Easter Bunny: Tracks Edition

Summary: There's a strange mech stumbling about the dark streets of Detroit. Who is it? And what will become of him when a Decepticon notices his presence? Mech/Mech slash, Sticky, smut, oral
Rating: M

Originally posted on FF.net


He had no idea where he was going.

Tracks stumbled along in the dark, optics narrowed blearily behind his glasses as he tried to grasp his surroundings. Everything though was much too bright, too fuzzy around the edges for the mech to fully comprehend; jarring to his sensor array and, thus, painful to his processor. Releasing a hiss, the multi-coloured 'bot turned off the main road and into a wide alleyway, wanting to escape from the lights and dull sounds beating against his helm. He was too over-energized to realize that he was currently staggering across the streets of Detroit, a city on a planet very far away from his own, and crawling with those disgusting, harrowing organics. Tracks, as a matter of fact, was too busy grumbling over something entirely unrelated to his strange relocation.

“Not a single one.... much more handsome..... Coat of fresh paint, with a shining finish..... None interested..... picking stupid morons instead..... interface.....”

So busy with his drunken mumbling was he, that Tracks didn't notice the manhole covering that shifted on the concrete barely five meters away from him; one, squat-like blue helm rising out of the sewer tunnel to stare at the swaying mech. Soundwave had been passing by underneath when his scanners went off, announcing the presence of an enemy energy signature. It was with the intent to spy on a lone Autobot that the mech had even bothered to come to the surface -words could not describe his surprise at finding some strange 'bot bumping down the alley, instead of one of Optimus' ramshackle teammates. Soundwave tipped his face forward some in contemplation, watching with curious attention, as the Autobot before him finally stumbled to the ground; pulling his legs to his chassis and seating himself upright as he continued to mutter still. The Decepticon had no idea what the other mech was rambling on about, but found that  -and the fact that this was an enemy 'bot-  mattered very little to him at this very moment. Indeed, the sound mech's visor brightened as he drank in Tracks 'appearance.

Beautiful, sculpted frame, painted a series of blue, white and reds; vibrant and optic-drawing, the scent of fresh wax meeting his hidden olfactory sensors. His optics, though dulled with excessive drinking of energon, still blazed with a passionate blue light; lip components, full and plump, rounding out mumbled vowels graciously. But that wasn't the most curious thing..... Soundwave felt his processor stutter momentarily over what covered the Autobot's form, before his motherboard lagged completely, unexpectedly turned on by the sight.

Tracks, the huge organic-phobe that he was, was wearing a chassis-tight, sleeveless dress shirt -partly unbuttoned- complete with matching tie, booty shorts and dark pantyhose about his slim thighs. That wasn't the surprising part though..... it was the big, fluffy white ears and tail that really threw Soundwave for a loop. And though he despised all things organic, he couldn't help but love the way those ridiculous bunny ears flopped about Tracks gorgeous face; that silly, little fluff ball of a tail demanding attention to that equally as fine aft. Theories and simulations began to run rampant through Soundwave's processor, as the mech decided to throw all caution to the wind and approach the drunk Cybertronian. With some luck, the sulky 'bot would be too inebriated to fend him off.

Tracks, unsurprisingly, didn't know how to respond to Soundwave's appearance, his sluggish processor quickly shoving the question of where the blue mech came from out of the way. Instead, the multicoloured Autobot struggled to his pedes, glancing at the other 'bot almost appreciatively. “See something you like?,” he asked, noticing the dull colour of Soundwave's visor.

Soundwave was suddenly glad for his mask. It kept his growing smirk hidden. Oh, but there was so much that was great about this Autobot. One, he had such a lovely, cultured tone; 2, even though he threatened to fall with the motion, he twirled a little on the spot, shaking his hips enticingly at the other mech; and three..... he was too intoxicated to even realize that Soundwave bore the Decepticon symbol across his chassis. Which meant that Soundwave would definitely be able to entice Tracks down into his hide-out with no problems, what so ever.

