Solace of Scribbles: Shockwave
Scritch, scritch.. Rub rub.. Scritch scritch.
Shockwave just lays there listening to the sound of his lover… no, he still can’t believe it. Mate! Yes he actually has a mate. And not just any mate, the one he endlessly pined away for. If he believed in Primus he would thank him, but for now, he will accept the fact that fate and grace have been kind to him for… he feels doesn’t deserve it.
Humm, humm, huh-humm, da-da humm…
The purple helm refuses to budge for if he does, he knows this precious moment will shatter like a soup bubble. No, he will just sit here and listen to the scratching and humming making music together in the darkening room. The sun is falling and he has no idea how long he has napped and quite honestly, he doesn’t care. He has no place to be tomorrow.
Currently the project has been to dismantle Nemesis and his Tower. Last week he had helped Megatron pull anything personal and unmilitary related into storage. Right now, they only need the bare necessities until a more formal plan can be made for what to do with the deposed Decepticon Warlord and his Guardian of Cybertron. On top the fact that Ratchet is working diligently to heal and de-tox the gunformer.
While Megatron seals is days in his room and seeing Ratchet, Shockwave has been working hard with Soundwave, Prowl, Jazz yes even Starscream to strip whatever can be useful to the New World Order of Cybertron. It’s been hard on his spark to watch everything Lord Megatron had fought so hard to build be… stripped for melt down or assimilation into the Autobot equipment. No, not Autobot, what are they? Cybertron. Yes, this is the New Cybertron, exactly what Megatron wanted. And new world. He did not fail, he succeeded. And in the end, his greatest achievement is not the new government, but a new life for himself with… a mate… Shockwave.
Humm, hummm, da-da, hummm…. Scritch scritch…..
No, not now. Shockwave refused to think about why his body hurts in all that manual labor to his creations, his bridges being move and removed.
“Nuh…” he groans and digs his head under the pillow. No, no, just …. He breathes heavily and listens to what he does have, not what is lost. A light chuckle comes from the desk.
Yes, Shockwave knows exactly what his mate is doing. He’s drawing. Sketching and most likely of him, asleep. And he flushes knowing it. He wants to reach down and pull the sheet over his whole body, but then that would give it away that he is awake. He refuses to deny his mate and Lord his solace. Yes, he is aware of what drawing is to the mech.
Carefully he cracks his lone optic to a peek. His spark flutters. A lone lamp on the desk lights the pad setting a soft glow to his mate’s face. Completely focused on the pad, Shockwave is sure he has blanked out everything else. Maybe he won’t even notice his violet lover watching him. Shockwave smiles against the berth continuing to watch.
Once or twice, while Soundwave had been healing or getting caught up on something else, Shockwave had taken over monitoring duty. One night, late when everyone was asleep, Shockwave caught movement out on the officer’s exterior deck. And there he found his Lord with a tablet and a marker. Careful to not be noticed, Shockwave zoomed in with the security camera. What he saw his beloved Lord drawing both awed and horrified him. It was an immensely graphic scene of ripping someone apart. The gore, made his tank roil. The incredible skill to the fine details made him unable to turn away.
The shadows, the individual segments to a mutilated vital organ, the texture to the spilled oil and saliva. The carnage and depth to the scene was … to be appreciated. More than two thousand words could be said about what that picture represents. But on the other hand, the mind of an individual who can do this… and he knows his Lord can do this damage with his own hands, for he’s seen it. Quite easily this could be an image from the silver mind‘s memory.
And then he watched the most amazing thing. Megatron tore the paper off, and lit it on fire. He just stared and watched as the flames slowly licked and curled up the paper dropping bits of ash to the ground. Incredible.
Shockwave just couldn’t believe that an artist would take that much time and detail to a piece and then watch it burn up in his own hands.
The red optics went wide, smile growing broader and broader complete with fangs showing. Like a sparkling with a new toy. Nooooo, he can see the drool slipping off the fang, and that curl to the hip. Oh shit! His mighty leader is aroused?
Shockwave found himself swallowing hard watching lust overcome his master’s face and wishing it was him that his Lord and Deliverer was setting aflamed.
Luckily, the Autobots attacked saving the purple mech some dignity.
Now, the golden optic has had a taste of his Master’s lust and ever so grateful he can bring that same light to his face when he cries out his name in overload. But that is a minor warmth to his spark knowing what his body is doing to his beloved master-mate right now. This makes his spark a raging inferno of blue and gold fire.
For the look on the silver face is not one of angst in trying to pull an image out of his head a make it go away. No, this is a serine look. One of pleasant comfort and relaxation. The shoulders are curled over, but comfortable. The head lowered turning this way and that to make sure the image is perfect. Brows cock unevenly in concentration. The cutest is the lone fang sticking out over the lower lip and being played with by the pointed tongue tip while his throat still hums along.
