A/N: Trying to hit a self-imposed deadline is insane frankly. But trying to write about falling for someone and falling for each other mutually hard is a lot easier, especially since I'm doing it myself. ^_^
Disclaimer: Nightraider, Dreadnought and Crossfire are mine. Hands off. The Transformers are the property of TakaraTomy and Hasbro. Abuse away.
Warnings: See Chapter 7 and add the appropriate follow-through. Very much M-rated for this part with potential sticky, so no-like no-read and you know where the back button is.
Italics denote telepathy/thoughts.
Presents: Part 10
On a normal day, the 10-foot radius surrounding anymore than two of the Cassettes was considered to be the direct entrance to the seventh circle of hell, and possibly to the third level of the Pit, to which most were convinced that Rumble and Frenzy had laminated pass-cards.
Being the little island of calm in a sea of drunken revelry wasn't a normal state of affairs, but on this occasion, the five assembled beings were actively enjoying it.
Frenzy leaned back against the turntable, his head nodding in time to the music, and contentedly sipped at a cube of mid-grade.
"So, anyone wanna take a stab at what's happenin' now?"
Ravage, who was stretched out on top of one of the speakers, looked askance. Aside from a band of unspeakably drunken mechs collectively staggering and purging in time to I Can't Dance - the irony of which cannot be ignored?
The red Cassette rolled his optics. "With the boss and Raider. C'mon, Soundwave blocked us out like twenty minutes ago, but he ain't pissed or anythin'."
His eldest sibling raised an eye-ridge. And how, pray tell, are you so certain of this?
Rumble pointed delicately down at the floor of the DJ booth. Cuddled next to a deeply relaxed Buzzsaw, Ratbat was staring at the tinsel-covered ceiling, optics bright with happiness and making the occasionally chitter of glee.
"The lil' guy knows the link even better'n us. If the boss ain't happy, Batty can pick it up 'cross a telepathic block and two orbital states. And does he look even th' teeniest bit bothered?"
Said Cassette let out a delighted chirp and turned his gaze to his older brothers. It's gone away! It's gone so far away it's like it's not there at all!
Buzzsaw tilted his head. What has gone away, little one?
The loneliness! Soundwave's not lonely like he was before. It's still there a little bit, but not like it was!
Rumble and Frenzy exchanged glances, and then shared them with Ravage and Buzzsaw.
"Ya don't think...?"
"Nah, they ain't done it yet, we'd know. But...whoah."
The black feline carefully ran his glossa over a paw. Indeed, but then, what would you define as it?
The blue Cassette rolled his optics, but chose his words carefully for Ratbat's sake. "Gettin' their freak on after Primus knows how long, c'mon!"
Carefully in this instance covered the slightly more tasteful euphemisms for interfacing, but not by much.
After this amount of time, I highly doubt a bit of fleeting physical pleasure is what either of them intend to have. Buzzsaw ruffled his wings, careful not to knock into his blissed-out baby brother, before taking off into the air and perching on an I-beam.
The twins both prepared to sneer...and their optics widened in perfect sync as the meaning behind the golden condor's words sank in.
Frenzy was the first to try to work his vocaliser. "...Ya really think they would? I mean, y'know...do that?"
If by that, you mean bond, there are numerous good reasons as to why they shouldn't, and at least one excellent reason as to why they should.
Ravage flexed his claws, idly jabbed the turntable, and settled back with a very feline smirk on his faceplates as All I Want for Christmas tinkled out of the speakers.
A small hint never hurt anyone.
But the increasingly badly-thrown cocktail beakers probably would.
Probable concussion fortunately wasn't a concern of the Communications officer at that particular moment in time.
It no doubt would have involved being somewhat more vertical than his current position, the ability to give a slag about the world outside the observation dome, and interested in something other than the femme jet reclining in his arms and resting her back against his chest.
His face-mask now retracted, Soundwave smirked in contentment and deliberately traced his fingers over the seams of Nightraider's cockpit, earning a hum of contentment from the F-14.
"Are you feeling somewhat less lightheaded?"
The red and black jet reached down and wound her hands around Soundwave's navy digits. "When I said I was falling for you, I didn't mean it literally."
"I would hope that 'literally' would also be twinned with 'figuratively'."
Nightraider let an amused smile spread across her faceplates. "I thought I'd implied my feelings pretty fragging clearly in both instances."
"Perhaps. But..."
The navy mech reluctantly removed his hands from hers and carefully turned the femme jet around so that she was pressed into his side, her hands digging into his chest partition and her helm resting against his. One leg hooked over his thighs, while the other pressed tightly against his own legs, the feel of her thrusters creating a not-unpleasant sensation in his mid-section.