“Well? You just gonna stare or what?” Tracks' voice pulled the blue mech out of his thoughts, intakes hitching as Soundwave realized just how close the tri-coloured 'bot had gotten while he let his processor wander. The Decepticon could barely keep his engines from revving as the Autobot's chassis brushed against his own; vibrant, blue optics gazing up into his bloody red ones. A slight rumble of heating systems escaped him though, and the sound brought a sexy, little smirk to Tracks' face.

“Well now,” the slim mech purred in reply, “What are we standing around here for? I'm sure there's somewhere more.... private.... you and I can go.”

Soundwave barely wasted an astrosecond, turning around and leading Tracks to the sewer entrance.

xxXxXxx

“You're not much of a talker, are you?,” the Autobot sighed behind him. Soundwave, as he had for the past couple breems, did not reply. Tracks pouted at the lack of response, not liking it even despite his over-energized state. Avoiding some strange build-up on the floor, he stepped closer to the bulky mech; servos grasping hold of the other's arm.

The Decepticon inclined his helm slightly in Tracks' direction, visor glinting as he focused on the other 'bot. “Reason for contact?,” he asked.

“Oh, so you can talk,” Tracks replied, clicking his glossa sharply. “And here I thought you were muted. But my..... such a strange vocalizer. I don't believe I recall hearing any other Cybertronian with such a tonal modifier, with the exception of that Percy fellow.”

Soundwave continued his stare, awaiting his answer. The tri-coloured mech turned his helm off to the side, avoiding optic contact with the other 'bot, even as his servos clenched a little tighter around the manipulator's arm. “It's so dark in here,” the Autobot complained, “I just can't see a thing whatsoever. And this place is completely filthy. Where are we again?”

The Decepticon tried to ignore the warmth radiating from Tracks servos, turning his focus forwards again. “Location: Earth. Organic planet in Milky Way galaxy. Specific destination: sewer.”

“Oh, right....,” Tracks shivered, pressing closer to Soundwave. “We're on that horrible back-water rock. Stupid repair 'bots, stupid space bridges! Warping me from the safety of my home to this... this.... it's just ridiculed with all those squishy, disgusting little creatures!”

Tracks didn't want to remember that he was surrounded by organics, currently enclosed in a tunnel of their foul waste produce and virtually trapped on this strange planet. That's why he had drunk so much oil in the first place.... to try and detach himself from this horrible nightmare he found himself stuck in. It was just coincidence that the other Autobots had decided to “dress-up” for some organic celebration regarding odd biological functions of a rabbit and eggs. Tracks, intoxicated off his aft, had joined in with his entire spark; adorning this ridiculous suit and bunny appendages without hesitance. He even shined himself up, putting all his charm to work, hoping to win some favour over with the Elite Guard ship that arrived from Cybertron earlier that orn. The tri-coloured mech had never been more insulted in his entire function then when he was so callously and easily brushed aside for the less attractive, second-rate 'bots all dolled up as well. Such an insult had led Tracks to drink some more, before finally storming out of the make-shift warehouse base in a huff; in time, leading him all the way here.

Here, Tracks thought smugly, attempting to cuddle up to the handsome mech so obviously enamoured by the Autobot's good looks, was a good place to be. It didn't matter that his partner didn't speak much..... the mech was loathe to listen to some idiot prattle on for joors, with no specific topic in mind anyways. The strange 'bot was thick and shiny -just as Tracks generally preferred his mechs- and as raring to interface as Tracks was. And Tracks really needed a good interface right about now.

The tri-coloured 'bot opened his mouth to say something, when his optics noticed something scurrying just out of range. With a shriek of fright, Tracks twisted about, throwing himself at Soundwave. Soundwave, for his part, was able to catch the slim mech just in time; lifting the light Tracks up in his arms easily, visor trying to peer at his trembling companion. The Autobot finally gathered enough courage and pulled his faceplates away from the Decepticon's neck cables. “I despise all these gross organics,” Tracks whimpered softly. If he wasn't so inebriated, he might have been embarrassed by his own pitiful tone. “I don't want to go any further!”

