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Triviality	By : mehmeh Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 2891 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Rating: MA+

Authors: vectorsigma3441 (on LJ) as Optimus, and AmuseMe as Soundwave
Pairings: Soundwave/Optimus Prime
Summary: The Cybertronian war has turned stagnant, the politics unchanged and when disillusionment falls fast on Megatron’s most loyal, the world can be very disorienting as he’s forced to take up a title he never thought possible. SW/OP, graphic sticky, AU, G1.

Warnings: VERY MATURE FIC. Please, read at your own discretion. Violence, swearing, spark sex, sticky sex, dubcon. Possibility of horrible slandering of characterization

The sun, for being such an early human month in the year, was surprisingly hot against Prime’s paint. It tingled and made him itch, but in his alternative form there wasn’t much he could do about it. Though staying in between the lines on the pavement usually helped. But the heat of the asphalt was another thing he found he disliked about Earth. The rubber on his tires was hot, uncomfortable. That combined with his dour attitude made him feel stressed, but he didn’t show it in front of the small group of soldiers behind him.
He only allowed his engine to shift into an easier gear, taking more strain off of his internals, even if he did go a bit slower. Ratchet was right behind him, then Bumblebee and Jazz. The rest of the Autobots were still on base, doing their various duties while Prowl was in command. A meeting with the humans had gone well, no matter how much Optimus quietly insisted that no, they would not share their weapon technology.
It was starting to grow tense between him and the UN, which could prove to be… troublesome. They wanted a means to defend themselves against the Decepticons. Optimus understood that, but if they were given weapons, they would use them for far worse means than just against the Decepticons. That he knew. Though, if the humans did receive weapons, it really would eliminate the need for the Autobots to be stationed on Earth, and Prime still had every intention of heading back to Cybertron to reclaim the lands that rightfully belonged to him. He felt vain to admit it, but he wished for the enormous expansive of the Royal Estate rather than his tiny one on the Ark.
“You’re okay Prime?” Ratchet observed from behind him, noticing that the mech had been steadily decreasing his pace for the last ten miles.
“Yes,” he replied nostalgically, voice in a far off place. For several miles he continued on in silence, pensively listening to Spike chattering to Bumblebee from the young mech’s open window. Jazz chirruped a noise of inquiry from the back and Optimus made a lower noise back, assuring the saboteur that he was fine. More time passed, and then Optimus decided he couldn’t take it anymore, and pulled over at a vacant rest stop, where he gracefully transformed, rising up to stand on his pedes.
The rest followed suit, except Bumblebee, but he could see Spike looking up at him inquisitively from inside the yellow Volkswagen’s interior before the young man slowly stepped out so the mech could transform as well.
“I’m going to go off on my own for a little while,” he said softly, motioning over his shoulder to the wooded area behind them.
Jazz made an exasperated noise and opened his mouth for a flippant response of refusal, but Prime raised his hand to quiet him. He turned to Ratchet and they gazed long and hard at each other for a few moments, but when the larger mech’s optics turned icy, the medic backed down.
“Alright Prime, take some time for yourself,” he quietly spoke, but Jazz glanced at him as he keenly noted the hidden disappointment in the mech’s voice.
“Optimus,” Bumblebee started, “You’ll be leaving yourself open to the Decepticons! You should at least take one of us with you,” he reasonably asked, raising one hand up in the air to gesture at each of them in turn.
The large mech reached a hand out to clasp the smaller mech on the shoulder. Underneath his mask he smiled, and his blue optics visibly twinkled. “Don’t worry Bumblebee, I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to keep my tracking system on,” he gently teased. “I’ll be back a little past dark, I’ll bet,” he added, swatting his hand upon a golden shoulder in a brotherly way.
“But Prime-” Spike said, and Optimus’s attention was drawn back to the ground. “That’s really dangerous! I mean like, you could get killed! Who knows where the Decepticons are hiding. I’m sure they’re listening to this conversation!” he said, and took the opportunity to look around nervously.
“Now now, this is Prime we’re talking about,” Ratchet interjected, and gave Jazz a pointed look to keep him quiet.
The saboteur transformed and Ratchet followed suit, Bumblebee last. Spike begrudgingly entered the driver’s seat, and Ratchet made a final farewell before he took off, the other two following slowly behind him. Once out of sight Prime turned and started along a path, keeping his scanners out and open to make sure there really were no Decepticons. Dark green pines brushed his shoulders and legs as he walked along, knowing that he was scaring more than a little bit of wildlife with his heavy footsteps. Thankfully, in Oregon, there were a lot of wooded places with no humans around for miles. For awhile he walked, quiet in his own respect, and looked up from his careful concentration of where he was putting his pedes when he saw light reflecting off water.
It was lovely, he would admit that, and once he found a relatively firm spot along the bank, he sat down, hunching his massive shoulders as he started to think.
Behind the Autobot leader, further within the forest where the trees grew thick and tall with branches reaching the sky, stood Soundwave. He had been tailing the enemy the entire time, right from the start of that idiotic conference. This time however, Megatron had actually ordered the mission. It was not a hard task to stay hidden; his compact alt-mode looked innocent enough amongst the humans and his heightened sensors could pick up everything around him. All he had to do was watch out for that pesky third-in-command of theirs, Jazz. Oh, how that mech annoyed him.
“Mission: follow the others. Do not engage,” he told Ravage via their internal communications systems, lest the wind carried his voice over to the river where Optimus sat.
The quad pedal mech drew a long line in the dirt with his paw, indicating his reluctance to leave his Master. Soundwave inwardly sighed and pushed his back up the tree trunk he was leaning against, feeling the coarse back scrape lightly at his plating.
“Obey, Ravage. Do not disappoint me.”
Ravage’s optics brightened with defiance, still refusing to move. It was admirable how his most loyal Cassette would do anything to ensure his safety, even if it meant disobeying his direct orders. Regardless, Soundwave was more than capable of taking care of himself. And he illustrated his point by mentally stabbing his symbiote’s cpu with a light, electronic jolt. It was obvious who won. Ravage bowed his helm meekly with a small pained whimper, the previous bright optics dimming.
“Remember who is your superior,” Soundwave said sternly. “Next time I will not be so forgiving on you. Now go. Stay unseen.”
Ravage gave him one last look before taking off, leaping over the falling branches with unnatural grace and Soundwave watched him until he could no longer visually detect the black form. Soundwave then passed a hand over his chassis, up to rub his tense neck cables. Soundwave left the spot he had been resting at and began to walk towards the river. He could see Optimus now, sitting at the bank and it appeared as if the Autobot was deep in contemplation.