“Shit,” the soft voice hisses stopping his song. His helm lifts and Shockwave shuts his optic making him look still asleep. A drawer is heard carefully opening and closing so not to disturb the other serine mech.
When the humming begins again, the golden optic steals a peek and his spark swells. Glasses?! He secretly wears glasses?!! What other secrets does the mech possess?
Shockwave continues to watch and take comfort in watching his troubled mech in a moment of simple sweet comfort. It frazzles his mind that it is he is the solace of a master leader. A feared leader. A deadly leader. A mech of extreme power. One that made the governing power of one of the most powerful and influential planets in the universe fall. And yet he …
Finds comfort in merely drawing his smaller lighter, insignificant body asleep in his berth. The mech could (and has) had any one he wanted, yet… he is the one he reached out to in his most vulnerable state? When he finally was afraid for his own life, it was his lilac palm the black one reached for? And then, when his world was crumbling both physically, politically, and …just everything he fought and bled for being ripped away, it was lonely Shockwave he turned to for comfort and solace.
Shockwave nuzzles his face into the sheets that smells of them both. Megatron’s tangy scent of powerful firm-hard grasp mixed with Shockwave’s own sweet cleansing scent of light grace and quiet softness.
“Shockwave?” the voice stops humming again.
“He’s not here,” Shockwave’s groggy voice croaks from his hidden fort under the pillow too afraid to open his optic and see this is all a dream and he‘s back… anywhere but here in the reality of living with the one he loves.
The chair scoots back. The light snaps off leaving their berth room a glow in moon light. Kneeling at Shockwave’s side, the hard cruel hand pushes the soft pillow aside, “Look at me.”
Al though he can hear him breathing in the dark, the fearful purple helm shakes, “No, you can’t leave me now… stay with me some how.”
“Oh my Shockwave,” he breathes harder and leans in. In the darkness, his lips softly touch his hope. Warmly, he takes his rock of salvation’s worries away. His kiss starts as gentle as a caress and then presses in. It melds from a caress of support to melding pleasure, rolling the mech to his back.
Shockwave tries to pull back, feeling unworthy of this pleasure, but Megatron cups the back of his helm denying his security to retreat from it’s due treasure. “Come with me, Shockwave.”
Too afraid to believe, Shockwave chokes, “Where?”
“Where the pleasure lives.”
With that, the ebony tips touch his mate’s chest above the pulsing blue. It denies “I don’t-”
“Nor do I,” the golden spark pangs back.
Shockwaves reaches out and touches Megatron’s face. Even in the dark, he would know every line and every crease. No, he is no artist, but he knows exactly what beauty is. It’s not the physical, it’s the depth of the spark. No matter how black and cold everyone else thinks this mech’s is, he knows his mech’s spark burns with a raging passion. A passion yearning to be understood by himself so he knows how to properly share it with his lifeline for a life time.
Arching up, Shockwave takes the other cheek. In the dark lit only by the moonlight (for Shockwave refuses to look), pulls him closer. “Show me where the magic lives.”
Megatron begins to pant. How can this being do this to him? He is crumbling, falling to pieces. And he doesn’t care. “It lives within your golden sunlight…”
Now Shockwave is panting. He knows they will have more than a life to share if he can find a way to mend this broken scarred spark. He is no fool, it will be a hard road, but he will not give up easily. Suffering in bringing Megatron pleasure shall be his greatest achievement.
“No, Shockwave… that is my duty.” Shockwave hitches wondering if Megatron actually heard his thoughts as the myth says.
Kissing him warmly once again in the softness of their darkness, some how gets Shockwave to understand, that his greatest triumph will not be conquering a world. It will be becoming Shockwave’s world.
Curling his arms around Megatron’s neck, brings the scarred chest to his pristine one. Rolling to the side, Megatron has Shockwave cover his darker frame. Submissive, maybe to some. “Please Shockwave, I need you. I do not understand how or why and a I do not care to understand.”
The logical mech is too mewled. His mate’s hands are caressing his form as if making sure he got every line right. It’s not for arousal. It’s for his own confirmation that this being before him is real. And not just any body with him, but one who is his comfort and solace. His hope. It is possible for him to just hold it and breathe with it. Is it possible that his real Purple Hope has arrived, finally?
Shockwave leans in and kisses him hungrily, he is in need of more. He needs to feel his beloved pleasure. To share in it. To taste it together.
Spent, Shockwave doesn’t release him. Instead, drops his own helm on top of his mate’s wrapping his arms around it.
“Never let me go.”
“Stay with me some how.”