"...There is something infinitely preferable about vocally stating your feelings, rather than merely implying them or my reading them from your thoughts."
"I thought I'd told you to stop poking round my mind."
She closed her optics and fought back a shiver of pleasure as she felt his fingers slowly tracing the cables controlling her spinal relays at the back of her neck.
Soundwave let out a low hum from deep within his vocaliser. "If I am not granted permission to read your thoughts, then I must settle for mere implication. And therein lies the inherent problem. However, some physical displays of implications do have their advantages. Thusly..."
His fingers purposely tweaked the one neck cable he had committed to memory, rewarding him with the vision of Nightraider tilting her head backwards and arching her entire body towards his, letting out a delighted moan at the feedback working its way through her system.
"Your responses would indicate enjoyment, but equally they could indicate injury. Without telepathy or even a word of assent, I will remain uncertain as to whether my actions produce pleasure or pain."
Fighting desperately through the fog settling over her processor, Nightraider opened her optics and stared at her tormentor, studying his faceplates and visor before reaching a decision.
She hoisted her body and settled herself over Soundwave's torso, straddling his hips for balance before leaning in close and placing a brief kiss against his cheekplate.
"Then...I suggest you continue with what you were doing."
His visor darkened. "With which particular action? This...?"
Navy fingers wound their way into her neck cables, tugging and caressing in equal measure, sending static racing through her circuitry.
"Perhaps this...?"
His free hand traced delicately over the faction symbol on her left wing. The sensation alone was enough to make her scream.
Soundwave tilted his head in consideration at the now-writhing femme astride his hips and smirked. "But no. I believe it may be this..."
The hand at the back of her neck moved forwards to cup her chin, the thumb slowly tracing the outline of her lips. She relaxed at the press of his other hand against her back, leaning over him and feeling the recycled air from his vents washing over her face.
One last courtesy held him back from completing his actions. He gazed up at the femme, her chin still in his grasp, and paused.
"Do you...consent?"
Nightraider still had enough presence of mind to shoot him a Look. Consent?
Alright, screw the seductive mush.
Her fingers looped around Soundwave's neck collar and pulled his head up to meet hers.
"How's this for consent?"
The kiss that followed quashed any doubts in Soundwave's mind as to what precisely his femme wanted in that moment.
And after so many millions of years, he was only too willing to oblige.
On the bridge, the Decepticon emperor spared only a glance at the vid-screen before returning to the meticulous calculations on his data-pad.
108,000 vorns multiplied by the original bet, with the additional compound interest, keep the time in stasis, plus the extra 2,000 for naming the date, minus the 10 percent cut for Swindle...
"...I believe your creator has just earned me 17,656,842 credits. Impressive work by any standards."
Laserbeak kept her head resolutely turned away from the screen, her emotions vacillating between a bout of extreme embarrassment, a healthy dose of amazement, and overwhelming, irrepressible joy.
Only you, sir, could put a price on domestic happiness.
Megatron merely raised an eyebrow.
"I have a wounded and preferably unconscious Air Commander, mostly superficial damage to the refectory, the majority of the Decepticon Earth forces suffering either severe energon poisoning or the hangovers of their lives, and two senior officers who have finally sorted out their personal lives after 10 generations and an extended stasis nap. I consider the better portion of 18 million credits to be a reasonable trade-off."
So the rumours are true. There is one little soft spot under the armour.
"The term you're looking for is a moment of uncustomary good sentiment."
Hmmm.
The silver gun-former levelled a brief, flat look at his avian companion before his optics wandered over to the image on the vid-screen.
And stopped.
And widened.
And stared.
Laserbeak studied Megatron's optics for a moment, and risked glancing behind her.
Oh dear Primus...
Her own optics widened in disbelief.
As one, both Transformers' heads tilted to the extreme left while they studied the image before them.
"...Well. I believe that answers one question about Seeker...sensitivity."
The femme condor squinted in mild revulsion. That is something I could've gone the rest of my existence without ever witnessing.
"You should deem your creator to be wise for taking a femme's needs into consideration. Especially those of a Seeker femme."
I am. I do. I'm also considering that the observation dome has no door lock mechanism, and if my calculations are correct, and my knowledge of both the twins' party playlists and the average timeline of previous social gatherings is also correct, then the drunken conga-line through the ship should be starting in about five minutes.
No emotion was visible on the Decepticon emperor's face-plates, but Laserbeak could tell that his processor had latched on immediately to her implication and was having a small moral issue.
Well, not so much a moral issue as a wish to not to have to bleach his own processor.
Most of the army would no doubt be more than willing to witness one of the femmes in an intimate moment, and that same proportion would probably not wish to be privy to one of Soundwave's conquests. Since these two instances were one and the same now...
