Work Text:
The lab was quiet, but then, it usually was. The terminals hummed a low, continuous drone. The ventilation systems whirred, faint but audible. Shockwave had few pleasures, but the clack of the keyboard beneath his digits brought a certain amount of satisfaction. It was only logical; that sound meant he was making progress, however miniscule.
A new sound interrupted the reliable murmur of terminals and ventilation systems. Shockwave turned his head, catching a flash of navy blue as Soundwave slipped into the lab.
"Soundwave," he said by way of greeting.
"Shockwave," came the reply.
Shockwave turned his attention back to the terminal he worked at, set the clacking of the keys back into motion. "How are the troops accepting the synthesized energon compound?"
"Report: of the fifty mecha whose rations were replaced with synthesized energon compound, 100% showed a decrease in stamina and energy. Seven collapsed during training drills and were given medical grade energon to recover. The medical report showed they had already internally processed the compound, and were at 27% efficiency."
Another of Shockwave's few pleasures; he enjoyed hearing Soundwave give reports. It was only logical; his voice was steady, consistent in cadence, just adjacent to completely monotone. Being usually laconic, Soundwave only spoke at length when giving reports.
Long ago, Shockwave had once enjoyed music. Now, he found it irritating, a distraction. But Soundwave's voice, unwavering and unchanging, stimulated his concentration.
"I shall have to rework the compound." Shockwave stepped away from the terminal, approaching his main desk. He brought up his files for the synthetic energon compound with a flick of his wrist, marking the latest formulas as unsuccessful. A new thought put a pause to the movement of his digits. "Did the mecha given the compound notice that they were not consuming standard energon rations?"
"Negative. Report: of the fifty mecha whose rations were replaced, forty-two expressed no confusion regarding their ration. Eight complained of quality, but preexisting data shows these mecha are regularly discontent with energon rations."
Well that, at least, was a positive result of this compound, though not exactly a requirement to making effective synthetic energon. It would be interesting to figure out what combination of elements allowed this compound to taste nearly identical to midgrade energon. He made a note of it.
"Thank you for your report, Soundwave."
"Shockwave: welcome."
Rather invigorated by the new information, Shockwave pulled up the list of elements he'd used for the latest compound. All of them were for practical reasons rather than taste, but more experimentation may reveal which of them achieved the true energon flavor.
Shockwave tapped away, creating theoretical combinations for the computer to work over. There was also the factor of heavily decreased efficiency in the compound, which would have to be corrected.
"Proposal: Autobot rations may be replaced with current compound, decreasing overall efficiency."
Now there was an idea. "You are correct. Lord Megatron may wish to explore such a concept." Shockwave drew up a draft for such a report to Megatron. Their leader was fond of eccentric plans, for all that he also maintained an impressive tactical prowess.
The quiet of his lab returned, the whirring of the terminals and the hum of the ventilation systems, the clack clack of the keys beneath his digits. Soundwave had not left, but he said nothing more, allowing Shockwave to concentrate fully on his work.
The computer finished working on the preliminary combinations. Shockwave pulled them up, weeding through them. There were an exponential amount of possible combinations with the elements he had chosen, notwithstanding the percentage of concentration. It would take a long time to discover true synthetic energon, but Shockwave had time, and no other pressing projects.
Another private pleasure of Shockwave's; the rhythm of continuous experimentation. There was much to discover, and the repetition of it was satisfying. It was only logical.
Though he did not forget Soundwave's presence, Shockwave allowed it to fade to the back of his processor.
Time passed, though Shockwave did not mark it. The computers did most of the work as far as simulating possible element combinations– gone were the days of manually combining elements until something happened. Now, he only did so once he was eighty percent certain it would lead to something useful.
Marking a combination as probable, Shockwave paused just for a moment when he felt something touch his ankle. He ignored it, inputting a new combination of the elements which would one day make synthetic energon. His digits hesitated on the keys when something brushed against the inside of his knee.
"Soundwave." He did not turn his head to look at the other mech.
"Shockwave." came the reply, followed by a flutter of contact over Shockwave's inner thigh.
"I am working."
The touch at his thigh grew firm, pressing against the sensitive plating. "Soundwave: not preventing Shockwave from working." Slim, prehensile, and warm, Shockwave knew the touch to be that of Soundwave's data cables.
Shockwave sent the new combinations to the neighboring terminal, bringing up the work he'd been doing before Soundwave entered. "You are attempting to distract me." He checked the time: it was 1934 at night. They were both technically off-duty.
"Shockwave: an efficient worker," Soundwave replied, a non-answer to Shockwave's non-question.
Shockwave resumed his work; a detailed summary on the latest results of his gestalt project, extrapolating possible avenues for moving forward with it.