Though it was programmed within him to hate such weakness, Soundwave found he couldn't care. His cooling fans clicked on, feeling as if he was slipping over the edge of a precipice. The drunk mech was shivering just the slightest in his grasp, curling closer to his chassis; blue optics glimmering with collected coolant, and a weak, little blush coming to his already rouge-tinted cheekplates. The sight would be absolutely maddening if it were in another situation. As it was, it made Soundwave's spark sputter erratically, shifting Tracks in his arms until he had one servo under the Autobot's knee joints; the other settled between his door wings. Confident that he now held the mech securely in his arms, the Decepticon started his march deeper into the twisted sewers, despite his companion's fright.

He wasn't about to relinquish his prize when they were so close to home now!

“I-i, no, you don't have to carry me! I can walk!” Tracks tried to push against his captor's hold, but Soundwave's grip would not be broken. At the sign of struggle, he tightened his hold on the tri-coloured  mech, effectively trapping him.

“Unnecessary,” Soundwave intoned. “Equilibrium unbalanced -will assist for the rest of the journey.”

At the weak excuse, Tracks folded; wrapping his arms back around the other 'bot's shoulders and resting his helm on the wide chassis. “I.... apologize. I must be so heavy.”

“Negative.” Soundwave did not bother replying that the Autobot was practically weightless in his arms  and the warmth of his metal flesh permeating through the odd clothes was beginning to cloud his processor. He couldn't wait to pin Tracks to his berth and frag him senseless.

“Hmmmmm.....,” Tracks hummed dazedly. The extra energon was beginning to work its way out of his system, but it was leaving him feeling very cottony about the processor. “I like you~”

Soundwave glanced at the tri-coloured mech for a second, before lifting his gaze again and punching in an entrance code on a hidden keypad in the sewer wall. The slim 'bot didn't even notice part of the wall retract and then slide away entirely, granting entrance to the pair. Soundwave entered, keying for the door to shut and lock behind him as he went.

“You know that, right?,” Tracks continued as he was carried into a large room. The ceiling was domed, the rounded walls lost behind a sea of equipment: wires, monitors, cables and gears, all interwoven and connected to each other in a seemingly endless loop. The contained chaos was only interrupted by the presence of a berth at one end of the room; a work table situated just next to it. All was bathed in a wash of pale whites and dim blues from the numerous monitors.

“Explanation,” Soundwave cut in, “Reason for presence on Earth?”

Tracks pouted a little, slightly put off that he had been interrupted during his praising -something he rarely did, unless the 'bot deserved it. Still, he was feeling all fuzzy and warm, and was content to answer the Decepticon's inquiry. “It's not as if I want to be here,” the mech sniffed. “I got pulled through some wacky space bridge malfunction and ended up here with those other moronic tin-cans.”

Soundwave set Tracks onto the berth, gently pulling off the other's servos. “I thought I'd be stuck here forever!,” the Autobot bemoaned. “But then that Elite guard ship came..... I was hoping interfacing with one of them would get me a free ride home, but none of those slagging 'bots even looked at me. Am I not pretty?”

The blue mech didn't know how to reply. Anger jolted across his circuitry, jealousy making his visor gleam in the dim lighting. He hated those other Autobots a lot -bowing down and associating with such organic scum- and he was exceptionally glad that none of them could see how worthy Tracks was. The thought that the tri-coloured 'bot could be in somebody else's berth, being touched and caressed by some other mech, filled Soundwave with so much rage he was almost startled by his own emotions. Remembering the question asked of him, the Decepticon tore away from his dark thoughts, looking down upon the seated Tracks. The other was looking back up at him, coolant gathered along the bottom edge of his optics; lips jutted out in a confused pout, and servos clenching in his lap anxiously.

Even appearing so distressed, Tracks was everything and pretty.

“Additional opinions unnecessary,” Soundwave replied. He reached out a servo and cupped the other's rouge-tinted cheekplate; thumb stroking parted lip components. “Other mechs unworthy.”

“U-unworthy, huh?,” Tracks mumbled, feeling his spark pulse as the Decepticon leaned in closer, forcing the Autobot to fall back onto the berth. The servo on his faceplates continued to stroke the soft metal there, before dipping lower and brushing along his neck cables. “Such flattery from someone as silent as you must be rare.”

