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The temple is dark, shaded, the black marble smooth to the touch if one properly prostrated themselves. Cloths in a deep purple wind around the marble pillars, thick and hanging with a heaviness that seems to be less about the material and more about the atmosphere they reside in. The sole light comes from behind a statue, backlit to be impressive, awe inspiring.. and intimidating.
Soundwave tips the jug of liquid into one of the basins on either side of the statue, and he watches as it turns into a muddled, curdled pink, like energon that has sat in a dead body for far too long.
He tips his optics up to the statue, searching its face behind his mask. “Do my duties displease you?”
He moves to the other side, pours the remaining liquid. Clean and pink, as if freshly spilled.
“Then it is others?”
The temple remains deathly silent, Soundwave’s head cocked slightly as if listening to the absolute nothing within the dark walls. He bows his head after a moment, setting down his jug. “I understand. It will be dealt with.”
The silence is broken by the sound of a door being pushed open, Soundwave watching as the rare worshiper makes his way to the front of the church.
A phase sixer is a rare sight, let alone a phase sixer in a temple. The larger mech looks unsure, skeptical, and Soundwave folds his hands slowly as he approaches the altar. This was not a temple that was appreciative of skeptics.
“I didn’t expect this place to have priests.” The mech says, his tone immediately betraying how much of a scam he believed this all to be. “I thought the god Tarn would’ve scared most people away. Except the zealots.”
Soundwave doesn’t rise to the bait; he’s had plenty of naysayers come to the temple in his time. He tips his head, watching the phase sixer watch him. If he wants a reaction, he’ll have to do better than that.
“You stay here all the time? Or does the god give breaks from his cult?” He asks again, closer now to the altar. He looks over the deep purple linen, the rivers of clear and congealed energon, and Soundwave, clad in black and red robes draped over his form. He’s fishing still, unwilling to meet Soundwave where he’s at.
“What do you seek from this place?” Soundwave says instead. “You risk looking like a zealot without a proper cause.”
The phase sixer flushes slightly- Soundwave allows himself a slight smile behind the mask- before he rights himself. “I’ve been… dealing with some personal problems. This is kinda my last stop before I hole up somewhere and kill some people.”
Soundwave nods, as if it is something he hears every day. “What is your name, non-believer.”
The other mech blinks. “Overlord- what makes you so sure I’m a non-believer? I’m here aren’t I?”
“You are here, but you do not see. You are here only for your own gain.” He looks him over, slowly. “Time will tell if you are willing to accept His gifts.”
Overlord looks very perplexed; Soundwave doesn’t bother to elaborate. He moves back to the basin, staring at the congealed liquid as if he could make sense of any of it. “Say your prayers, then. We will see if He listens.”
He can feel the larger mech’s eyes on him; it doesn’t bother him much. He shutters his own optics, letting himself simply listen. Overlord kneels in front of the altar- he at least has some manners- and bows his helm. The temple is silent, the light behind the statue pulsing slow and steady, as if a heartbeat.
Soundwave’s optics open with a vibrant pulse, and he looks to the other mech. “You need to leave.”
Overlord blinks out of his reverie, frowning a little at the other mech. Soundwave isn’t sure how much time has passed; it doesn’t matter. He knows what needs to be done. “But-”
“Get out .” Soundwave says firmly, and something in his tone makes even the stubborn phase sixer get to his feet. It didn’t matter. It would be a distraction to have a non-believer here, especially when he knew what needed to be done. He turns away from the altar, slipping through a doorway camouflaged by the dark marble. The home of Tarn’s acolytes, he moves like a shadow through the dimly lit walls.
One of their newest does not hear him coming, but the others have seen Soundwave move with such urgency before. They turn away, unwilling to watch.
“Vos.” Soundwave’s voice does not raise, but it makes a shiver run through the room. The dark plated mech looks up, his red optics a bit confused. Vos’s words come out garbled- inquiries, lies of innocence in neocybex.
“You are a non-believer.” A gasp rushes through the room, whispers chasing each other as Vos’s optics grow wide. He looks around, a little desperate; no one will meet his gaze. There is nothing to be done, once you have been judged.
Soundwave frees his arms, long, thin fingers surprisingly strong as he grips Vos’s faceplate- when had he gotten so close- and something black starts to sneak out from his robes, twisting and prying at Vos’s armor- a gift from their god to his most loyal.
