[G1] Before the Thunder - Part Three
Dec. 18th, 2017 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Before the Thunder - Part Three
Universe: G1, Mastermind
Character: Bluestreak, Soundwave, Jazz, Background Cameos
Rating: T
The shiver crawling up his spine was Soundwave’s only indication he was not only no longer alone, but he was being stalked as well. He could feel the incisive gaze boring into him, felt the menace lurking in the intensity of the stare.
He stopped mid-stride, head swiveling toward a nearby alley, choked with shadows and debris, and no one. He didn’t for one second think it wasn’t occupied. That he was within a block of Bluestreak’s apartment wasn’t a coincidence.
He knew what danger skulked in the night.
“State purpose,” Soundwave said to the dark.
His shoulder itched for his sonic cannon, but like all of his other visible weapons, it was at home, in his weapons locker. All he could rely on now was centuries of hand to hand and a talent which had made him infamous.
A chuckle slithered out of the dim. “My, my Sounders. You’re getting better at that.” The voice crawled into Soundwave’s audials and made itself a home.
Jazz melted out of the dark, not a wisp of biolight or optical brightness to be found. How he could hide that much white, Soundwave would never know. He suspected Jazz had camouflaging paint, the sort controlled by nanites, that helped him change his colors at will. He wouldn’t be the first spy to rely on deception and tricks.
“What gave me away?” Jazz asked, his vocalizations just shy of a purr.
Jazz started to circle Soundwave, and no fool, Soundwave slowly shifted to maintain optical contact. He didn’t trust Jazz anywhere behind him.
“Menace,” Soundwave replied.
Jazz chuckled. “Ya could taste it, huh? Good.” His glossa swept over his lips, and his grin was sharp, for all that his denta were blunt. “So I know where you’re going, and I know why. I just thought I’d give you a little warning before I let you on your way.”
Soundwave tilted his head. “Threats defy treaty.”
“I didn’t say I was threatening you. Geez, Soundwave. Don’t put words into my mouth. That’s kind of rude.” Jazz’s laughter was harsher than it should be. He looked up at Soundwave, hands on his hips, smug and sure. “I’m just making sure we have an understanding.”
“No harm intended to Bluestreak,” Soundwave replied.
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Jazz lifted a hand, rapped the back of his knuckles on Soundwave’s empty dock. “Because you’re sincere, right? This isn’t some twisted game to break his spark. You want what he has to offer. And you ain’t gonna hurt him on purpose.”
Concern leaked into the edges of Jazz’s field. This was a warning, yes. Threat, too. But for good reason. Jazz cared for Bluestreak. That much was obvious. They were partners, maybe not monogamous, but they meant something to one another.
Soundwave dipped his head. “Affirmative.”
Jazz’s grin slid into something more genuine. “Then I guess that makes us friends.” He backed up a pace, tucking his hand back on his hip. “Have fun tonight. And tell Blue I said hello.”
Soundwave never took his gaze off Jazz as he edged around the saboteur and continued down the recently repaved road. Jazz watched him the entire time, that grin on his face, a glint in his visor. And when Soundwave looked away only for a moment, just to make sure he was going in the right direction, Jazz vanished, back into the shadows which birthed him.
The chill clotted his hydraulic fluid.
Warning received.
He hurried to Bluestreak’s apartment, pinging the door to announce his arrival. Jazz’s delay had cooled his eagerness, but the moment the door slid open and Bluestreak appeared in the opening, it all came flooding back. Anticipation coiled like a hot hunger
in his tanks, and it took several long moments for his vocalizer to engage.
“You’re right on time!” Bluestreak said with a blinding smile. “Come on in.” He stepped aside, leaving room for Soundwave to enter.
Soundwave moved into the well-lit space, lights giving off a warm glow, and the front room filled with plush surfaces. There was a large entertainment center and a couch designed for a mech with sensory panels. An empty space in the middle of the room suggested it was occasionally occupied by something. Doors to the other rooms were closed.
“You found it okay? Wait, why am I even asking you that. Of course you did. You’re Soundwave.” Bluestreak chuckled and the door slid shut, beeping to indicate it was locked. “Have a seat wherever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Preference to stand,” Soundwave replied, his spark hammering faster in his chassis, a thrill running across his armor.