Slag it.
"This will be done for reasons of taste only. Nothing else."
Knee joints creaking slightly, Megatron raised himself from the command chair, exhaled briefly, and marched off the bridge towards the observation dome.
Optics now firmly averted from the vidscreen, Laserbeak watched the gun-former's movements, and let a very rare warble of glee slip through her vocaliser.
Naturally sir. Whatever you say.
Somewhere in the back of Nightraider's CPU, a little subroutine popped up and asked if this was precisely the place for this particular event to happen. Not that it wasn't grateful, mind you, this was something the subroutine, the rest of the CPU and all of the femme jet's fuselage and spark had desired for millennia. But just maybe the floor of the observation deck might not be the most practical of locations for a long-overdue interfacing.
The sub-routine quickly realised it wasn't about to get a response any time soon and made itself scarce as Nightraider started to acquaint herself with the intimate details of Soundwave's tape-deck and chest plating.
The plastic partition seemed so insubstantial under her fingers; the opacity was slightly less than that of transparent aluminium, and the density was negligible.
But the Communications officer did make the most intriguing sounds whenever she traced the edges of the frame.
Straddling her prone partner's hips, the femme jet carefully ran her fingers over the tape deck structure and down the sides of his torso, deliberately brushing against any pistons or exposed circuits she encountered, and felt her own circuitry burn as Soundwave arched into her touch.
The navy mech fortunately wasn't being reticent about returning the caresses. His hands were firmly attached to her hips, his fingers sliding over the joints in her legs and scraping the metal of her pelvic plating hard enough to leave rather distinctive white scratches.
A firm slap to the aft-plates made the F-14 arch her back, ball her hands into fists against his chest, and bite her lower lip. Her interface unit was overheating, enough for Soundwave to feel it every time she thrust against him.
Not that he could comment. He was already sparking, and this time, he fully intended to complete his actions.
One navy hand slid up the femme jet's fuselage until it reached her shoulders. Opening her optics enough to focus on his face, Nightraider leaned down until she was on her hands and knees, her face inches from his, and his visor crimson with desire as he pulled her down for another kiss.
She could feel him smirk against her lips. "Hmmmh...you are...overheating already?"
"Can't -mmmmh- help it, you...have a way of...doing that..."
He scanned her frame, looking for a few more delicate areas to stimulate. Her wings and thrusters still needed a little more attention...
But it wouldn't hurt to ease some of his femme's heat.
The hand at the base of the femme's neck slid downwards, pausing here and there to tweak an exposed wire, finally halting at the scorching pelvic plating covering Nightraider's interface unit. Running his thumb over the hottest area, Soundwave was rewarded with a squeal-cum-moan at the touch, and decided that any further teasing would just be cruel.
He managed to activate the latch on the plating and slid back the blistering metal. His fingers confidently caressed the sparking circuitry, earning another squeal of pleasure, before two digits once again located her port and pushed into her.
Hard.
Nightraider just managed to retain her balance at the invasion, but the wave of feedback alone nearly pushed her over the edge. Biting her lip and shutting her optics, she thrust down against his hand, his palm taking her weight, his digits probing even further inside of her. Just at the edge of her awareness, she felt Soundwave nudge her helm with his, pressing her head to one side and tracing his glossa over the pistons in her neck.
She could have coped with that alone.
And then she felt his free hand teasing the sensors at the base of her wings, sending more static roaring through her circuits and steadily bringing her closer to an overload of epic proportions.
Through the waves of pleasure, the F-14 summoned up her filthiest smile. So her mech liked to play dirty?
He of all mechs should have known why you never played dirty against a medic. Especially when most medics could give as good as they got.
One set of black digits slid down Soundwave's torso and traced the edges of the Play button on his pelvic plating, drawing what could only be described as a purr from the navy mech.
It upped quickly to a growl at the feel of the plates retracting, and smaller, but no less powerful fingers, began to delicately trace over the pronged head of his interfacing leads. A few passes, and the hand wrapped around the leads and squeezed just hard enough to render him completely powerless, the sensation only adding to the long-forgotten mix of pleasure-pain building in his interfacing unit.
If he hadn't been helplessly aroused, he would have called this torture.
Torture happened three seconds later when the femme let out a low chuckle, tightened her grip, and began to stroke him. And none too gently either.
Trying desperately to muffle the groan building up in his vocaliser, Soundwave buried his face in Nightraider's neck pistons, biting down on the over-sensitised wiring and pressed his palm against the plating covering her pelvic frame. A few seconds of rifling through his database, and the bass speakers in his arms activated, the subsequent vibrations travelling through his hands and fingers, and into Nightraider's port.
