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For as long as he can remember, Soundwave has been on his own. Deemed as a freak by his creators, he couldn’t block it out; the sounds, murmurs, whispers, shouts, the cacophonous sound of other bot’s thoughts. They filled his mind almost two loudly for his own thoughts to break through. He knew things before they’d happen, knew all the secrets his parents hid from him as he desperately tried to pretend to be normal, pretend that to be in a crowd wasn’t absolutely deafening, making him scream if it lingered too long. He hadn’t been allowed to stay; sick of how it made them look, once Soundwave could survive on his own he was turned out into the streets of Cybertron.
Alone again, he found no mercy winding the alleyways of his home planet. Bots of every shape and size recoiled from his appearance; he knew, of course he knew, his face looked like a nightmare to most mechs- his mouth comprised of two sharp looking triangle plates, his optics set high and a bright, gleaming red. Quickly he had learned to cover up, a visor of opaque glass at least giving him some chance at sympathy. There was no covering up the involuntary flinch of entering a crowd, however, no hiding how he seemed to know everything about the bots that took him in, how he could predict what they would say before they could even get the thought out. More often than not, he was thrown out, fear of him coloring their faceplates as the door slammed shut.
It seemed to be his lot in this life to be on his own. He doesn’t mind, not really: he wasn’t exactly a social bot, and he knew as soon as he had heard the first whispers of another’s mind he was going to be alone for the rest of his life. That was fine, really; he knew he was frightening, undesirable. He knew he’d never be able to have a normal life, and that was fine. He didn’t need a sparkmate, or a group to fit himself in to.
Still, though. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his spark when he saw a happily mated couple, or friends enjoying easy, casual conversation. He didn’t mind being alone, but being lonely was harder to bear.
“Soundwave?”
Soundwave jumps at the sound of another voice, scrambling to put his visor back in place. He had been lost in thought, dwelling on his past as he sits curled in the window of the large apartment. He fumbles, ducking his helm as he slips the visor back into place. The other mech takes a step forward, holding out a servo as his browplates knit. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Soundwave lets out a breath, and there’s a soft whirring as his mask clicks back where it belongs. “You did not. I just do not like being seen without my visor.”
The other mech steps closer curiously, allowing Soundwave to look at him critically; it’s one of the more outspoken senators- Slipdrive, that was his name- moves next to him, a cautious step made only after carefully studying Soundwave’s blank face. “I see. I’m sorry I interrupted you… I just wanted to see how you were.”
He doesn’t quite remember how they came here- he had been filled in by his minicons. His three precious friends, closer than any family he’s ever had. Ravage had been the first to find him, the feline minicon jerking him out of a half insane haze as he tried desperately to block out the wall of noise from a city full of bots. The friendship had been quick and mutually beneficial, Soundwave providing shelter and food to the minicons and in return, the company Soundwave craved. Admittedly, that probably put Soundwave in not the best mental space because it left him absolutely devoted to the minicons who loved him now, willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe.
It was this devotion that had sent him into a seedier part of town, desperate for credits to get a lethargic Laserbeak care. It was some virus, a simple sickness, but mechs and minibots who lived on the streets didn’t exactly have a lot of access to medicine. If Ravage’s story had been correct, he had returned with plenty of credits for care, but broken and dented, collapsing into his own berth once he got Laserbeak to a medic. Laserbeak had made a full recovery, much to Soundwave’s relief, but damage had already been done. Soundwave had grown slower, sicker, whatever wounds he had not been able to address growing infected and weighing him down until his plates burned to the touch and he was near delirious when awake. Ravage, panicked when Soundwave wouldn’t wake up one day, had dragged the first trustworthy mech back to their little hovel for help. He had woken up in a medical bay, his helm clear and plates cooled, to a hissing Ravage perched on his chest, digging his claws into his plates as the distressed senator tried to coax him away from the semi-conscious mech.
After the misunderstanding with his protective minicon, Slipdrive had been shockingly generous with his time and space, offering his apartment without a thought to the space or having four new bots in his space. “I can’t in good conscience let you go back to that alleyway.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “I’m more than happy to help you out.”
