anon_decepticon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
anon_decepticon) wrote2010-05-26 09:58 pm
anon_decepticon) wrote2010-05-26 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
Skywarp's Solution: Phase Three (1/2)
Title: Skywarp’s Solution: Phase Three
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
anon_decepticonRating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Megatron/Skywarp/Thundercracker
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers.
Warning(s): Sticky, slash, creepy!stalker!Megs. (What? All the smut's in part 2.)
Overall Summary: Megatron has turned his sights on Thundercracker, but Skywarp has a plan.
Author's Note: Part three of three, Thundercracker’s PoV. This is the conclusion of the third trilogy of fics in the continuity that follows my third, fourth and tenth fics for the kink meme, Skywarp Goes Solo, Thunderstruck and Grounded, and the follow-up trilogy, “Ours, Mine, Yours.” Phases One and Two are here and here. This installment ended up running kinda long, well over LJ’s post limit, so even though I haven’t quite finished writing it, I decided to go ahead and post the first half. Picks up right where Phase Two left off. Many thanks to
kookaburra1701 for being all-around awesome, and special nods to soulfire003 for suggesting a suitable prank for ‘Warp to play on Starscream, and to my anonymous V-gifter - hope I didn't keep you waiting too long! RL permitting, part 2 will be up this weekend, if not sooner.Skywarp's Solution: Phase Three
Thundercracker reeled, fighting to remain online and upright as his visual field fuzzed over with static, his circuits tingling in the aftermath of his very first dual overload.
He panted heavily through his intakes, his optics flickering, his vision shifting in and out the infrared spectrum as his systems attempted to compensate, making the rapidly-cooling spray of hot transfluid he’d ejected onto Skywarp’s thigh plates flash and twinkle, like the lights of a distant city seen from high above.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d overloaded – from his valve – succumbing to an intense wave of pleasure that had rocked him to the core.
But it hadn’t ended there. Before the throes of pleasure had fully faded, Skywarp had burst into motion, thrusting into him hard and fast, and Thundercracker had gone off again, this time from his spike, emptying his transfluid explosively onto Skywarp’s twitching thigh plates even as ‘Warp’s own release flooded his valve.
He’d lost control of his sonics again, too.
Thundercracker shook his helm, wrestling with a confusing tangle of emotions that seemed made up of equal parts befuddled amazement and bemused chagrin. He’d thought ‘Warp was crazy, suggesting he touch himself like that – Thundercracker had never attempted to self-service via his valve before, had never even touched it apart from cleaning – but Primus, the end result had been incredible.
‘Warp would be torqued off about the transfluid, though. They’d just gotten back from the ‘racks, and now they needed to visit them again.
He shifted on Skywarp’s lap, twisting around to look at his strangely silent partner. The movement caused Skywarp’s spike to scrape against the hyper-sensitized nodes within his valve, making Thundercracker gasp and twitch at the sensation, but ‘Warp made no protest.
Thundercracker realized why an astrosecond later: Skywarp was offline.
An odd surge of embarrassment mingled with pride shot through his circuits at the sight of ‘Warp’s darkened optics; gazing down at his lover’s motionless frame, Thundercracker felt a curious blend of unexpected power and humbled gratitude.
He shuddered as he recalled the recent sensations he’d experienced. It had never been like that before. Thundercracker had always associated having another mech’s spike in his valve with feelings of shame and degradation, humiliation and helplessness, of being subjugated and used, even on the handful occasions when he’d agreed to allow it.
It hadn’t felt that way this time. He’d felt powerful, in control. And even though a part of him knew that was only because ‘Warp had allowed him to be, for some reason the thought of doing it again didn’t provoke the same feelings of dread and distaste it usually did.
He mused on that for a while, but finally shook his helm. It didn’t really change anything; Megatron would make no such concessions. The Decepticon leader would just take him, use him the way Steelwing had, and even if it didn’t hurt like it had then, even if Thundercracker took some degree of pleasure in it – and for Megatron to be satisfied, he’d have to – the end result would still be the same.
Maybe it would be better to refuse.
Skywarp’s solution was utter insanity. All it would accomplish would be to ensure that his lover was on hand to witness his humiliation, a prospect almost more daunting than the thought of facing down Megatron alone.
