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It had started out such a good day, too.
Cosmos was assembling a set of storage bins, deep in one of the many cargo holds honeycombing the center of the Decepticon space station. Other mechs came and went. The morning had been all hustle and bustle--mostly spent in housing new members of Soundwave’s commune.
Cosmos picked up a driver absently, letting his mind wander as it often did during menial tasks. When you spent most of your time alone in space you got very good at entertaining yourself. Sometimes he made up stories. Sometimes he invented little games. Sometimes (too often, actually) he let his processor drift into fantasies that would make a sailor blush—or at least, that made Cosmos blush.
Today had been one of those last.
He threaded the screws into their slots, replaying the day he first considered joining the commune. Balanced on the hull of a construction site near the planet Jupiter, vast starry sea of universe all around. Confused and exhausted by millennia of war. Misunderstood. Friendless. Alone.
Well, almost alone.
A tall blue mech with broad shoulders and long legs waited in front of him, one hand outstretched. Harsh sunlight glinted off the angled crest on his helm. Visored ruby optics bore down into Cosmos’ wide blue ones, entrancing him, pleading with him, holding out to him happiness and safety and a home.
Come with us, little Autobot.
Cosmos adjusted the hinge on a cabinet as he adjusted the scene in his head. Join our commune, Cosmos, receive happiness and safety and….
We’re tight on space here. You’ll have to share a room. The Commander’s the only one you know, you can stay with him. Yeah, that’s right, the big guy that invited you in. The handsome one with the cannon on his shoulder and mysterious aura. Head down that hall, there’s his suite, he’ll be waiting.
Cosmos opened the cargo drawers one at a time. All in working order, thankfully.
In his mind he opened the Commander’s door.
Ah, you’re here at last. I’ve been waiting. So glad you’ve decided to join us. Yes sir, it’s what I think I’ve always wanted. A wise decision, Cosmos, I saw you floating through space alone and realized what I’ve always wanted too. Sir? Yes—you. I’ve always wanted you. Now get on my desk, little Autobot, you can’t join without an initiation, one that I must conduct Personally.…
“Have you been finding your schedule satisfactory, little Autobot?”
He’d jumped so bad he dropped the driver.
The “yes sir” that burst from his vocalizer came out in a tone not at all appropriate for a job site.
Two mechs nearby looked up. One of them whistled softly.
Oh Primus.
Cosmos bent down to grab the driver but his foot got in the way and kicked it halfway across the room. He jogged over and fumbled for it muttering “sorry sorry sorry”. His faceplates felt like they would melt. Whyyyy.
Soundwave hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. “I apologize for startling you.”
“Ah, no sir! I mean, yes. I mean no sir, yeah you’re fine, haha, just working super hard I guess.” Working super hard, you guess?!
“I see.” Soundwave glanced at the completed cargo bins. “Well done. I will have the foreman assign you another task.”
“Yes sir. Thanks sir. Just tried to do a good job..as…always…yup…” CosmosfortheloveofPrimusjuststoptalking.
Soundwave cocked his head a hair’s breadth to the side.
Vorns passed as Cosmos burned in the crimson stare. He wished the floor would swallow him whole.
“Your efforts are much appreciated,” Soundwave said at last. He turned and his broad shoulders disappeared through the doorway.
Cosmos pushed a cabinet shut and nearly dropped the driver again.
--------------------------------
He flopped over on his berth and stared at the ceiling.
Ugh.
Why did he always make a fool of himself when he wanted to make a good impression? Why couldn’t he be dignified like Optimus, or charming like Jazz, or at least have a cool outlier skill like Mirage? Even the twins, who weren’t exactly known for their congenial personalities, made up for it with flashy speed and striking good looks.
Cosmos, though, Cosmos isn’t interesting at all, nobody thinks he’s cool or exciting. Cosmos is short and round and a weird space loner and falls over his own feet when people talk to him. Cosmos can’t even keep his inappropriate daydreams to himself, nope, he fragging moans as soon as he opens his metaphorical mouth. Those two mechs have probably told everybody what a pathetic loser the new guy is. Now you’ll never be able to fit in.
Stop that.
He smacked the side of his helm. Being self-deprecating is fun and all, but only in small doses. If you get too caught up in it you’ll be borne away on a river of sulkiness and over a waterfall of resentment before plunging eventually into a sea of hopeless misery that will ruin your whole day. Best stop while you still can.
