon
Rating: Hovering somewhere between PG-13 and R
Warnings: Non-explicit: slash, pornography, BDSM, sex toys, bestiality and a whole wack of other kinky shit - none of which is meant to be taken seriously.
Prompt: [Nov.14] Transformers (G1), multiple Autobots; embarrassment - "How is it that when Ravage breaks in here, the Decepticons get all sorts of valuable information, but when we break into their base, we only come back with their porn?
Word count: 2,498
Summary: The Autobots discover the perils of poking around in Soundwave's private files. Pure and utter crack. I'll warn you right now that the pr0n is very bad, but I deliberately wrote it that way so hopefully it'll make a few of you guys laugh a time or two. ~_^
“Well it was a Pit of a mission, but you done us proud ‘Raj,” Ironhide clapped Mirage on the shoulder in congratulations. The ex-noble gave a graceful half-bow to the assembled officers and presented Prime with the precious data chip it had taken him so long to acquire.
The mission had been meticulously planned out months ahead of time by the Autobot Intelligence team lead by Jazz. Silverbolt and the Arielbots had flown a sweep over the Decepticon base to lure them into raising their Tower to come out after them. During the confusion of battle Slingshot had dropped a cloaked Mirage onto the deck of the Nemesis before taking off with his wingmates back to the Ark. Mirage had spent several joors hidden on the Decepticon base, leeching off their powergrid to maintain his invisibility cloak. When he managed to retrieve the information they were after, he had sent out a coded signal and with the aid of Seaspray had escape the Nemesis by water rather than take the more obvious route in an attempt to foil any pursuit.
Meanwhile Jazz hadn’t been idle, he’d been working on creating a decryption algorithm to decode Soundwave’s files. He interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckle joints, “Alright mechs and femmes, lets see how well my key fits into the lock.” Prime chuckled and handed him the data and chip and with a flourish the saboteur plugged it into the system.
A slew of scrambled symbols filled Teletraan-1’s view-screen and the hiss of static assaulted everyone’s audios rising to a high-pitched mechanical whine that had everyone covering their receptors.
“Oops, sorry about that,” Jazz apologized as he made a few adjustments and the sound thankfully died down. “Initiating decryption sequence…now.”
The scramble of symbols on the screen shifted and altered as if some force was pushing them into place. Then they flickered and snapped neatly into place revealing a single open-access data track titled simply ‘Classified’. “Hah! Eat that Soundwave,” Jazz crowed triumphantly, “Prime, Prowler, this baby’s all yours.”
Prowl, who loathed that nickname and any others Jazz came up with for him, gave the saboteur a withering look which he returned with a look of wide-eyed innocence. The Autobot second-in-command shook his head as he turned away, typing in the command on Teletrann-1’s terminal to play the file.
An image of what looked like a dimly-lit corridor appeared on the view-screen and as they squinted they saw what looked like Skywarp and Drag Strip come into focus.
“What are they doing?” Prowl muttered at the pair of Decepticons who looked like they were struggling on the floor, “Are they fighting?”
“I don’t think…” Optimus began. Then the audio kicked in and dispelled any doubts as to exactly what was going on in the recording.
Drag Strip gave a low, quivering moan, “Oh Skywarp…oh yes!” He writhed against his partner, drawing him down into a rough embrace.
The seeker sniggered softly, “So who’s the better 'facer now, hmm?” He did something with his hands that must have felt good if the reaction it drew from Drag Strip was any indication. “F-frag you, Warp! Aah!” the Stunticon cried out, arching his back.
The Autobots were all caught flat-footed and spent several moments staring open-mouthed at the scene playing out on the view-screen.
“The frag?!” Ironhide demanded, jerking away from the screen as if it were a venomous turbosnake.
“Apparently our friend Soundwave has been spying on some of his follow ‘Cons,” Ratchet said dryly after he’d rebooted his optics a couple times.
The loud moans and cries went on unabated and Skywarp seemed to have managed to pin down Drag Strip despite the young Decepticon’s struggles to dominate the seeker. That seemed to bring Prowl out of his shock and he lunged for the recording control, his faceplates tinged red with mortification as he advanced the recording to the next segment.
It started in what looked like someone’s private quarters then the recording panned around to focus on the unmistakable hulking form of Motormaster, the Stunticon leader, tied to his berth. The powerful silver and purple mech strained against his bonds, his vents heaving with exertion.
An electro-whip flicked out, striking him across the chest, drawing a sharp cry. “Now, now, don’t be a naught boy, otherwise I’ll be forced to punish you!” Incredibly it was Dead End uttering those words and wielding the whip with so much visible enjoyment. “If you persist in misbehaving, I’ll have to get stern with you,” he chided as he cracked the whip suggestively.