He didn’t want ‘Warp to see him like that.
But what else could he do? Refusing to comply with Megatron’s demands wouldn’t necessarily spare him. He was sure to be punished for his insubordination, and afterward Megatron would probably frag him anyway, just to demonstrate his absolute authority.
He glanced over at Skywarp uneasily. Could he really go along with ‘Warp’s plan, allow Megatron to take him, overload for him, and emerge unscathed? ‘Warp clearly thought so, but to Thundercracker it seemed impossible.
There had to be another way.
Skywarp stirred beneath him, groaning, and Thundercracker flinched as ‘Warp’s spike retracted abruptly, withdrawing from his valve as ‘Warp’s systems rebooted. Lifting himself gingerly off of him, Thundercracker closed his panel and took a seat on Skywarp’s berth to wait for him to online.
“Hey ‘Warp,” he said when Skywarp’s optics flashed.
“Hey, TC,” Skywarp replied muzzily, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “You offlined.”
Skywarp peered at him curiously for a moment, his expression mildly puzzled, but then his memory core came fully online, and a cheeky grin lit his faceplate. “Told ya,” he said smugly.
“Yeah,” he replied soberly. “I guess it really does work.”
“Frag, yeah!” Skywarp agreed emphatically, sitting up, “Maybe better than mine! You were amazing, TC.”
Thundercracker rumbled abashedly, ducking is helm.
“Aw, Pit,” Skywarp said as he righted himself on the berth. “How the frag did I miss your valve?”
Thundercracker looked up to find ‘Warp eyeing his transfluid-smeared thigh plates in dismay. “Uh…you didn’t,” he admitted, shrugging sheepishly when Skywarp looked up at him in surprise.
“Fraggit, TC!” Skywarp cursed. “You cheated!”
“I didn’t!” he protested. “I never touched it, I swear!”
‘Warp frowned at him, his optics narrowing in suspicion.
“It just…happened,” he confessed. “You know, after.”
He half-expected ‘Warp to accuse him of lying, but Skywarp only nodded, looking thoughtful. “That happened to me too – last night,” he clarified when Thundercracker looked up. “Ol’ Megs was pretty fragged off; I thought he was gonna scrap me for sure.”
Thundercracker frowned. “Why?”
Skywarp gave him an incredulous look. “Because he hates that,” he replied, looking worried. “Whatever you do, TC, don’t let your spike out in front of him. He’ll slag you.”
Thundercracker hadn’t seriously considered “cheating” – as ‘Warp termed it – with Megatron during their next encounter, but finding out the option was off the table was far from comforting. Next stop, scrap heap, he thought wryly. “I’m fragged,” he said aloud. “Completely fragged.”
“No you’re not,” Skywarp said, rising from Thundercracker’s berth and moving to join him on his own. “Everything’s gonna work out, TC. Trust me.”
Thundercracker vented a gusty sigh. He knew ‘Warp meant well, but…
“I’m not like you, ‘Warp,” he said. “I can’t just…”
“You can,” Skywarp insisted. “You know what to do now; focus on that. Don’t think about him, just think about how good it feels.”
Thundercracker gave him an exasperated look. “How am I supposed tonot think about him when he’s shoving his spike up my –”
“Think about me,” Skywarp interrupted quietly. “Offline your optics and pretend it’s me.”
The forlorn expression on his faceplate made Thundercracker seize him in a fierce hug, crushing Skywarp tight against his cockpit, feeling his lover’s sorrow wash over him. His spark strained in its chamber, sensing the proximity of its mate, frustrated by the barrier of glass and metal dividing them, denying it the comfort it longed to give and receive.
Skywarp melted into his embrace, a low, mournful keen escaping his vocalizer, clinging to him, caught in the grip of the same sweet, terrible yearning.
Thundercracker held him, rumbling soothingly, recalling how angry, how jealous ‘Warp had been when he’d first discovered Thundercracker’s valve was no longer his exclusive domain.
Maybe that shouldn’t have come as such a surprise – he’d always known ‘Warp was greedy and selfish – but ever since Skywarp had learned what Megatron wanted, he’d done nothing but give instead of take, offering Thundercracker his advice, his comfort…even his spark.