“You are not welcome here.” Soundwave says softly, as the inky black tentacles begin to pry Vos apart.
—
The temple is silent, save for Soundwave’s footsteps, and a soft plk as innermost energon drips onto the floor in a sickly bright green.He cradles his prize in both hands, stained with his actions but his helm held high. He rests the dented spark casing on the altar- splattered with energon and slick, oily substance- and bows to the statue.
“My most honored Tarn. I have done as you asked.” He says simply. And he waits.
For a moment, all is still.
The light behind the statue glows even brighter, suddenly, almost blinding in the dark temple, and the rivers of energon suddenly run bright and clear, only adding to the disorienting effect. Soundwave drops to his knees and shuffles forward, hands cupped, as he dips them into the bright pool. His visor lifts enough so he can bring his hands to his mouth, drinking greedily from what he has collected, hesitating before he takes a second mouthful. Almost waiting for permission. The sloppily gathered energon runs down his chin, the corners of his mouth, and as he drinks it glides down his throat cables, sliding down his chassis and making him shudder as it seems to streak down his frame more than it should. He leans into the fountain, clutching the edge of the stone, and the noise that comes out of him would be humiliating if he wasn’t in the ecstasy of service.
“All that I do is for you.” He says shakily, as if overwhelmed, as if every drop sliding over his plating is a caress for a job well done.
.O.
Overlord’s presence in the temple the following day is a surprise; Soundwave had rather thought he’d scared the other mech off. He watches from his usual perch, a balcony raised above the head of the statue to watch over all, as Overlord approaches the altar, placing a small cube on the steps. Soundwave lifts a browplate- food grade energon as an offering? That was a surprise. Overlord looks up, and he grins a little- shades of relief in his expression.
“Figured I was being watched.” He calls up, tipping his head as he studies Soundwave for any sort of reaction. “Thought I should bring something so I didn’t get kicked out this time.”
“.... I received word of a problem that needed to be taken care of.” Soundwave says, reserved and mechanical as always. “You are free to pray this time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Overlord huffs with amusement. “You seem like you deal with problems pretty quick.”
“I do not tolerate anything that would disrupt the house of Tarn.”
“You might have to learn to tolerate me.” Overlord says, his smile half turning into a leer. “I’ve been told I can be a big problem.”
Soundwave watches him, unimpressed. “You are no more than anything I’ve had to deal with before. You will not be a problem.”
Overlord laughs to himself, bowing his head. “Well, now I’m in my place.” He murmurs with a smirk. Soundwave stares at the back of his helm; it wouldn’t do to kill him, not like this, although he would make a fine offering…
The light behind the statue flickers, and Soundwave turns his gaze away, a little sullen but suitably chastised. Soundwave didn’t exactly know if Overlord would fit in with their flock, but he would respect His wishes all the same.
Overlord leaves after his prayer, seemingly satisfied, and Soundwave begins to count.
It takes Overlord exactly 60 solar cycles, 4 hours, and 12 minutes to return to the temple.
“Still here, are you?” Overlord hums, though his optics are tired, they don’t match the jovial tone of his voice. “You ever take a break or something? Do you even sleep?”
Soundwave doesn’t answer, tipping his helm. “Why did you come back?”
“Maybe I missed your sparkling personality.” Overlord jokes, letting out a sigh when Soundwave doesn’t respond. “You’re a really tough crowd, you know that.”
Soundwave watches.
Overlord rubs his neck, letting out a breath. “... I heard Tarn was good for revenge. I can handle myself but… I need a little extra help, evidently.”
Soundwave’s helm tips to the side slowly. “He isn’t a weapon to wield; he will assist those that truly believe.”
“Yeah I get that part.” Overlord huffs, clearly skeptical. “I’m back aren’t I? Isn’t that enough to prove I believe or whatever.”
Soundwave again says nothing; he will let Overlord come to the light himself.
Overlord tries to wait him out, and he lasts longer than most, before he sighs heavily. “... I’m kind of sick of the whole… “killing machine” thing. So I kindly asked a friend of mine to make up some fake documents to get me anywhere other than the gladiator ring. Instead he sold me out and split. Can’t track him down and nobody’s brave enough to go against the fucks incharge to give me a name.” He jerks his helm at the statue. “This is, quite literally, my last resort.”
Soundwave processes. Then- “You cannot get something for nothing.”