Beneath the tapping of the keys beneath his digits, the hum of the terminals, and the drone of the ventilation system, lay the whisper of metal on metal. The warmth against his plating wrapped around his left thigh, while a new cable snaked up his right leg, coiling around his shank and knee joint.
Soundwave, it seemed, was in a mischievous mood. Soundwave had many such moods, though very few mecha knew of them. Soundwave was witty, and clever, and very, very intelligent. Shockwave found these traits pleasing. He found the touches pleasing too, the clawed cable heads plucking at the wiring in his knee and the inner cavity of his hip joint.
Shockwave didn't ask what Soundwave was doing: it was quite obvious what he was doing.
"I'm working," Shockwave said again, but even to his own audials the protest sounded weak.
"Shockwave: will continue working." The cable at Shockwave's left thigh brushed purposefully against his panel before retreating.
Although they were of equal social standing and influence, as Third in Command of the entire Decepticon army Soundwave was technically Shockwave's superior. Soundwave never ordered Shockwave around when they were working, though. He did not need to. No, Soundwave only ever gave Shockwave orders when they were… playing.
Shockwave returned to his work, the pleasant clack clack of the keyboard filling the air. Another set of mecha had been lost in the recent experiments. Their bodies and minds couldn't handle the operation, nor the attempt at transformation and combination.
The tickling at his wires faded to the background, little flickers of warmth that pooled in his array.
He would have to acquire new test subjects, find out why they simply weren't adapting to gestalt combination. Gestalts were possible, there were ancient, time-warped tales that said as much. He needed only make them a reality.
The cable about his right leg tightened, slowly pulling outward. Shockwave shifted his weight to compensate, setting his pedes just a micrometer further apart. The beginnings of arousal pulsed in his belly.
Shockwave knew the strength in those data cables. Soundwave had demonstrated their power for him before, indulging his curiosity with a variety of tests. They could exert enough pressure to crush a Cybertronian's arm, enough force to fling the average grounder off his pedes. Right now, they encircled his thigh and leg in a firm but gentle grip. The clawed cable heads could rend plating from protoform form with ease, yet they plucked delicately at his wiring.
Soundwave was a powerful mech in many ways, but he controlled that power with a mastery that could impress the coldest of mechs. And Shockwave, relegated among those mechs, was duly impressed by it every time.
The terminal he'd set to simulating synthetic compounds pinged its completed task. Shockwave brought the results forward to the holographic screens displayed above his main desk, and set to separating the steel from the slag. There were a few promising results. Shockwave flicked his digits to mark them– only to type a string of gibberish when his digits spasmed, a reaction to the abrupt, insistent pressure against his valve panel.
He shifted his weight to one pede. Corrected his mistake and marked the relevant results correctly. The pressure did not abate, following his movement.
"Suggestion: open."
Let it not be said that Shockwave would disobey orders from a superior officer.
Shockwave's internal fans came on, faint but audible. His panel opened with a small click, baring him to the cold air of his lab and the warmth of Soundwave's data cables.
The cable at his array brushed over his valve, parting the mesh there but not entering. Rather, it slid through the gathering dew of lubricant at his entrance and over his anterior node, its textured surface catching on that sensitive bud.
Shockwave pulled his attention back to his work. Began to compile a new list of combinations for the terminal to simulate.
The cable wrapped around his right leg began to slither upwards, claws tapping at his plating. The cable at his valve slid forward, backward, forward, backward. A friction against his swelling node, a teasing pressure at his lubricating entrance.
The keyboard clacked beneath his digits. The broken edges of his concentration rang loud and clear in the repeated hesitation of his keystrokes. And beneath that, beneath the humming of the terminals and the whirr of the ventilation systems– the wet sound of the cable against his valve. Back and forth, back and forth.
Shockwave took careful, measured breaths. His valve clenched needily on nothing.
The cable at his valve pulled away when the second cable finally joined it at his array. Claws capable of drilling through plating spread his valve lips carefully. The head of the second cable pressed against his entrance, claws furled close.
Slowly, the cable pressed in, parting Shockwave's fluttering calipers. Though the head spread him comfortably, the cable itself was slender, not quite filling. The head of the first cable, still wrapped tenderly around his thigh, brushed over his anterior node. Shockwave fought the urge to roll his hips forward, seeking a solid touch.
He sent the new element combinations to the neighboring terminal. Pulled up his notes on the gestalt project. Ignored the cable in his valve and the blooming arousal that sent his spark spinning.
He considered again the results of the latest barrage of tests. (The cable in his valve pressed past the second and third set of calipers.) The mecha had almost succeeded in combining, but the stress on their bodies ultimately led to failure of both spark and processor. (That first cable grazed tantalizingly against his anterior node.) Perhaps he should find another pair of duocombiners to study.