Soundwave had watched him quietly, his arms wrapped around a grumbling Ravage as he idly rubs under his chin. There must be a catch, there’s always a catch; and with a senator he’s most likely going to be expected to give up his valve. Was it worth it to have a roof over their heads? To have his family safe?
There was no question about it.
Slipdrive was full of surprises it seems; Soundwave hasn’t been asked for anything in the weeks, months he had been here, his company seeming to be enough for Slipdrive to be content. He had even tried to get to know his minicons to varying amounts of success- Laserbeak was easy to charm, while Ravage still maintained they could do better.
“I am fine, Slipdrive.” He says mildly, hugging his knees closer. “I was simply thinking.”
“Of?” Slipdrive takes a seat next to him. He never seems to be reluctant to get near him, leaning close when he’s cooking, watching with admiration as he trains with his minicons, or simply letting Soundwave scan some of his work to get close. It was… well. He had quickly loved his minicons like family for standing by him. It seemed that he was just as weak to Slipdrive’s gentle smiles; it seemed, despite every effort on his part, his spark was softer than he ever wanted it to be.
It was very frustrating; he should have more control over himself than that. Soft smiles and shared food shouldn’t send his spark skipping. Admittedly, Slipdrive was a very handsome mech, even with his proclivity for changing his paint job with incredible frequency. Still, though, with all his kindness, he shouldn’t be- he couldn’t admit it, but he still shouldn’t . At any point it could change, his senator growing bored or impatient with being nice and demanding what he really wanted from Soundwave, turning them out when Soundwave refused. He had to be vigilant, he had to be… he shivers a little when Slipdrive scoots closer, his thigh bumping against Soundwave’s pede.
“Nothing important.” He says gently, tracing the edge of his visor.
Slipdrive watches him trace his visor, his optics dipping for a moment to slide over the thin, delicate cables in his neck. “Why do you always wear that visor? If it’s not too bold for me to ask.”
Soundwave blinks, rubbing his digits over his jaw. “… it is more for the benefit of others. My face is not pleasant.”
The other mech makes a curious noise, leaning closer as if to try and see through the opaque glass. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad. Our people have a tendency to overreact.”
Soundwave doesn’t react, but he can feel his insides tighten. He didn’t like it, didn’t like this, but he also knew Slipdrive could be incredibly stubborn. Maybe he needed a bit of a shock to get his point across.
The hiss of his mask disengaging makes Slipdrive jump, delicate digits lifting the visor away from his monstrous face and laying it to the side. “I don’t think they have this time.”
Soundwave stares at him, silently, waiting for a reaction. The other mech looks surprised, but then, slowly, Slipdrive looks at him with unbearably soft optics, something shy but tender enough to make his spark skip. “I think… you are very beautiful.”
It was Soundwave’s turn to stare, his processor racing as he tries to comprehend. That couldn’t be what he really thought, could it? No one had ever, ever thought he was beautiful before…
Slipdrive’s touch makes him flinch, gentle digits resting on Soundwave’s chin as he smiles a little. “You can always take a look in my head, if you don’t believe me.”
Permission- something else he wasn’t used to. Almost cautiously, Soundwave reaches out to touch his mind, sinking effortlessly into his processor. He doesn’t know how he was expected to resist his feelings when it felt like this; his processor was warm, spirited, racing with a million ideas to help their world. As he sinks deeper, past the surface thoughts, he can’t help but gasp a little as he brushes against it- a burst of true, deep love. Memories swell easily to the surface as Slipdrive’s spark surges- watching Soundwave move with a grace that makes him ache with the need to hold him, a small laugh coaxed out of the smaller bot pleasing him much more than it should. Every memory is soft, tender, and it makes Soundwave feel like he’s drowning in a wave of feeling he never believed he’d deserve.
He pulls back with a shudder, staring into those soft blue optics. He should say something, anything, but words seem to fail him.
Slipdrive draws closer to him, their exhales mixing as his faceplate is cupped in warm servos. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t… Soundwave shutters his optics, pressing his abnormal mouthplates to Slipdrive’s in open invitation.