Nightraider lasted less than a minute before the feedback loop completed itself and forced open all pleasure/pain receptors throughout her frame, the overload crashing through her systems and tearing into her CPU with the merciless ferocity of a meteor shower.
She flung her head back and screamed.
Red and black winged frame now limp, still bearing down on his hand and thrusting hard, back arched, head thrown back, her optics screwed shut and crying out in sheer ecstasy...
The sheer sight of the femme in overload was almost enough to make Soundwave join her in that same electric bliss.
Almost, but not quite.
But now he understood exactly why Starscream (Primus-frag-him-with-a-pitchfork) had been only too happy to finish...that which he had left incomplete.
Her prolonged wail trailing off to gasps of pleasure at the aftershocks still bombarding her system, Nightraider slumped forward, one hand on her mech's chestplates, the other firmly gripping a now-sparking set of interface leads.
She opened her optics at the feel of fingers against her cheekplate, and turned her face enough to kiss Soundwave's palm. Exhaustion prickled at the edges of her consciousness, but it was quickly tempered with satisfaction and another emotion that she wasn't willing to voice let alone think, lest Soundwave hear it and abandon her once again.
A smile slowly spread across her faceplates as she studied the mech straddled beneath her wings.
That was just from his touch and his hands alone. If he was capable of that...well.
Round two was looking even more appealing.
The smile grew wider. Withdrawing his fingers from her port, Soundwave mirrored the expression as he picked up on a few stray thoughts from his femme's processor.
If she thought he would even consider leaving her after that, or the emotion she refused to name...
He rested his other hand against her hip, fingers slowly tracing the scratched and dented metal.
"I fear I may be losing my touch."
"Oh, really." Nightraider injected as much sarcasm as was inhumanly possible into the last word.
"Indeed. I had intended to offline you."
The F-14 let out a rare giggle. "Maybe I'm just more resilient than you'd thought."
"Perhaps."
The hand on her hip rose to her waist, his palm pressing into the curve of her fuselage just so.
"But I still intend to offline you before the night is done."
She settled herself against his chest, her frame stretched atop his, and their faces barely an inch from each other. "I'll be holding you to that..."
A quick squeeze of the leads in her hand resulted in a deliciously aroused noise from the navy mech.
"Along with something else."
The familiar tingle was starting to build up in her port once more. Pressing a kiss onto Soundwave's lower lip, Nightraider raised herself to lean over her mech's prone body and squeezed the leads once more.
"Now...what precisely would you like me to do to you?"
"Well, one or two suggestions do present themselves..."
Any and all amorous intentions died immediately at the sound of the gun-former's voice. Nightraider instantly reared up, shoved herself away from Soundwave and slammed the latch on her pelvic plating shut, while the Communications officer made a tactical retreat to the darkest corner of the room at something approaching light-speed, re-covered his own interface unit, and activated his face-mask.
Choosing to ignore the assorted clanks and muttered cursing from the two senior officers, Megatron kept his optics firmly directed towards the ceiling, his face-plates betraying none of his amusement.
"If neither of you are intending to rejoin this gathering, I would advise you both to attend to the docking tower. Maintenance Team One reported that the lift mechanism is presenting a tendency to jam once the tower and platform have risen. The team also reported that the lift could not be recalled from the tower base, only from the platform itself."
Even a sparkling could pick up the hidden message in that statement. And, despite the lust clogging his processor, Soundwave immediately picked up on the insinuation, and chose to act accordingly.
"Repair time estimate: approximately eight Earth hours."
Nightraider gave him a Look.
"Error in original estimate: approximately nine Earth hours."
The femme jet rolled her optics and moved towards the doorway, taking the utmost care to avoid even glancing at her commander as she passed. Similarly, Soundwave made a discreet exit directly behind the jet, sighing inwardly at the sheer mirth radiating from Megatron's CPU.
As the two sets of sedate footsteps echoed through the hallway, the Decepticon emperor risked a glance at the backs of his two subordinates and shook his head. Tapping his proximity alarm, he made a few quick calculations based on the Nemesis's schematics and the ever-approaching noise of Black Lace one floor down.
"The conga line has apparently left the refectory, so I would suggest making haste."
The echoing footsteps turned instantly into a dual sprint, and eventually faded away as the duo turned a corner.
Excellent. With the soft-spark lapse now over, it was clearly time for a little reminder of the price he was paying for granting two of his best officers a measure of privacy.
Activating the observation dome comm. system, Megatron ran a quick scan of the Arctic Circle and its environs, and picked up the dual comm. signals he required.
"Nemesis to Polar Station One. Battlechargers copy."