Soundwave did not answer, letting his servos continue their quest down the other mech's frame; just lighting over joints and seams in the clothing. Tracks almost whimpered at the ghostly touch, suddenly wanting a lot more and craving for the manipulator to take him. Soundwave seemed to notice this, because he stopped merely touching the gorgeous Autobot, focusing on removing those silly organic coverings and revealing Tracks' natural flesh to the atmosphere once more. The tri-coloured 'bot gasped as his hips were roughly grabbed, lifting them up slightly so a servo could slide down between the clothe and his aft; golden servo petting and squeezing at the rapidly heating metal before retracting, taking the shorts with them.

“Y-you're taking your sweet time,” Tracks said, tone slightly amused, coy and irritated all at once. With the shorts gone now, he was free to spread his legs wide open, allowing his pedes to dangle over the side of the berth. Soundwave unconsciously stepped into the free space, looming over the other mech more. Seeing that he now had the Decepticon within his grasp, Tracks wound his thighs about the other's waist; bringing their pelvic plating together in quick tug. The glorious sensation of another mech's heated codpiece pressed tight against his own made Tracks throw his helm back, groaning lowly. He could feel his spike throb under his protective covering, waiting to pressurize; lubricant slipping hotly down his valve, pooling as it met with the insides of his codpiece. Wanton now, the Autobot couldn't help the unabashed slow grinding he made against Soundwave's molten pelvic armour.

Soundwave himself was beginning to lose all control. His visor flared brightly as his gaze fell on Tracks -the half-shuttered optics, mewling mouth, twitching fingers and flushed cheekplates- cooling fans turning up several notches as the tri-coloured 'bot's grinding increased, his own fans whirling into life. Impatiently, the Decepticon ripped off the buttons of the Autobot's shirt, exposing his beautiful chassis, before unwinding that silly tie from the other's throat. Soundwave's engine rumbled loudly with desire as he pressed himself fully onto Tracks, the slimmer mech crying out as their codpieces ground against each other harshly.

“P-please!,” Tracks begged. His codpiece retracted, spike pressurizing and valve leaking lubricants over the berth and their connected armour. “I-i.... I need it so badly! Please, frag me!!”

 The blue mech didn't waste an astrosecond more. Retracting his own codpiece, Soundwave's spike sprang out freely, tip already moistened with his own transfluids. Hearing the tiny hiss of the latches, Tracks unshuttered his optics, gazing down between their two frames and to their conjoined hips. “Oh.....,” the Autobot sighed breathlessly. “Oh, primus, you're thick. So handsome..... I want it! Please, oh, please I want that delicious spike inside of me!!”

Emblazoned by the needless praise, Soundwave let his servos run down the mech's chassis; one servo sliding between their bodies and fingers slipping into that well-lubricated valve. Tracks moaned first at the pressure, but he soon squirmed as the clumsy touches continued no further than simple stroking along the inner walls near his entrance. “W-what is the problem?,” he asked, peering at the Decepticon. Soundwave did not reply, though he started to pull his fingers back out, obviously upset that he was not making the Autobot scream like he had simulated.

Tracks lurched up on the berth, grabbing Soundwave about the shoulders and keeping the mech in place. “W-why are you pulling back? A-am I not good enough?,” the slim 'bot squeaked, feeling his spark quake uneasily at such an implication. He could not express his relief when the manipulator shook his helm. “Then why don't you want to continue. What is....,” Tracks trailed off, realization hitting him. “Y-you've never interfaced before?”

Soundwave remained unnaturally silent. Tracks cupped the Decepticon's cheek vents. “That's it, isn't it?,” he said, staring up into the dim visor. “Oh, dear,” the tri-coloured mech laughed lightly, “There's no need to be scared. Just follow your programming.”

