#->| sparkflower fields: megatron

[notsafeforwave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave grinned under his mask as he his helm was tilted. His servo moved up the arm holding his chin, digits scraping carefully along the silver plating. He pressed his chassis closer to Megatron's; his tape deck scraping softly and leaving behind blue paint transfers.

"Do I?" His claws dug in, "Always found it thrilling."

Suddenly, Soundwave's servo was on Megatron's wrist. He pulled the hand off his jaw away, and took a large step. He took another, effectively backing Megatron into a tree. The mech might be taller than him, but that only meant there was enough space for Soundwave to slot himself between his legs.

Soundwave's voice carried the lilt of a smirk, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, "Must be hard, being so easily tamed."

[spicymotte]

a field of sorrow

[silenceofthewave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave grunted when Megatron pushed him into the conference room. His field reflected his surprise and quickly turned into smoldering playfulness. He tilted his head a little denoting the hidden smirk on his face.

He yelped a little as Megatron pinned his wrist to the wall. Soundwave took in a steadying vent and turned his servo towards his Conjunx Endurae. In his hand was a small black datapad- that seemed to be displaying a calendar.

"Request: Verify your schedule for the upcoming orbital cycle." Soundwave answered, "Purpose: Scheduling a Newspark Viability Assessment."

Whatever playfulness was left in Soundwave's field was instantly replaced by a quiet tension. He... He didn't know how to feel about this- which is definitely on his "Top 10 Worst Feelings" list.

[paladinofthepits]

[ starter for @sparkflower-fields -> Kitbasher ]

A ragged ex-vent left him as he attempted - once again - to take a step. It quickly became an impatient snarl as his leg threatened to give out beneath his great weight.

Had the injury been in a more accessible spot, Megatron was proficient enough at mending his wounds temporarily in combat scenarios. But alas, the blast had caught him on the back, outermost section of his knee joint, severing the hydraulic fuel line. The limb was stiff, useless. He'd been fortunate enough to make it this far, but if he did not succeed in exiting the cavern, he had no hope of calling for a bridge. The alien mineral deposits within the rock here were interrupting the frequencies of their communications system, a detail discovered too late.

Hurried pedesteps echoed down the tunnel shaft, growing closer. The injured warlord braced on the wall he was propped against, pushing himself into a more upright position. Cycling on his cannon, he aimed it toward the opening the bot would pass by, unknowing if they were friend or foe. Were it the latter, he would not be perishing on this day.

An unfamiliar frame breached the gap, the stranger screeching to a stop upon seeing him.

"Do not move," he warned lowly.

[cybertr0nian]

[For Megatron]

Rumble stood next to Megs, a little behind him so he wouldn’t be in direct line of sight. He didn’t know what Megatron was speaking about, but he was mockingly copying him, lip syncing to whatever it was he was saying.

Meanwhile, beneath the table, Frenzy was magnetizing Megatron’s pede to the floor of the conference room they were in. Once he was sure Megatron’s pede was secured to the floor, he scampered to the other end of the table, crawling underneath.

Rumble inched closer to Megatron’s line of sight, still mocking him openly by copying him, now trying to get his attention. To get him to chase.

The two were lucky Megatron was busy with this meeting to notice the two messing around. It was only when Rumble moved forward to catch his attention that he realized what he was doing. That explained the smug look on Starscreams face.

Annoyed Megatron turns to grab Rumble as he runs, however when he goes to move his pedes he realizes he can't move and ends up toppling over to the ground. An annoyed growl left the gladiator....these two were certainly hyper.

" RUMBLE, FRENZY!!" Megatron shouted in rage, thankfully Soundwave was there to help him up....oh those two are lucky...very lucky.

[notsafeforwave]

@sparkflower-fields

(267): If I wanna spend the whole night tied up and getting railed I’m allowed to do so

[quantumlogician]

cont » @sparkflower-fields

' Sentimental '. Is that what they call reminders of previous failures anymore?

Megatron watches this one act important from one screen inspection to another, trying to figure out if this is some sort of class-act or if some revelation struck him through that outdated ornament in his chest.