The second cable reached his ceiling node, only briefly making contact. Still, that brief touch sent pleasure lancing through Shockwave's frame. His calipers cycled down, but couldn't find purchase on the slim, ductile cable.
Shockwave found that he'd begun to breathe heavily, trying to cool down his rapidly heating frame.
That internal cable favored him by twisting, curving and pressing against his inner sensors, the ridged hexagonal texture of the cables raking against his valve walls. It pulled out slowly, the head a bulbous appendage that spread his calipers well, but not enough.
By now, Shockwave's valve was putting out excess amounts of lubricant. As the cable pulled out until the head lay at his entrance, a couple thick rivulets of lubricant trickled down Shockwave's thighs. Soundwave would see them, shining slightly in the light of the lab. Soundwave was watching him, watching Shockwave's attempt to obey orders as his lover worked to distract him.
Neither of them could deny that the distraction was working.
The cable pressed back in, slowly. In and in, spreading him at first but leaving his calipers clenching desperately once the head passed through. It paused deep within, just out of reach of his ceiling node. He wanted to hitch his hips downwards, feel that wonderful pressure. But it was already pulling back out, out and out. Then in, in and in.
Charge built up under Shockwave's plating as Soundwave fragged him so terribly slowly with his data cable. Liquid heat trickled down his spine. His node ached to be touched, but he knew he couldn't reach down to touch it himself.
His charge slowly increased, a rising tidal wave that wasn't enough. Despite the pleasure, Shockwave found himself nursing a slightly annoyed desperation. He forced his attention back to his work.
He'd studied duocombiners before, and at length. Attempts to reformat them to transform into a bipedal form together rather than an altmode had all been unsuccessful. However, given the recent failures with four-mech teams, he perhaps should return to–
Shockwave realized that his optic had dimmed, his hand idle on the keyboard as his focus turned to the activity in his valve.
"Shockwave: distracted." Soundwave said, a note of teasing to his voice.
"Soundwave," Shockwave whispered. It came out like a plea.
The cable in his valve surged suddenly upwards, pressing harshly against his ceiling node. At the same moment, the cable that had been for so long teasing his anterior node ran firmly over it. Shockwave gasped, the sound loud in the relative silence of his laboratory.
The slow teasing ceased, replaced by quick, well-timed thrusts that reverberated through Shockwave's frame. Shockwave clung to the edge of his desk with his single hand, abandoning the pretense of work as his knees weakened beneath the onslaught.
His overload approached, a peak visible but not quite there. Shockwave groaned softly, fighting to remain upright. How lewd this must look to Soundwave's optics; Shockwave, standing at his desk, legs spread just wide enough to permit a data cable in his valve. Thrusting in and out while a second cable hummed against his anterior node.
"Shockwave: wishes to overload?" Soundwave sounded completely unaffected. Shockwave wanted to look over his shoulder, to see his lover standing there watching, tall and powerful and in complete control of both himself and Shockwave.
"Yes," Shockwave gasped.
"Shockwave: permitted to overload."
And he did. His overload washed over him, a wave of heat that started in his array and warmed his furthest extremities. Shockwave leaned heavily on his desk, locking his knee joints to keep from collapsing entirely.
The cable in his valve eased out, caressing his inner sensors as it departed. The cable at his node nudged gently against the sensitive bud, sending little aftershocks of pleasure jolting through his frame.
Finally, both cables pulled away, uncoiling from Shockwave's legs and leaving him feeling strangely adrift without their pressure to anchor him. A hand at his lower back arrested that sensation, a warm brand that rested perfectly against the curve of his spine.
"Shockwave: satisfied?"
Shockwave nodded. "Yes, thank you, Soundwave." He glanced aside, catching Soundwave's gaze. "Though I must ask what brought on this… activity."
There was a wry note under Shockwave's monotone as he said, "Shockwave: needed a break."
"I was still working." Not very efficiently under Soundwave's ministrations, but working nonetheless.
Soundwave's visor flashed as he tilted his head a fraction to the side. "Shockwave: not working now."
Shockwave turned to face Soundwave, but only succeeded in trapping himself between his desk and the Decepticon TIC as Soundwave stepped closer, his hand falling to Shockwave's hip. Shockwave looked his lover over, noting the signs of arousal; the slightly overbright visor, the increased temperature.
Well… the cable had granted a rather satisfying overload, but it hadn't been very filling.
"I may be able to set aside time for… recreational activities. It would be impolite to deny you your own satisfaction." Shockwave leaned back, bracing his hand on the desk. "It is only logical."
Soundwave let out a multilayered hum and pressed himself flush to Shockwave's frame. "Soundwave: agrees."
Shockwave felt his frame begin to heat up once more. Yes, it was only logical.