Bluestreak shrugged. “Suit yourself. I have some energon in the cupboard if you’re running low.”
Soundwave shook his head. It felt like the moments were being stretched out on purpose, and now he waited on bolts and brackets, for this thing that had always been nothing more than a dream.
“Fuel adequate.”
Bluestreak gave him a long look. He moved to stand in front of Soundwave, his arms folded under his bumper. “Did you review the materials I sent you?”
In depth. Soundwave had read them twice, just to ensure his understanding. He’d devoured every page, every line, an enthusiasm building in his spark and desire licking like lightning through his sensory net.
“Affirmative.”
Bluestreak’s optics narrowed. His field flickered, pressing inward as though it were surrounding Soundwave, choking him, claiming him. It was thick and heavy and far stronger than it had any right to be.
It was chastisement, as much as any clipped word would be. Soundwave knew, immediately, what mistake he’d made.
Soundwave worked his intake. “Yes.”
The weight of Bluestreak’s field eased. “Good. And did you understand everything? Do you have any questions? Is there anything you’re uncertain about? You can ask me anything anytime, but I want to make sure you know the basics right now before we start.”
Soundwave’s hands began to tremble. “Comprehension ob--” He paused at Bluestreak’s glare and dipped his head. “I understand.”
“I can see that you do.” Bluestreak’s voice dipped in timbre, to something lower, resonating better in Soundwave’s sensitive audials. “I have five rules, Soundwave. Five unbreakable rules. Three of which are general. And two are specific to you. If you aren’t willing to agree to these five rules, then whatever this is can’t happen. Understand?”
Soundwave worked his intake. He nodded.
“Verbal consent,” Bluestreak urged.
Soundwave’s hands drew into fists. They loosened. “I understand.”
“Good.” Bluestreak uncrossed his arms and looked up at Soundwave. “First, my general rules. Number one, nothing we do together under the terms of our contract is to be discussed outside of our partnership unless agreed upon beforehand. Number two, you will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘master’ unless otherwise indicated. And lastly, you will use your safeword if you need to. No exceptions. Clear?”
Simple rules. Safe rules. Easy enough to agree to.
The heat building in Soundwave’s lines turned to a boil, filling his internals. His fans kicked on, but hopefully, too quiet for Bluestreak to hear. Bluestreak’s firm tone, his uncompromising resolve, the command in his optics… it made Soundwave’s knees wobble.
“I will agree,” Soundwave said, forcing the words past static in his vocalizer and the spinning of the status quo in his processor.
Bluestreak smiled and stepped closer, his fingertips brushing over Soundwave’s dock. “Good. Because I, in turn, agree to follow those terms as well. I can keep a secret, as you well know, and I vow to always heed your safeword. That, Soundwave is how we start to build trust.”
He couldn’t stop looking at Bluestreak’s fingers. His sensors strained toward the light touch, barely tangible, but commanding for it.
“And the other rules?” Soundwave asked.
Bluestreak’s fingers rapped a light rhythm on Soundwave’s dock. “You will always come alone. I expect there to be no cassettes in your dock during a session. This is not a group effort.”
Fair enough.
“And lastly, this belongs to me.” Bluestreak’s fingers dragged up, until they brushed over Soundwave’s mouthguard, feather light. “The moment you step into my domain, this is mine. You will remove it. I don’t want to see it. I will know, by your behavior, that it’s your submission to me. Your agreement. Understand?”
Soundwave answered by sliding his mouthplate aside, baring the lower half of his face to the warmth of the room, and the delicate touch of Bluestreak’s fingertips. He smelled of gunoil and polish, of sticky-sweet treats and the tang of rust crumbles. He smelled good enough to taste, and Soundwave longed to wrap his glossa around the tip of them.
He refrained.
Bluestreak’s smile curved into devious angles. “Oh, you’re perfect, did you know that?” he murmured as his thumb stroked Soundwave’s bottom lip. “You say you’re new to this, but you seem to know all the right things to do. Maybe it just comes natural to you. It does to some mechs, and that’s okay. Everyone marches to their own beat.”