" Don't have to. You do it for me. " Especially with that expression, moodiness... The comparison writes itself.

He'll watch the backside of this malcontent, darting up-and-down admin in some blustering irritation, more interested in observing than commenting on it.

[mtmte-bracket]

[ROUND ONE] Primus: You, Me, and Other Revelations vs The Not Knowing

A quick summary/refresher for each storyline is under the cut including TFWiki links:

Primus: You, Me, and Other Revelations: this was the (unnumbered) 2012 Annual, a one-shot comic following multiple threads. Several major events take place over the course of three “parts”: Tailgate’s preparation for his Autobot badge ceremony, the “flashback” sequence in which Cyclonus tells the story of the Guiding Hand for the first time, the discovery of a Titan, the revelation the Circle of Light have been captured by the Legislators, and more. TFWiki link.

The Not Knowing: the crew are on the Necroplanet and have their own reactions to what it can tell them about people who have died in the war. Chromedome and Rewind decide what to do about Dominus, and whether Rewind wants to know for certain what happened to him; Nightbeat has a breakdown at the Necrobot; Megatron visits his field of sparkflowers. TFWiki link.

[transformiing]

@sparkflower-fields (continued from x)

He ignored the sharp sting of rejection that stabbed through his chassis. It admittedly didn’t feel great to be told his company was not worthy of the other. But it wasn’t the worst insult he’s ever gotten. He was determined to get the mech to loosen up. Drinking or not. “You don’t drink? Fine, not everyone drinks! Swerve has different blends of non-charged energon.” Rodimus shrugs. “I however, need a strong drink in light of your recent appointment as my ‘co-captain’.” He threw up air quotes with a sour expression. “And you need to get to know the crew. Charged or not.” Rodimus put his servos on his hips. His optics then lit up as he remembered something. He reached into his subspace and produced a shiny, gold, Rodimus Star and held it up with a cheeky expression. “If you come down~ I’ll give you a Rodimus Star~” Rodimus said in an annoyingly sing songy tone.

Megatron continued to glower down at Rodimus with the intensity of every burning sun he had ever extinguished—which was, um, quite intense, given his four million-year track record.

He didn't like that Rodimus was right about getting to know the crew. A captain who did not understand his own mechs intimately was a poor captain indeed; but he was loathe to give Rodimus any credit where it wasn't due.

"The idea that that little tinfoil abomination could function as currency with me is laughable," Megatron said snappishly. "And had you read the memo that is probably gathering dust on your desk right now, you'd know I am not permitted to drink anything other than Fool's Energon."

He paused.

"But... I will accompany you. Once."

[silenceofthewave]

How Soundwave managed to get into the facility wasn't important. What mattered is that he had somehow stalked his target all the way to the training facilities, completely undetected. His original plan was to subdue him as quickly as he could- which shouldn't be difficult now, given that he would be distracted with the simulation- and give the signal to Skywarp. They should be back at base within cycles.

So far, the plan had gone swimmingly.

Sharp optics zoomed in as Megatron typed in the code, committing the pattern to memory. He watched as the traitor walked in and the thick doors closed behind him. As silent as a panther, Soundwave crept up to the door. He waited, listening for the sounds of combat.

The smooth voice of the AI signalled the start of the simulation. Soundwave's digits hovered over the keypad, not quite moving. He was waiting for the moment when Megatron was truly thinking of nothing else.

As he waited, a small latch caught his optic. It was right at eye level. Strange. With piqued curiosity, Soundwave couldn't help put pull it loose and open the small metal sheet it was attached to.

The cover plate swung open and revealed a small viewing window. It was a thin strip, like the old speakeasies on Cybertron used to have. When Soundwave looked through it, he could clearly see the fight Megatron had entrenched himself in.

Like always, Megatron did not disappoint.

It was hard not to get sucked into the show. Soundwave had always found it fascinating to watch Megatron fight. He was the embodiment of perfect form, grace matched with brute strength, calculating and powerful. The seamless transition between weaponry and hand to hand combat was entrancing.

