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Soundwave used his tentacles often, their coils winding around smaller mechs to hold them still as his slender fingers coaxed aside the covers of their dripping valves and to freeze them in place as he drove his spike inside them.
Or sometimes he used them to bind the limbs of larger mechs, curling them around wrists and ankles as he drove his open valve down over their thick spikes.
Even the feelers tipping his tentacles gave him power, stunning those who threatened him — or those he simply wanted to be still.
Megatron was different.
In the beginning, he had kept them hidden entirely, opening his valve in offering and pretending it didn’t feel strange to keep them retracted during his most intimate moments. Lies of omission were second nature to a mech who never spoke.
And the waves of heat and light flooding his systems as the massive spike cleaved him were almost enough to make him forget it anyway. The friction set sensors ablaze that usually lay cold and dormant — that even his trysts with the few larger mechs he favored could not awaken.
But over the long millenia, the silent mech had grown bolder.
He would never have tried to impede his lord in any way. That would have shown disrespect — and of the many mechs he had known through the millenia, from warriors to scholars to scientists to Primes, Megatron was the only one who had won that respect.
But his yearning to touch his master with more than his fingers had never abated; if anything, he had felt it more keenly every time his lord touched or entered him.
And slowly he had begun to snake his tentacles from the places they lay stored. First, he had stretched them toward Megatron’s back, barely touching the plating with the tips of his feelers, careful to never build enough charge to jolt his systems.
Then he had curled the tentacles themselves over the big mech’s shoulders and back, wrapping him in as loose an embrace as he could stand.
And now, shuddering in silent pleasure as Megatron slammed into him again and again, setting every sensor in his valve alight, he clung tightly. Now he knew his tentacles’ choking squeeze might even prove painful, but held on anyway, heedless of anything but his own need.
Countless trysts over countless eons had proven that Megatron would permit it.
Countless trysts over countless eons had proven that Megatron understood.