Thundercracker hadn’t really thought about what this whole situation might be like for Skywarp, how he must feel about being forced not only to share, but to actively assist in ensuring Megatron got what he wanted – the one thing ‘Warp wanted more than anything to be his and his alone.
“I could always say no,” he offered tentatively.
Skywarp shook his helm. “You can’t,” he said, his vocalizer muffled against Thundercracker’s cockpit. “He’ll slag you.”
“He’ll probably do that anyway,” he replied. “You know this plan of yours is never gonna work.”
“It will,” Skywarp insisted stubbornly, squeezing him tighter, burrowing into his cockpit. “It has to.”
Thundercracker huffed through his vents, shaking his helm regretfully. He leaned down to rest his faceplate against ‘Warp’s bowed helm, idly stroking his backstrut. “Will you visit me in repair bay?”
Skywarp straightened abruptly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I won’t have to,” he said firmly, his jaw set with determination. “I’m not gonna let him hurt you, TC. If something goes wrong, I’ll – I’ll do something. He’ll get mad at me instead.”
Thundercracker rumbled aggressively, his optics flashing. “I don’t need you to take my dents for me, ‘Warp.”
“Don’t get mad,” Skywarp said hastily. “I know you’re not scared. But don’t you see? I frag him off all the time! He doesn’t care; he’s used to it! Stupid Skywarp does something stupid.”
Thundercracker frowned, sensing an odd flicker of emotion that belied Skywarp’s casual tone, a dark undercurrent of something buried so deep he couldn’t put a name to it, even through the bond. “You’re not that stupid, ‘Warp,” he said.
“Yeah I am,” Skywarp replied with a shrug. “But he won’t slag me. He might knock me around a little, but he won’t slag me. Not like he would you.”
As much as he wanted to protest, Thundercracker couldn’t deny ‘Warp was right. His lover’s impulsive nature was well-known, his pranks and petty insubordinations grudgingly tolerated because Skywarp was Skywarp, a mech too slow in the processor to know any better. Among the Decepticons, ‘Warp’s frequent gaffes and fumbles were just a part of the standard routine.
It had never occurred to Thundercracker to wonder how ‘Warp might feel about that.
A thin thread of guilt coiled through his spark as he recalled all the occasions when he’d teased Skywarp, called him less-than complimentary names or wondered aloud if his processor was defective. He hadn’t meant it, at least not in a bad way – ‘Warp was often the only bright spot in an otherwise dreary existence, and Thundercracker treasured his light-sparked simplicity.
Skywarp frowned, cocking his helm, but then his expression brightened. “You don’t have to feel bad, TC,” he said with a grin, bumping his helm lightly against Thundercracker’s. “I know you love me.”
He nodded, a familiar warmth swelling in his spark. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”
“Anyway, I don’t need to be smart,” Skywarp teased. “You do enough thinking for the both of us.”
He shook his helm wryly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sometimes I wish I was more like you,” he admitted, his mood sobering. “I don’t know how you do it, ‘Warp. How can you not mind when he calls you in there just to frag you?”
“Why would I mind?” Skywarp replied, tipping his helm in confusion. “It’s just ‘facing, TC. It’s not like it means anything.” He laughed, shrugging dismissively, and Thundercracker felt that same unidentifiable emotion go skittering across the bond again. “As long as I get off, it doesn’t matter who’s doing it.”
Thundercracker frowned. The feeling had been stronger this time, lingered longer, and he’d nearly parsed it; an emotion almost akin to guilt...or was it shame? He wasn’t sure. It was gone again before he could pin it down.
“So you don’t…you know, like him?” he asked hesitantly.
Skywarp shrugged again. “He’s okay, I guess,” he said. “When he’s not angry, anyway. He’s a pretty good frag.”
The odd emotion didn’t return, but Thundercracker still felt uneasy. “Even when he hurts you?” he asked.
Skywarp scoffed, “C’mon, TC – I’m not Starscream.”
There was no trace of deception carried across the bond, no conflicting emotion that might indicate a lie. Nothing but amusement, affection, and a hint of derision – for Starscream, no doubt, and his penchant for pain.
“I just don’t think ‘facing’s that big a deal,” Skywarp persisted, sensing Thundercracker’s uncertainty, or perhaps simply noting his pensive expression, the way his helm bowed in thought.