The blue 'bot seemed to glare at the Autobot, attempting to rip his helm from the other's servos. Tracks, to his credit, managed to hang on; pressing in closer to Soundwave, intakes releasing in a low hiss as his exposed interface equipment rubbed along the manipulator's. “Now, now.... I don't mean to insult. I'm so very honoured that I can be your first, and that it's not me that is unsatisfactory,” the Autobot soothed. He placed chaste kisses on Soundwave's mouth guard, smirking when he saw that visor flash again in returning lust and confidence. “C'mon, big boy..... Lemme teach you all the right tricks.”

Tracks leaned back on the berth, pulling Soundwave with him. The Decepticon happily obliged, lifting one knee joint onto the berth to get closer to the slim mech. “Normally,” Tracks husked, servos trailing down the bulkier 'bot's frame; fingers dipping into seams and stroking at the wires there, “The proper approach would be for some foreplay starting off, and possibly stretching one's valve so your partner is prepared to take such a lovely spike.” He grinned triumphantly when he made Soundwave groan, reaching up and pressing love bites all along the trimming of the cassette case on the other's chestplates between his words.

“I don't think I can wait that long though, darling, and I'm not a youngling anymore. I won't mind if we skip that little bit and just get to the part where you're inside of me, your rough servos touching me all over. Fragging me with that nice, thick spike of yours; you all steaming and hot....”

Soundwave was already trembling with the delicious attention being poured on him, and hearing  the Autobot declare such desire for him..... he could feel his lust return full force, chassis rattling so hard it felt like he might fall to pieces, his engine was working that much. With that sinful voice whispering such naughty things, all Soundwave wanted to do was hurry up and jack into the other mech.

But that seemed inadequate, even with Tracks' assurance. The Decepticon was determined to conquer this Autobot now; keep him and claim him, so that no one else could have him. And for that to work he had to do this right.....

“C'mon babe,” Tracks whispered, dragging a servo down and cupping Soundwave's spike. “Let's get you plugged in, so the real fun can begin.”

Engines rumbling further, the blue mech knocked away the other's servo; grabbing both of Tracks' wrists and pinning them to the berth. “W-wha?!,” the Autobot hissed in confusion, flinching at the tight pressure put on his joints. “What are you doing no-”

Tracks found himself cut off as Soundwave leaned over him; battle mask retracting, revealing the face beneath. The tri-coloured mech only had nanokliks to enjoy the handsome visage that met his optics, before ragged lip components were covering his own; smothering all sound and stealing his intakes. Foolishly, Tracks attempted to open his mouth against the wondrous assault and found his mouth full of a hot glossa, twisting and sliding along his own. The Autobot moaned into the heated kiss, trying to taste the other 'bot just as much, another gasp escaping him as Soundwave suddenly ground into his hips roughly. The teasing pressure of the Decepticon's spike grazing along the edges of his valve, rubbing alongside his dripping spike, were enough to excite Tracks to the point of oblivion.

“Please!,” he cried, tearing away from the kiss long enough to gulp greedily at the air. His systems were running so hot that everything was steamed around the edges of his vision, and there was the very good chance that he might overload before the thicker mech had even entered him. That, Tracks thought, would be much too embarrassing for him to handle. “Oh, Primus, please! M-my port.... i-it aches so bad. Primus, please, just take me now!!”

“Request denied,” Soundwave replied. His visor flared brightly as Tracks looked up at him in shock, a hint of a smirk pulling at the Decepticon's exposed lip components. “Autobot: now under my control.”

Before anything more could be said, Soundwave dipped down to the other's neck, running his glossa along and inbetween the cables there. Tracks could only gasp in want, his intakes struggling to bring air into his overheated frame; tossing his helm back further to grant more access to that deliciously hot glossa sliding along his neck. It seemed unlikely that the blue mech would listen to his pleas any time soon, but as long as Soundwave didn't stop now, than the Autobot wasn't going to complain. Much.

All the same, Tracks thought he was melting.