He offlined his optics and tried to slide off into recharge. His processor cheerfully replayed the events of the day again--in high definition this time, for his especial benefit. Cosmos groaned.
Staaaahhp.
He shoved the conversation away and groped for something, anything else to focus on--if only he could get rid of the slithering slimy embarrassment in his fuel tank.
The daydream from earlier reared its head questioningly. Well, that was as good a choice as any.
In his mind’s eye he left his suite, wandered down the sleeping halls of the space station, found the Commander’s door, and entered when it swished back at his knock.
He wondered what Soundwave’s suite looked like. Probably strictly functional. He didn’t seem like the type for sentimental decor. Security screens, maybe. Computers.
A desk.
Perfect for bending helpless Autobots over, aft exposed, shivering with fear and excitement, one heavy hand shoving his face into the tabletop while the other massaged his lower back…
Cosmos squirmed. His fingers drifted down his chest and across his hip plating. His interface panel was warming rapidly. He pushed down against the hot surface and gasped at the delicious pressure. It was lovely, so he did it again. Fluid leaked around the edges of the panel.
He rolled over onto his front and shoved his face into the recharge slab, pretending it was the desk. Soundwave’s hand slid down the Autobot’s side and settled on his aft.
Soundwave was big. Much bigger than Cosmos at least. He had big hands too. One could nearly span Cosmos’ entire pelvic girdle. He whimpered and his aft arched up. His interface panel popped open, releasing his straining spike into his palm.
Hold still, little Autobot, or it will be worse for you. The Decepticons aren’t known for being…gentle…with prisoners.
Cosmos pushed a finger into his swollen valve. Ohh.
His hips bucked forwards against his hand and his valve clenched again, again, again…He added another finger. Soundwave’s thumb pushed into the struggling Autobot, stretching him open.
It almost looks as though you WANT to be punished, does it not?
Yes sir, yes please, if it’s by you, oh frag…
Then overload for me, little Autobot.
Cosmos’s vocalizer tripped over a soft squeal as hot charge rippled through his frame. His back arched and a rush of fluid poured over his fingers.
Ohhhhh.
He lay, panting softly, as his systems reset. Sudden clarity filled his processor.
Well then.
At least that wasn’t the first time he’d fantasized about a superior officer. Not by a long shot. He still vividly remembered the…interrogation…he’d conjured up involving Jazz and Prowl that had left him unable to look either of them in the eye for a week. However, that was most certainly the first time the object of his desires had been a Decepticon.
Decepticon or not though, Soundwave was undeniably attractive. Nothing wrong with acknowledging that. Besides, they were on the same side now…weren’t they? Not Autobots, not Decepticons, but a mysterious third thing.
Except…Soundwave claimed this commune was made up of real Decepticons, the ones who believed in what the movement embodied in the first place. So were Shockwave and Thundercracker and the rest not actually Decepticons anymore? Was Cosmos a Decepticon now?
Cosmos sighed.
Best not worry about it tonight. He offlined his optics again and relaxed into the berth. Moral crises make terrible sleep aids. Getting off to the commune Commander though…
He dipped his toes into the edge of sleep. Soundwave had been really quite kind to invite him here.
He shifted his leg up to get more comfortable and his aft lifted with the motion.
Hmnh.
His valve throbbed once. Oh that was good.
His mind wandered back to Soundwave leaning over him, forcing his thighs apart, pushing a finger into his valve, then two, stretching till it hurt, warning him of what was to come…
His interface panel seemed to have no intention of going to sleep as it snapped open. Cosmos groaned softly, grinding his spike against the berth. A warm throb pulsed through his frame and he gave a long, shuddering ex-vent.
Ah well. One more wouldn’t hurt.
Soundwave swirled a couple fingers thoughtfully around the Autobot’s swollen opening, collecting the warm lubricant pooled there. Cosmos followed suit. He plunged his fingers as deep as he could, wishing he could reach the delicate ceiling nodes as fully as…someone else… probably could.
He heard the schnick of a panel retracting and felt something blunt, and hot, pressed against his valve. And oh, it was huge--it would split him in two for sure, but that was okay, it was all he wanted in the world.
The heavy spike dragged across his opening, teasing him.
Cosmos couldn’t bear it. He needed it inside him, now, now, feel it forcing its way in, ramming itself home as he was dragged backwards against Soundwave’s powerful frame, screaming in blissful agony, again and again and again and oh, yes, please, Soundwa, ah, aave…
His HUD fizzled out. His vocalizer bubbled static. One violent shudder after another racked his body and his spark whirled in its casing.
