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The sound of explosions and distant screaming should have averted the attention of the Decepticon Communications Officer, as it should have caught the attention of the Autobot Leader. It didn’t. Soundwave could not quite bring himself to care about the chaos surrounding their little hiding place, as he leaned into Optimus’ large form and nuzzled the edge of his faceplate against the sensitive wires running up his neck.
He straddled Optimus’ lap, relishing in the easy gasping of those overworked vents. His digits wandered, prodding at seams and rubbing at vulnerable joints. Every so often, they dipped between a metallic exoskeleton and brushed the chassis beneath. Optimus’ vents hitched whenever that happened. Music to Soundwave’s audials.
“What would Megatron think?” Optimus murmured breathlessly, lolling his head to the side. His face mask had long since retracted, leaving his dermas agape.
Soundwave hummed in vague recognition of those words, but didn’t grace them with an answer. He half-heartedly ground his interface panel downwards, basking in the comfortable, warm pleasure that blossomed throughout his lower half. His spike was already straining against the panel; it had been ever since he’d pulled Optimus aside and held him to the ground with little resistance.
The two had been meeting like that for a while, after all. It had started as a temporary, swift escape from the heat of battle and wound up becoming much more. Part of the thrill was the idea of getting caught, after all. Megatron would have both of their heads if he found out, and Soundwave couldn’t imagine the Autobots would be very happy either.
He didn’t concern himself with the thought of what would happen, much more than the fact that it could. If he delved too deep into the fantasy, his spark ached mysteriously and it was not the time to run diagnostics on the state of it. After all, he had an Autobot Leader to ruin beneath his servos.
The sensors along his digits and in the palm of his servos rang in shuddering waves as he trailed both servos down Optimus’ waist to settle on his hips. He caught the sharp nose of his faceplate on a sensitive fuel line and listened closely to the whimper that stirred from him. It was dizzyingly good, and he couldn’t wait to sink his spike into the warmth of that valve. The world spun around him before he forcibly reset his gyros.
“Soundwave,” Optimus breathed, pleading and weak in a way that nobody else would dare to be around the optics and audials of the Decepticons. “Please. We don’t have much time.”
“Soundwave: is aware,” he responded as quietly and gently as he could manage. “Soundwave: is hurrying.”
With that, he allowed his panels to click aside. The tip of his spike, leaking lubricant, rubbed against Optimus’ thigh and he bit back a moan of his own. Cold air, combined with the muck of a battlefield, brushed along the sensors running up his spike and had him shivering lightly. He never was good at keeping his composure in the – now metaphorical – berth of Optimus Prime.
Optimus wasted no time in sending his own panels away. His valve was dripping lubricant in thick streams that caught Soundwave’s attention. Suddenly, coolant was flooding his intake and his fans were whirring painfully loud. He exhaled and readjusted himself, so that his spike rubbed between the folds of that warm, enticing hole.
It took all of his self control not to plunge in without pause. Instead, Soundwave trailed one servo up Optimus’ chassis, all without looking up. His other servo wrapped around his spike and, once the sensors on his digits and spike alike connected, sent sparks of charge up his spine. He couldn’t help the grunt that had his vocalizer spitting static.
Two digits prodded at Optimus’ derma. It didn’t take long for him to get the message and take them into his warm, wet intake. He prodded his glossa against the sensors on the pads of Soundwave’s digits, and all of his restraint broke like a dropped glass. His spike delved into Optimus, wrenching moans and static from both of them in perfect unison. Optimus’ callipers squeezed a rhythm around his spike, and he wondered how he’d ever lived without their regular interfacing.
His free servo clutched at Optimus’ waist and his helm lolled against that large chestplate. Soundwave listened to the whirring of his engine, the spinning of his fans and the enchanting beat of his spark. Somewhere in the back of his processor, he remembered to record the sensations into a private file for him to open later. When he was alone at base and his emotions got a hold on him.
It was a shame that he could not risk communicating with Optimus outside of the field, otherwise he would have sent the file to him without hesitation.
Optimus wriggled his hips, as if silently begging Soundwave to use him. His dermas twitched beneath his faceplate and his optics lost focus as he thrusted once, twice, thrice– It was so pleasantly hot in a way that had his vents heaving desperately. His energon was burning rapidly with the amount of coolant it had to produce and pump through his system, but he ignored the warnings popping up in the corner of his vision and thrusted a little harder.
A moan spilled freely from Optimus, and that was what snapped Soundwave’s control. He set his jaw, held onto Optimus so tightly that metal bent beneath his digits, and set a brutal pace. Each dive deeper into that valve had charge rippling up his spine and burning heat settling right at the core of his chassis. It was an addictive sensation, and one that he wasn’t sure that he would ever tire from.
Their relationship would end, eventually. It was a dull truth that he had long since accepted; there was no way out of it without tragedy. Optimus, leader of everything that Soundwave stood against and Soundwave, loyal to everything that Optimus despised. It was a miracle that their differing views had not already resulted in the destruction of their relationship. Both of them were much too dedicated, much too stubborn, to cave simply for a wonderful frag. Yet, Soundwave forced himself not to think about it and instead focused on the feeling of said wonderful frag.
Senseless pleas and whines about how good Soundwave felt, how well he was doing, had Soundwave toppling over the edge before long. Heat exploded in his system, sent flashes of white across his vision and seared a burning trail in his spark. He fell limp against Optimus’ chassis, panting desperately, as he spilled into that valve. Luckily for him, that was enough to send Optimus overloading as well.
Callipers squeezed around his spike and ignited worn sensors, resulting in a miserable whine from Soundwave. He twitched his hips slightly, riding out the high, and then allowed exhaustion to overtake him once Optimus settled. His servo pried itself from Optimus’ intake, and a string of coolant snapped between them to fall against one of his digits’ sensors. He shuttered his optics and trembled.
Optimus cradled his form, equally as exhausted but ever so determined to provide comfort. His servo trailed up and down Soundwave’s spine, running soft digits along the overworked sensor net there. It was as comforting as it was intimidating and, once he got his energy back, he wrenched from the touch to stumble to his pedes. He looked down at Optimus before turning away.
“Soundwave: must return to the Decepticons.”
Optimus exhaled behind him. “You do not have to. There is a spot for you in the Autobots, there always will be.”
Soundwave’s exoskeleton prickled, and he thought of his cassettes on the field as they spoke, fighting off the Autobots’ raid alongside his fellow army. The thought of leaving them behind lingered in his processor for a beat before he banished it entirely. There was not a single part of him that truly wanted that, and he would be miserable if he switched sides. Besides, how would they continue to function without him constantly cleaning up their messes?
“Soundwave: must decline. Optimus: must return to the field. Farewell.”
With that, he was gone, ducking beneath a stray bullet to return to his side. He could feel Optimus’ optics on his back, but he did not turn to look. That would have been foolish, and he was no fool.