The heat under his chassis was unbearable; the transfluid and lubricant pouring from his interface equipment -frag, even the condensation gathered on his frame!- was nothing more than teasing relief against the scorching fire burning through him. Soundwave continued to ignore all this though, keeping the tri-coloured mech's wrists pinned to the berth as he lowered himself down Tracks' chassis, glossa sliding across the molten metal and dipping into his transformation seams. Kisses were pressed along the front of his chest plates, just along his insignia. Tracks could feel his spark almost leap from its chamber, trying to get closer to that glorious mouth; wanting to be tickled and laved by that lovely glossa, and then merged with the other's spark. But that was an action the Autobot could not allow to happen. Spark-bonding was a lot more private affair, and the tri-coloured mech was not ready to breach such boundaries with another 'bot -especially a stranger. Albeit a very handsome, surprisingly talented one.

Overriding his own system's natural instinct to keep from opening his spark chamber doors left Tracks overly sensitized; making him keen as Soundwave finally moved on, trailing further down his chassis. Oh, Primus, was he really-?! The mech got his answer as the Decepticon finally released his wrists, withdrawing enough so that the larger 'bot could bend down over his interface equipment, swallowing his spike whole. The Autobot screamed at the sensation, servos flashing downwards to grasp the blue helm. He wasn't sure if he wanted to push Soundwave to keep going, or pull the mech away. In either case, that glossa combined with that steaming mouth were rapidly bringing him to the brink of overload.

“A-ahhhh, Primus. D-don't- Aah, p-pleeeeeeeeease! Primus, n-no! N-not there! Aahhhh!”

Soundwave wasn't even aware anymore of what he was doing. He started by kissing the Autobot and was quickly moving down his neck only a couple astroseconds after. Now he was practically half-way down the mech's frame, swallowing that drenched spike all the way down to the very base, glossa laving over every seam and drop of transfluid as he bobbed his helm. Every part of him was burning up, the same as it was with Tracks, and he wanted so very much to just give into the Autobot's passion-wrenched begging and enter that dripping valve. But he wasn't about to succumb so easily until he had a thorough taste of this mech, of that Soundwave knew. Tracks trembled violently again under him, the fingers at his helm tightening into a vice-like grip. The Decepticon rumbled his engine. Tracks was so very close.... one more push would bring the other to overload.

The blue 'bot pulled back as far as he was able, releasing the twitching spike, before he dived for his prize nestled just beneath the engorged appendage. Immediately Tracks was screaming into the air, servos flying up and dragging across the surface of the berth as he bucked wildly into Soundwave's mouth. The Decepticon lifted his servos, caging the Autobot's hips with enough pressure to let the tri-coloured mech continue his erratic thrusting, but also making sure that Tracks wouldn't be able to get too far away from him. All the while, he swirled his glossa deeper into that flooded valve; drinking down the hot lubricant that came pouring out into his waiting mouth. Primus, Tracks' screams were beautiful. Soundwave groaned as he thrust his glossa a little deeper, being rewarded with another desperate moan from the Autobot and a burst of his sweet-tasting essence. Following the silent commands running through his processor, the manipulator lifted his servo slightly, dipping his fingers into the seam along Tracks' hip....

“Ah-hah-AHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Soundwave felt his entire frame tremble as Tracks finally overloaded, filling his mouth with even yet more lubricant; the most delicious of cries escaping those rouge lip components. His spike twitched visibly, his own transfluids trickling down his thighs. How could his night have turned out like this? Skulking about, plotting revenge on the Autobots and the rest of their organic “friends”; perchance finding this beautiful mech that was quickly getting under his armour and burning him up from the inside. Was this a Primus-blessed gift, or a simple hologram sent from the Pit? Soundwave couldn't say for sure just yet....

Standing to full height once again, he looked down upon the spent Tracks, visor dimming as he took in the other mech's appearance. The Autobot had his optics half-shuttered, chassis covered in a layer of condensation and heaving with the effort of his over-worked fans and intakes. His legs still remained wide open as the Decepticon had left them, trembling avidly as the last few weak pulses of overload jolted across his circuitry. And that valve..... lubricant oozed like heavenly energon from that glorious opening still; thick and rich, enticing the blue mech to come and have another taste.