Megatron's style was something Soundwave had spent so long studying and watching that it became almost second nature to try and predict what he would do next. An analysis game Soundwave always had running whenever he was privvy to a sparring match- looking for weaknesses that could be exploited, and reporting ways to fix them.

Now, though, Soundwave was the one to do the exploiting.

The thought hurt him to the spark. He never wanted this. He never would have thought that the one he held such deep affection for would be on the business end of his shoulder cannon.

.: Uh, Cybertron to Soundwave! :. Skywarp's voice crackled over the commline, .: Where are you at? I thought you'd be ready by now! :.

Soundwave, sufficiently startled out of his stupor, checked his chronometer. Slag! Had hours really passed?

.: Hold Position. :. Soundwave responded, .: Will be ready for transport soon. :.

He watched carefully as Megatron shut down the simulation. It was hard not to stare at the sheen under his vents or the way his frame huffed with every exvent. Soundwave forced himself to shut the viewing window and type in the code.

The doors opened with a hiss. Unceremoniously, Soundwave walked through. He was already readying his combat protocols, letting their subroutines warm up. With a final step, the doors closed behind him.

"Query: Sufficiently exhausted?"

The training hall was usually off limits after hours, but Megatron hardly cared to follow that ridiculous rule. He much preferred to spar with the AI on his own without worry of interruption from anyone else. Cybertronians and humans alike. The silence of the base was comforting without the busy movements of the other members and the drone of chatter and computers. Just an empty base he could let loose and be himself in.

He strode down the hall towards the simulator, confidence in each step, his stature imposing even when he was alone. Or at least he thought he was alone. He typed the access code into the simulator security panel and entered as the huge doors hissed and parted. And then they closed behind him, once he was inside.

Stepping in to the familiar stark grey of the simulator, he took a deep vent and closed his optics. He had many frustrations he wanted to work out and he could hardly wait to do so on the AI. He evenly stepped over to the simulator control panel and rapidly typed in a code; his own custom simulator level. One much harder than any preset it had. And as soon as he activated it, he got into position.

Instead of just normal, human sized enemies, there were several cybertronians, his size. He rolled his shoulder struts and charged, spinning to dodge a blow from the AI’s fist, and cracking his own into the side of its helm. “Enemy eliminated.” Echoed the smooth voice of the AI. And over the next several hours, that’s what Megatron did. Cracked the helms of AI until he had defeated more than his previous high score. 201.

By the time he finished, he was worn out, venting heavily with an open intake, coolant dripping down his plating. His knuckles ached and his joints burned. But he felt alive. He felt better.

[notsafeforwave]

cont. with @sparkflower-fields

Soundwave let his helm fall back as all the background charge suddenly lit up his sensory net. The lights on his array pulsed as he granted himself a small noise of pleasure and twist of his pelvis. He felt the crackle of static between his joints spread across his hips and up his torso; letting out a soft moan, punctuated by the curl of Megatron's digit.

Slowly, he picked his helm up. Soundwave stared at his Conjux with half lidded optics and a grin that was only interrupted when he bit his lip. Soundwave's vents huffed again as he noted the look in Megatron's optics; a look he was intimately familiar with.

Soundwave truly had him wrapped around his little finger.

The servo that had once been on Megatron's wrist began to slowly stroke his spike. He timed his movements to the pace his mate set; digits squeezing the tip when he pushed in, and a stroke to the base when he pulled out. Soundwave watched as the look on his face evolved; his own derma parted, optics cycled tight.

He wanted to see how far he could push Megatron. How long could he last under these conditions- what would make him break? What could Soundwave do to push him to the edge, but never over?

These questions plagued him as Megatron put in a second digit. He couldn't stop himself from whining with pleasure as the fingers pushed in knuckle deep, spreading apart to tease whatever nodes they could find. The loose grip on Megatron's spike tightened slightly, wrist twisting as he stroked upwards. Soundwave stared at his faceplate, noting the look of concentration there and the fanged dentae that poked out.

