#any continuity

Maintenance. Of all the things Megatron hated— of which there were many— maintenance was certainly up there on the list. Sure, a good oil bath and buffing was nice, but everything else about maintenance dragged on far longer than Megatron had the time to deal with.

Luckily for him, he had an extremely loyal intelligence officer who was more than willing to assist him at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how lord Megatron found himself sitting in his bulky but bare throne with Soundwave sitting in his lap. The cassette carrier’s legs straddled the warlord’s thighs, keeping him in place as he carefully picked through his tangled internals. While Megatron would prefer to do this in the privacy of his own hab, he wasn’t foolish enough to leave his troops alone to govern themselves for longer than a few joors— and even that was pushing it.

Thankfully, Soundwave was being relatively quick about his work.

As if to directly contradict that thought, a particularly tangled bunch of wires gave Soundwave enough trouble for him to firmly tug against the obstacle. Megatron, for his part, reacted with decent poise and gave no more than a moan at the sudden stimulation, digging his digits into the armrests as he kept himself in line. When the sensation ebbed, Soundwave gave a garbled hum in apology before continuing in his goal.

In an attempt to distract himself, Megatron picked up a data pad to check things off or deny unnecessary requests, but didn’t get very far as the feeling of Soundwave’s deft digits digging deeper into his components made him tense and his hips buck despite his best efforts. A groan escaped him, the warlord biting down on his derma to stifle himself and hopefully save his pride somewhat.

It didn’t go unnoticed, however. Nothing ever snuck past Soundwave’s sensors.

“Lord Megatron: willing to proceed?”

“Of course,” said lord scoffed, pretending like that lapse in control hadn’t happened, “Continue.”

“Permission to hardline?”

Megatron raised a single brow ridge, “Is there a reason for it?”

“Reason: tracking progress and insuring no damage is done.”

“I highly doubt you of all mecha would purposefully injure me— if you even could.”

“Hardline: not necessary, but may assure comfort.”

That not only got another scoff from him, but also a roll of his optics. Since when had Megatron ever concerned himself with his own comfort? He’d experienced far worse things than wire management.

“Do whatever you please,” he relented hesitantly, “Within reason, of course.”

“Affirmative.”

Coaxing the data port in Megatron’s thigh open, Soundwave then opened his own with a click and pulled their data cables out. Carefully plugging them into their respective ports, Megatron hissed once the connection initiated and foreign code began circulating through his own. It had been quite some time since he hardlined with another being and it was unfortunately obvious.

“Lord Megatron: experiencing discomfort?”

Apparently, it had been a while since Soundwave had hardlined too, considering the feeling pulsing through the warlord was anything but uncomfortable. Primus, why hadn’t he done this with the intel specialist sooner? Outside of his inherent lack of trust in anyone, what had held him back?

“N… no discomfort,” he grit out, trying to keep any incriminating noise from escaping and making a fool of himself, “Continue.”

Soundwave obeyed, almost eagerly so, and reinvigorated his efforts. Despite all of Megatron’s best attempts, short gasps and moans left his intake without his permission and were no doubt ruining his carefully curated reputation as a hardened battlemech. He was suddenly very glad that both Starscream and Shockwave were too busy with their own tasks to witness such a pathetic scene. Starscream would undoubtedly use this to his advantage somehow, knowing that little squeaky traitor.

“Relax.”

Somehow, that gentle order did something stranger to his internals than the servos currently organizing them. Megatron swallowed a moan when the other mech untangled a tight cord and relief flooded his system, only to stare wide-eyed in shock when Soundwave seemingly moaned on his behalf. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to understand why that had happened.

“You’ve made it a two-way connection,” he spoke unevenly, more so a statement than a question.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave confirmed, struggling to keep his hips from jerking, “Query: is it a problem?”

Megatron, finally finding some footing instead of feeling like a lost scraplet on an organic planet, brought his large servos from the throne’s armrests up Soundwave’s thighs, receiving a shudder that echoed through the hardline and left phantom sensations across his own thigh guards. A knowing smirk found his faceplate, a new warmth spreading through his systems as his arousal began to steady in its rise.

“No problem at all, Soundwave,” he glanced up at the mech working on him with a half-lidded look, “My most loyal servant.~”

A more violent shudder wracked Soundwave’s frame, a staticky whine emanating from deep within his rectangular chassis. A wave of heat pulsed through the warlord’s lines, making him groan in second-hand pleasure. He couldn’t help the fond chuckle that escaped him.

“Had I known you enjoyed praise in berth as much as you do in your work, I would have rewarded you far sooner.~”

A long moan escaped the usually quiet mech, servos tensing and tugging at Megatron’s few unkempt wires. That combined with the connection made his back strut bow, his voice box crackling as he invented sharply.

“Or, perhaps, I may have allowed you to maneuver me however you see fit?” the normally self assured warrior found himself hesitant yet still offering, “Allow you control and I as your humble servant.~”

A tactile overload, blinding and sudden, overtook both simultaneously, likely initiated by Soundwave. A long, beautiful klik passed where Megatron clung to the intel officer’s thick thighs and Soundwave planted his servos against the back of the throne to keep himself from pinning the warlord when they came down. And when they did, the quiet that filled the vast room was far more comfortable now than it had been in the beginning of this menial task Megatron hated.

With a weak huff of a laugh, Megatron placed his helm crest again Soundwave’s chassis and vented hard as he recovered.