Not that any of it mattered now. Now, as Soundwave comes out of his memories, he was a single mech again. Slipdrive had disappeared stellar cycles ago, rumors of his demise as a result of speaking out against the caste system swirling even down here in the pits. Feeling the bond grow cold had been painful, the most painful thing he’d ever felt- for a freak, an outcast, he’d never get the closure he wanted. Society was more than happy to let him fall back through the cracks. Now he had a new task, a new plan, a new goal; one he would help Megatron achieve to the best of his ability.
He taps away at a data pad, displaced from his usual work station as he waits for Megatron and Starscream to stop being so grossly affectionate in the medbay, taking a moment to glance up at his fellow displaced mech behind his visor.
Shockwave was… something of an enigma. According to Megatron, he had appeared in the pits as a surgeon, and was absolutely brutal in his efficiency as a doctor. Many of the gladiators feared visiting the medbay more than the arena itself, with the large, looming surgeon rarely dispensing more painkillers than strictly necessary, making dispassionate commentary on the nature of their injuries with his servo buried in their insides.
Shockwave was cold, calculating, strictly logical; Soundwave couldn’t help but wonder what had made him that way. It was not simply a lack of emotions- Shockwave still had them, simmering deep in that spark, but it seemed like he could turn them off at will- or perhaps more accurately, leave them off and turn them on when it suited him. Soundwave knew there was a deep anger he kept below the surface, that fueled his sterile, almost cruel actions, but he still was unsure what had caused it. He also wasn’t sure why he was concerned with the other mech’s state of being; Shockwave was dependable, stable (sort of), and did as he was asked by Megatron. He was absolutely no threat to the Decpticon cause at this time; Soundwave should move his thoughts elsewhere, rather than the other mech’s emotional state.
But, perhaps the interest was not so complicated to explain. Perhaps, it was as simple as instinct.
Soundwave would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t have a type; a certain build that got his fans going, heat building behind his plates as steam threatened to rush out of his vents. He liked… larger framed mechs, mechs who could easily hold his curved waist in their servo, who could handle his delicate limbed body to their satisfaction. This had included Megatron (and he was able to very thoroughly say yes, his leader could handle him to incredible satisfaction) until Megatron had fallen helm over aft for the seeker currently snuggled up to him in the medbay. It seemed now, it also included Shockwave, the smaller mech letting his optics slide over his large form with the knowledge his optics were hidden in their inappropriate roaming.
Then again, maybe he was not as subtle as he thought- Shockwave turns his large frame towards him, his singular red optic locking onto his visor. Soundwave holds his gaze calmly, relying on the visor to hide the fact that the medic is being ogled.
“Is something the matter?” Shockwave’s deep voice, flat as always, doesn’t give away whether or not he’s upset with Soundwave, or even if he’s noticed. The visored mech takes a chance, cautiously reaching out to try and touch the scientist’s mind- and as always, he finds nothing but a blank expanse, a wall keeping him from delving into his processor. It was also another reason for Soundwave to be curious about him; his powers had never failed before, often to the point of overwhelming his senses if he didn’t keep a strict control over himself. So for Shockwave to be so completely blank was unnerving to the psychic mech- he had to wonder what the other mech had gone through to make his mind so impenetrable.
“Nothing. I’m simply thinking.” Soundwave waves his servo, turning back to the data pad. He had more on his processor than the slight flare of heat in his plating- more and more bots were joining the decepticon cause, pathways to Megatron’s dwelling had to be monitored, council actions had to be-
Shockwave clears his throat, catching his attention and making him tip his head curiously. He was more than capable of multitasking, so he sets his processor to the easiest task of sorting new decepticon profiles in order to focus on Shockwave. The other mech was usually very respectful of his work unless something important, so he was curious to see what would be brought up.
“Do you require assistance with your work? I am unable to access my station-” here he sighs, very put upon by Megatron’s need to interface with his seeker at any available opportunity- “so I am available for whatever must be done.”