Eventually, Tracks pushed himself up into a sitting position, lifting his weary helm and looking at Soundwave. His cheekplates began to lighten as he realized that the Decepticon was still charged, his spike pressurized and dribbling copious amounts of transfluid along his own pelvic plating. “O-oh.... oh, Primus....,” Tracks whispered, peering at the other mech almost shyly. “I see you're a patient 'bot....”

Soundwave licked his lip components at the statement. The Autobot caught the motion and had to suppress the shiver that ran down his spinal struts. This stranger would be a hard one to satisfy. Smirking at the challenge, Tracks rolled over onto his knees, propping his aft into the air and clearly displaying his valve to the other 'bot. “C'mon, big boy,” the tri-coloured mech husked over a doorwing. “What are you waiting for?”

Barely giving it an astrosecond, Soundwave had closed the distance between himself and Tracks, finally thrusting into that tight valve.

xxXxXxx

There was something stroking the edges of his wings.

Tracks purred at the soft, whisper of a touch, shifting on the berth; attempting to push into the warm, gentle pressure. The motion further roused him from recharge, and the mech released a heavy intake as his systems each began to online; little jolts running along his sensory net and his spinal struts as he fully awakened. When his optics shuttered open, all Tracks saw was blue-tinted walls and looming shadows. It made him confused for a moment, to find himself in such a strange place, but then the wispy memories of last night came forth and the Autobot was not so afraid anymore. Who would have thought that he might find the most wonderful, handsome, perfect mech on such a nasty, unsterilized germ rock like Earth?

Tracks chuckled a little at the thought, and he felt the hand on his back pause just slightly. “Mmmmm.... no need to worry, love,” he assured, vocalizer a little thick with the remnants of sleep. “I'm just waking up. You really tired me out last night -but if you keep stroking my wings like you are, I'm gonna be needing some more personal attention, Big boy.”

Hearing an engine begin to rumble in response, Tracks rolled over slightly to finally face his mysterious berthmate..... and found himself pressed to the wall not an astrosecond later. “Y-you're a D-decepticon!,” Tracks cried, trying to scramble further away from Soundwave, but having no such luck. The tri-coloured mech looked from the red visor -melting him with its heated stare- to that evil purple mark branded on the other's chestplates, and finally those golden servos -reminding him of the pleasure they could bring- reaching out toward his chassis. All in all, it was making Tracks feel sick to his fuel tanks, and the urge to purge was quickly growing.

“L-let me out of here! H-how dare you trick me like this! Let me go!!” Tracks slapped away the Decepticon's servos, attempting to scramble across the berth and to the floor. Soundwave was not having any of that though, and grabbed the Autobot by the wrist; yanking him back and pinning him to the berth. Tracks whimpered at the pain, curling into himself as he noticed that he was trapped. “W-what could you possibly want with me?!,” he choked, trying to swallow back the tears and shame that overcame him.

Of course Primus had to play with him this way.....

When had life ever been fair to Tracks?

Soundwave had expected this. He had been running simulations through his processor since coming online; petting the beautiful Autobot as he contemplated what the morning would result in. No doubt the tri-coloured mech would have worked out all that extra charge in his systems by dawn, and would be a lot more clearer in processor once waking. At that moment, Tracks would see him for what he was really was.... and he would be otherwise angry or utterly disgusted, possibly terrified. What the Decepticon had not accounted on though was for the coolant pooling about Tracks' optics, or the resigned, spark-broken expression that the Autobot wore.

“Explanation,” Soundwave demanded, keeping the slimmer mech pinned to the berth. He was afraid to give even an inch of lee-way, wary that the Autobot might attempt another escape. Tracks though was not even thinking about such things. It had been such a long time since Cybertron had seen war, and he himself, was no soldier. He had neither the training or drive to take down a Decepticon.... especially one that had him trapped, in all manner of the phrase.

“.....Why don't you just offline me already,” Tracks mumbled, lifting dull optics to Soundwave. He did not notice nor care when the blue mech stiffened just marginally at his words. “I cannot serve you any purpose as a prisoner. I'm sure you already heard my drunken ramblings from last night..... I'm just some poor 'bot that was dropped into the middle of this mess, with no idea about what's going on. You've gotten your cheap interface out of me now, so why don't you stop stalling and hurry up and offline me already.”