Overlord scoffs. “You fleecing me for credits now?”
“And what would Tarn do with credits?” Soundwave says mildly, keeping his gaze. Overlord frowns a little, and Soundwave continues. “Bring proof of your conviction. Tarn is not an easy god to please.”
Overlord glances over his shoulder, feeling like somehow those stone eyes are watching him too. “He wants an offering? Just to give me a name?”
“Do you do anything for free?” is Soundwave’s answer to that question.
Overlord pauses, looking between the two figures for a moment. “If I bring something back,” He begins, “Tarn will get me what I need?”
Soundwave shrugs slightly. “There is only one way to be sure; it is rude to demand something without offering something in return.”
Overlord huffs, but seems renewed. “I still think you’re running a racket here. I just hope his results are good.”
Soundwave climbs upon the pedestal once Overlord has gone, using his thin fingers to draw away a cobweb attempting to form on one of his broken wings, sliding a finger over the lines of gold holding the pieces together. “I do not think he will be back.” Soundwave murmurs. “I would not waste the effort.”
.O.
Overlord’s arrival is heralded by the loud thump of a sack on the ground, the metal inside sounding hollow. Soundwave blinks, looking up from his prayer book in surprise. This was… not what he expected.
“I’m back with your extortion fees.” Overlord says, a mocking edge to his tone. “Hope this is good enough for the gloomy bastard.”
Soundwave’s hackles raise slightly at that- who was he to disrespect Tarn?- but his doubts are silenced when Overlord pulls out a piece of armor, than another, assembling it carefully until it resembles a mech.
“My latest trophy.” Overlord clarifies, sensing Soundwave is watching him in confusion. “Figured the guy needed to know my worth so… here it is. Proof that I’m not just all talk.”
Soundwave takes a few, uncertain steps toward the altar, looking over the disassembled mech. It was in shockingly good condition, for how brutal his death must’ve been (the optics gouged out told more than enough of a story). Soundwave looks up after a moment, staring into the statue’s face.
“Well? This good enough?” Overlord asks. “Can I say my prayer now or does he want my life savings too.”
Soundwave doesn’t hear him. There are whispers from every corner of the temple- whispers meant just for him. He slowly shutters his optics, letting them overwhelm his senses…
“ Ungh!” Did that noise come from him? It must have. Overlord is staring at him now, mouth half open, as if that entirely inappropriate noise had interrupted his stream of consciousness. Soundwave shutters his optics, cycling air through to cool his frame. It was… difficult to contain himself sometimes, when his lord made direct contact with him.
“Ratbat.” Soundwave says suddenly. “The mech you are looking for is Ratbat. He is hiding in Iacon. He’s killed a senator.”
Overlord blinks at him a few times, looking like he wants to ask what the fuck just happened, but Soundwave shakes his head. “Go, or you will be too late to get what you want. He seeks to go off world.”
“Uh… yeah. Okay.” Surprisingly agreeable, this one. “... Thanks, I guess. To both of you.”
Soundwave tips his helm to look at him. “Do come back. You may find what you currently seek, but we are always here, should you need more.”
Overlord looks back at him. “For a price.”
Soundwave smiles slightly under his mask. “Nothing in this life is free, Overlord.”
Soundwave waits until the door shuts to let the steam out of his frame, climbing the pedestal, pressing his body to the statue and dragging his hands down his chest as if they were interrupted lovers. “You are certain about that one? He is the one you want?”
There is no answer, but the temple is warm, comforting, and Soundwave shudders, rubbing himself against the statue, the scratch of his robes against his plating making him gasp. He wraps a leg around the statue’s hip, lifting himself up to press his mask against the otherworldly face of the statue.
“Then it will be done. He is yours, as you will.”
.O.
The temple is dark as Overlord steps back in, looking around cautiously. It was always so damn quiet here- even with the other acolytes milling around, nobody ever seemed to make a sound. He feels odd, uncomfortable, but his spark has been pulling at him to return ever since that last encounter with Tarn and his most devoted… probably too devoted, if that noise Soundwave had made was anything to go by. Still, though, he couldn’t deny the results; Ratbat had indeed been the mech Overlord was looking for, and his helm had made a very satisfying noise as he crushed it between his palms. He had been able to cobble something together from Ratbat’s files, once the mech was dead, and he was free and clear of the pits… so why did he want to come back to this place.