“…even when it’s me?” he asked quietly.
Skywarp stiffened in his arms, a burst of dismayed chagrin flashing across the bond. “That’s different, TC,” he replied, meeting Thundercracker’s optics with an earnest gaze. “You’re different.”
Thundercracker’s optics flashed, a wry grin quirking his lip components. “C’mere, dimspark,” he rumbled.
Skywarp complied eagerly, tackling him to the berth.
**
Thundercracker onlined the next morning with Skywarp in his arms, sprawled out limply across his cockpit like his struts had been removed.
He rumbled contentedly, savoring the warm, comforting weight of ‘Warp’s frame, the familiar thrum of his energy signature, and the steady pulse of his spark.
There’d been a time not too long ago when he’d have emerged from recharge alone. As often as they interfaced, afterward they’d always returned to their individual berths. If their overloads took them offline, they’d separate shortly after rebooting. They’d never shared a berth just to recharge.
Last night, they’d done just that. They’d fallen back onto the berth, exchanging ardent touches and long, heated kisses, but instead of ramping in intensity, their movements had gradually slowed, until finally they’d simply lain together, he on his back, Skywarp atop him, ‘Warp’s helm pillowed on his cockpit, touching each other absently, almost lazily, exploring each other’s frames with slow, idle caresses.
…and that was all.
The strangest part was, he’d liked it. Just having ‘Warp in his arms, pressed against him as they drifted into recharge, had been…enough.
Autobot slag, he thought scornfully. I’m going soft.
But he couldn’t seem to summon forth the usual disdain, to chide himself for his own weakness.
I don't care, he thought. Even if Starscream is right; even if Megatron really is leading us all to ruin. Even if we lose the war. As long as I get to hold 'Warp like this, I don't care.
His musings were interrupted by a loud grinding noise and a low fuel warning popping up in his HUD, reminding him they’d forgotten to refuel the night before.
Skywarp stirred at the sound, coming online with a groan. “Slag,” he muttered groggily. “I need to refuel.”
Thundercracker rumbled in amusement, not bothering to correct him. Skywarp’s energy reserves were probably just as depleted as his own. “Me too,” he said. “We’d better get moving.”
They rose from the berth, stretching their servos, taking a moment to put themselves in order. There wasn’t time to visit the washracks before they were expected to report in, so they had to make do with a few cursory swipes of their plating using polishing cloths pretreated with solvent.
Afterward, they headed to the communal area to collect their energon rations for the day. As usual, the room was a veritable mob scene, packed with Decepticon warriors waiting in line at the energon dispensers or seated at tables consuming their cubes.
Skywarp nearly started a brawl by ‘porting himself to the head of one of the lines, cutting in front of Swindle, but after a moment of tense dialogue, Swindle laughed and stepped aside, allowing Skywarp to collect a pair of energon cubes for himself and his trinemate.
In the meantime Thundercracker secured two empty seats at a table already occupied by Thrust, Ramjet and Dirge, and proceeded to check the duty roster to find out what tasks they’d been assigned for the day.
“What’d we get?” Skywarp asked, popping into existence beside him and handing him an energon cube.
“Monitor duty,” he rumbled.
“Scrap, I hate monitor duty,” ‘Warp complained. “It’s so boring.”
“Uh…you didn’t get the monitors,” Thundercracker informed him. “I did. You’re in cargo bay seven. Guess it must’ve flooded again.”
“Baling duty?!” Skywarp demanded incredulously, earning a derisive laugh from Ramjet. “Aw, slag!”
“Sounds like someone fragged off our beloved Air Commander,” Thrust observed mockingly. “We got put on patrol,” he added, gesturing to his trinemates.
Thundercracker and Skywarp exchanged a look. There were worse assignments to be had on the Nemesis, but not many. The space cruiser they used as their base of operations wasn’t designed to withstand the intense pressure below sea level, and the ship frequently took on water when an overtaxed bulkhead gave way. The residential sections located at the center ship were rarely affected, but several of the outer cargo bays flooded on a regular basis.