He couldn't help the delight that gripped his spark, seeing Megatron like this; at his command. How so many, for so long, had wished to have this sort of authority, yet none of them realized that to wield it they must learn to respect it. They wanted to take him for granted, but Soundwave knew better. He always had.

The feeling was only magnified by their recent reunification. The words spoken, the agreements they came to; Soundwave now knew his place, and Megatron's as well. Each other's sides.

A well placed stroke brought Soundwave out of his thoughts. He groaned quietly and gripped the base of Megatron's spike. An almost wolfish grin crossed his face as he stared into the crimson optics of his sparkmate. The once dead Cybtertronian language, now revived, gave its command.

"Released."

[silenceofthewave]

[M!A] There are individuals within your circle of contacts who are in need of a kiss, my dear. Seek out a few of the ones you are most comfortable with and give them that much needed affection.

Megatron leaned on the doorframe of their hab, a smile on his lips as he quietly watched Soundwave from the doorway. He then gently knocked on the edge of the doorframe, before walking in.

He walked up to where Soundwave was sitting, typing away at a terminal. He stood behind him and leaned down to see what Soundwave was working on before nuzzling his helm against the side of Soundwave’s.

Megatron placed a loving kiss to the corner of Soundwave’s lips before leaving him to his work.

Soundwave's optics flicked to the side at the knock, digits pausing for just a moment. Upon hearing the regular and even gait, he looked back to the terminal and resumed. He knew that if Megatron wanted something, he'd say so.

The only thing that drew a response from Soundwave was the sudden contact on his cheek vent. He jerked a bit, optics finally peeling away from the monitor. He was about to say something when Megatron pressed a kiss to him.

Effectively silenced, all Soundwave could do was sit there. He reset his vocalizer once, twice, and by the third time Megatron had walked out. Soundwave could feel the way his faceplate was starting to warm up and almost immediately slammed closed his visor and battlemask.

With a not quite irritated, but also not amused huff, he got back to work.

[mtmte-bracket]

[ROUND TWO] The Not Knowing vs Little Victories vs Silent Light

A quick summary/refresher for each storyline is under the cut including TFWiki links:

Silent Light: Whirl, Swerve and Nautica play out the weirdest robot Christmas-but-not version of Tokyo Godfathers imaginable. They find a “baby” and hijinks occur. Part of the IDW holiday special featuring multiple stories. TFWiki link.

Little Victories: following his death, Rewind’s fly-on-the-wall documentary he was making about life on the Lost Light and its crew is screened. It doesn’t make anyone look especially good. TFWiki link.

The Not Knowing: the crew are on the Necroplanet and have their own reactions to what it can tell them about people who have died in the war. Chromedome and Rewind decide what to do about Dominus, and whether Rewind wants to know for certain what happened to him; Nightbeat has a breakdown at the Necrobot; Megatron visits his field of sparkflowers. TFWiki link.

[notsafeforwave]

Soundwave hummed in approval as he gently bit the line. He growled softly as he let go and pulled Megatron's chin down, away from the hand that tried to cover it.

"Look at me."

He had a sweet smile on his derma as he pressed a kiss to Megatron. Soundwave slowly ran his servos down Megatron's chassis. His claws teased the transformation seam along the central column, plucking at stray wires and pressing against sensory nodes.

There was no denying how much Soundwave enjoyed the switch of power dynamics. As much as Megatron liked to take things fast and hard, Soundwave had a slower pace. He wanted to explore the otherwise ignored places on his partner's body, wanted to see him tremble, hear him plead for his valve despite himself. He enjoyed watching Megatron unravel. He loved being the only one who can.

The kiss grew deeper as Soundwave's servos finally curved around Megatron's cockpit. As the heels of his palms pressed into the glass, the tips of his digits bore down on the cluster of sensory nodes just underneath. All the while, he had never once broken eye contact.

cont. w/ @notsafeforwave

Megatron never enjoyed the feeling of being prey to another. He was usually too stubborn to be over taken. But this? Oh this was delicious.

