Inspired by an image drawn by Zenophrenic. Written for Zenophrenic.
Soundwave had always been surrounded in rumors and myth. One of Ratchet's favorite stories was that the slim mech was a herald of unicron, a terrorcon, a phantom, a faceless ghost, a shadow that walked the days. Of course, Ratchet didn't pay that any mind. It was the way Soundwave moved, he suspected, how his arms barely swung yet his walk was flowing like the shadows he clung to. But when bound in chains on his knees before the enemy, he appeared like any other mech.
His visor had been stripped off, his head hung down, face hidden.
But Ratchet had already seen it. Pale grey protoform, red slits on black optics, a wide and expressive mouth. He certainly had a horrific face for such a lovely body.
Optimus had trusted him to interrogate Soundwave using his own methods. He didn't intend to be kind.
His surgical tools, everything he'd need to take Soundwave apart to extract his memories, laid on the table next to the kneeling prisoner. Stepping up to him, Ratchet lifted the narrow chin upwards, looking down on those optics.
But to his surprise, they were not filled with hatred, but intent. Confused, he tightened his grip, the slender mech leaning into his hand. He heard clicking, not that of machinery, but a vocalization, as Soundwave turned his head so that his cheek rubbed against Ratchet's palm, a long violet glossa extending and wrapping around his fingers.
Soundwave took advantage of Ratchet's confusion, the Autobot's grip loosening. He moved his head, taking the medic's index finger into his mouth, swallowing around it, taking down all of it, his glossa teasing the knuckles and the wires beneath them. Ratchet's knees went weak when he felt sharp denta dig into his hand.
No one had thought to restrain Soundwave's data cables, but this realization came too late as Soundwave extended them, wrapping them around Ratchet's legs, pulling him against Soundwave's chest.
The spymaster purred against Ratchet, the bright, hot, spot on his chest hotter than the rest of him, pressed against Ratchet's waist. The CMO tried to back away, afraid, but Soundwave held him close, his feelers picking in between armor, toying with wires beneath. Ratchet placed a hand on Soundwave's shoulder to support himself, afraid of his knees buckling and him crashing to the floor, a heat surging through his systems.
Finding a data port, Soundwave connected the end of his data cable to it, transmitting his own lust through it, washing it over the medic until Ratchet couldn't hide his own arousal. Not from Soundwave. Clicking again in triumph, Soundwave moved from Ratchet's hand, brushing his face over plating and laving his glossa between cracks, nicking it on a piece of chipped armor, leaving the smallest trail of energon among the oral fluid.
He moved over Ratchet's shoulder, feeling him shudder as he licked the chest plating, nibbling the overlapping plating, eventually making his way to Ratchet's interface panel. He could feel the heat, the heavy pulse of Ratchet's fuel pump as the medic's spike throbbed against it, begging for release. Soundwave hummed against it, a low, soundless hum that vibrated the metal.
Ratchet gasped then whined, his grip tightening on Soundwave's shoulders. But Soundwave was persistent, his data cables toying with wires and protoform, his glossa toying with the gaps surrounding Ratchet's panel.
Fearing the worst but too aroused to care, he released his fully pressurized spike, the appendage hitting Soundwave awkwardly in the jaw. He shuttered his optics as Soundwave began to lick and nibble, toying with the tip, his glossa rubbing over it at the same frequency of his clicking. Slowly Ratchet began to feel Soundwave slowly, almost painfully slowly, take his spike into his mouth, denta grazing over sensitive metal.
When he thought Soundwave could take no more, he felt something continue to envelope his spike, something with more denta. He opened his optics, and immediately wished he hadn't.
Soundwave's face had split down the middle and twice across the sides of his mouth, extending a row of denta around Ratchet's spike. The medic whimpered as the slim mech began to suck, his hot mouth enclosing entirely over him. He wanted to thrust, to ease the throbbing that caused him such grief.
Soundwave was a prisoner…
But, as though reading his mind, Soundwave began to bob his head, his mouth just tight enough around Ratchet's spike that each denta could be felt, but not so tight as to draw energon. Ratchet shuddered at the realization, that a single wrong move and he'd leave with long gashes in a very sensitive member. He had more or less engaged with a mouth full of razors.
But it felt so good, the sharp scratching, the hard sucking, the heavy bobbing, the rubbing glossa…
Before he knew it, he began to teeter on the edge of overload.
Soundwave pulled his head back, his face pulling together seamlessly, sucking hard on the end. Ratchet caressed the back of Soundwave's head as the slate grey mech suddenly and forcefully slammed the medic's spike down his intake. Ratchet moaned, his back arching and head falling back, mouth slightly agape, as his overload took him. Still Soundwave continued to suck, stopping only when Ratchet pulled away.
He fell back, stumbling away. Soundwave smiled widely, his violet, needle-like, denta flashing. After a moment of thought, Ratchet stepped back to the prisoner, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing him on his back. He knelt down and reached between the slim mechs legs, fingers brushing over his valve cover.
Soundwave arched into it, grinding against Ratchet's hand. He pulled his hand back, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together, feeling the seeping lubricant slip between digits. Soundwave's hips arched upward at the loss, and if Ratchet hadn't been so recently sated, he would have found Soundwave's need both lewd and irresistible.
He traced the outside of his valve lightly, the spy beginning to tremble. He toyed and played, rubbing his fingers against the cover, waiting for Soundwave to slip the cover back.
When at last he did, Ratchet did not sink his thick fingers into Soundwave's valve but continued to toy with the outside. Soundwave shook, trembling, canting his hips for more. Ratchet slipped one digit in, hooked it, rubbing the sides of Soundwave's valve, and just when he thought Soundwave had lost control, Ratchet bound the wandering data cables together against the Decepticon, stood up, and left Soundwave more needy than he found him without a way to relieve himself.