Inside their mech-made cave in the glacier covering the north of Ellesmere Island, a very cold and very unimpressed Pontiac Firebird stopped sulking long enough to answer his comm.
"Runamuck receivin'. Still no sign o'th' fat red'n'white dude. Can we come back now?"
He was persistent; the gun-former had to give him that.
"Negative. Do you recall the precise chain of events which led to your imposed exile on festive sentry duty?"
"Th' precise what-now?"
Persistent like a case of cosmic rust, and about half as smart.
Runabout finally deigned to join the conversation. "He means, d'ya remember why we got stuck up in th' freezin aft-crack o' nowhere, dude."
"Well, yeah, we were tryin' ta mix nitrous oxide wit' energon ta give it a lil' extra kick."
The black Lotus Esprit bounced on his suspension. "Inside th' base."
Unseen by any of his crew, Megatron rolled his optics. "And note those words 'inside the base', gentle-mechs. If I had desired an extensive flame-fuelled remodelling of the secondary rifle range, it would have created less structural damage had I simply kidnapped Wheeljack."
Runabout muttered something which could possibly be construed as a "yes sir, sorry sir, won't happen again sir." Runamuck however, was not to be deterred.
"So when can we come back? My cam-shafts're colder th'n a polar bear's junk an' these snow-tyres don't do slag on snow."
"You have your orders. Follow the NORAD tracking system, take out this Santa Claus being and the organics that power his aircraft, and then we will discuss your return to base."
A duet of resigned grunts greeted his words. Closing the link, Megatron let his head briefly fall back and shuttered his optics. Festive sentry duty, or just sentry duty during social gatherings, few ever realised, was about as much fun for both parties as a catalytic oil-change through the exhaust pipe.
At the head of the corridor, the conga-line led by Scavenger finally appeared in one all-singing, all-purging, all-kicking cacophony, liberally decorated with energon and spray-on snow.
The Decepticon emperor opened his optics, sighed, stepped into the blessedly empty observation dome, removed an emergency cube of high-grade from his subspace, and settled in the nearest chair as the conga-line danced past.
"I work with idiots."
The wisps of cumulus clouds were at least doing something to cool her circuitry, if not her sense of amusement. Performing a wide barrel-roll, Nightraider soared through the Pacific night sky beside her utterly mortified companion and tried not to snigger too loudly.
"Oh, come on. It was at least a teeny bit funny, you have to admit that!"
Soundwave folded his arms across his chestplates and exhaled. "Our commanding officer finding us, as the humans would state it, in flagrante on the floor of the observation dome. Yes femme, utterly hilarious."
Still flying alongside him, the F-14 transformed, rolled onto her back and shot the Communications officer another Look.
"It's not the worst thing that could ever happen. Besides, Megatron can hardly take me to task for it after what I saw him getting up to in the gladiatorial circuits."
Soundwave risked a glance at the smirking femme, optics slightly fearful. "...Lord Megatron?"
"What did you think the 'Structies and I got stuck repairing when there weren't any matches on? Believe me, those mechs weren't innocent in any way. Megatron wasn't as bad as, say Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, or the Dynobots and Combaticons, but he wasn't exactly curling up every night with a data pad and a warm cube of energon either."
The expression on Soundwave's face had immediately bypassed fearful and moved straight into mortified.
"I do not suppose you may be exaggerating at this point?"
Nightraider looked askance. "Ok, you were in the circuits for far longer than I was. How can you have possibly missed the orgies of bloodlust or just plain lust?"
"I had my duties."
She sniggered. "Duties that completely barred any possibility of a quick interface?"
"The only one whom I wanted in that way, I did not want merely for a quick interface."
The red and black jet drifted close enough to run a hand down Soundwave's arm. "So what did you want them for?"
He didn't miss the sound of her internal circuitry heating up, nor could he ignore any longer the dull ache of pleasure-pain still building under his pelvic plating.
Landing was now of the utmost importance, lest his self-control gave out and he just took her right there in the nearest cloudbank. Calling up his GPS program, Soundwave scanned the surrounding area, offering a silent plea to Primus for a half-decent landmass, a medium sized island, even an oil-rig would work if it was empty.
Answering his prayers, the scanner beeped. The Hawaiian island of Kaua'i, nine miles southeast. Deserted northwest coast.
Perfect.
The Kalalau Valley, even by Cybertronian standards, was a stunning area of coastline and cliffs. Warm and sheltered, it was home to some of the more intriguing species of flora and fauna on Earth, and as an added benefit, was completely inaccessible to human transport.
For two increasingly aroused Decepticons however...
"I'm fairly sure getting sand up my thrusters wasn't part of tonight's plans!"
Standing in the shadow of a cliff-face on a patch of scrubby grass, Soundwave sighed.