Soundwave’s engine rumbled. His ex-vents quickened, puffing over Bluestreak’s fingers from his slightly parted lips. He held Bluestreak’s gaze, feeling as though the weight of it was a command in itself.
“More?” Soundwave asked hopefully, Bluestreak’s thumb bobbing where it rested on his bottom lip.
Bluestreak chuckled. “Yes. Eventually.” His hand slid away, and Soundwave immediately mourned the loss. “But we’re going to start simple and easy. Slow and careful. And I’ve got a contract I want you to look over a little later, to decide your dos and donts. Trust is the most important thing.”
“Agreed,” Soundwave replied, and the heat boiled under his armor, static in his lines and crowding around his spark. “For now?”
“For now I want you to kneel,” Bluestreak said and pointed to the floor in front of him. “I want to see how well you respond to commands. What really revs your engines and turns you inside out.”
A keen almost slipped out of Soundwave’s intake. He started to lower himself before Bluestreak even finished talking, joints creaking and hydraulics hissing as he knelt, arms at his sides, his face tilted up toward Bluestreak. Like this, Bluestreak was taller, but Soundwave did not feel threatened. He felt owned. Possessed. Mastered.
Worries slid off his shoulders. Heat pooled in his tanks, warming his entire frame. His spark rippled.
“Good pet,” Bluestreak murmured, his optics warm and approving. He lifted a hand and Soundwave didn’t so much as flinch, instead leaning eagerly into the palm that rested on top of his head. “Your safe word is whirlwind. If at any point you become uncomfortable, stressed, or just want to stop for any reason, all you have to do is say it.”
Bluestreak’s hand was a warm, welcome weight. Both gentle and commanding all at once, it sent a flicker of peace through Soundwave’s frame, a tide of warmth that boiled him over and soothed the tremors of his spark.
Soundwave dimmed his visor and focused on Bluestreak’s voice, the soft cadence of it, and the press of Bluestreak’s field, wrapping around him like a blanket. It felt like relief, like coming home, like everything he never knew he needed until it was right in front of him.
All he had to do was seize it.
Soundwave ex-vented and sank into the kneel.
“Yes, sir.”
***
a/n: And that's all folks. Just a wee little thing to finish out the series. I hope you enjoyed!
Universe: G1, Mastermind
Character: Bluestreak, Soundwave, Jazz, Background Cameos
Rating: T
The shiver crawling up his spine was Soundwave’s only indication he was not only no longer alone, but he was being stalked as well. He could feel the incisive gaze boring into him, felt the menace lurking in the intensity of the stare.
He stopped mid-stride, head swiveling toward a nearby alley, choked with shadows and debris, and no one. He didn’t for one second think it wasn’t occupied. That he was within a block of Bluestreak’s apartment wasn’t a coincidence.
He knew what danger skulked in the night.
“State purpose,” Soundwave said to the dark.
His shoulder itched for his sonic cannon, but like all of his other visible weapons, it was at home, in his weapons locker. All he could rely on now was centuries of hand to hand and a talent which had made him infamous.
A chuckle slithered out of the dim. “My, my Sounders. You’re getting better at that.” The voice crawled into Soundwave’s audials and made itself a home.
Jazz melted out of the dark, not a wisp of biolight or optical brightness to be found. How he could hide that much white, Soundwave would never know. He suspected Jazz had camouflaging paint, the sort controlled by nanites, that helped him change his colors at will. He wouldn’t be the first spy to rely on deception and tricks.
“What gave me away?” Jazz asked, his vocalizations just shy of a purr.
Jazz started to circle Soundwave, and no fool, Soundwave slowly shifted to maintain optical contact. He didn’t trust Jazz anywhere behind him.
“Menace,” Soundwave replied.
Jazz chuckled. “Ya could taste it, huh? Good.” His glossa swept over his lips, and his grin was sharp, for all that his denta were blunt. “So I know where you’re going, and I know why. I just thought I’d give you a little warning before I let you on your way.”
Soundwave tilted his head. “Threats defy treaty.”
“I didn’t say I was threatening you. Geez, Soundwave. Don’t put words into my mouth. That’s kind of rude.” Jazz’s laughter was harsher than it should be. He looked up at Soundwave, hands on his hips, smug and sure. “I’m just making sure we have an understanding.”