“Motion: Unnecessary,” the Decepticon replied. “Function is vital.”

“How?!,” Tracks finally screamed. He bucked against Soundwave, the tears beginning to trickle down his cheekplates. “Haven't you finished with your little pleasure 'bot yet? Am I to stay here and suffer whatever other torments you wish to inflict upon me? And for what -your own sick amusement?! Frag off! Just kill me now and save yourself the effort of keeping me prisoner!”

This was not what he wanted.

Soundwave retracted his battle mask, lunging forward and catching the Autobot's lip components in a kiss. Tracks, obviously, bellowed into their joined mouths; thrashing wildly, trying to get away from this humiliation and degradation. But the blue mech kept him pinned to the berth, moving his mouth in a hungry kiss, never releasing the other 'bot. Weakening again, Tracks resigned himself to this cruel fate and subdued in the Decepticon's hold.

The manipulator noticed his partner's compliance, and without ending their kiss, unwound his fingers from the Autobot's wrists; lifting up his servos and lovingly stroking those wings again. Tracks shivered at the touch, moaning slightly against Soundwave's mouth. Continuing his petting still, the blue 'bot pulled back, staring down at the other.

“Y-you.....,” the tri-coloured mech tried to speak. He couldn't help the coo that escaped his vocalizer at those gentle fingers; spark sputtering erratically in his chest. “Why..... why are you being so nice..... even last night.....”

Now he really remembered. Even though he was new to interfacing, and was easily as charged as Tracks was, Soundwave had still been very kind and considerate; doing his best to bring his partner to the most amazing overload possible, before taking care of himself. Had anyone else shown such care and consideration to the posh mech before? No, they hadn't...... But what did that mean? This Decepticon- no good, evil, lying, pit-spawned mech- was treating him as if.... as if Tracks mattered. As if Tracks was somehow important. The implications of that made the Autobot's spark ache, with hope and fear.

Soundwave paused in his petting, staring back into the tri-coloured mech's blue optics. “Assurance: no harm will come to fellow Cybertronians. Distaste: held only for organics.”

“B-but.....,” Tracks stuttered, sitting up as the blue mech began to pull away. “What does that mean? That doesn't explain any of what you're doing right now! To me!”

“Unless....,” the Autobot breathed softly. He anxiously looked down at his chestplates, and the red symbol that decorated his chassis. Slowly, he let the latches lift and his spark be exposed to the atmosphere; bathing the berth and adjacent objects with pearly light. Shyly, Tracks looked up at Soundwave and was almost surprised when a laser bolt was not immediately shot into his open spark chamber. Instead, the Decepticon was gazing at his essence with an expression akin to wonder on his blank faceplates. “I-is.... is this what you've been really trying to get?”

Soundwave did not answer. Silently, he stepped forward, and with a cautious servo, reached up to Tracks' spark. Though it frightened him, the tri-coloured mech did not outwardly flinch or otherwise retaliate against the other 'bot's approach; moaning when those thick fingers gently stroked at his pulsing spark, weaving strands of the orb about his golden digits. Pulling his hand away, Soundwave lifted Tracks up into his arms, pressing their chests together. Tracks still had his spark exposed and it pooled against the glass of the Decepticon's cassette deck; wishing to dip beneath the seams and protective plating to merge with the spark pulsing underneath.

“Am I allowed to make my own assumptions about this situation then?,” the Autobot whispered, gently touching Soundwave's shoulders. Could he really be wanted..... fully and completely, finally?

“Affirmative,” the blue mech answered. “Goal: Keep Autobot safe from organics.... if he decides to remain.”

That sounded almost..... perfect. “I never did get your name,” Tracks remarked, leveling his optics with Soundwave's.

“Designation: Soundwave,” the Decepticon replied quickly. “Autobot's designation?”

“Tracks,” the slim 'bot said. Wrapping his arms around Soundwave's neck tight, Tracks leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to those exposed lip components. “Nice to meet you, Soundwave.”