Swearing in somewhat creative profanity, Nightraider finally appeared over the lip of a lower crag, irritably shaking a healthy portion of the beach out of her heels and glowering at her intended.
"What was wrong with the dirt trail? It was solid, y'know, no sand?"
Soundwave chose not to rise to the bait, and simply tilted his head to study the cliff-face. "We are in need of a solid surface. This precipice will perform the necessary function."
The femme jet shot him a flat look. "And the necessary function would be?"
In one movement, the Communications officer pulled the F-14 to his chestplates, hoisted her upwards, whirled round, and pressed her into the rocks.
Her legs instantly scissored around his hips, pulling him into her arms and grinding his now scorching interface unit against hers.
"This."
His mouth was on hers less than a second after he had slid back his face-mask. Bracing herself against the cliff-face, Nightraider thrust her hips against his, feeling the same prickle of static building in her systems as his hands gripped her aft. Heat raced through her circuitry, forcing her to bear down with desire and arch her chest up in longing, the fire coalescing in her groin and around her spark.
The lust was now so great that it was a physical ache in his interface unit, bolts of want/need/desire shooting through his spark and setting the old scars alight. Hands now shaking, Soundwave managed to pull back just enough to remove both sets of pelvic plating, shivering as the night air hit his interfacing leads.
His femme simply clung to the rocks, optics lidded, panting with desire, legs wrapped around his hips, and her port now white-hot.
She thrust her hips against his, mewling at the feel of his leads against her port. "Please..."
He pulled her body upright, head to head, chest to chest, groin to groin.
"This...may not be...comfortable..."
Nightraider had retained enough of her processing power to sit up and glare at him. "What?"
"I do not...wish to hurt you."
Oh, for the love of...!
She gritted her dental plates and leaned back against the cliff, bracing her shoulders against the rocks.
Her irritation was punctuated with agonised gasps of need. "I am NOT...some weak, little AUTOBOT femme who can't take...a bit of pain with their pleasure...So help me Soundwave...if you don't 'face me right now, I'll-"
The threat she was intending to end the sentence with was lost forever as Soundwave's visor flared crimson, as nine million years of patience gave out.
He raised her hips and thrust into her.
OhPrimusohPrimusohPrimus...
Nightraider's mouth fell open in shock, a shriek tearing out of her vocaliser at the sudden invasion.
Soundwave hadn't been kidding about the comfort level. One glance had already told her that he was rather more blessed in that particular department than most of the mechs she knew, but she was choosing to take that as a bonus. Her port was struggling to accommodate him, but along with the inevitable burst of pain, the first waves of electric friction began to appear.
She closed her optics, gritted her dental plates, and slowly thrust down against him, the ache still present, but fading with the movement.
It was taking most of Soundwave's self-control not to pin her down, or even to move with her. She had to be the one to indicate when she was suitably relaxed, and he would do nothing without her consent.
Besides, watching her take her pleasure, listening to her gasps and feeling her legs around his waist and her port around his leads was an experience he would be copying to every drive and memory node in his processor.
Arms locked behind her mech's head, and pleasure feedback slowly building in her systems, Nightraider pressed herself against Soundwave's body and brought his head down to hers, half-kissing him with each thrust. His face-plates were contorted in a half-snarl half-gasp, his control strained to the limit, but still willing to claim her mouth with his. She could feel him trembling as he tried to check his movements, unwilling even to support himself against the cliff-face in case he interfered with the internal port connection and harmed her in some way.
It was unlikely, but the consideration was appreciated, and if she timed this right, then his patience would be rewarded...
At her command, the sockets at the back of her port opened, sparking with raw electricity. In that same moment, Nightraider braced herself, and thrust down onto Soundwave's leads hard enough for the pins to slide into the sockets, completing their physical connection.
The feedback from the connection threw Soundwave onto his knees, Nightraider still wrapped around him, both now howling in ecstasy. His control finally broken, the navy mech sent a heavy pulse of energy through the connection, producing another shriek as the femme returned the pulse with full strength.
Something crackled and exploded with a pop inside the F-14's body at the next pulse. Soundwave's own circuitry was starting to smoulder, a faint ring of smoke surrounding the two Decepticons as pulses volleyed between their bodies, fighting to drive each other to overload first.
As for their sparks...
"...Soundwave...please..."
Nightraider pressed one hand to her mech's chest, feeling the heat from his spark chamber scorching her palm. Her own spark was pushing to the front of its chamber, an eerie blue-white light starting to emerge from underneath her cockpit plating.
Almost insane with desire, she frantically ran her hands over his plating, trying to find the latch for his spark covering, black fingers leaving equally dark ruts in the navy armour.