Soundwave moved his helm side to side, inspecting Megatron's visage, as if he was deciding whether or not he was worthy to be devoured. The ensuing anticipation of what would be done with him made his spark flutter in his chassis.

The pointed gaze that Soundwave had needled into Megatron's optics, pinned him completely in place. He couldn't move, both out of lack of desire, and feeling compelled to obey to the letter.

As Soundwave moved in closer, Megatron's optics silently followed, staying locked with the golden pair that held him in place against the tree. Then finally, when Soundwave moved just out of his sight, he felt the hot press of his Conjux's mouth on his neck cabling, against his fuel line.

He turned his optics to the sky, allowing himself to relax, if only slightly. Megatron released a soft mumble of approval, his own words lost to him as he enjoyed the feeling of dentae so dangerously close to vital fuel lines. His optics fluttered shut, submitting himself to whatever Soundwave's whim might be.

[quantumlogician]

「 LINGER 」 : for senders touch to linger on the receiver. — @sparkflower-fields The medical bay was usually fairly barren at this hour of the cycle, but Knockout found himself tending to the wounds of a certain Second In Command. Likely another disgraceful spat with their leader, Megatron, was the culprit for the damages to the Seeker. Luckily, it was all superficial damages, and nothing so severe as to cause concern. Not that Knockout was ever concerned about anyone, ever. But the severity of damages usually indicated the effort required to mend them, and he was grateful he didn’t have to actually try very hard. Despite his general apathy, he was a meticulous doctor, ensuring that any welding he did, was perfectly straight and would lessen any scarring. Knockout loathed ugly scarring, especially when it was his patch jobs. His highly practiced servos were placed on Starscream’s chassis, gliding along with the welding gun and guiding it on his desired path. His optics were focused but relaxed. When he was finally finished he smirked at his work, gliding a clawed digit over the fresh weld to ensure it was set and not brittle, regardless of how tender and sensitive it would be. The metal was still glowing hot, and hissed under the doctor’s touch. “Perfect.” He said with a sing songy tone, before turning in his chair and standing. “You know, I should start charging you a premium for always stopping in before my shift is over, Screamer.” He teased. “I’m beginning to think you allow yourself to get pummeled just to see me.”

To say that Starscream was a frequent flier of the medbay would be a vast understatement. It didn't used to be this way, back in the days when the Seeker was practiced and considerate of what careless marks were bestowed upon his silver plates. Anymore, he's become restive, impatient, snapping at the wrong turn of tone.

He perched at the edge of the berth, obsidian talons curled over the border edge, hooking right beneath the flat top. His ire burned hotter than the fresh welds over sensitive injury, even the deepest laceration only managed a tick of an outer wing.

" Don't flatter yourself, " a roll of his optics, turning his attention over to the shatter of fine cuts and dime-welds distorting his front-plate," you want a pay raise? Take it to our glorious leader. "

Uncaring about the lasting quality, he drags his own claw over a recently cooled solder. Sparks spat under contact with oxidized metal flaking off in motion. The quality? Passable, if he had to give it a grade.

Starscream steps down onto the floor again, rising to full height, frame obscured at all at the thin designs from the overhead lights. " Alright, what do you want this time, hm? A favor? An allowance? Perhaps, permission to scurry off into your delinquent Earthian scenes? "

[silenceofthewave]

The switch between extremes in behavior left Soundwave's already shaken processor fumbling. The gentle hand tracing his crumpled shoulder pauldron, the field full of sorrow; Soundwave could only respond by gently letting his fingers trace over the scratches left on Megatron's cheek guard.

Soundwave's vents became uneven, fans hitching every now and then as his body and processor fought through the conflicting pathways his coding wanted to run. He wanted kiss him. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to run. He wanted to care for him.

Slowly, bit by bit, Soundwave's own field joined Megatron's. It was subdued and soft, but carried a heavy weight all the same. Betrayal, isolation, fear, solace, care; pocketed by a feeling Soundwave refused to give a name to, but was surely love. In the corner of his HUD, he could see how his hardwired caretaker protocols were booting up.