Soundwave is pouring what looks like energon into the basins near the statue as Overlord approaches, watching as the pink fluid drips down into the rivets dug into the floor. Soundwave doesn’t look at him, but he knows that Soundwave knows he’s there. Any number of sly remarks come to his mouth, but something about the way Soundwave shifts catches his attention first.
The other mech moves shockingly gracefully, hips turning and body sliding to face him, less a creature of metal and circuits and more something that… flowed like water, his dark plating glinting with lines of gold- Soundwave isn’t wearing the usual heavy robes he has been, but is only draped in a thin purple cloth, exposing his frame to Overlord. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking- his curves were heartbreakingly beautiful, lines of gold along his slim waist almost looking like they were holding the plating together. Soundwave’s high fins twitch as Overlord openly stares, still holding the jug that he filled his basins with.
“You returned.”
Overlord blinks himself out of his reverie, shaking his head. To get taken in like that so quickly- maybe Soundwave was more of a siren than he expected. “Yeah, guess I did.” He reaches out, his usual brashness returning to him (though it still feels oddly hesitant, something in him telling him to stay on guard), touching the purple fabric, rubbing it between his fingers. “You know, you should dress like this more. It suits you.”
Soundwave’s masked face doesn’t change- but he didn’t hit him or anything, so there’s that. “Perhaps if you come back, I will.”
Oh, now that- that Overlord didn’t expect. He grins a little, tugging him in by the fabric gently, his engine purring as Soundwave easily steps up to him. “Oh yeah? You think you could treat me right for a little devotion?”
“Maybe.” Soundwave says, infuriatingly calm- how did he do that? “If your devotion is true enough.”
“Oh I can be true enough.” He rumbles, his hand resting on Soundwave’s hip. He never did think very clearly when his spike was in charge. “Maybe I can show you a better time than this stuffy temple-” His hand is crawling up his side as he speaks, intending to draw him closer, when heat spikes through his plating, burning his palm as it rests over the golden lines in his body.
“Fuck-” Overlord tries to snatch his hand away but finds his palm almost fixed in its position, looking up at Soundwave- and finds something looming over him that makes his optics go wide.
A dark figure has its hands on Soundwave’s shoulders, two large black wings enveloping his dearest acolyte, his face deeply scarred and optics a bright, burning red; Tarn smiles at him.
Overlord gasps and yanks his hand back, stumbling back in the quiet temple and nearly falling on his aft. Soundwave looks over curiously, standing by the freshly filled basins across the room. He is pouring what looks like energon into them.
“You returned.”
.O.
The flash of a god had rattled him- more than he had expected. Soundwave was cute, but he had just figured he was a little crazy. He didn’t expect anything… real out of this. He steered clear of the place for a few days, not wanting to get sucked into whatever insanity had taken over such a pretty mech.
By the next week, his paranoia had faded, his interest resumed- Soundwave was perfectly harmless as a mech, and besides, what would he really do to a mech like Overlord? He had probably just been overtired, or hungover or something. No way any of that was real.
The dreams he kept having, of burning red eyes, of ruined wings lined with gold, were just… bad dreams. Only bad dreams.
Instead, he watches Soundwave move through the temple, listening to the low hum of prayer around them as the other acolytes take care of the temple.
“I didn’t expect you to come back.” Soundwave hums, lighting a line of candles. Today’s wrap was a shimmery red, draped over his blue armor; hallucination or not, Soundwave had started wearing more of these see through outfits… and hell, Overlord wouldn’t complain about that. “Not many do, once they have gotten what they want.”
Overlord hums, leaning on his knees. Even he wondered why he kept coming back… but then again, maybe it wasn’t really a mystery, as he watches the gold weaved into his side stretch as he lifts his hand to light another candle. “Maybe I’m just really into the idea of having a revenge god to sick on people.”
Soundwave huffs, pinching out the flame on the edge of his match. “Tarn isn’t an attack dog. Nothing is-”
“Free, I know.” He smirks. “You need to learn to loosen up; it was just a joke.”
“It wasn’t a funny one.” Soundwave says, his back to him so he misses Overlord’s pout entirely. “You should have more faith; irreverence will only take you so far.”
“Faith hasn’t exactly ever worked out for me.” Overlord says dryly, leaning on his knees. “It’s not exactly like I can afford to run on the blind hope someone is going to come through for me.”