“No harm intended to Bluestreak,” Soundwave replied.
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Jazz lifted a hand, rapped the back of his knuckles on Soundwave’s empty dock. “Because you’re sincere, right? This isn’t some twisted game to break his spark. You want what he has to offer. And you ain’t gonna hurt him on purpose.”
Concern leaked into the edges of Jazz’s field. This was a warning, yes. Threat, too. But for good reason. Jazz cared for Bluestreak. That much was obvious. They were partners, maybe not monogamous, but they meant something to one another.
Soundwave dipped his head. “Affirmative.”
Jazz’s grin slid into something more genuine. “Then I guess that makes us friends.” He backed up a pace, tucking his hand back on his hip. “Have fun tonight. And tell Blue I said hello.”
Soundwave never took his gaze off Jazz as he edged around the saboteur and continued down the recently repaved road. Jazz watched him the entire time, that grin on his face, a glint in his visor. And when Soundwave looked away only for a moment, just to make sure he was going in the right direction, Jazz vanished, back into the shadows which birthed him.
The chill clotted his hydraulic fluid.
Warning received.
He hurried to Bluestreak’s apartment, pinging the door to announce his arrival. Jazz’s delay had cooled his eagerness, but the moment the door slid open and Bluestreak appeared in the opening, it all came flooding back. Anticipation coiled like a hot hunger
in his tanks, and it took several long moments for his vocalizer to engage.
“You’re right on time!” Bluestreak said with a blinding smile. “Come on in.” He stepped aside, leaving room for Soundwave to enter.
Soundwave moved into the well-lit space, lights giving off a warm glow, and the front room filled with plush surfaces. There was a large entertainment center and a couch designed for a mech with sensory panels. An empty space in the middle of the room suggested it was occasionally occupied by something. Doors to the other rooms were closed.
“You found it okay? Wait, why am I even asking you that. Of course you did. You’re Soundwave.” Bluestreak chuckled and the door slid shut, beeping to indicate it was locked. “Have a seat wherever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Preference to stand,” Soundwave replied, his spark hammering faster in his chassis, a thrill running across his armor.
Bluestreak shrugged. “Suit yourself. I have some energon in the cupboard if you’re running low.”
Soundwave shook his head. It felt like the moments were being stretched out on purpose, and now he waited on bolts and brackets, for this thing that had always been nothing more than a dream.
“Fuel adequate.”
Bluestreak gave him a long look. He moved to stand in front of Soundwave, his arms folded under his bumper. “Did you review the materials I sent you?”
In depth. Soundwave had read them twice, just to ensure his understanding. He’d devoured every page, every line, an enthusiasm building in his spark and desire licking like lightning through his sensory net.
“Affirmative.”
Bluestreak’s optics narrowed. His field flickered, pressing inward as though it were surrounding Soundwave, choking him, claiming him. It was thick and heavy and far stronger than it had any right to be.
It was chastisement, as much as any clipped word would be. Soundwave knew, immediately, what mistake he’d made.
Soundwave worked his intake. “Yes.”
The weight of Bluestreak’s field eased. “Good. And did you understand everything? Do you have any questions? Is there anything you’re uncertain about? You can ask me anything anytime, but I want to make sure you know the basics right now before we start.”
Soundwave’s hands began to tremble. “Comprehension ob--” He paused at Bluestreak’s glare and dipped his head. “I understand.”
“I can see that you do.” Bluestreak’s voice dipped in timbre, to something lower, resonating better in Soundwave’s sensitive audials. “I have five rules, Soundwave. Five unbreakable rules. Three of which are general. And two are specific to you. If you aren’t willing to agree to these five rules, then whatever this is can’t happen. Understand?”
Soundwave worked his intake. He nodded.
“Verbal consent,” Bluestreak urged.
Soundwave’s hands drew into fists. They loosened. “I understand.”
“Good.” Bluestreak uncrossed his arms and looked up at Soundwave. “First, my general rules. Number one, nothing we do together under the terms of our contract is to be discussed outside of our partnership unless agreed upon beforehand. Number two, you will refer to me as ‘sir’ or ‘master’ unless otherwise indicated. And lastly, you will use your safeword if you need to. No exceptions. Clear?”