The protocols were something special; something only the best of medics were forged with. Yet, for some reason, the few deployers that came from Vector Sigma had them as well- but modified. They could form one sided bonds with those closest to them that drove their instincts to provide solace, comfort and guidance. Normally, this was used for Cassettes only.

Yet, Megatron had wormed his way into this bond. Even after Soundwave had tried to delete every information packet regarding his designation from the superficial coding, there was no changing a personality hardline.

The boot reached 100% and all the anger was shoved to the back of Soundwave's mind. There would be time to argue later. His mind reasoned that if Megatron was going to kill him, he would've done so already.

Soundwave trailed the hand on Megatron's cheek guard down to his jaw. Eventually he clasped his chin guard between his digits. He moved Megatron's helm slightly, angling him so their optics met once again. He made a face between sympathy and pity, taking in the handsome face before him. Truly, it was a face he had fallen in love with, and had kept loving despite everything.

After all, Soundwave wouldn't be this angry if he hadn't loved Megatron in the first place.

"I wasn't either."

Soundwave pulled Megatron forward as he leaned up. Their derma met in a kiss. It was far gentler than earlier; sweeter, chaste. Soundwave pushed a sense of comfort through his field as he opened his intake just a bit, tilting his helm. His hand cupped the corner of Megatron's jaw, holding him in place.

[cont.>>>@silenceofthewave]

Megatron's processor swam for a moment, his helm spinning as he felt the desperate, hungry kiss returned with fervor. But it didn't last, at least not as long as he wanted it to. Soundwave pulled away from him and he growled with frustration, not wanting to part from the other so soon. His optics were screwed shut as Soundwave yelled at him in return. Whilst listening to his love's pained words, he licked his lips slowly, tasting his own blood and their shared oral lubricant on his glossa. Oh how he longed to taste Soundwave again. It was a selfish desire, and completely undeserved, but he didn't care. Not now, not like this. He took the kiss and he relished in it. The painful yearning of his spark was overwhelming him constantly, and this quenched it, if only for a moment.

His helm was pulled forward by Soundwave's grip on his cheek guard, and his optics shot open, shimmering red staring into glowing yellow.

"What else am I to think?!"

"You left me. You left me! Hadn't I given enough to at least get choice?!"

Soundwave's words were sobering enough for Megatron to focus, to tear his attention away from his own longing and address Soundwave's pain, Soundwave's longing.

"I know. I KNOW!" He gritted his dentae and slammed his fist down onto the ground, the force shaking Soundwave's helm. He paused for a moment, trying to clear the dregs of rage in his processor, cycling his optics and lowering his helm. He was still running at max fight level and it wouldn't do him any good to accidentally crush Soundwave. Before he continued he lifted his helm and looked into Soundwave's waiting optics.

"I cannot take back what is done, Soundwave." He sat there for a moment, silent, staring into the other's optics. His processor was racing. What should he say? What can he do to make Soundwave understand that he loves him? Even after all this time, even after his betrayal. How does he explain the confusion, the fear? Before he defected, Soundwave was the only one who was allowed to witness his vulnerabilities. Now... he was afraid to show him. Afraid of further rejection.

"I... am sorry." He says, quieter now, his expression softening. It was the same, sad expression he had in the simulator. His optics wandered lower from Soundwave's, eyeing the damage he caused to the pretty frame before him. It deeply upset him and it was apparent on his face plate, his expression turning into one of wide eyed horror.

It was hard now, to keep his EM field reigned in, the intensity of his guilt breaking past what he can control. So he released it. His EM field stretched far, to accommodate his distress. Anger, guilt, fear, intense self-loathing, depression. It all swelled from his frame, with the occasional pocket of love that pushed its way through the slag and grit of his inner turmoil. He was tired of carrying it all. Tired of keeping it all hidden.

He couldn't stop his servo from trailing over Soundwave's injuries. Lamenting each dent, each gouge and scratch. Every plasma burn on his plating.

"Maybe I do deserve this. I never was cut out for happiness was I?" He chuckled pitifully.