The task of repairing the damaged bulkheads was usually left to the Constructicons, but by now every ‘Con in the ranks had been assigned the grueling task of emptying the flooded bays of seawater at so that Scrapper and the others could get to them at least once. It was dirty, exhausting work that no one looked forward to.
“Fragging Screamer,” Skywarp griped. “Next time he goes into recharge, I’m gonna weld his door shut.”
“At least we didn’t waste time going to the ‘racks,” Thundercracker rumbled. By the time ‘Warp got off his shift, he’d be filthy, covered with salt and who knows what manner of organic organisms. A lengthy visit to the washracks would be not only advisable, but downright necessary.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Skywarp said, hastily downing the last of his energon. “You wanna trade?”
“Pit, no,” Thundercracker replied as the Coneheads laughed. “Sorry ‘Warp; I don’t like you that much.”
Skywarp punched him in the shoulder strut for that, but the brief contact made it clear ‘Warp understood. Thundercracker would have been willing to help him with the unpleasant duty, but he knew displaying that degree of mutual cooperation in front of the other Seekers would be patently unwise.
They couldn’t allow anyone to suspect they were spark bonded. It was just too dangerous.
Thundercracker did his best to bolster his mental defenses as he bade farewell to Skywarp and headed for Command to report in. The fact that he’d been assigned to the monitors suggested Starscream wasn’t all that happy with him, either. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the day staring at the monitor screens, keeping an optic on the status of the Nemesis’ hull integrity and undersea environs. Being on monitor duty meant being stuck in a room with Soundwave for joors, trying to shield his thoughts from the telepathic communications officer.
There was also a better-than average chance Megatron himself might show up, which was even more troubling. The last thing Thundercracker wanted right now was to catch his commander’s optic. He was nervous enough as it was.
Megatron’s likely presence was probably the reason he’d been put on the monitors instead of ‘Warp in the first place. Starscream knew Skywarp hated monitor duty, but given the current state of affairs, placing ‘Warp in Megatron’s path was the very last thing Starscream would do.
The door to Command hissed open, and Thundercracker entered. Giving a grudging nod to Soundwave – which wasn’t acknowledged – he took up his post and ran a brief check on the Nemesis’ hull status. That accomplished, he settled back in his chair to wait, and tried his best not to think.
**
There was a trick to working with Soundwave.
The telepath could only read thoughts when actively concentrating, and would typically only attempt to do so if something captured his attention. Vivid mental images or strong emotions were most likely to pique Soundwave’s interest, so Thundercracker concentrated on keeping his thoughts as bland as possible.
It wasn’t all that difficult. Monitor duty was slagging boring.
Maybe a little too boring; Thundercracker had to make a concerted effort not to think about all the things that were foremost in his processor – Skywarp, Megatron, Starscream…
Hoping to distract himself, he began flicking through the visual feeds recorded by the various security cameras scattered about the Nemesis, apprising himself of what was going on in and around the base. He lingered briefly on one covering the outer western perimeter, noticing a large, dark blot in the corner of the screen, but after studying it for a klik, he concluded it was just another of the many organic life forms Earth’s oceans housed in annoying abundance, and moved on to the next feed.
This one displayed an overhead view of Starscream’s lab; Starscream was in it, seated at his workstation with his back to the camera.
Thundercracker quickly switched to the next feed before his CPU could start calling up memory files of his recent interface with his trineleader. That encounter was definitely something he didn’t want to think about, especially not with Soundwave so close at hand.
The next few feeds displayed nothing but empty corridors; the one after that showed an angle overlooking the repair bay, where one of the Constructicons – Scavenger, he thought, squinting at the mech’s bowed black helm – was bent over a table, applying a patch weld to something Thundercracker couldn’t identify.
The console he was working on beeped, reminding him to run another status check on the ship’s hull integrity. Thundercracker initiated the scan, noting that one of the bulkheads in the southern quadrant was down to sixty percent below nominal, and went back to the feeds.
The next view he was presented with made him pause – it was cargo bay seven, where Skywarp was currently stationed. ‘Warp wasn’t currently visible, but a couple of the Stunticons were – Dead End and Breakdown, from the look of it. Thundercracker felt a twinge of sympathy for ‘Warp, stuck working alongside a couple of new-sparked ground pounders; they probably had no idea what they were doing.
