WARNINGS: tentacles, space!sex, dub and non con, dirtytalk, rough, double penetration, multiple, hacking and some mindfuck I believe...
I want to point out that Smokescreen has the same frame as bayverse!Jazz; Prowl looks rather similar to his G1 self only is quite larger than and Bluestreak has the same frame as Prowl but is Bee's size.
/…/ - This is link talk when Soundwave talks directly to their heads or they are responding him.
/…/ - This is comm. talk.
Big thanks are supposed to go to mmouse for betaing, ultharkitty and femme for cheering me on and helping me get over the blocks and Prowl who FINALLY after a slagging YEAR decided to cooperate.
Soundwave watched. He watched everything, be it human's daily lives, soldiers, governments, countries and whole continents. No matter if you were in your house washing your hair, or working in a top secret facility. You were watched. Red visor glowed menacingly as the Decepticon spy stored all data that might prove useful. 99% of his process power was allocated for watching, so he couldn't miss the pings on his long range sensors. Pings of Cybertronians approaching the earth. Autobots.
Yes, he could definitely use this. With those three he could change the power balance to Decepticon side. And get himself something as well. Now he only needed to catch the 'Bots.
Disguised as a human satellite, eating, feeding up off the solar energy he was barely recognizable as a Cybertronian life form. So when the three comets approached, careless and oblivious to a threat so close to them, he sent out a single EM pulse in the direction of incoming targets, extending his cables to catch the three falling forms.
He pulled them close to himself, more cables extending, curling around the oval shaped forms possessively, clutching at them. After that, the only thing left was spreading three of his cables and extending fiber connections, diving deep under the thick shell armor of comet forms to reach their cores.
He hacked into the first one, his processor a quivering mess, though his sensors were sharp and sensitive. He sent an impulse to unwind him from the cometary form into his proper mode. Yes this one was medium sized, a sniper, very good at what he did. Soundwave tangled his cables around his arms and legs, trapping the bot so that he couldn't move.
The second Bot's main processor was well organized and without a sliver of chaos, fast and multi-threading with a second extended processor purposed for tactical training, ah yes, he remembered this one from so long ago... Prowl... He accessed the archives buried deep in his memory core and processed the data stored there. Everything might prove useful sometime.
The third one was hardest to break, his mind full of traps and codes written to catch a hacker unaware and leave him nothing but a mindless shell. But Soundwave was not any medium hacker. He was the best. And he watched. He saw the codes before he could trigger them and with specialized codes written by himself he rendered them inactive. When the access to the CPU was granted he recognized the mind of his old acquaintance. A soldier now, but once a coder, like him.
Downloading all data that might prove useful in the future he sent a reboot sequence to the three prone bodies. Their limbs entangled with his cables, their processors his to read.
With an amusement and curiosity he watched as they slowly came to, his mental hold slowing down their reboot.
The sniper whimpered helplessly, and Soundwave could only heard that because of the connection. Vacuum silenced everything around them completely. He saw the bot coming to sluggishly, his optics blinked a brilliant blue before focusing on the red visor. The panic that passed his processor was scalding hot over the connection and Soundwave muted it down. He didn't want to feel that. Somekescreen and Prowl were next to power up, struggling almost instantly the moment their CPUs started.
Smokescreen, recognizing the touch on his processor, raged and tried to rewrite the code.
/Calm down./ Soundwave sent via connection with amusement coloring his words.
/Soundwave!/ The word was sent venomous and angry, more struggling following as Smokescreen checked his blocks and found them inactive. /Bluestreak, Prowl, You allright?/ The Autobot coder sent over the comm, that Soundwave didn't disable on purpose. What was the fun in rendering them speechless. Sounds, different than human language was now like lubricant on his strained joints - Cybertronian, being a language he missed the most.
The young one was named Bluestreak, created after the beginning of the war, scarred, but still brilliant.
/Autobots, I suggest calming down,/ He sent to all three of them.
/Soundwave, state your purpose./ Prowl's voice calm and reasonable came over the connection and Soundwave couldn't help but enjoy it. /You are having direct access to our CPUs yet you didn't offline any of us./
/Sharp as always,/ Soundwave mused /I am not going to hurt you./ He loosened his mental hold, the fibers still attached though /Merely.../ Another one of his countless cables extended and he threaded it over Prowl's chassis, feeling the recognition dawning on his processor and setting off the logic circuits. This one was known to crash from overly illogical situations and Soundwave wanted him functioning. /I am alone here, Would you pass up the occasion for a company,/ He explained, stroking the tentacle over Prowl's panel.