Sweet Primus.
He withdrew his soaked fingers from his valve and wiped them on his thigh as the convulsions subsided. Warm post-climax haze swallowed him slowly, tickling his processor. He actually giggled under his breath.
Guess we’re officially into ‘cons now.
It wasn’t THAT funny, but it kinda was.
No turning back after this one.
And not just any ‘con--Megatron’s third in command, their top intelligence and communications officer, the one who it was rumored could hear a nail drop anywhere on Cybertron, could pilot an army of drones from across the galaxy, could rifle like a pickpocket through the processor of your average mech, leaving him none the wiser…
Cosmos’s optics snapped on.
That’s just a rumor too, right?
He can’t read minds. Nobody can do that. Be really good at guessing, sure, or perhaps by hooking someone up to the right equipment.
Not just like…look at someone and know what their favorite music was, or that they planned to get drunk after work, or that they’d been picturing getting clanged by their boss.
He glared daggers into the ceiling as though the innocent steel paneling had suggested this terrifying possibility. No, he decided, not even an outlier could do something like that.
Probably. Definitely. Nope. You’re good. The cold knot of humiliation that had twisted up inside him started to unwind.
He rolled over onto his side and prepared to drift away into recharge. It was only a few moments before a soft ping from his interface array flickered across his consciousness.
Wait, what?
He frowned. Primus knew (Cosmos wished he didn’t) he’d been dreadfully horny before, of course, but generally as a result of boredom or neglecting to burn off charge for too long. Neither of those were the case now, however.
Right?
He firmly closed out the alert and concentrated on sleep.
Ping.
Stop that.
Again sleep.
The image of himself standing, driver in hand, fumbling for words and looking up to meet Soundwave’s intensely unreadable crimson gaze slid across his memory.
His valve casually cycled down on nothing, just once.
For frag’s sake.
Sleep.
He suddenly remembered how Soundwave smelled. Cold, fresh, and sweetly electric, like the breeze from an approaching storm.
His spike strained against its casing.
Absolutely not.
He curled into himself and prayed to his body to cooperate. Warmth swirled up from his lower belly into his chest and sparked down his thighs. He squeezed his legs together and pretended the pressure on his interface array didn’t feel divine.
The other day he’d walked into the control room to see Soundwave seated in the captain’s chair, fingertips steepled in front of his face in deep reverie, shoulders back and hips slid forwards, feet planted firmly apart on the ground.
Cosmos’ thoughts had immediately dropped to their knees on the floor between Soundwave’s legs.
Wonder what the “PLAY” button does…
At the time he’d stifled the shameful idea but now he let it eagerly run laps in his processor. His imagination thrilled to the idea of Soundwave’s panel retracting, heavy spike pressurizing into the Decepticon commander’s hand. Palming the length of it, running up and down in steady caressing strokes, his free hand holding the back of Cosmos’ head in a vice grip just inches from the throbbing biolights.
It would be a lie to say Cosmos hadn’t wondered what Soundwave looked like down there, but the scene now was more vivid and glorious than anything he’d invented.
Dozens of silvery-blue panels covered the surface, collapsing together when the spike rested in its casing and tessellating smoothly in an alternating pattern to surround the full length as it pressurized. Purple heat glowed beneath the panels and shone through in a gradual spiral from base to tip. A string of yellow lights ran single file down the underside. And Primus, he hadn’t been wrong about the size.
Cosmos could have cried from want.
Soundwave’s fingers dug painfully into the side of Cosmos’ helm. Yellow lights pulsed steadily as a bead of fluid appeared at the thick spike head. The rest of Soundwave’s body betrayed not the faintest glimmer of emotion—he may as well have been listening to one of Ultra Magnus’ monologues.
Cosmos was distantly aware of the puddle forming between his own thighs as he squirmed against the floor, begging for friction. Slagging hell, why hadn’t he been one of the lucky mechs built with a mouth. Only the useless faceplate that prevented him from getting closer, parting his lips, taking in the Commander’s length, feeling it rammed down his throat till his neck bulged out from the girth of it, being forced to swallow the hot surges of fluid that threatened to choke him…
Overload crashed through his body.
The throbbing pulses hurt this time. His vision swayed and the room spun. He jerked, thrashing like someone had tipped a chair back under him as one of his internal gyroscopes popped and reset. He stared, panting, at the dripping fingers that had gotten back between his legs at some point.
He’d never come so hard in his life.