He was about to move on to the next feed when Skywarp teleported into view.
His spark gave a sharp pulse at the sight of his lover, making his intakes hitch. Skywarp’s plating was rimed with salt, clumps of seaweed dangling from his wings and a forbidding scowl on his faceplate, but his dark paint was wet and gleaming beneath the bright lights of the cargo bay, glittering like a polished black mirror, water falling from his wings in glistening droplets.
Thundercracker’s core temperature climbed several degrees as he watched Skywarp wade across the flooded cargo bay to say something Breakdown and Dead End, his circuits heating with an unexpected surge of desire. As filthy and disheveled as he was, ‘Warp looked good.
A faint tickling sensation at the back of his processor reminded him he’d neglected to monitor his thoughts. Soundwave had obviously caught wind of his sudden flare of arousal, and was poking around to see what Thundercracker found so interesting.
He quickly constructed the most offensive visual image he could think of – one of Soundwave enthusiastically fragging Ravage like an Earth dog in heat – and felt the intruding presence in his CPU falter in surprise. Thundercracker promptly reversed their positions, putting Ravage on top, and smirked in satisfaction when Soundwave recoiled in disgust and withdrew.
He was debating adding in Laserbeak just to taunt Soundwave further when the door to Command hissed open and Megatron stepped through, crossing the room with his familiar heavy tread.
Thundercracker sat up straighter in his seat, switching the monitor feed off of Skywarp and the flooded cargo bay as Megatron growled, “Soundwave, report.”
Soundwave complied, obeying Megatron’s command in his usual droning monotone while Thundercracker fought to rein in the rising wave of anxiety coursing through his circuits. His shift would be over in less than half a cycle, and he’d harbored the faint hope he might manage to complete it without encountering his commander.
That hope was now shot to the Pit. Megatron was here, and so was he.
Thundercracker kept his optics facing forward, focusing his attention on the monitors in front of him and praying Megatron wouldn’t notice him. Just a few more breems…
For once, Primus actually seemed to be listening; after hearing Soundwave’s report, Megatron crossed the room without giving any acknowledgement of Thundercracker’s presence, settling into his command chair.
Thundercracker flexed his shoulder struts, suppressing the urge to fidget in his seat. His core was still a little overheated, but he didn’t dare activate his internal cooling fans. In the oppressive silence of Command, the sound was sure to capture Megatron’s attention.
Desperate for a diversion, he ran another hull status report, trying to tamp down on the nervous tension gripping his frame. The last thing he needed was for Soundwave to pick up on his sudden disquietude.
For several kliks, nothing happened, and Thundercracker slowly began to relax. Soundwave had evidently lost interest in probing his thoughts, and Megatron seemed preoccupied with whatever scheme he was presently running through his CPU.
Shifting his attention back to the monitor screens, Thundercracker began flicking through the feeds once more, dutifully pausing on each long enough to verify that all was well before moving on to the next.
He’d cycled through them all twice before it dawned on him that he was being watched.
Tension shot through his frame at the realization, tightening his servos. He could feel Megatron’s optics on him, sending an icy chill shivering up his backstrut. It was all he could do to resist turning around, to confirm with his own optics what his processor already knew.
Megatron was looking at him.
His spark pulsing with dread, Thundercracker continued flicking rapidly from one video feed to the next, barely pausing long enough to observe what any of the cameras were recording. Less than a breem remained of his shift, but Megatron was still staring at him, his gaze like a ponderous weight against Thundercracker’s backstrut.
“Thundercracker,” Megatron said, making him stiffen in his seat, “Report on hull status.”
Casting about hastily, Thundercracker quickly checked the readouts and replied, “Hull integrity in the southern quadrant is down to thirty-nine point four percent.”
“Inform the Constructicons to monitor hull status in that quadrant and initiate repairs if it drops below twenty-five,” Megatron commanded.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, composing a brief message communicating Megatron’s orders and transmitting it to Hook. His task discharged, Thundercracker slumped back in his seat, a wave of relief washing over him, the tension slowly bleeding from his servos.
He promptly stiffened again when Megatron rose from his chair and moved to stand directly behind him.
“What is that?” Megatron demanded, looming over him.