/Stop it, Soundwave/ Smokescreen struggled more /Do you think we would believe you caught us only to 'face us?/ He snorted.
Bluestreak whimpered, hearing everything on the connection /That can't be true, It can't be please Prowl, tell me it's some stupid joke, or bad recharge purge.../ He struggled against the restraining cables, but was helpless.
/You act as if you never 'faced before, Bluestreak,/ Soundwave taunted and let his cables stroke the gray armor in what would normally be soothing manner. /Smokescreen, Prowl, I assure you I will make it as enjoyable as I can. He shot more of his cables in their direction stroking their armor. He dipped them under the plates sliding over the hidden circuitry.
Bluestreak whimpered again /stopitstopitstopit/ his processor reeling with the "do not want" and "It feels good" messages.
Prowl struggled when the cable tried to slide under his panel, for now only teasingly.
If Soundwave had his way they would open their panels themselves.
Smokescreen struggled and spat invectives at the Decepticon until Soundwave, sure that none of the other bots heard him, said /You used to like it like that./ He let his voice over the comm grow low. /Smokey/ The shiver that responded the nickname was indeed delicious /Open your panel./ He pressed the cables on the both sides of Smokescreen's panel and slipping under it tugged lightly.
/Don't you dare,/ The Autobot threatened, but his voice was breathless already .
/Afraid you'll enjoy it?/ He pulled at the cables holding him and connected the Autobot's arms over his head and spread his legs. /Open up./
Prowl was trying to stay cold and inaccessible, he offlined his optics and tried to mute the signals from his sensors telling him he should feel pleasure. All the time he sent /Calm down, Blue, calm down.../ Over the comm to the gray shooter who struggled and whimpered and arched against his own will into the touches that Soundwave was sure to keep gentle and almost barely there.
/Don't fight it, Prowl, I can read your processor, you are enjoying this./ He purred along the connection rubbing the mech's panel.
/I will not submit to the likes like you./ The tactician seethed at him and choked down a whimper when one of the cables brushed against his door-wings.
/Ah yes, forgot about those, sensitive aren't they/ He turned Prowl so that he was facing Bluestreak and let his cable caress the shooter's winglets. All four of them could hear the cry of pleasure coming from him over the comm, all could see the gunner arching into the touch.
/He's so responsive,/ Soundwave teased, stroking Prowl's wings in the same manner and could almost taste the defiance to react from the tactician /Wish you were as responsive, Smokescreen, on the other servo.../
He let Prowl see the the blue and red Autobot writhing in his bonds as the cables caressed his head sensors. /You can't fight me all the time, Smokescreen, it revs your engine, does it? Open your panel./ He pressed the head-fin between two cables making Smokescreen cry out wantonly and opening his panel. His spike pressurized instantly but the valve remained closed. Smoke screen marveled at the additional protection.
/See, Prowl, they don't fight their pleasure, give it to me, let me feel it./ He stroked the wings and closed panel and was growing restless with every passing moment. He wanted to bury his facing cables inside their valves. He wanted to feed off their pleasure over the connection, watch and experience them overload.
When he finally saw the coding of opening panel flare along the connection from the young gunner the rush of power overwhelmed his senses. He would like to hear the silent click that always felt like a victory, but seeing the code, getting a feeling from Bluestreak of his interface array suddenly bare and so over-sensitised.
/Good, Autobot./ He withdrew one of his Interfacing cables and touched it to Smokescreen's valve, teasingly circling the rim, other cables stroking the pressurized spike. /Be a good mech and open up, Smokescreen,/ Soundwave demanded and finally, lost in a haze of pleasure, Smokescreen let the final protection fall, moaning and crying out as Soundwave's interface cable thrust inside his valve instantly.
/'Wave... ah/ he arched into the intrusion, spreading his legs even wider.
All the time the tactician watched the young gunner, fighting off his pleasure. Soundwave could feel him shivering and his own valve reacting as he saw the cable circling Bluestreak's valve.