“Then you do not understand faith.” Soundwave hums, “You do not understand Tarn. I do not expect him to solve all my problems for me; I solve my own. It is when I am truly in need that he comes for me- it is my devotion that ensures he is there when I need him.”
“Sounds like the same thing to me.” He huffs, watching Soundwave take his own seat, hugging one of his- very attractive- legs. “If I’m in a bad spot I only have me to rely on, not some mysterious figure in the sky that may or may not be listening.”
Soundwave tips his head. “And how has that worked out for you.”
Overlord doesn’t really have an answer to that question.
Soundwave tips his head again, watching him. “I was like you once; proud and stubborn, so sure of my own abilities that I thought I could get nothing from Tarn.” His visor is so very bright, and Overlord feels pinned by his gaze. “It is only when I was ruined that I truly experienced his grace.”
Overlord snorts. “Sounds like a raw deal for you. Your life had to be ruined to get something out of Tarn?”
Soundwave shrugs. “It is not the same for all acolytes. But it leads to the same thing; we are all better than we were.”
Soundwave is as still as a statue, but Overlord’s optics still wander down to stare at the cracks in his side, fuzed together with lines of gold. What had Soundwave allowed his god to do, in the name of being better? He looks over his shoulder, to the center of the temple, to the statue of Tarn.
Its eyes were so very red. Had they always been like that?
“You’re a weird guy, you know that.” Overlord chuckles, easy and cool, but he still felt eyes on the back of his neck.
Soundwave stares at him. “You have no idea.”
.O.
The dreams don’t stop.
.O.
Overlord isn’t quite sure how it happened, but the temple seemed to be adding itself to his daily routine. More and more he would find himself suffocated by the home he’d gotten himself, wandering through the halls pretending there wasn’t an itch at the back of his processor, an itch that only seemed to relieve itself when he stepped into the temple, its darkwalls like a cool embrace around him, washing over his frame and making him finally feel like he could think straight. He did his damnedest to ignore it- doing work that needed to be done, tidying when he had never been a neat person. Everything but leaving his home on his own; even the strictest itinerary on walks seemed like it would take him down the wandering street that led him to the marble steps.
He didn’t want to think of the cult, where Tarn’s red eyes seemed to watch him wherever he went. Where Overlord could swear his plating was getting darker, that his wings twitched, that smiled when Soundwave coaxed Overlord into helping prepare a ceremony.
He feels like he’s going crazy. He might just be.
Above all, he was starting to get annoyed; it was his life, and no one told him how to live it, especially not some weird ass cult and their beautiful- no, Soundwave was manipulative, and cold, and… and…
He stuck like a burr in Overlord’s mind, his sleek frame, his heartbreaking curves, the cool way he observed the world. Overlord had pulled his spike until it hurt thinking about the bizarre mech, it felt like an addiction without ever getting a hit. It was driving him crazy, even as some part of him held him back from actually going over there and rutting into Soundwave’s valve until the hooks he had in him popped out of his processor.
It was infuriating, it was aggravating, and he couldn’t stop it.
He’s left the house- he doesn’t know how long he’s been out of it, but he knows he’s walking. A bottle of highgrade is in his fist, he doesn’t remember when he emptied it, but judging by the way the world swims pleasantly in front of his optics, it can’t have been that long ago. He stumbles a little on the uneven road, but he’s determined to make it where he needs to go. The doors to the temple open with the barest touch, not that he’s aware of it.
“Listen, you fuckin’... you fuckin’ cultist.” Overlord’s voice is naturally loud, but it practically booms through the empty temple. Soundwave watches, unphased, as Overlord storms up to him. “You need to get out of my head. You need to leave me alone. ” He snarls, jabbing Soundwave right in his decepticon symbol. It’s a wonder the glass doesn’t crack.
Soundwave lays his fingertips on his chest, and it feels like a brand. The mask slides back with a pneumatic hiss, and Overlord is shocked into silence. He’s never seen a face like that before- his processor didn’t want to comprehend it, he didn’t know how to comprehend it-
He was so beautiful.
“You are drunk.” Soundwave says in a tone that’s low, heavy with meaning, and Overlord suddenly feels how hot his frame is, overworked and overcharged. “And you wandered all the way here?”