His helm jerking up, Thundercracker’s optics fell on the monitor screen in front of him. It was displaying the last video feed he’d paused on, the one overlooking the dark waters of the ocean outside the base. “That’s the outer western perimeter, sir,” he said, disconcerted by the close press of Megatron’s energy field against his own.
“I can see that,” Megatron snapped impatiently, leaning forward and resting a hand on Thundercracker’s shoulder strut as he pointed at the screen with the other, indicating the dark blot Thundercracker had noted earlier. “What is that?”
Thundercracker stared blankly at the screen, acutely aware of how close Megatron was. If he turned his helm, Megatron’s faceplate would be mere inches from his own. The only other time he’d been this close to Megatron was – Thundercracker shoved the thought aside. “I, uh…I think it’s an octopus, sir,” he replied uneasily, fighting to keep the strain from his vocalizer.
Megatron hummed thoughtfully and began to straighten, but then he paused in mid-motion, his hand like a lead weight on Thundercracker’s shoulder strut.
That was when Thundercracker belatedly recalled his own elevated core temperature.
His spark quailed as Megatron leaned forward again, bending over him, much closer than before. Megatron’s chestplate scraped across the trailing edge of his right wing, making him sit bolt upright in his chair, his intakes hitching at the sudden burst of sensation.
“You’re running hot,” Megatron observed, his vocalizer pitched barely within audial range.
“Uh…y-yes sir,” he admitted awkwardly, fighting to contain his embarrassment. He shrugged sheepishly – failing to dislodge Megatron’s hand from his shoulder strut – and allowed his fans to cycle on at their lowest setting. “Sorry sir.”
The cooling rush of air wafting across his internals was soothing; Megatron’s hand shifting from his shoulder strut to his wing significantly less so.
Thundercracker tensed at the touch, shooting a nervous glance at Soundwave as Megatron’s fingers teased across his right aileron, his fingertips trailing lightly over the edge.
He cursed inwardly, offlining his optics in consternation. Why hadn’t he activated his fans before, when it would have been clear Megatron wasn’t the cause? And how the frag was he supposed to get out of this situation now?
He bit back a moan as Megatron gently flexed that same aileron, clutching at the armrests of his chair for support, thoroughly dismayed at how rapidly his systems were heating up in response to the stimulation. He was a Seeker, he couldn’t help the way he was wired, but Thundercracker was still utterly mortified when his internal cooling fans obligingly cycled up another notch.
Megatron made that low growling noise, the one Thundercracker remembered all too well from their previous encounter, his own cooling fans humming to life as he tweaked Thundercracker’s wingtip.
Thundercracker had been worried that Megatron might show up in command, that he might even order him to report to his quarters again, but he’d never imagined Megatron doing something like this. Megatron was using both hands now, his attention shifting from Thundercracker’s ailerons to the lower leading edge of his wings, ghosting over his waist components before finally coming to rest on his hip plate.
Thundercracker’s spark lurched like it was trying to launch itself clear out of his chamber, his processor threatening to lock up in abject terror. Megatron meant to frag him right here, to bend him over the console and take him in front of Soundwave, of all mechs –!
He jolted out of his seat, overturning his chair and nearly headbutting Megatron in his haste to regain his feet, twitching his wing free of Megatron’s grip as he spun to face him, his intakes laboring. “I – I have to go,” he babbled. “My shift – I need to go. Now.”
Megatron looked mildly startled, but recovered swiftly, casting an amused glance at Soundwave before returning his attention to the flustered Seeker, his optics flashing as they raked over Thundercracker’s frame.
“Dismissed,” Megatron said, a faint smirk curling his lip components.
Thundercracker bolted from the room like his engines were on fire.
Want more? The second half is here
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now i want to go back and read everything again.
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TC's mental image of Soundwave fragging Ravage made me rofl. XD
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and the mental image he gives to Soundwave. XD That poor mech.
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Thundercracker's method for getting Soundwave out of his head was hilarious. Poor Soundwave, the only way that might have been worse for him would be if the mental image was of him being fragged by Blaster's cassettes. And he would have definitely enjoyed a little revenge if Megatron had continued to grope Thundercracker.
Ahh. Good read is good. :)
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(Anonymous) 2010-06-17 05:45 am (UTC)(link)