Soundwave hums, unable to deny it would be more reasonable to delegate his work, and Shockwave was the only one he could trust to get it done to the standards he expected from himself. His delicate digits slide over the data pad, duplicating what he’s willing to delegate and sliding it over to Shockwave. They work in silence for a while, Soundwave happily losing himself in his work as he sorts through the bots he feels are worthy of their cause, sliding through the detailed reports of what the council was doing and any threats against Megatron, and, oddly enough, a report from Ravage requesting higher quality energon and the immediate expulsion of Starscream for calling him Soundwave’s pet.
A soft laugh slips out of him without meaning to, reflexively moving to touch the small minicon before he remembers Ravage is out for reconnaissance. Fondness swells in his spark even so, and it’s pure indulgence for his much loved minicon that has him placing an order for finer energon.
Shockwave looks over at him curiously, his fins twitching slightly at the gentle noise that escaped his colleague. Soundwave shows him the requisition, and makes another amused noise. “Ravage is not happy with his colleagues.”
Shockwave simply nods, looking at Soundwave with a low hum. “Your care for your minicons is admirable. I do not know of many mechs who would show as much care or genuine affection towards them.”
The genuine compliment- Shockwave is incapable of kissing up to anyone, let alone stroking anyone’s ego- makes Soundwave blush under his visor. “I know what it’s like to be an outsider. Besides, minicons are just as capable as full sized bots; it’s short sighted to assume that because they are smaller, they are any less than the rest of us.”
“A logical conclusion.” Shockwave hums. “Your minicons are certainly more capable than some of the mechs I’ve encountered in the pits.”
“That is an understatement.” Soundwave looks amused, sliding a servo over the thin cables in his neck. Shockwave’s optic shifts slightly, a movement quick enough that any mech who wasn’t Soundwave probably wouldn’t catch it; the other mech had traced the line of his neck with his optic, lingering for a moment before it darted back up to his visor.
Oh. That was interesting; now he’s wondering if Shockwave might have a type himself.
He shifts a little, tipping his helm just so to put his neck cables on display; Shockwave’s optic shifts again, the fins on his head twitching as Soundwave turns to face him.
“Do you have a mate, Shockwave?” Soundwave hums, aware his inquiry was more personal than usual but for what he has planned he had to be sure- he was a lot of things but he wasn’t a homewrecker. It made it harder for him not being able to read his mind, but the odds were good that Shockwave wouldn’t lie.
Shockwave is a little startled by the question, shifting a little uncomfortably. “… I do not, no.” He says simply. “I do not have a mate at this time.”
“Affirmative.” There’s a low, almost melodic hum coming from the lithe mech, and he rises to his pedes with the confirmation he’s freely available. Graceful as always, he moves around the table to face the tank, servos on his hips as he watches Shockwave’s optic contract slightly. He’s aware of the fact that even with a face like a nightmare his body was lithe and alluring, sliding into the larger mech’s lap. “I’m glad to hear you are available.”
Shockwave’s fans stutter, but his servo curls around his hip, pulling him closer to his chest as he stares at him with that bright optic. “You are suggesting you wish to interface with me.”
“We have plenty of time.” Soundwave sounds amused, sliding his digit along the seam of his glass, feeling how sturdy he is under his servos. It sends a thrill through him, shivering a little as Shockwave squeezes his hip measuringly. There’s… something oddly familiar about this position, oddly familiar about being in Shockwave’s lap, but he pushes it away as Shockwave strokes a seam with the pointed tip of his digit. “Megatron and Starscream will be busy for some time. We may as well occupy ourselves.”
Suddenly, the room spins, Shockwave standing with a firm grip on his waist, ending up flat on his back on the table. Shockwave looms between his legs, overwhelmingly large in comparison to his delicate limbs. His red optics is fixed on his dark visor, leaning down so their faceplates are nearly touching. “That is agreeable.”
Steam rushes out of his vents in excitement, and Soundwave promptly starts to stroke and dig at his seams, mapping out the tank’s body. He’s so strong , so sturdy under Soundwave’s touch and it makes his engines rev, heat building in his circuits as he finds Shockwave more than exemplary based on his standards. He strokes over his broad chest, his digits sliding over the glass lightly, searching through his heavy plating for the well hidden seams, stroking the cables he finds underneath, able to feel the low pulse of energon as he paws at him. When Soundwave digs into his hip struts, pulling him closer to their arrays rub together, Shockwave lets out a low grunt of pleasure- it makes Soundwave’s spark flutter, and he’s determined to get more noises out of the stoic mech.