Maybe he should think about Soundwave more often. Or maybe not, unless he wanted to start racking up questionable doctor visits.
Cosmos rolled onto his front into a pile of quivering exhaustion. Sleep, maybe, was finally within reach.
Heat surged through his array.
“Nooo,” he moaned softly, and then “Ohh.”
This was getting out of hand. Or into hand. He couldn’t even laugh at the bad joke as his valve contracted painfully.
Maybe if Soundwave pulled him onto his lap after overloading all over his face, that would help, yes, if he dragged the smaller mech up to straddle his hips and drive him down on that beautiful spike, give his soaked convulsing valve a moment of relief as his internals strained to accommodate the bulk…
Cosmos sobbed through another overload before he could even act. Both hands clenched into fists against the recharge slab as electricity screamed down his thigh circuits. He was certain he felt a snap somewhere inside.
This isn’t right, something’s wrong, what did I do, why won’t it stop?!
Maybe this was all just trying to cope with the situation from earlier. Had it really affected him that badly?
Or maybe he was being punished. He shouldn’t have been fantasizing about Soundwave at all, should he? Superior officer, benefactor, Decepticon, out of his league in every way, all good reasons for him not to be ruining their relationship with inappropriate behavior.
Hello Primus? It's me Cosmos, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry, I won’t think about him like that again, please if you’re listening just forgive me and let it go I’m sorry.
His spike twitched and slowly pressurized. Primus had other things to do that day.
“Noooo,” Cosmos howled.
He pressed his hand against his swollen valve and rutted against it desperately. The rolling motion of his hips soothed the ache, somewhat. He thought about Soundwave pulling his limp abused frame off his lap, shoving him up against the wall with a hand on his neck, and prodding his quivering stretched-open valve experimentally.
If you wanted me this badly Cosmos, why didn’t you ask before? I would have been more than happy to accommodate.
It didn’t seem appropriate sir, and anyway, I didn’t know.
Know what, Cosmos?
That I wanted you this badly, I guess, I mean I thought you were handsome and I kinda fantasized a bit but I didn’t realize…
That you wanted to be claimed and bred within an inch of your life by a Decepticon, little Autobot?
Cosmos promptly overloaded.
His face burned in confusion.
Where did THAT come from?!
Nobody had ever said that to him. He knew he couldn’t come up with good dirty talk on his own, either. Mm yes, my loyal subordinate, worship my enormous throbbing… Yeah nope better stop right there.
And yet here he was, picturing Soundwave breathing filth into his audial that turned out to be enough to melt him into a whimpering puddle.
What exactly had he said, again?
Cosmos floundered, groping for the words which had floated off in the hot haze.
He knew some organics had physical cycles where they went into a state called “heat”. It left them consumed with arousal—utterly unable to relieve the feeling until they had been mated, bred, impregnated, whatever. It sounded miserable.
But Cybertronians weren’t organic. Cybertronians didn’t do that. They had no need for it—why would they, when they were assembled by hand or birthed like lava from the planet’s heart?
What if something had gone wrong though. What if he was broken. He’d spent an awful lot of time on Earth. Earth was nothing but organics. Maybe they had infected him. Could he have taken on organic characteristics just from living with them??
Cosmos didn’t know. Panic knifed through him.
Maybe he was in heat. Maybe that was the answer. Perhaps it would go away on its own?
But…maybe did have to be bred for it to stop. Would he have to ask another Cybertronian to help him out? Or an organic? What if he couldn’t find anyone to help. What if he was stuck like this forever. What if the fire in his array, the starving emptiness in his core, could never be slaked?
Or…
…what if there was only one person who could null that throbbing void. Who could overpower him and fill him up again and again till his valve walls burst and his belly swelled with its load of spike and transfluid. What if that person was…
“Soundwave,” Cosmos wailed, and overloaded again.
He should have been disgusted with the idea. Contaminated, sickened by a strange planet, forced to participate in the messy reproductive habits of an alien species. In his right mind he would never have dreamt of being held down and…impregnated.
His body seemed to think otherwise, though. He hadn’t even had to touch himself that time.
He was violently lightheaded and had given up on trying to clear the flood of system errors. Burning pain crawled down his leg struts. He couldn’t stop shaking. He was definitely going to have to spend time tomorrow actually recovering. If he even lived that long.
Wildly he wondered if he could turn off the circuits to his interface array, just for tonight, but immediately realized he had no clue where to even start. Why hadn’t he become a medic and learnt something actually Useful?