As a spy, Soundwave was naturally stealthy, the installed anti-gravs automatically compensating for his weight and making his steps virtually soundless against the ground. To avoid startling the other mech with his sudden presence, he send out an airy mental caress against Optimus’ processor when he was near enough, much like the soft touch of invisible hands. He didn’t want those honed warrior instincts to suddenly react and shoot him on sight after all.
“Suggestion: you should have listened to your little Bumblebee and his human pet. There really are –“ A small, indiscernible staticky sound and Soundwave’s synthesised monotone abruptly switched over to his normal, smooth tenor when the mask split into two and retracted. “–big, bad Decepticons hiding around.”
There was a reason Optimus had always asked Soundwave to stay out completely out of his mind. The mental caresses he was so fond of doing – whether out of habit or not, were enough to drive Optimus over the edge quickly. It infuriated him at how easily Soundwave could take control of him, make him do things, and the Matrix didn’t like it either.
The gyros in his shoulders strained with a soft whine as he leaned forward, then gathered himself and stood up, coolly regarding the other mech. With his train of thought broken, he brought a hand to rub gently on the bottom of his mask. He might have been a little bit worried if Soundwave hadn’t turned his secondary vocaliser off and parted his mask, which he knew the mech only did for these meetings of theirs. A wry chuckle left him.
“There are also big bad Autobots wandering around, looking for Decepticons to prey on.”
He didn’t trust Soundwave in the least. The mech was an opportunist. Would he take the chance to shoot him in the back? Probably. Icy blue coloured optics gazed dully over the river, watching light flicker across the small ripples of water in the setting sun. One thing he could admit about Earth was the myriad of colours – something that didn’t exist on Cybertron.
“Ratchet wasn’t impressed to see your blaster on the floor of my room,” he spoke, only letting a tinge of dark vehemence etch his tone. If Soundwave couldn’t tell it made him angry, then he would be very surprised. “He begged me to stop.” The lips underneath that mask twitched down.
“I don’t know whether to agree or not.”
Soundwave tilted his helm sharply at that. Begged. What an interesting choice of words. Soundwave often wondered which Autobots knew of their noble leader’s hidden side. He tried many times to surreptitiously look into their minds regarding that particular matter but it was all praises and awe. He hadn’t had a chance with Optimus’ main officers. Especially Ratchet; those Autobots guarded their medic religiously, very much like an overzealous security-bot.
But Soundwave made no effort to excuse himself. He said nothing, just a quick dip of his chin indicating his apology.
Because in all honesty, mistakes like that were below a mech of his calibre. It should not have happened in the first place. Ratchet finding it there...was most unfortunate. Soundwave had left his weapon close to the berth and only a keen optic would have spotted it...so what was Ratchet doing in Optimus’ private quarters anyway?
Optimus looked back upon the Decepticon before him. Prime’s optics didn’t hold any indifference like usual, or a rare moment of fondness. They were the optics of an enemy. “Go,” he spoke, casting a hand up to point away.
Soundwave stood very still. The unwavering light in Optimus’ optics was unmistakable and he knew what that meant. He still had yet to move, just standing there, frozen, before the other mech. Numbness spread through him, from the tips of his fingers, right along his wires and into his gears and straight into his processor. The corners of Soundwave’s slack mouth turned down at the corners.
“No,” he said simply.
Optimus didn’t know whether to back down or not. While normally comfortable with any situation with an enemy, this one seemed foreign and too personal. Blaster should have been there with him. Obviously the situation needed to be quelled before it escalated.
Prime turned his stance away. “I don’t know why you return to me time after time. What do you want from me? My spark?” A low chuckle escaped from his vocaliser. “I already have an appointed bondmate.”
The river at their pedes reflected their faces and upper bodies, the image distorted by the moving water, their outlines smudged off to one side. Soundwave spoke directly at their mirrored selves, watching himself tilt his helm to one side and his lips stretch with each word.
“The femme: she is your chosen yes, but you are not bonded to her. And that is what she is. A chosen. By the Council. Are you satisfied with that? Are you willing to have your actions dictated by a group of selfish, over-indulgent mechs for the rest of your existence?”
“I’ve had my actions chosen for me since I was reformatted into Optimus Prime. I’ve never wanted a mate anyways,” Optimus said. “You should defect,” he voiced after some thought, and wondered how many other times he had said that. “I don’t understand why you don’t.”
Soundwave took a step forward and he smiled almost serenely at the other mech. And as he did, Optimus was almost compelled to take a step back. Instead, he shifted his weight and held his ground.
“Tell me, Optimus Prime, why should I defect for a cause I do not believe in? The outcome is predictable. I will not be trusted and I will be locked up because of my abilities and place of my creation. ” The smile dropped, as if wiped clean from his faceplates. The visor across his optics brightened, the red sharpening in a full glare and his voice hardened. “No. I refuse to play second fiddle. You know that very well. You will have to give me a very good reason in order to defect. But we both know that you never will.”
Optimus finally took a step backwards. “It would take time but they would accept you. I wouldn’t let them lock you up. I am the Autobots and I have other obligations. You knew this. I don’t know why you’re so... attached.”
It wasn’t as if Optimus has condoned the attachment in any way, in fact he’d done his best to make Soundwave deviate away from him, but the harder he tried the more the mech seemed to be infatuated in some way with him, and the more he had continued. Soundwave’s visor dimmed in consideration. Optimus was right – he had never attempted to soften their relationship with empty promises and false affections. Soundwave would have lost interest a long time ago if that was the case. Decepticon protocol dictated that one’s chosen lover had to be one who possessed qualities that were approved of; power, strength, authority, passion. The same sort that had first reeled Soundwave in towards Megatron. The same sort that had him longing for the Autobot leader instead, knowing that beneath the circuitry and wires lay a dark creature that he was hopelessly attracted to.
He allowed his arm to stretch out, fingertips lightly touching Optimus’s shoulder, down and down the warm metal to trace an inside seam. The Autobot was uncomfortable, that much was obvious. It made him smug, the emotion slowly creeping into his otherwise calm and almost uninterested voice.
“And if the Council does lock me up somewhere and weld the door shut...would you go against them to ensure my release? How noble.” It took another two steps for Soundwave to invade the other’s personal space, deliberately tilting his frame so he could press himself against Optimus’ hips. “Question: do I not please you in ways your Autobots cannot?”