Overlord stumbles like a sparkling and Soundwave pushes him back, guiding him until his pedes hit the stairs of the altar, forcing himself to sit on his aft. Soundwave climbs into his lap, shockingly nimble, spreading his hands over his chest, visor gleaming bright. “I know what you seek.”
Overlord feels like his chest plating is too tight; he can’t manage a full breath as Soundwave pushes him to lie on his back. “We have seen you stare. We know what it is you crave.”
His processor is screaming at him to throw Soundwave off, to sprint home and fall into confusing mess of nightmares until he wakes up from whatever this is, into the dawn of his life. Soundwave cups the sides of his head, sliding back the modesty plating over his crotch. “It is yours, if you are willing.”
Overlord wants to sob- he yanks Soundwave down by the hips, burying his face into the valve he’s been fantasizing about for weeks. Soundwave’s cries aren’t anywhere near modest, shrieks and moans echoing through the temple as he grinds down roughly on the eager lips and tongue. Overlord shutters his optics, lapping at the fat folds around his mouth and wondering deliriously if anything had tasted as sweet.
A sudden acrid taste makes him pull back- Soundwave has one of the jars for the altar, pouring energon down his front. It splatters onto Overlord’s face, his lips, his tongue- the same energon spilled in the gladiator rings he escaped from.
“Drink, and you will know my master.” Soundwave says, his voice distorted and strange. He pulls Overlord’s face back to his valve, and what can he do but dutifully return to his task, lapping and sucking at his node purely for Soundwave’s pleasure.
The heat is gone from Overlord’s face and before he can process that it’s enveloping his spike, moaning half startled, half surprised. Soundwave is no quieter when it’s his aft port getting stretched than getting his valve eaten, taking his spike with a practiced ease Overlord thought only existed in vids.
“Wh- please-” His tongue is thick in his mouth, coated with their lifeblood and Soundwave’s fluids, dazed from the tight heat around his spike but he craves his valve, he thinks after having a taste he might go insane without it.
Soundwave grunts and squeezes his thighs, working his hips up and down roughly, barely giving himself a chance to adjust as he bounces in his lap. “Devotion,” He moans, “will get you all you desire. But tonight is not about you.”
Overlord is dizzy with pleasure when Soundwave is pushed back onto his chest, a noise of delight escaping the smaller mech even as he whines as the motion stops. There’s heat and pressure, and Overlord cracks his optics open when it becomes obvious someone- something?- is fucking into Soundwave’s valve, Soundwave’s cries getting much more hysterically loud as he does.
Those same burning red optics watch him for a moment, a smile playing along the scarred face as Tarn ruts into Soundwave’s valve, his optics turning away from Overlord as he leans in to bite Soundwave’s cables. Soundwave yowls in pleasure and throws his arms around his neck, Overlord too frozen to do anything and lie there, letting Soundwave take his pleasure from both of them. This, he realizes, has never been about him.
“It has always been about you.” Tarn coos suddenly, somehow around him and in his head all at once. “Who else would I let touch my precious luminary?”
Tarn’s talons are like fire as they dig into his faceplate, and it’s agony, it’s worse than anything he’s ever experienced-
“You were mine the moment you came here.”
It’s too much- the world goes dark.
—
Overlord wakes with a shout as he struggles against whatever is tangled in his limbs- he has visions of tentacle, of shadow, of being dragged to the pit- before he realizes he’s just covered in a blanket.
He’s laying just behind the statue, a pillow under his head and a blanket over his large form. Soundwave steps over him to fill the basins.
“Good morning.” He says, amused- no hints of Overlord’s paint on his thighs or his aft. “Do you often stumble around drunk to pass out in a church?”
Overlord stares at him- perfect, pristine- and touches his cheek. The cuts are well healed, as if they happened weeks ago. He licks his dry lips, looking up at him.
“I… made a mess leaving. I don’t think I can go home.”
Overlord could swear Soundwave was smiling.
.O.
He’s seeing things; he has to be. That’s the only explanation for how Soundwave’s belly curves, how his spark chamber pushes outward, and when Overlord looks back he’s back to normal. Soundwave couldn’t be carrying… could he?
More often than not since Overlord had moved into the temple he had found Soundwave in his bed, spending most nights rutting into his valve until he overheated.The sight of Soundwave, moaning and helpless in his berth, was nearly as addictive as any drug. He feels like an addict- he follows Soundwave dutifully, does his prayers and helps fix up the temple when needed, because when he doesn’t Soundwave stays away, he’s left alone in his berth; it feels like he might go more insane on those lonely nights.