“Oh yes- please!” Motormaster gasped out, “I’ll do anything you want, Master!”
This time Prowl was ready and stopped the video before things went even further.
“Aw, just when things were getting interesting!” Jazz protested.
“Who’d have thought Motormaster of all mechs would be a sub?” Ratchet shook his head in disbelief.
“What in the Pit are y’ trying to pull ‘Raj?!” Ironhide demanded, “You told us it was vital info, not a bunch o’ Cons bouncin’ each other bolts!”
“Are you telling me I don’t know how to do my job?” Mirage demanded, “I brought back the information I was sent to retrieve-“
“All right, settle down everyone,” Optimus broke in, looking relieved to have something else to focus on besides the recording. “Mirage, is there any possibility that you may have downloaded the wrong files?” he enquired gently.
“It’s highly unlikely, sir,” Mirage said stiffly, his entire demeanor making it clear that he was still highly offended, “Jazz and I have been hacking into the Decepticons’ computer network for groons and I’ve spent a great deal of time observing the command staff while I was cloaked inside their base. Everything we’ve learned and that I observed indicated that Soundwave was storing all the data from his espionage activities against our forces in this data track.”
“Optimus, our intel was as sounds as it gets,” Jazz chimed in, spreading his hands helplessly, “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe you just weren’t as stealthy as you think y’are,” Ironhide needled.
“Hey, if you want to take a shot at it yourself 'Hide, be my guest,” Jazz returned, “Nothing gave us any clue that the ‘Cons knew we were poking ‘round their computer banks and the chances of them detecting us were so small they ain’t worth mentioning.”
“Yeah well how d’you two geniuses explain that,” the weapons specialist jerked a thumb at the frozen scene of the trussed up Motormaster.
“Perhaps it was put in as a decoy,” Prowl suggested thoughtfully, “Soundwave is clever enough to try and disguise vital information; so it maybe very well be imbedded in the middle of all this,” he wrinkled his nose, “slag.”
“So you’re saying that we need to watch this all the way through,” Ratchet said, looking like he’d swallowed something unpleasant.
“Hey, it’ll be fun Ratch. Just think of the blackmail we’ll have on them,” Jazz said with a predatory grin.
“Is this truly necessary?” Mirage asked, expression contorted in a moue of distaste.
“Blackmail or no, I did not need to see Skywarp getting off…or Motormaster, or any of them!” Ratchet growled, “I have enough nightmares as it is.”
“Prime?” Prowl enquired.
The Autobot leader looked like he was caught between hiding his face in embarrassment and bursting out laughing, “Well I suppose in the interests of intelligence-gathering we can’t ignore any possibilities...” He was obviously fighting to keep a straight face. “Let’s just get this over with,” he sighed.
Prowl nodded briskly and skipped to the next sequence.
Reflector - or rather two of his component mechs - were interfacing quite enthusiastically with each other. Right away the Autobots noticed that interspersed with the passionate sounds they were making was an odd clicking.
“Yeah, hold it right there,” they could hear Swindle say in satisfaction and he appeared on-screen, standing off to the side snapping pictures of the pair with Reflector’s third component. “I can guarantee this will make you rich mechs - this is hot stuff, they’ll just eat it up!” the Combaticon promised, his expression greedy.
“So does this count as voyeurism or masturbation for Reflector?” Jazz wanted to know.
Click. Prowl promptly flipped to the next section.
Two of the coneheads, Thrust and Ramjet, were together, the empty energon cubes scattered across the floor giving lie to their inebriated state. Ramjet was leaning forward, bracing his arms against a table and Thrust was behind him on his hands and knees doing…something.
“Huh?” Ironhide squinted at the screen in confusion. Then it hit him what Thrust was doing to Ramjet, “Oh. Oh!” he rebooted his optics several time in disbelief, “Never seen ‘em do that with their heads b’fore!”
“I guess that’s why he’s called ‘Thrust’” Jazz snerked.
“You know, as a physician I didn’t even think that was physically possible,” Ratchet commented, looking highly disturbed.
Click.
There was footage of the Decepticon medbay where the Constructicons had clearly found new and inventive uses for their tools and were testing them out on each other.
“You know, that might actually be interesting,” Jazz said thoughtfully.
“No Jazz,” Ratchet said firmly.
”But-“
“I said ‘No’” the medic repeated, not even looking away from the screen.
“Fine.” Jazz pouted visibly.
“Is it too much to ask that you all at least try to be professional about this?” Optimus asked, not looking terribly hopeful.
It was then that the door to the command center opened. “Hi guys, I’m here for my shift,” Bluestreak’s cheery voice cut across the noise from the video. The young mech paused in the doorway staring at the view-screen “What are you -“
“No!” Prowl acted quickly, jumping to his feet and clapping a hand over Bluestreak’s optics.