Optimus’s optics flashed and he brought his hands to rest on Soundwave’s hips, but managed to keep his fingers from pressing into the metal. “The Council trusts my opinion,” he managed to get out, but he knew that he was arguing with a mech that wouldn’t listen. Would he be put in a cell if Optimus brought him back to headquarters? Probably. The others would count Optimus as a traitor and would revoke his position of Prime. That would mean removing the Matrix, and that was the ultimate sacrifice.
Underneath his mask a pained expression was on his face. Optimus could only imagine the agony that would be, and he really had no desire to go through it. The last time he had attempted it… the thought made a shiver slip coolly down his backstrut.
“You please me,” he strained to get out, jaw working tightly under his mask, as he studiously avoided grinding his denta against one another. “The last mech who… pleased me is still on Cybertron.”
Soundwave allowed himself a tiny smile at Optimus’ words and the feel of those powerful hands on his hips, the top corner of his lip components pulling upwards ever so slightly. Yes, he was very happy to hear that. It temporarily curbed that ugly streak of his that always seemed to rear up whenever the Autobot leader was involved.
“Verdict: Satisfied.”
And to show it, he tilted his helm back and extended his glossa to swipe a long, wet line up Optimus’ throat. It was a gesture designed to entice and he knew that he was good at it. Hot air wafted in gentle, shallow puffs from his vents, signifying how fast his chassis was heating up. He really didn’t need to say anything more – it was obvious what he wanted. But he waited, hoping that Optimus would not end what they have. The planned route, if that ever happened, was unfavourable and desperate.
The Decepticon nuzzled his faceplates against the battle mask, lips mouthing at the metal directly over Optimus’ covered mouth. He stared into the brilliant blue gaze, the optical band over his own optics now a dark, lazy red. And his hands were not idle, oh no...his arms were snaking around the other mech’s waist to bring him closer against him, his fingers tapping around the back plating, expertly sliding down to Optimus’ aft.
Optimus stood stiffly, and he fought with himself whether or not to return the affections. After a few moments he did give in, and he brought one hand to Soundwave’s front, brushing across the buttons that rested on his pelvis, pushing a couple of them. Soundwave had a certain charm about him, something so real and tangible that he couldn’t deny it, and soon Optimus found himself melding into the affections and returning them just as quickly.
Soundwave arched the struts of his back, pushing his front insistently against the roaming hands. Prime traced his fingers around the golden opening for the tapedeck in Soundwave’s front, and was nearly compelled to ask the question of how Soundwave showed his spark. If Optimus pressed his palms flat on his chest, he would surely feel the quickening pulses of Soundwave’s spark, already swelling with anticipation.
How he loved the feel of those hands on him, especially when Optimus took the time to slowly explore his chassis. When they passed over the buttons of his alt-mode, his vents had hitched loudly. They weren’t sensitive at all, but Optimus’ touch only seemed make him all that more responsive. Soundwave’s arm uncurled from the Autobot’s flanks, moving up to fiddle lightly on a windshield wiper, rubbing the thin piece of metal between his fingers.
“Optimus,” Soundwave called, skinning his top lip component over his denta as his contented purr sharpened into a soft, possessive growl. He singled out one of the main cords of the Prime’s neck with his glossa and nipped at it before soothing the bite with gentle licks and suckles. “Surroundings: Empty. Jamming equipment: on. Why are you hesitating?”
“I don’t know,” Optimus admitted, dark blue optics gazing into the dark wooded forest, or across the banks of the river that, to humans, moderately tall tan colored grass swayed gently. It was the perfect picture of peace and semblance. His neck stung where Soundwave had bit him. “Seems too open.”
“Apprehension: noted,” Soundwave said, pressing his frame closer. “I will search the area again.”
It was also to ease his own worries, alongside with Optimus’. It wasn’t necessary for him to visually confirm that there was no one around; his modified scanning system was more than adequate, able to locate targets - organic and mechanised - with pinpoint precision. The only ones with just enough ability to perhaps strike lucky and evade him was that thrice-damned Autobot Blaster... and his own Cassetticons, though he knew that their loyalty was practically set in stone.
As he did so, large hands slid back to rest on his aft, where Optimus traced the seams and junctures of his hip, slipping his digits in to stroke at the muscle cable, but his fingers were too large to go far. The Autobot flattened the palm of his hand and brought it down sharply on Soundwave’s aft, and was more that satisfied to hear the metallic ring.
“Search results: local – ah!” Soundwave’s hips jerked at the unexpected sting, the slap jostling his wires against already sensitised sensors. “Local wildlife.”
Optimus merely nodded, his other hand rose to his face and he touched the bottom seams of his battle mask, and after another squeeze on Soundwave’s pert aft, he decided to remove it. Features revealed, he slipped the piece into his subspace, lips twitching as they were exposed to the cooling air. Since he wore his facemask nearly all of the time, he really wasn’t used to making expressions, even though sometimes he did, which he noted were mostly around the mech he was in company with now.
Soon, the Autobot broke away with a pleased sigh and sat down upon the soft dirt ground, his blue optics looking pinched and narrowed. Soundwave wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about.
With a soft whirring of gears, Soundwave dropped onto his knees, between Optimus’ parted legs and placed his hands flat by the other’s sides, rocks rolling away as his palms grinded into the ground. His arms supported most of his weight, back bowed and aft pushed out appealingly.
Soundwave then hunched closer and stopped, seemingly uncertain of himself for a moment as he admired his lover’s exposed faceplates. The tip of his glossa ran delicately across the mouth in front of him, giving it a couple of chaste kisses before snagging Optimus’ top lip between his denta and sucking it straight into his mouth. He released it with a wet smack and dragged his hands backwards, now leaving long grooves in the dirt so he could lean back and stretch.
Soundwave’s oral fluids cooled quickly on his mouth, and Optimus wiped at his lips with the back of his hand. “If only they could see you like this... I wonder what the other Decepticons would think?”
“Decepticons: none of their business,” the other mech answered dryly.
“So it’s not,” Optimus agreed.
The vulnerable tubing of his neck stretched tightly, exposed while his head lolled back. The outside breeze was a welcome change in comparison the usual stuffiness of an underwater base, he thought privately. His visor caught the sun’s dying rays, light reflecting across the surface and lighting it as if on fire.
Prime shifted and laid back, keeping careful optics on Soundwave as he did so. Obviously it was an open invite to the mech, and he curved a finger to motion for him. He had allowed Soundwave in a position like this before, but it was rare.