It’s… not terrible, living in the temple. It’s more lively than he thought- and most weren’t nearly as intense as Soundwave. He wasn’t quite adjusted to how damn unnerving the statue of Tarn was, but… maybe he could get away with being one of the less devoted followers… He couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving, of not being with Soundwave.
But if he was carrying, Overlord wanted to know , at least. As far as he knew, he was the only one Soundwave was interfacing with- he’d dismissed visions of Tarn as a bad trip (or exhaustion, or a nightmare, or… anything but the idea that a god could just appear in their berth)- so he had to be the one responsible.
Only… Soundwave wouldn’t give him an answer. Just that same smile and a kiss, and the mystery remained. He could look at Soundwave and see him heavy with sparklings, nearly bent from the weight, and when he looks back he’s the same frame he’s always hand, smooth and sleek and.. And maybe Overlord was going crazy.
He should have known. He should have known it was never as simple as seeing things.
Overlord wakes alone; not a surprise, as Soundwave generally rises earlier than him, so he takes his time to stretch and gather himself before he goes in search of his lover.
What greeted him instead was a cry of pain, high and primal, that sent shivers up his spine. He starts to run, everything a bit of a blur as the cries get louder and louder, skidding to a stop in the main chamber.
Soundwave howls in the middle of a basin, the statue of Tarn holding a jug that seems to pour a never ending stream of energon from it. His legs spread wide, it takes Overlord a second to realize that Soundwave is actively in labor.
“Overlord!” The smaller mech sobs, reaching for him. “Overlord, please !”
He stumbles forward, his knees hitting the energon with a splash. It’s bright, so bright- he had been right, Soundwave was carrying- why hide it? How long had it been? He felt like they hadn’t been at this long enough to have sparklings… had they?
Soundwave’s noises are deep, gutural, and he drags his fingers down Overlord’s plating painfully; it feels as though he’s trying to drag his cables out from inside him. The gold on Soundwave writhes and cracks, black oozing out as tentacles slide against the thinning gold, whatever Tarn had put inside him rebelling against his labor. Soundwave cups the back of his helm in an iron grip, his voice hoarse from screaming. “Catch it- please, don’t let it die-”
He howls loud enough to make his audials ring, and Overlord gasps as he’s forced to lean over Soundwave- energon like a bolt of freezing lightning down his back as Tarn soaks them both in energon. Soundwave’s mask is gone, and he stares into that horrifying, beautiful face as the other mech bears down and screams.
Something- Overlord has no idea what- falls into his palms- when did he get between Soundwave’s legs? The mass writhes in his hands, black and wet and surprisingly soft. Soundwave sobs in relief, his body still shaking. “Oh… oh, yes, he is so generous… what a gift he gives you.”
Overlord feels like he’s frozen- he is frozen. The- he can’t even call it a child, whatever Soundwave had birthed, is wrapping itself around his plating, feeling blindly as it drags itself up his arms. A probing tentacle reaches one of the deep gashes Soundwave has left, squirming itself into the wound on his plating. Overlord moves as though fighting through jelly, ineffectually pawing at his arm as the spawn squirms and pushes itself through his system determinedly- it burns as it moves, and Overlord wants to open his mouth to scream-
Oh, but the bliss hits him just right; he understands. Why would he fight it? This must be what Soundwave feels like all the time. Warmth and blessings in his spark- he can hear music from far away. This he understands, this he can’t fight. Why would he? Tarn had given him so much, through his most devoted.
Soundwave pulls Overlord close, moaning softly in pain as another of Tarn’s gifts falls from him, squirming in the energon. “Didn’t I tell you?” He whispers, wiping the tears from Overlord’s content faceplate, the black liquid dripping from his mouth. “Devotion will get you all you desire.”
“I am generous, to those that believe.” Tarn’s voice renews Overlord’s sobs, these ones overwhelmed with devotion. The god steps off his pedestal, kneeling in the blood that somehow doesn’t stain his plating, sparing a moment to look at Soundwave with absolute fondness. “I told you he would believe.”
“I do- I do.” Overlord can barely gasp it out, bowing his helm and shivering as Tarn places a hand on it.
“All I do will be for you.”