Shockwave’s servo moves up, cupping his visor as Soundwave strokes at his plating, trying to coax his spike out. “I would like to see your face.”
The request takes him by surprise, lifting his face from where he’s pawing for his prize and looking up into that single optic. Shockwave’s fins flex and waver slightly, rubbing his pointed thumb over the glass. “I will not be surprised by any odd features. I promise.”
Again, that strange feeling of familiarity. Soundwave stares at him, hard, trying to place it. His servo moves almost on instinct, reaching up to slide those thin digits into the release mechanism. Shockwave gently pulls his visor away, and with his servo cups his faceplate. He leans down, and Soundwave shifts up to meet him, touching their faceplates with a gentle tap.
“Absolutely beautiful…” Shockwave murmurs, his voice almost achingly tender for such an emotionless mech. It makes him feel warm, feel appreciated, but at the same time it’s so absolutely, crushingly lonely; he reaches out, touching again at his walled off mind, desperate for connection. He wants to believe Shockwave has affection for him, but he can’t confirm. He’d already had one broken spark- he didn’t think he could bear another.
Shockwave’s thumb slides over his mouthplates, and Soundwave opens for him, the pointed digit sliding over his glossa and Soundwave’s optics shutter slightly, sucking on the digit as he pushes aside his thoughts for the moment. He’d worry about it later. Shockwave rumbles low at the feeling, his cannon arm bumping against the table as he shifts closer to the mech spread over the table. The hiss of his array pulling back isn’t a surprise, but when he feels just how big his spike is against his plating it makes Soundwave sit up to get a better look.
Soundwave moans at the sight, his spike shockingly big- but then again what did he expect from a tank? His own panels let out a small snikt as they retract, and Shockwave’s engines rev loudly as he drops his helm to consider his valve. It’s as delicate and pretty as the rest of him, his folds puffy and lit by small bio lights along the mesh, his node nestled in the crest of his valve almost inviting a touch. Shockwave slides his thumb over that little node, and it makes him shudder as fresh pleasure sparks in his body, lifting his legs and spreading them invitingly. Soundwave slides a servo down, pressing his thin digits into himself easily, spreading himself open to show off his full, wet calipers, clenching as Shockwave stares down at him, his fans roaring as he noticeably grows hotter.
“Permission to penetrate you.” Shockwave rumbles, pressing his long digits in with Soundwave’s without waiting for an answer and making him mewl in pleasure. He didn’t mind stretching Soundwave out, and as they work in tandem it makes the lithe mech ridiculously worked up. Digits fucking in and out of his tight little valve make his legs tremble, his calipers slowly loosening under their ministrations. Dutiful to detail as always, Shockwave is stroking at his node as they work Soundwave’s valve open, rubbing in circles, pressing, flicking it lightly and making his sensors light up in pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, Soundwave and Shockwave’s digits stimulating his internal nodes in conjunction with Shockwave rubbing over his node; it’s not nearly overwhelming enough. He wants it, he wants that hot spike in his valve, he wants to be roughed up and manhandled and used . He pulls his digits out and grabs Shockwave’s wrist with his wet servo, shuddering as Shockwave muscles his way back in anyway, teasing his ceiling node with the tips of his digits and making him gush around his fingers.
“Inside.” It’s a simple demand, punctuated by a squeeze to the head of Shockwave’s spike, but the medic is nothing if not dependable. His digits withdraw and are quickly replaced by his thick spike, rubbing between his folds with a satisfied rumble.
“I suggest holding on to something.” The warning is rumbled out with barely any time for Soundwave to register it, Shockwave shoving that fat spike into him almost ruthlessly and making him scrape against the table. Soundwave screams as he’s filled, throwing his helm back as his body is shocked into accommodating, his poor calipers popping out of place as he’s forced to take Shockwave to the hilt, stretched to his limit. It’s wonderful , it’s far too much and has the perfect edge of pain that makes Soundwave’s optics roll as he squirts a jet of transfluid onto Shockwave’s belly.