“Tease me out if you want me so bad,” he murmured. A frown flashed over his face, there and then gone. “And take off that damn visor,” Optimus growled.
“As you wish,” Soundwave acquiesced and despite his inhibitions, he obeyed immediately, the visor disappearing smoothly into his helm.
He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the momentary blindness while his optical feed adjusted in the low light. He devoured the sprawled Autobot before him with his hungry gaze, optics roving from the proud features, slowly sliding down to the strong chassis and long thighs and then up, up until he was looking back into the intense optics. He lifted his own thighs over the blue legs until he was straddling the other mech, bending slightly over him.
“Sometimes when I return after you finish fucking me... when I am alone in my quarters...would you like to know what I do?” he began with a deliberate lilt in his tone, taking his words and rolling them in his mouth as savouring a delicious energon sweet.
Optimus rested his hands on the swell of Soundwave’s hips. He could imagine... “Tactical efficiency reports?” he unhelpfully answered.
Soundwave ignored Optimus’ statement with his usual indifference and his fingers teasingly trailed down his own frame, playfully pressing his alt-mode buttons before pressing a finger against the closed panel. He dragged his fingertip across it with a soft squeal of metal. The navy-blue panel slid back and it wasn’t surprising that his valve was already glistening, a bead of lubricant already dribbling around the small opening. He was quick to bury two fingers deep inside, not caring if he was too rough with himself. Oh, but it felt so good...though Optimus’ long fingers...and even longer spike would definitely feel much better.
His glossa slithered out of his mouth like a silver serpent, the volume of his vocaliser dropping further and further. “Answer: I use my fingers to scrape out what’s left of your fluids from the inside me and then I suck them clean...until I end up overloading myself. Fantasising about you filling me up again. And again.”
With a long, drawn out groan, Optimus watched Soundwave work his fingers inside his valve, twisting them, pulling them out and then thrusting them back inside until he saw the warm fluids dribble down the joints of Soundwave’s knuckles and splatter onto Optimus’s groin plating. Splat, splat. His wrists were angled in such a way that Optimus could plainly see the rim of his valve flexing around his invading digits.
Seducing the mighty Optimus Prime...was exhilarating, something Soundwave was willing to do over and over again. These days, he was finding that his desire for the Autobot was steadily overpowering his loyalty for Megatron. The self-disgust usually came afterwards.
“Your taste: addictive,” Soundwave confessed as his internal fans clicked on. His optics were already dim, only a sliver of orange shining through them as if he was too lazy to power them fully. In a bold gesture, he removed his hand from between his thighs and pressed his fingers onto Optimus’ faceplates, smearing his wetness all over the slightly parted lips and surrounding dermaplating. The sight satisfied him greatly. Then he asked, feigning coyness in a way he saw many a Seeker do when they wanted attention. “How may I service you, my Prime?”
Speechless, Optimus’s blue optics were wide and bright as he watched the mech he had allowed to be on top of him. The thought of Soundwave licking up his cum from his valve after they were all finished was cpu melting, and the thought made heat rise to his frame, most specifically to his spike.
The Autobot’s panel warmed to unbearable levels and he groaned deeply, his glossa flicking out to clean off Soundwave’s lubricant from his lip. The move had been possessive… though something in his mind told him it didn’t matter how he took it. His panel opened and he almost started at the sound.
“I…” he said, feeling if he was drunk. It was the oddest sensation that flooded through his circuits, not unpleasant, and he felt his spike extend. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said somewhat unintelligently, his lips working even after he was finished speaking.
He reached up to grab Soundwave’s chassis, right above the gold lining around his tapedeck and pulled him forward, away from his erect spike, and dragged him roughly to the ground. With a grunt he swung his hips over and kneeled, moving his hand from Soundwave’s front to his helm, forcing his head to the ground. Prime’s fingers tensed and he harshly dragged them down Soundwave’s backstrut, where he came to rest both of his hands on Soundwave’s aft, pulling him up in the air. Soundwave hid his pleased little smirk into the dirt. It was all part of the game after all.
“You’re mine, you fucking whore,” Prime hissed.
“Yes,” he agreed, the word barely audible and half muffled into the ground. It thrilled him that Optimus Prime would claim Soundwave as his own, uttered in such a coarse, erotic way, the lines of pain streaking down his back plating practically a testament of that. He hadn’t protested at being so callously handled, tossed to the ground and then arranged into an all-fours position of Optimus’ choosing as if he were some sort of play thing.
Optimus Prime didn’t even bother with preparation, only wrapped one hand around his rigid spike to guide himself to Soundwave’s entrance, and once he was resting on the lip of Soundwave’s valve, he thrust his hips forward, penetrating him in one smooth stroke. On hindsight, it was just as well that Soundwave had played with himself a little beforehand; Optimus always seemed too big for his valve sometimes and it was always somewhat of a shock to feel the burning glide of that spike, moving deep inside him. A sob laced with static – he knew how much the Autobot liked to hear them – escaped his vocaliser, punctuated by a loud gasp of heated air from his intakes. The initial stretch, almost agony and satisfaction of finally, finally! getting what he wanted.
Optimus moved up over Soundwave, his hand resting by the telepath’s shoulders, his larger frame looming over the smaller mech. With a roll of his hips and the tightening of his stomach he drove forward, then out, then back again. Soundwave’s optics flickered with varying degrees of brightness from the forceful thrusts and he keened with pleasure, and he didn’t seem to care if the disgustingly organic soil stuck on the oil coating the seams of his mouth. Not even if the dirt crept into the vents of his helm or if the ground was scratching against his sensitive dermaplating either. All he cared about was the way Optimus asserted his dominance over him, the leader’s hot chassis pressing down onto him and fully encompassing him, as if daring him to escape.
Not far from the two and hidden carefully underneath a thick foliage and interwoven tree branches, another pair of red optics dimmed further. Laserbeak craned his neck forward, the extended camera scope on his helm adjusting automatically with the change of angle. It was ironic that the device he was using to avoid detection had been installed by the very mech he was hiding from right now. But he was running out of energy and he could not afford Soundwave’s sensitive scanners detecting him on their next sweep over. The avian symbiote was practically silent as he lifted up into the air, using his anti-gravs instead of his normal propulsion system and with barely a rustle of leaves; he glided away, disappearing into the dark sky.
“This is the last time,” the Prime hissed darkly, the words dangerous and lethal. “That I’m going to fuck you. It ends tonight,” he finished.