The Decepticon watched. He extended another cable and touched it to sniper's valve. They could all heard the keened /Please/ from Bluestreak. Barely audible against sounds that Smokescreen was already making, but ringing in Prowl's head like an explosion.
/Stop it,/ He seethed. /Leave him alone./ He snapped his panel open wincing at the feeling.
/Clever' Bot./ Soundwave moved his cable to Prowl's open array and enjoyed as the 'Bot released every single firewall that he created to block the pleasure. Until he cried out and finally Soundwave could feel the desire seeping along the connection. Pleasure. /You are so sordid you know, always thought you'd make a good Decepticon./
Prowl struggled against him, both mentally and bodily as Soundwave explained.
/You left him revved up, look at him... his body begs to be taken, I'm sure if we weren't in space his valve would be dripping with lubricant./ He chose that moment to thrust into Prowl making him cry in pleasure.
Bluestreak looked at him with desire darkening optics, his lips parted, glossa peaking out from between them /Prowl, please.. let him touch me./ His voice was small and helpless.
/No./ Prowl struggled again. /Blue no, I... Nnnngh/ He moaned as the cable inside his valve thrust harder moving, wriggling.
/I can let you frag him if you're so inclined on not letting me do it. He needs it./
/Yes, Prowl, agree.../ Bluestreak was begging the tactician, /...Please/
/Yes, Prowl, agree/ Soundwave repeated, amused, pressing at the wings, his cable consequently playing under the armor, the connection flaring with pleasure.
Soundwave watched and saw the moment when Prow'ls control snapped. Bluestreak tried to rub his thighs together and whimpered when Soundwave's cable held his legs apart.
/Bluestreak,/ Prowl whimpered on his own, torn between playing along with 'Wave's plot and Blue's begging /Fine, release me/ he said to Soundwave. The mech was stubborn... He still thought he had a control of the situation.
Soundwave made his cables go back to Bluestreak, caressing his armor once again, making him scream over the connection, with head thrown back, arched in such a wanton way even Prowl whimpered.
The tactician growled, struggled and Soundwave felt his resolve breaking. /For the honour of an Autobot I swear I will not run away, just let me hold him./ He was resigned, but his optics burned both with hate and desire.
Soundwave moved him close to the writhing gunner and released the cables holding legs and hands. Autobots were so easy to read, to manipulate. He left the fiber connections and the cable buried deep within Prowl's valve.
The tactician immediately hugged Bluestreak who ground against him, writhing.
/Shhhh, Blue, I'm here, I'm here./
/Please, Prowl, I feel so hot, I need you to spike me, please, my valve feels so empty, please/ He begged, Prowl's processor stuttering at the wanton words.
/Aren't you... Nnnnngh./ Soundwave thrust his cable into Prowl sharply
/Prowl... please, frag me, please, Prowler.../ Bluestreak tugged at his restraints but they wouldn't buck.
The abandon in the gunner's voice was affecting the SiC more than Soundwave would expect, the tight valve getting even tighter around his cable.
He cradled Bluestreak close, gently stroking the armor, his processor supplying uncertainty and fear of hurting his friend. He traced his finger over Blue's parted lips but the gunner sucked it inside his mouth, Prowl gasping in surprise...
/ I'm not fragging sealed, Prowl! Please... Oh Primus, please,/ Soundwave saw as well the heated look in those azure optics, he recognized surprise laced with want and need inside Prowl's processor.
/He likes being bound, Prowl, he likes his legs spread and held./ Soundwave teased. Bluestreak offlined his optics in embarrassment but nodded to 'Wave's words.
/Please, Prowl... I need to overload... Please,/ Soundwave rearranged Bluestreak and Prowl grabbed his smaller friend and kissed him hungrily.
/What do you want me to do, Blue?/ SiC seemed to forget where he was and Soundwave smirked as he felt the focus changing...
/Take me.../ Bluestreak arched into bigger bot. /Hard./ The word was like a codeword for Prowl who suddenly moved and thrust three fingers into Bluestreak's valve, the gunner crying out wordlessly over the comm. Processor screaming with input, hips snapping forth into the touch.
/Oh Blue, I didn't.../
/Your cord. Please,/ Bluestreak moaned not even trying to fight the tentacles that had changed his position and spread his legs open.