“Hey! Prowl, what are you doing?!” he yelped flailing one arm wildly while he tried to pull away the 2IC’s hand away with his other.
Prowl physically hauled the gunner around and pushed him out the door, “We’re reviewing top secret intelligence!” he gabbled, his voice sounding distinctly panicked, “Come back later!”
“But what about my shift?!” the young mech wailed as the command center doors closed and locked in his face.
“Now you’ve done it, Prowl!” Ratchet groaned, “It’ll be all over the Ark by the next cycle.”
“What was I supposed to do; let him watch with us?!” Prowl defended himself, “It’s clearly inappropriate viewing material for a mech of his age grouping.”
“When those Pit-spawned twins try to break in and steal the footage I’ll make sure to leave them for you to deal with!” the medic threatened.
Optimus had his head in his hands like he couldn’t bear to watch the train-wreck that was unfolding before him.
“Y’ know what I find the most disturbin’ thing is?” Ironhide said, “Is wonderin’ what Soundwave is doing with all these recordings.”
There was a pause and then everyone shuddered in unison.
Prowl braced himself physically, his fists clenched, looking like a mech about to go into battle as he continued reviewing the clips.
There was Blast Off dressed up as a seeker for Astrotrain (who seemed quite excited by it).
Another clip showed a well-blindfolded Breakdown being teased and tormented by Onslaught.
The next one was of Thundercracker and Dirge.
“Huh, they ain’t even doin’ anything kinky,” Ironhide noted. Which was actually quite true as the pair of fliers was sitting by themselves in a corner of an empty storage room, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
“You know, they’re actually sort of cute,” Ratchet said musingly as Thundercracker laid a kiss on Dirge’s forehead and stroked a gentle hand down the conehead’s wings. “…In a very Decepticon-ish way,” he added quickly when everyone gave him an odd look.
“It’s probably the worst blackmail Soundwave was able to find of the pair of them, flimsy though it is.” Prime’s deep voice was muffled due to the fact that his head was still in his hands.
“It’s a relief to know that someone has some sense of propriety,” Prowl said tightly. The Datsun’s posture was very stiff, his spinal column ram-rod straight, betraying how torturous this was for the logic-oriented mech.
They went through a few more clips.
In one, Ravage was curled around Shockwave (“What’s he doing here?” “Maybe he got bored.”) and was laving the purple mech’s thighs with his long tongue.
Finally, when Mirage bolted out of the command center screaming that his CPU would never be clean again and smoke started coming out of Prowl’s audios, a sure sign that his processor was about to crash, Prime made the decision to intervene.
“Okay, enough is enough!” he said with feeling as he shut down the recording to a chorus of sighs of relief. (Only Jazz seemed disappointed, but no one paid any attention to him.)
Ratchet cleared his throat, looking self-conscious, “Well that was interesting.” He sent a glower in Jazz’s direction as if he were to blame (and it was possible that indirectly he was). “You know, I’m surprised that it was only the lower-ranking Decepticons Soundwave was recording. If he’s looking for blackmail why not spy on Megatron or Starscream - which incidentally might have actually given us some useful information.”
“Maybe not so surprising,” Optimus seemed to be making a manful attempt at getting over his mortification, “When you consider Soundwave’s apparent loyalty to Megatron.”
“Or maybe he’s the one boinking ole’ Megs,” Jazz suggested cheerfully, earning him a thwack upside the head from Ratchet.
Optimus opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not knowing what to say to that. Thankfully by this time Prowl had recovered enough to rescue him, “We must also consider that Starscream, despite his greed and arrogance, is a very intelligent mech - sufficiently intelligent to locate and disarm Soundwave’s surveillance devices perhaps.”
“But what I really would like to know most of all,” Ratchet said, “Is how is it that when Ravage breaks in here, the Decepticons get all sorts of valuable information, but when we break into their base, we only come back with their porn? -And not even good porn at that!”
“That, Ratchet, I’m afraid is a mystery the wisest among will be pondering for ages to come,” Prime said with a glint of ironic humor in his optics. “But I think we’ve all had enough ‘enigmas’ of this kind for one day, so you’re all dismissed.”
Prowl fled from the room almost as fast as Mirage had. Ratchet left muttering something about finding a cleaner strong enough to bleach the images from his optics and Jazz trailed close behind him, looking maybe a bit too eager. Prime shrugged mentally; whatever his officers chose to get up to in their off-duty time was their business.
“So was this all a waste o’ time, Prime?” Ironhide asked, “I mean except for gettin’ a decavorn’s worth o’ blackmail against the ‘Cons.”
“Well ‘Hide,” Optimus began wryly, “I think we’ve been given a valuable less on the fact that most pornography is a lot better when one is taking part as opposed to just observing."