"Are...you...sure...?"
Navy fingers covered hers and squeezed tightly. Although he was at the brink of overload, Soundwave still possessed enough sense to know that what his femme wanted; frag it, what he wanted, was risky enough. With a spark as damaged as his, it was a step into the unknown. He could easily extinguish his own spark, not to mention Nightraider's spark, or those of his offspring.
"...Yeah...are you?"
The navy mech thought for a few seconds, his optics tracing Nightraider's features. Every time so far this night that he had asked her about the potential danger, about the pain he could inflict on her, she had taken the lead and proven that she was entirely unafraid of the pain if it was worth it to her.
She trusted him completely, a rarity amongst the Decepticons.
The risk to her, and to the Cassettes, was all too real. Something in his spark however, was telling him that it wasn't his time to rejoin the Matrix. Not like this, and not with an all-too-willing femme astride his hips.
With a thought, the panels of his spark chamber rotated and retracted into his armour, an unearthly blue-white light bathing the pair.
"...Yes."
Carefully leaning back onto the scrubby grass, still connected to Nightraider, Soundwave watched in growing anticipation as the femme straddled his hips and retracted the glass canopy of her cockpit. Her spark was streaked with silver, the unscarred twin of his own.
His hands found her hips and pulled her down towards his chest. Her spark barely an inch above his chamber, Nightraider paused for a moment and traced her fingers over his faceplates, her optics now filled with desire and the emotion she didn't want to voice.
Another rare smile crossed her faceplates. "...If you...die in there...I'll kill you."
"...I have...no intention...of doing so."
That smile was the last thing he saw before his vision filled with white.
The sensation of peace flowed through her processor, making her aware of the soft clicks and hums of power within her frame.
This was rather pleasant. Quite comforting in a way, but a sharp change compared to what she was doing before...
So, where am I again?
Deciding to risk opening an optic, Nightraider squinted out at her surroundings, and felt mild confusion bubble through her CPU.
...Okay, this is new.
White. An absence of colour so intense that she had to activate her solar filters.
No ground. No walls, no ceiling, no sky...just white.
She stretched her arms out in front of her and studied them closely. No scratches, no dents, no telltale navy paint scrapes. A quick study of the rest of her frame resulted in similar discoveries.
Interesting. She still didn't feel panicked, or sick, or anything out of the ordinary. If anything, she felt warmer, almost protected in a way.
A soft pulse echoed through the emptiness, adding to the sensation of warmth against her plating, and growing stronger as she floated.
The whiteness wavered for a moment, and the 'sky' reformed into two globes of brilliant silver, pressed into each other hard, and knitted together with tiny white tendrils of energy. On her left, the sphere was a clear blue-white under the shimmering silver, while on her right, the slightly darker blue sphere was marked with vicious streaks of red and grey, almost slicing through the shimmering light.
It took her a moment, but the realisation hit her like the proverbial tonne of bricks.
This is the link. This is how he communicates with the Cassettes.
Two white and navy arms appeared at her sides, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against a familiar chest-plate.
And now...this is how I will communicate with you.
Nightraider leaned her head back against a broad shoulder, her optics closing as Soundwave, his face unmasked, pressed a kiss onto her neck. His visor was still crimson, and his plating warm as he held her.
This is the link, the source of my abilities. These bodies...
Here he ran a hand down Nightraider's torso.
...they are the best representation of our spirits within the link.
The F-14 opened her optics and pulled out of his embrace, but left her hand holding his. Tilting her head slightly, she studied one of the giant spheres for a brief moment before turning back to him, her gaze curious.
So...those orbs are...?
Soundwave nodded his head first to the left. You...
Then to the right. ...and I.
Nightraider turned back and squinted for a moment before her optics widened in surprise. Those are our sparks?
It seems the link activates itself during a sparkbond. Unsurprising.
Images flooded her processor. Soundwave privately communicating with his Cassettes on the battlefields of Cybertron and Earth, the closer conversations between a creator and creation...the dark intelligence of Ravage, the quick-witted, flighty thoughts of Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, the exasperation and pride in Rumble and Frenzy, and the absolute sparkling-like innocence of Ratbat...
She pointed to the orb on the left.
Then those marks...what are they?
The ether-Soundwave studied her for a moment before raising a hand and pointing upwards to the red scar.
Ravage. That first pain as the feline's spark separated from his, and the pride shared by both the medic and the scientist at his clever creation, with an intelligence so keen that he was considered deadly before he had taken his first wobbly steps, clinging to his creator's leg...
The golden scar to his left.
Rumble and Frenzy. The two sparks filled with so much life, humour, and mischief that it was impossible to ever imagine them as once being a single spark...