Soundwave flinched, suddenly feeling chilled to the core.
It was his worst fears come true and he was painfully aware that he was too far gone in their warped relationship to accept the statement, even if it was for the best. The lust faded and he could only stare for a brief moment at the blue hand close to his shoulder, watching the digits tense and twitch. His systems were screaming at him now and what was originally perceived as pleasure, swiftly morphed into the opposite, the ridges of Optimus’ spike causing an uncomfortable sensation of friction inside him.
“Surely you do not mean that,” he rasped, only one over-bright optic visible from the angle he had twisted his helm, gazing up at the other mech from the periphery of his vision.
Optimus could feel the unresponsiveness, the almost stiffness with way Soundwave was acting, and stopped thrusting. Somehow there just had to be a way to get him to see pure futility of what they were doing. He paused and arched his hips back, grunting as his spike slid smoothly out, dribbles of lubricant following him, coating him. Optimus pressed his hips forward and rested the tip of his spike within Soundwave’s entrance. His blue optics met the orange of Soundwave’s, and he couldn’t help the rush of contempt that tickled his circuits. Soundwave still stared, even after Optimus stopped.
Optimus couldn’t take the uncomfortable scrutiny anymore and he rested back on his haunches. “Don’t be foolish,” he hissed, “you know as well as I that it would be foolish to continue. We risk everything,” he said in a soft voice, a shade higher than his normal baritone.
It was the truth, what Optimus said; Soundwave would be literally ripped apart if word ever got back to Megatron. And he doubted that the Autobot Council with their prejudice covered in a thick layer of promises and propaganda, would be forgiving either.
Optimus’ hand snaked down and he wrapped it around his spike. “You’ve got other lovers back on the Nemesis that you can return to…” He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that was developing within his spark. Of course he should’ve figured that Soundwave wouldn’t take it well.
There was still no answer from Soundwave – it was if he was incapable of speaking. The only thing that was running through his processor was that Optimus did not deem him worthy enough to risk their relationship. Dejection was a horrible, horrible feeling and not even he was immune to it. And all he was going to do, he thought dimly to himself, was go back and continue to serve Megatron until he would finally allow Optimus Prime to terminate him with one, well-placed shot.
Soundwave knew what his last resort was, and it was unfortunate that it had to come down to this. He didn’t even have to move a gear, concentrating on his telepathic powers, envisioning them gathering into one single burning point before lashing out. Optimus stumbled from the shock at being so fiercely attacked but remained standing. A lesser mech would have fallen. Soundwave didn’t even give him a chance to reach for his weapon, sending another telepathic blast straight into the Autobot’s cpu. Then he toppled backwards, landing hard by the bank and close to the moving water. After the second shock, Optimus had no longer been able to function, and distantly he had noticed how his frame collided heavily with the ground. It felt like Starscream’s null rays, painful and excruciating, but numbing at the same time.
Soundwave was furious. But it was an icy fury, one that did not satisfy him or fuel him further. It was the only emotion he would allow himself to feel; if he lost focus on that then he would surely be overcome by feelings that were not supposed to exist. He moved fast, crawling over to where Optimus was laying. While the other mech was still reeling in shock, Soundwave took advantage by reaching into his subspace and retrieving a pair of energon-cuffs.
“I told you many times that you are my only lover,” he said evenly as he made quick work of restraining Optimus’ wrists. “Have you not realised that yet?”
Pleased that Optimus would not break free any time soon, Soundwave kicked the sprawled legs closer to each other so he could leisurely straddle the leader. Their interface components were still bared, the Autobot’s spike still pointing up towards the sky and Soundwave grunted as he practically skewered himself back onto it, twisting his hips from side to side until that hard length was fully sheathed inside him. The spike pulled at the walls of his valve, the remaining fluids drying out and not enough to ensure a smooth slide, though he barely felt the sting.
A barely discernable grunt left Optimus Prime, he couldn’t speak yet, and his mind was buzzing with a weird pain that seemed to penetrate his spark and cpu at the same time. It was like a haze, and he wondered what it would be like to be completely under Soundwave’s mental control. Like a puppet under the master’s influence. His spike felt only a ticklish tingle when Soundwave impaled himself on it.
Then the Decepticon balled his fingers into a tight fist and smashed it into the faceplates below him. The second punch came down even harder, tearing at the dermaplating. He watched indifferently for the briefest of moments mechblood welled up on Prime’s cut lip components. In his shock, Optimus didn’t respond to anything, and was slightly roused as he was punched, feeling it deep within his jaw, and he finally shrieked out in panic and agony. Oil trickled out of his mouth and he started to struggle. Optimus bucked his hips up and centred his weight on his shoulders, tossing his torso from side-to-side along with his hips, hardly feeling the pleasure of his spike still being encompassed by Soundwave’s valve.
There was mechblood in Optimus’ mouth, and feverishly high pitched grunts left him as he struggled to get the other mech off of him. “Y-you crazy fuck,” was all he could say, his vocalizer crackling. Anger flared within him, blocking out some of the pain, his fighting systems coming online. “I’m going to kill you!” he howled, gnashing his denta together.
“What made you think that I would blithely let you go,” Soundwave finally snarled in return, the usual flat accent reverting into an old, Cybertronian street dialect. He lifted himself off Optimus’ lap, knees sliding further and cables exposed starkly at the gaps between his joints. Gravity took effect, allowing him to impale himself back down again. The light in his optics were too bright now in the twilight, casting a hellish glare over his features. “I’d rather succeed where Megatron has failed. Pity the Matrix won’t allow me to reformat you into a Cassette. I would have liked to keep you close to my spark, lover.”
Optimus’ kicked out and he brought one up to knee Soundwave sharply on his backstrut, and then with the other, while at the same time he thrust his hips up to gain momentum and leverage. Communications, yes, he needed to activate them somehow, and he blankly reached into his processor for the codes, trying to find them in the mess of his mind. One of Soundwave’s hands located a barely noticeable panel close to Optimus’ pelvis; digits clawing into the seam and forcibly tearing the plating open in an impressive show of strength. A series of receptive ports were revealed, usually reserved for medical use. Soundwave tugged out a long slender wire from his own chassis, a momentary flash of silver from the universal connector tipped at the end before slamming it into one of the ports. Optimus shrieked another indecency and tried sitting up, reaching forward to try to use his denta to bite Soundwave. No, not those ports, no. Optimus felt the Matrix take interest at the situation, almost like a foreign type of arousal. Optimus’ shoulders hunched together as he protected his chassis. The Matrix, it mattered the most, if he could protect it for long enough, hopefully others would come.