That optic, burning red, is fixed on his faceplate again, shifting his legs over one of his broad shoulders to better hold on to him, better leverage as he holds himself in to the hilt. The tip of his spike is rubbing up against his ceiling node, nearly pressing into his gestation seal as he slowly rocks back and forth, moving his spike minutely. “Status, Soundwave. Are you hurt?”
Soundwave reaches up, servo trembling, and digs his digits into his shoulder, dragging him down closer. “ Use me. ”
Shockwave’s optic dilates, his fins lifting. “Affirmative.”
He pulls out, slow, almost torturous, but the pace doesn’t last as he slams back in hard enough to make snow burst over Soundwave’s vision, setting a brutal pace as he slams their hips together. Steam bursts from their vents as their plate crash together, the lubricant dripping from Soundwave’s valve slicking his spike thoroughly until it’s practically messy, dripping onto the floor with every punishing thrust from Shockwave’s hips.
It’s like no interface he’s ever had before, rough and hard as his hips piston in and out of him, and he thinks he might’ve died and gone to the well of all sparks already. It’s so good, so amazingly good all Soundwave can do is let out static laced howls, clawing at his arms and clinging for any kind of respite. There’s none to be found with Shockwave, the larger mech huffing low as he drives deeper and deeper into his valve. The sound makes him dizzy, wet smacks and crashing metal and the roar of fans a symphony Soundwave never wants to end, helpless to anything other than to let Shockwave use his body, his low huffs and grunts of pleasure only adding to the liquid heat pooling in his lower belly.
His overload takes him by surprise, yowling as he clamps down as much as he can around his spike, gushing and trembling as colors bloom over his vision, twisting almost like he’s trying to get away from the waves of pleasure rolling through him. It’s so good, so overwhelming, legs twitching and shaking as Shockwave barely pauses in his movements. His valve twitches and clenches around him, lubricant beading up and drooling around his spike, fucked out of him as he only gets sloppier as Shockwave pounds through his overload.
“Sh-shhhhockwave-” he slurs it out, moaning low and loud as Shockwave takes a moment to shift his thrusts, slamming into his ceiling node. His body has barely been allowed to come down from his overload, only slightly less sensitive, and already he can feel it building again, fire roaring in his belly and making warnings pop up, his system threatening a shut down as he’s overwhelmed. “Shockwave, I- I cannot… I need, I need a moment, I can’t-”
Shockwave shoves up against him again, faceplates tapping, and Soundwave’s vision is filled with that bright, intense red light. “You can.”
Soundwave wails as he overloads for a second time, his system nearly shorting out as he’s forced into climax again so soon after his first, colors and warnings bursting and popping up in front of his vision as he feels Shockwave hammer into his gestation seal, a loud rev of his engine filling his audials as heat bursts into his belly, Shockwave holding himself in to the hilt firmly as he pumps Soundwave full of transfluid, the pressure building inside of him until it spurts out around his spike.
Soundwave’s helm tips back with a thunk , the world going black as his system forcibly shuts down.
When he wakes, he’s in a quiet spot that’s clearly not the kitchen, visor back in place as he slowly sits up.
“You’re awake.” Shockwave turns from one of his consoles, running an experiment on primus knows what, coming over to settle next to his berth. “Status?”
“Rested. Satisfied. Confused.” Soundwave looks slightly amused. “How long have I been recharging?”
“Only a mega-cycle. I’ve repaired your valve in the meantime.” Shockwave looks him over, almost shy. “… that was. Exemplary.”
Soundwave looks at him measuringly, lifting a servo to his face. “I have a request.”
Shockwave’s fins twitch. “Yes?”
The visor hisses as it comes off, a smile playing on his mouthplates. It seems he’s found another mech, to meet all his expectations and more. He isn’t planning on letting this one go, no matter what it took. A new mission, a new lease on life. A new partner. “I request you open your panels again.” He purrs, sliding off the berth and onto his knees in front of him.