He offlined his optics, burying his face in his arm, and pretended he could disconnect. No more interface array. Circuits dead. It wasn’t even a part of him anymore, at least till tomorrow, or till he could get this overactivity fixed. Peace finally. It was pure bliss.
Is it, though?
Cosmos squashed the intrusive thought like a bug. His weary frame began to relax.
You’ve never had an overload that good before, huh.
Yep, it was swell. Great for putting someone to sleep.
Gonna be interesting having to face Soundwave tomorrow, won’t it?
Cosmos cringed. The sleep that had ebbed into the edges of his processor swirled rapidly down a storm drain.
He’s gonna look just like this—his processor showed him Soundwave looming tall, piercing gaze meeting Cosmos’ straight on—and you won’t be able to stop picturing him spiking you so full you can taste it.
His valve throbbed so hard his vision swayed. He didn’t think he could get any hotter.
Why, oh why, wouldn’t his body let him rest?!
It felt good though, didn’t it.
The image of Soundwave didn’t go away but kept staring intently as though it had spoken the words. Cosmos squirmed, whimpering as his valve clenched frantically. If only Soundwave would come a bit closer, take hold of his hips, drag them up to meet his own….
Look at you.
Soundwave leaned over him. His interface panel pressed against Cosmos’ valve, which released a gush of fluid in response. His fingers brushed Cosmos’ face almost affectionately and he lifted his chin in his hand.
Leaking blue optics met gentle red ones.
Didn’t think you had it in you, little Autobot. You seem so innocent. Yet here you are, utterly given over to such depraved thoughts.
It wasn’t my idea, Cosmos wanted to scream, I just thought about having to go to your office, well, maybe a little more, I didn’t mean to think of all those other things, I don’t want them, I promise.
Soundwave’s other hand drifted across Cosmos’ hip and rested on his midsection, where he regarded it thoughtfully. His thumb gently massaged the place where Cosmos’ carrying chamber would be.
“Nngh--” burst from Cosmos’ vocalizer before he could stop it. His hips rolled of their own accord.
Soundwave’s optics glinted.
Cosmos flushed and tried to look anywhere else but he couldn’t move.
Soundwave’s thumb brushed gently over Cosmos’ faceplate, and he laughed.
Cosmos didn’t know Soundwave could laugh. It was an ominous, synthesized waterfall that started soft and ended soft but nevertheless poured over him in a deep rumble of hideous delight. Either way, it had him writhing his way through another overload--with Soundwave’s relentless grip on his jaw leaving him powerless to tear his optics away.
The next thing he knew he was waking up to a flood of reboot messages. That one must have crashed him. He had to find a way to make it stop, for real now, he couldn’t keep going like this, but how?!
He tried to remember what he’d been thinking about before he crashed.
Right--Soundwave standing over him, holding him down, legs spread apart and pushed up, spike turgid and leaking, valve fluttering painfully. Pity he hadn’t gotten to the part where Soundwave would open up his own panel and…
His frame surged again.
He woke up to more reboot alerts. He was hot and weak all over and had given up being disgusted at laying a pool of his own fluids.
How long had it been?
“Please, please, please, Soundwave, just make it stop, please let me be done, sir, ohh…”
When had his frantic prayers been directed at Soundwave? Cosmos wasn’t sure. All he knew was he wanted Soundwave, needed him, the reason didn’t matter now, he was just certain Soundwave was somehow the key to all this.
“Please, sir…” he whispered. His valve clenched so hard he would have screamed if he had the strength. Overload rolled through him again, toppling him over, carrying him away in an avalanche and over a cliff.
Cosmos slept.
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Soundwave in-vented deeply.
He flexed his stiff fingers and sat up straighter. He’d received no less than five Urgent messages from his cargo manager in the last hour. All five had been met with a stern Do Not Disturb.
Logistics Staff: Distressed. Action: Determine Cause.
He stood up from the desk and turned to leave his office. He paused and looked back at the central display screen. On it was the security feed from one of the hab suites. In the middle of the suite was a recharge slab.
On the slab, deep in exhausted slumber, lay an Autobot.
A few drops of pinkish fluid dribbled from his limp fingers to splatter out of sight on the floor.
Soundwave watched him thoughtfully.
He flicked up the next day’s schedule on one of the smaller screens and set the Report In time beside Cosmos’ name to two hours later than normal.
He stared at the main screen again. A couple fingers gently caressed the sleeping image.
Rest well, little Autobot.
The door exhaled as it shut.