/You're not ready, Blue. I can't,/ Soundwave felt the unwanted arousal rise in Prowl at both the words and display.
/I... I like it rough,/ The gunner admitted suddenly, heat in his armor pooling in his abdomen, optics staring into Prowl's. Challenging him to say no. /I want your spike ramming inside me./
Prowl purred internally at the admission, not able to hide his reactions from Soundwave.
/Listen to him. He wants you hard and rough... and you'd love it, don't you, Prowl?/
The SiC moaned helplessly and kissed the grey mech again forcefully.
Yes, that was what Soundwave wanted. He let the scene unfold, direct links streaming pleasure from the two Praxians, both heavy with need and fulfillment. He turned his attention to Smokescreen. The mech's processor was almost drowned in pleasure. He rearranged him so that he could see the scene that brought him so much pleasure.
/Open your optics, Smokescreen,/ He commanded and hacked straight into motor controls opening them for the bot himself. /Look at them, completely into each other./ A wave of confusion from Smokescreen was quickly dispersed when Soundwave withdrew his cable from the 'Bot's valve...
The silver 'Bot arched... and the Decepticon slowly pushed the cable back into the moist entrance. Then he let second appendage wriggle beside the first, stretching, pushing in, Smokescreen crying out on the comm.
/Keep your optics open, and tell me you wouldn't want Prowl, your commanding officer, to frag you like that. Hard and fast... you always liked it rough don't you?/
A noncommittal grunt was his only response as a wave of need flooded the connection and he happily complied smaller cables tangled around the bigger and Soundwave pumped it out of the valve, friction sending all the best sensation data to his processor core, charge rising.
The other tentacle was thrusting in and out Prowl's valve and the connection from the Autobot second was tight with concentration to not overload, to endure the torture of doubled pleasure. Soundwave smirked behind the mask.
He let another tentacle withdraw and concentrated on Bluestreak, surprised by what he had found in gunner's processor.
/He's such a pretty pleasure drone, don't you think, Prowl./ Soundwave purred on the connection, letting Bluestreak hear every word. He pulsed the tentacle in Prowl's valve, the tactician fighting the overload wanting to rip out of his body. /But I will tell you a secret. It's not enough for him. He wants more./ Prowl responded with a wave of rising charge and a quiet whimper. /He wants me too, inside his valve stretching, claiming, owning him. Tell him Bluestreak, admit it./
The comm from Bluestreak activated with whimper and followed with /Let him, I want... oh Prowl.. nnngh/ He was looking straight at Prowl, optics dark and blown with pleasure, lips parted.
/Frag, Blue, had I known.../ Prowl didn't finish but Soundwave heard the ending to this sentence "I'd drag you to my berth and pound the daylights out of you earlier." Yes, Prowl was getting what he wanted and if he wanted to hate him for it... not like he would care much.
Soundwave let the interface cable extend and touch to Blue's interface array, the gunner whimpering. He constricted its girth and squirmed it along Prowl's spike inside, pressing through the tight ring of Bluestreak's valve, wriggling it inside, Bluestreak stifling his moans and rocking his hips, Prowl biting his lip in concentration.
Once in, he let the tentacle widen gradually as he pumped it, making Prowl move again and Bluestreak cry out on the comm, Soundwave enjoying every squeeze of the too tight valve, of Prowl's concentration shattering with every movement of Soundwave's cables both beside his spike and in his valve.
The heat and charge topped quicker now, making Soundwave approach his overload. He made his tentacles vibrate with a certain frequency and he could tell the exact moment when first Prowl then Smokescreen and finally Blue fell over the edge of overload, pearly drops of transfluid pushing through their spikes and drifting into the space. Soundwave sent a signal through the connections before himself toppling into overload, tentacles pulsing with pleasure, spark flaring in ecstasy as the coldness of space caressed his plating.
He let himself reel, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over him, slowly smaller and smaller. He withdrew his cables, vibrating them so that any fluid residue dispersed from them and withdrawing back.
He manipulated the three Autobots, hazing their memories, and made them transform into cometary forms once again. He could have killed them now, but sending them back would be more fun.
He sent them back as close to Autobot base as possible without them landing straight upon it.
Then he watched again, happiness at meeting fellow Autobots, confusion at why their fall was delayed and finally a terror when they discovered the state of their interface equipment.