Simple rules. Safe rules. Easy enough to agree to.
The heat building in Soundwave’s lines turned to a boil, filling his internals. His fans kicked on, but hopefully, too quiet for Bluestreak to hear. Bluestreak’s firm tone, his uncompromising resolve, the command in his optics… it made Soundwave’s knees wobble.
“I will agree,” Soundwave said, forcing the words past static in his vocalizer and the spinning of the status quo in his processor.
Bluestreak smiled and stepped closer, his fingertips brushing over Soundwave’s dock. “Good. Because I, in turn, agree to follow those terms as well. I can keep a secret, as you well know, and I vow to always heed your safeword. That, Soundwave is how we start to build trust.”
He couldn’t stop looking at Bluestreak’s fingers. His sensors strained toward the light touch, barely tangible, but commanding for it.
“And the other rules?” Soundwave asked.
Bluestreak’s fingers rapped a light rhythm on Soundwave’s dock. “You will always come alone. I expect there to be no cassettes in your dock during a session. This is not a group effort.”
Fair enough.
“And lastly, this belongs to me.” Bluestreak’s fingers dragged up, until they brushed over Soundwave’s mouthguard, feather light. “The moment you step into my domain, this is mine. You will remove it. I don’t want to see it. I will know, by your behavior, that it’s your submission to me. Your agreement. Understand?”
Soundwave answered by sliding his mouthplate aside, baring the lower half of his face to the warmth of the room, and the delicate touch of Bluestreak’s fingertips. He smelled of gunoil and polish, of sticky-sweet treats and the tang of rust crumbles. He smelled good enough to taste, and Soundwave longed to wrap his glossa around the tip of them.
He refrained.
Bluestreak’s smile curved into devious angles. “Oh, you’re perfect, did you know that?” he murmured as his thumb stroked Soundwave’s bottom lip. “You say you’re new to this, but you seem to know all the right things to do. Maybe it just comes natural to you. It does to some mechs, and that’s okay. Everyone marches to their own beat.”
Soundwave’s engine rumbled. His ex-vents quickened, puffing over Bluestreak’s fingers from his slightly parted lips. He held Bluestreak’s gaze, feeling as though the weight of it was a command in itself.
“More?” Soundwave asked hopefully, Bluestreak’s thumb bobbing where it rested on his bottom lip.
Bluestreak chuckled. “Yes. Eventually.” His hand slid away, and Soundwave immediately mourned the loss. “But we’re going to start simple and easy. Slow and careful. And I’ve got a contract I want you to look over a little later, to decide your dos and donts. Trust is the most important thing.”
“Agreed,” Soundwave replied, and the heat boiled under his armor, static in his lines and crowding around his spark. “For now?”
“For now I want you to kneel,” Bluestreak said and pointed to the floor in front of him. “I want to see how well you respond to commands. What really revs your engines and turns you inside out.”
A keen almost slipped out of Soundwave’s intake. He started to lower himself before Bluestreak even finished talking, joints creaking and hydraulics hissing as he knelt, arms at his sides, his face tilted up toward Bluestreak. Like this, Bluestreak was taller, but Soundwave did not feel threatened. He felt owned. Possessed. Mastered.
Worries slid off his shoulders. Heat pooled in his tanks, warming his entire frame. His spark rippled.
“Good pet,” Bluestreak murmured, his optics warm and approving. He lifted a hand and Soundwave didn’t so much as flinch, instead leaning eagerly into the palm that rested on top of his head. “Your safe word is whirlwind. If at any point you become uncomfortable, stressed, or just want to stop for any reason, all you have to do is say it.”
Bluestreak’s hand was a warm, welcome weight. Both gentle and commanding all at once, it sent a flicker of peace through Soundwave’s frame, a tide of warmth that boiled him over and soothed the tremors of his spark.
Soundwave dimmed his visor and focused on Bluestreak’s voice, the soft cadence of it, and the press of Bluestreak’s field, wrapping around him like a blanket. It felt like relief, like coming home, like everything he never knew he needed until it was right in front of him.
All he had to do was seize it.
Soundwave ex-vented and sank into the kneel.
“Yes, sir.”
a/n: And that's all folks. Just a wee little thing to finish out the series. I hope you enjoyed!