“You will cease your struggles, Autobot!” Soundwave ordered tightly, driving his knees hard into the ground in an attempt to anchor himself down.
“Fuck you!” Optimus barked back, tossing his hips up again.
Soundwave scowled as he narrowly avoided getting bitten and when one enthusiastic buck nearly flung him off, he merely hit Optimus again, this time a vicious backhand across the faceplates. The resulting sound rang unpleasantly in the otherwise quiet forest.
“No it is you that is going to be fucked.”
The hit was startling, and it knocked his sensory grid offline for the span of a few seconds, throwing him into complete numbness before everything came back. He gurgled on his own mechblood, and instinctively spit it out, coughing as his vents sputtered for air.
Through the established hard line connection, Soundwave encountered the usual admission points that allowed one to hook into another’s systems; guest, medic and customised. He didn’t bother with any of them; talented and skilled enough to smash effortlessly through the virtual walls and grab hold of the hidden master route instead. Using that, he barrelled himself into the foreign programming and straight towards the other’s communication protocols. He accessed them just in the nick of time and disabled them, uploading his own codes to effectively block Optimus from calling his followers for help.
He took the brunt of other mech’s frustrations with a tight press of his lips, pain and discomfort being pushed to the far end and fading into the distance of his mind. Soundwave did not have the luxury of time, therefore he knew he had work fast; Optimus Prime was strong and he couldn’t hold him down forever. But it was a long, lengthy process to destroy one’s processing core in that manner and Optimus’ fearsome will was truly a force to be reckoned with. It didn’t matter; Soundwave could be quite creative and adaptable under pressure.
The expression on Soundwave’s face showed no pleasure or excitement, just his optics flickering radically while he ruthlessly battled the Autobot’s formidable firewalls for supremacy. And then the already terse mouth tightened even more, the optics beginning to bleed white at the edges. He was unable to break through Optimus’ main programming core; walls surrounding him at every turn, an almost tangible force that had him inwardly howling with rage at the challenge.
Soundwave made a low, metallic growl that seemed to emanate from his chestplates rather than his vocaliser. Much like two incompatible cogwheels jammed together, Optimus’ spike still sat awkwardly within his valve. Soundwave’s vents hissed out air as he began to ride the trapped mech beneath him, the hydraulic lines in his thighs helping him keep a steady, moderate pace. A couple of upward thrusts and deliberate roll of his hips was all it took to roughly stimulate his valve’s sensor nodes, just enough to smoothen the chafing movement.
But Prime couldn’t feel pleasure, only astonishment that it was turning out as bad as it really was. The telepath’s valve around him was uncomfortable and his spike ached at all the rough stimulation, so he reached for the coding to retract it. It was not that hard to do. There was a pained grimace on his face as his spike slowly began to retract back into his spike housing, frame convulsing once at the feeling.
“Fine. Have it your way, Autobot,” Soundwave grated out, his empty valve protesting from the abuse he had bestowed upon it so he just absently allowed his interfacing panel to slide back as well. Gazing down at his prey, he unsure whether his words were being processed at all. “Reference: Decepticons do not take rejection well. It is insulting to our pride. One must finish what he has started, do you not agree?”
With his communications blocked and down, Optimus could only hope that Ratchet was intuitive enough to come back. His icy blue optics were glazed over as he gazed belatedly up at the night sky, past Soundwave. He’d said that he’d be back around dark, right? Maybe Sky Spy was out there. He knew he’d felt something earlier. With a hiss of his vents, and a pained creak of joints, he laid back, too tired to keep up with the struggle of fighting. It wasn’t the physical part, but it was the Matrix. For some reason the object kept drawing on his stores of energon, strengthening itself, and he wondered it if was preparing for an attack.
“You stupid fool,” he laughed as Soundwave struggled to bypass his firewalls. “Even if you do get past my firewalls you’ll have to deal with the Matrix; the collective conscious of five Primes. You’ll be overwhelmed at the sheer knowledge.” He snorted with laughter, lips parted as he fought for breath. “You must have wondered what’s been warping me so much.” He shook his head, optics dim. A smirk took Optimus’ face, cracked lip split and bleeding. He reached into his cpu for his programming, ordering his firewalls off.
“Go ahead, order my chestplates open, finish it.”
Surprised by the sudden compliance given to him, Soundwave just managed to catch himself from lurching forward by placing both his hands flat on the ground beside the blue helm, his shoulders hunched up high and arms ramrod straight. He could feel the aggressive coding he had previously assaulted Prime’s systems with now bouncing aimlessly amongst the programming, their blockade abruptly gone. Sheer indignation gurgled up inside him.
“Do not ridicule me!” The Decepticon’s lip components skinned back over sharpened denta into an ugly sneer that warped his pale features. “I am not a weakling. Prediction for the end of this cycle: your termination or mine.”
Optimus’s optics darkened and he grinned. “We’ll see.”
He should have never allowed himself to become so enamoured with the Autobot, never allowed his obsession to grow to such a dangerous, sickening level. He should have just killed him from the start and robbed Megatron the victory he so longed for. With that one last determined thought, Soundwave sent the command through their forced connection. The first set of plating consisting of the Prime’s truck mode flipped back, exposing the second, thinner layer that was quick to retract.
Soundwave could not tear his optics away from the sight.
There were holopictures of the sacred artefact of course, but they were a far cry to what the Matrix actually looked like. It looked like – to put it bluntly – a parasite. The handles were twisted and stretched out like tentacles around Optimus interior circuitry and in some places, even melded against it. The original depictions showed a radiant, blue crystal housed inside a cylinder... and the actual crystal itself pulsed out its inner light, as if it were a living life form, practically embedded into the chamber that contained Optimus’ spark. Soundwave didn’t doubt it.
“Aim: not the Matrix or its knowledge. Aim: you,” he ground out, pulling out another connector cable alongside the one he already had extended. This time he shoved it into a secret emergency port concealed around Optimus’ primary energon feeder. One block, one massive block was keeping him from fully engulfing Optimus Prime.
“To get to me... you need to go through the Matrix.”