The amber scar nearest to their feet.
Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. His only femme, and her shining brother, both so curious, so vicious, and yet still so innocent...
He braced himself for a moment before gesturing to the widest scar, a dead looking grey with traces of deep red.
...And Ratbat. The tiny scraplet who never should have survived, but with the unconditional love of his creator and siblings, thrived and grew into a brave, if insanely spoiled, little fighter...
A small gasp escaped the femme jet's vocaliser.
...The Cassettes. The scars from where their sparks were separated.
Yes.
She stared at the scar left by Ratbat's near fatal delivery. Guilt and anger wrapped themselves around her spark and squeezed.
I gave you all of those. I almost killed you...
Nightraider...
Soundwave's avatar gathered the jet to his chest-plates again. She trembled in his arms, optical fluid spilling down her cheek-plates as she began to sob.
I almost killed you! Ratbat's scar nearly pierced your lower spark core, one more nano-millimetre and I could've...
Nightraider...
The tears flowed faster.
You made me do that. I'm a medic, I'm meant to heal and protect. You knew what I felt for you and you made me nearly kill you; do you even KNOW how that feels?
Soundwave's embrace tightened at the deluge of memories. The utter fear as he had gone into spark-shock, the last desperate slash as Ratbat was separated, the dread as she approached his creations and told them the news, the pain of telling him his chance to spawn new life had been ended, the image of Shockwave holding the femme up by her shoulders as she retched up her tanks, finally collapsing into the gun-former's arms and screaming out her grief on his shoulder...
...Yes.
She rested her head against his chest and tried to stop her tears.
...Every mission that I send the Cassettes on, I know there is a genuine risk that they might come back grievously harmed, or that they might not come back at all. If that ever happened, I know that their deaths would not only kill each other, but me as well. They will never show it, or even let themselves think about it, but they feel it. They risk killing me by their very existence, and yet, I would not have it any other way.
She sniffled. ...Why?
Death would be preferable, rather than living whole and unscarred without them. I was fully aware of the risks when I asked you to perform the parthogenetic procedures. Just as I was aware of the risks in bonding with you. What I gain from having you within my spark and my existence within yours outweighs all else.
She gulped and shook her head, wiping a hand across her optics.
...You took that kind of risk for me?
The unasked question hung in the air between them like a curl of smoke. Soundwave eventually sighed, and brought his hand underneath Nightraider's chin, forcing her optics to meet his visor.
Because I did not wish to be alone any longer. Because you are the only one I have ever wanted. Because my not taking that risk when I first realised my feelings for you left the both of us incomplete and alone for so many millions of years.
Nightraider closed her optics briefly, and smiled at the last wave of thoughts. The last glance they had shared before his ill-fated departure onboard the Nemesis, the sheer ache of grief and loneliness for so long, the image of Shockwave collapsing, energon pouring from his tanks as he writhed on the med-bay floor, the rage as a tiny lavender and silver sparkling was denied the love from his creator he so desperately needed, the unbridled delight at that communication to Shockwave less than a quarter of a vorn ago confirming that the Nemesis crew lived, that blissful, almost insane moment in the weapons upgrade ward, the frankly ridiculous party only an hour ago...
Not so alone now.
He carefully traced her cheek-plates with his fingers, resting his helm against hers.
I believe I have nine million years of waiting to make up for.
She chuckled. It better not be in just one night.
His mouth closed over hers with a purr of arousal. The whine of two sets of chest plates retracting reached their audials, the shared light almost blinding in its intensity.
Every night that I can have you, I will be making amends for my lack of action.
She smiled through the kiss, knowing he could feel her lips curling under his. Starting tonight?
Their avatars connected, spark to spark.
Starting tonight.
Onboard the Nemesis, Ravage stiffened, let out a yowl of surprise, and keeled over sideways.
Twin squeaks emerged from Rumble and Frenzy's vocalisers, the shared sensation in their chests driving both of them to their knees.
On the bridge, Laserbeak lay twitching on her side, letting out the occasional cheep of delight.
Buzzsaw, optics bright with rare glee, decided to obey the laws of gravity and plummeted out of the air above the DJ booth, crash-landing onto his elder brothers.
Ratbat had been knocked offline at the entry of the femme jet into the link. He had eventually come round just enough to realise what he and his siblings had all felt, and fell offline with a rodent smile on his face at the final burst of sheer feeling from his creator, and his creator's sparkmate.
Leaning against the DJ booth, Thundercracker cast a speculative optic over the present company, smirked widely, quickly poured himself a cube of mid-grade, and made a toast to the air.
"Well, let it be said of you guys that, when you two bond for eternity, you sure as Pit don't do it halfway."
TBC