The Matrix swelled with power as he spoke. If Optimus were to bond, the Matrix would slide up out of the way whenever it was he decided to bare his spark. He hadn’t opened his chest for anyone, and had only planned on doing it for Ultra Magnus, maybe Elita if the right things had worked out. But, it wasn’t his choice to open his chassis. Most mechs could control who they showed their spark to, Optimus could not. His helm lolled to the side, optics blank as assault after assault ripped through his processor, combing through data and programming, searching, searching, searching. He wondered how long it would take for his previous lover to figure out that he simply could not bypass it with any coding. There was no programming for it, no secret mixture that was kept anywhere, it was the sole volition of the Matrix.
“You must…” he trailed off. “You must confront the Matrix otherwise it will protect me.” A mixture of oral fluid and mechblood dribbled down the side of his chin, and Optimus’s hands and arms felt numb from the way they were being crimped. “You must focus on the Matrix… to kill me…” Right then and there, he thought that perhaps, in a severely pessimistic and dark way, that it was really going to be a good thing.
Soundwave’s attacks faltered a little at the spoken words. “Termination: preferred?” he asked, almost disbelieving. Then he narrowed his optics until only thin slits of light peeked through. “Or are you baiting me?”
Optimus convulsed and his optics darkened a further, while the Matrix, its shining light, intensified. “Touch it…” Optimus whispered.
Soundwave drove his fist into the ground and his attacks renewed again. Whether it was a trick or not, Soundwave did not quite care. Optimus was right of course; he had to go through the Matrix if he wanted to destroy the core processor. He had avoided it so far, staunchly searching for alternative routes but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he kept getting redirected back to a virtual block within Optimus’ coding one block that kept thwarting him. Programming was ineffective against it and whatever he executed against it was just... absorbed.
Soundwave’s tense faceplates relaxed into resignation and he shifted his shoulders, leaning further down onto the Autobot. He lifted one grimy hand from the ground to gently wipe the mess from Optimus’ face, although he ended up leaving a long smear instead and the moved it over the artefact, outstretched palm hovering above the crystal. He could feel the building power emanating from it, throbbing against his heightened sensors. He withdrew his hand instead.
The hardline connectors made a loud scraping sound as they were roughly torn from the Autobot’s ports and this time, Soundwave focused his sole attention on his telepathic abilities. Telepathic fingers morphed into talons, digging and scratching, crushing and pushing, doing everything in his power to weaken whatever was standing between him and his final goal. And he was quite relentless, concentrating waves upon waves of his power on the Matrix, eager to erode that infernal barrier. His systems were running at full capacity, red glyphs dancing in front of his flickering vision warning him of overheating capacitors and the depleting energy reserves. His whole chassis was shuddering from the exertion. It was horrible, painful and yet Soundwave doggedly pushed on. He wanted to prove a point, anything, anything to break Optimus Prime and he would not rest until his processor burnt out.
“I will have you,” he gritted out from clenched denta, optics vivid and almost white. His arms completely buckled and he fell on his elbows on top of the Autobot. The Matrix was uncomfortably close to his faceplates, the pulsing light almost beckoning him.
Touch it, Optimus had said.
He did. With a CPU that felt as if it was literally going to explode and vents barely able to keep up with his furiously rotating fans, Soundwave extended his quivering glossa to lick the crystal. Sparks flew up, crackling across the wet tip.
Optimus’ blue optics flared and his backstrut arched upwards as he audibly gasped.
Then it happened.
Something inside the Decepticon gave way, abruptly and unpleasantly and the immense power that surged through him was pure, utter agony. He froze; mouth open in a silent scream, beyond stunned and not even aware that he had finally broke through.
The Matrix entered Soundwave’s mind with ease and deliberation, pushing back any barriers the telepath might have erected. Its presence was abrasive and painful, and it did nothing to hide the harshness of its nature, purposely enjoying the way it pushed pain into every circuit. First, it went to search through Soundwave’s memory files, looking through every single thing the mech had ever done, or seen, and thought. Quickly, it cast judgment, silently, and it moved on. Personality components it went to next, analysing and gauging the telepath’s behaviour for situations that had happened, and ones that would come. Finally, it learned the mech’s physical form. The shape and contour of his face, all the way down to the inner workings of his valve… everything that would matter had to be perfect for Optimus. Its job was to find the perfect mate… to continue the lineage of the Prime.
“Opti...” Soundwave tried to articulate, in some vague attempt to demand that the Autobot rein the damned thing back but all that poured out of his mouth was static.
“Zzz- what- what the fuck?” Optimus hissed.
The backlash was horrendous. It was too much and the gears and cables underneath his plating seized, snapping him back in an almost impossible arch. A sound did bubble up from his wide, gasping mouth; choked and filled with even more static interference. He could feel it, its disembodied murmurings that made no sense and its ancient conscious trickling unheeded through his neural processing network, making his circuits positively crawl with the invasive presence. All of his carefully constructed defences crumbling in its wake as if they never existed. As a telepath used to manipulating others, Soundwave was wholly unaccustomed to tasting the bitterness of his own medicine. Physical violation was one thing but the mental equivalent was absolutely jarring.
‘Perfect…’ it whispered.
In turn, it showed Soundwave some of Optimus… the real mech on the inside. The trouble he had with controlling his temper, his passions, his faults and problems. Then it showed a few memories, but not all. The love the leader held for his soldiers, his unfailing belief in the Autobot cause. It showed his feelings for Ultra Magnus, a few scenes of feverish interfacing. It was much like what a mech would experience when bonding, but the emotions and real life intimacy wasn’t there, and most notably, neither was the pleasure.
‘You’re the one,’ it said, exaltation bursting through it. Now, it gave both of the mechs pleasure, so much pleasure that Optimus shifted underneath, a howling moan breaking from him.
When the pain disappeared only to be replaced by pure desire, Soundwave cried out thinly not knowing which feeling was worse. The Matrix gently compelled him to open his chassis and expose his spark, snaking through his mind and circuits like a virus, influencing with ghost hands that insistently guided him to part his chestplates... and he couldn’t even stop himself. His own laser core was recessed further down in his chassis for his Cassettes but with a command that he couldn’t remember initiating, it ascended upwards with a soft mechanical whirr. The protective shielding parted and his naked spark shone as bright as Optimus’.
The Matrix started to move, the cords that had been binding it and melted to it loosening, and it slowly slid up into the upper chest cavity where it could rest safely. Prime’s lasercore parted, clear glass that could withstand a heavy hit, and slowly revealed the deep blue of Optimus’s spark, royal gold energy tendrils twisting within it. Optimus hadn’t bothered to close his plate, and with all of the pleasure, he felt lubricant welling up in his valve.
It was the oddest sensation when Soundwave’s joints, previously locked in pain, suddenly felt as if they turned to liquid. He dropped back down onto the other mech. Soundwave grinded his closed panel down onto the Autobot’s crotch and then overwhelmed with lust, retracted it with a soft shnick for a second time that day. He rotated his hips, the sensitive lining of his heated valve sliding slickly up against Optimus’ own opening, smearing both their fluids across their bared interfacing components before his spike slid out of its housing, sensors aching for stimulation. Soundwave’s hips pushed backwards as he made a needy, undignified whine, his base programming urged him to bury himself into the writhing chassis below him. The angle was wrong and he was too lost to realise that he was not in the correct position for it. All he could feel was the heat and, oh Primus, all that wetness up against the underside of his spike.
Soundwave’s hand, previously gouging out the soil next to Optimus’ helm, grabbed hold of a blue audio finial instead and he squeezed firmly.
“Make it stop...” he just barely managed to gurgle out.
“C-cant!”
Under normal circumstances, he would have been mortified at his spark’s actions. It was yearningly crying out, trying to answer the Matrix’s magnetic pull, and the Decepticon was unable to stop himself from falling. When the churning energy inside his chest finally grabbed hold of its prize - Optimus’ spark - he howled out in the night sky.
Soundwave’s weight was crushing down on him and pinning his arms, and Optimus couldn’t extend his spike no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted stimulation between his legs bad, and that’s all he cared about until their sparks melded together.
“N-no!” Prime shrieked, and he tried to struggle, but the Matrix took his energy. Prime bucked his hips and spread his legs, aching for something, anything. He could feel their essences blending together, mixing, and brief snippets of Soundwave’s memory, emotions, and thoughts. But it was quick and hurried while Prime arched his hips up, lifting Soundwave off of his spark, and he then thrust his chassis back up into the unbearable heat of the other mech. Of course he felt the Matrix’s presence within him, making him subservient, while at the same time it urged Soundwave to claim what was rightfully his now. Optimus was his now.
The joints of Optimus’ shoulders creaked painfully in protest as the bigger mech thrust his chassis up again, his spark slamming further onto the telepath’s until he didn’t know what was happening. Optimus Prime had never been so worried for his wellbeing in a long time. Tingles of pleasure flared through his body to stomp out the fear – the Matrix made him not care. Whimpers left his mouth, head tossed back while he arched his backstrut so hard it hurt. His wrists were forced beyond extension and he knew they were mutilated. The ends of his fingers dug harshly into the ground, using it as a medium to express his emotions.
“Can’t stop,” he groaned, “it’s the Matrix.”
“Make it stop!”
“I fucking can’t!”
Soundwave yanked at Optimus’ antenna, forcing him flat onto the ground and smashed his chestplates back onto the other’s spark to fuse them back together. Optimus’ conscience was inside him, and he could feel everything; the Matrix goading him, his fruitless efforts to regain control of himself, his uncontrollable craving for Optimus Prime and subsequently, the other mech’s lust coursing alongside his.
The Matrix was feeding him these sordid thoughts, these feelings. That its host was his mate now. All his. Soundwave snarled like a possessed hellhound and without separating their chests, lifted his aft up long enough to push one of the Autobot’s legs apart. His hips jerked, the tip of his spike scraping against the metal of Optimus’ inner thigh before he managed to find the dripping opening. He pushed, the valve impossibly tight around his girth. With a grunt, he pulled back and shoved his spike fully back inside.
Each thrust of Soundwave inside of him made Optimus cry out. He desperately wanted his arms to be free so he could put his hands on the mech’s aft and urge him on faster and harder, to squeeze and pull and beg to be fucked. His optics fogged as steam filtered freely out of his mouth, split lip aching as soft cries left him, waiting for something to give. He shifted his legs up, knees jutting in the air to give Soundwave more room.
“My Autobot...so good...” Soundwave crooned, running his glossa around parted lip components.
Optimus felt perfect, so so perfect. His valve and his spark, everything that was the leader’s being weaving itself around his own engorged spark, their cores linking and bonding with each other. He was too far gone to realise what exactly the Matrix was manoeuvring them towards, too immersed to protest at its plans. Soundwave pushed his faceplates into Optimus’ taut neck cords and began to suck onto his main energon line with small, muffled sounds. At the feeling of the telepath’s desperate lips on his neck, Optimus curled his helm into the mech’s shoulder.
Soundwave rocked his entire body; hips rolling forward, sparks entwined and screaming in protest when he strayed too far upwards and then backwards again, his hot rigid length being smothered by those wonderfully clenching walls. And forward. And then backwards again. Hands holding firmly onto Optimus’ thigh, fingertips rubbing into the metal deliberately as if trying to erase the touch of the Autobot’s previous lovers.
“Ah, Soundwave!” Prime moaned, jerking his hips back onto the mech, completely lost.
Oral oil escaped from his mouth, the soft and muted shine of it disappearing down his chin to mix with his neck tubing. He had never felt such pleasure, or such lust. It was deafening, and he nibbled lightly on the curve of his newly bonded’s jaw, panting with exertion. Warmth filled him, long and pleasurable, and his valve flowed with lubricant as it started to rapidly constrict around the large spike within him. While he’d seen Soundwave’s spike before, touched him too, it had been ages since the last time he had been penetrated and valve fucked, and it brought him great ecstasy.
The Decepticon did not respond, save for low, heavy panting that washed over his bondmate’s neck, the hot air seeping deep into the cords and cables. With his energon pounding in his lines and warnings filling up his vision, Soundwave’s overload was finally wrenched from him, violently. There was no scream or loud yell, but disjointed sobs of pleasure, hips practically jabbing forward, eager to prolong the experience. Both of their orgasms hit with full force, peaking at the exact same time from the connection of their sparks. Optimus felt Soundwave’s transfluid spill into his valve, hot and pleasant, while their sparks only crackled and sparked, and in one last moment, the connection flared into a bright white, blinding him while his frame went rigid. Wave of pleasure after pleasure rocked through him, so intense that it almost hurt, and he blankly screamed up at the night sky, optics darting from star to star above them.
Finally it was over. As the excess energy soaked out of his circuits, Soundwave hazily felt the Matrix retreat away. Soundwave succumbed to his exhaustion, subsidiary systems automatically shutting down. The last thing he saw was that obligatory stasis-lock window before his chassis fell limp.
Prime slumped, their sparks still happily mingling and pressed together. “Dear Primus,” he softly said, blue optics quickly turning black as energy depletion stole over him.
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