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Skywarp strides confidently into the command center, a single datapad in hand. His third report directly to Lord Megatron, and this time he won't screw it up - this time, he has notes.
Two banks of computers line the walls to his left and right, mechs hooked into each terminal; he doesn't really know what they do, except that it looks boring as the Pit. They don't move, they don't talk, they just stare almost vacantly at the terminal screens, optics occasionally brightening or slowly dimming. Directly in front of him is the holomap table, lit up to display the defensive perimeter around Protihex. Staring down at it, hands clasped behind his back and lips pressed into a tight line, is Lord Megatron himself.
"Sir," Skywarp says, stopping a respectful three mechanometers away from the edge of the table and standing to attention.
Megatron looks up. His optics gleam darkly as they pass over Skywarp, and the line of his mouth curves up, just slightly. "Skywarp. Excellent." The holomap reconfigures itself with a shimmer of light, and Megatron beckons him forward. "What is the situation in Praxus?"
Skywarp sets his datapad down on the table, leaving it powered down for now: He knows this part - the notes are for later. His fingers tap twice over the pad's screen, nervously, before he forces them still.
"Starscream reports continued success, sir," he says. Normally it would be Starscream standing here, raspy voice grating over the command center. But Starscream and Thundercracker, both more experienced than Skywarp, and higher ranking, have been assigned by Megatron to oversee the Praxus and Tyrex campaigns, respectively. This has put them in the strange situation of reporting their progress twice each orn to Skywarp, and Skywarp compiling that information into a full report for Megatron every third orn.
"Mm," Megatron rumbles, low and pleased, as he moves around the table to stand just beside Skywarp. He's close enough that the warm air from his vents washes over Skywarp's left wing.
"Autobots remain well fortified inside the inner city walls, here," Skywarp continues, leaning forward to highlight the indicated area on the holomap. "But they've been pushed back from the outer city. That's under Starscream's control, now."
"Under Decepticon control," Megatron corrects. His hand brushes lightly over the back of Skywarp's wing in mild rebuke, and Skywarp shivers.
"Ah... yes, sir. Of course."
"Continue." Megatron's hand does not leave his wing, the warm weight of it a subtle distraction, but Skywarp ignores the way his circuits are starting to heat up.
"Squads are located, ah... here, here, and here," he says, pointing out the positions on the holomap; they light up dark purple as he touches them. "And here, and here as well. Keeping the Autobots pinned down."
Megatron leans forward as well, stroking across the back of Skywarp's wing as he taps the last indicated position, zooming the map in on it. "And the strategic importance of this location?"
"I, ah..." A cooling fan clicks on in Skywarp's chassis, and he glances at the datapad with his notes. He doesn't need it yet, though. He can remember this. "The other locations are all the wall gates, but, um, this one is where the wall is in bad repair. A, a glitchmouse infestation that never got cleaned up, or something."
Megatron's hand traces the line of Skywarp's wing stripe, from tip to base, then trails down his torso to his hip plating, utterly nonchalant. Skywarp tries not to squirm. His systems are definitely running hot now, his receptive equipment cycling up into readiness.
"Starscream's keeping an optic on it because, ah... with the gates blocked off, that would be the easiest spot for the Autobots to attempt a counterattack from. If they wanted to push back."
"I see," Megatron says, sliding his palm over the contour of Skywarp's aft. "And does Starscream not intend to exploit this weakness to gain access to the inner city?"
Skywarp bites his lip, his optics flickering and cooling fans speeding up with a quiet whine. He composes himself after just a moment; Megatron asked him a question and he needs to answer, no matter how hard it's getting to concentrate.
"No, sir. Ah, not yet. The Autobots are... are aware of the weakness. They have their own squad posted on the inside, and-- ohhh, frag." So saying because three of Megatron's fingers have dipped between his thighs to press firmly against the panel covering his port, and it's all he can do not to grind down against them.
"Is there a problem, Skywarp?" Megatron asks, neutral tone belying the heavier idle of his own engine.
Skywarp's vocaliser clicks as he resets it. The lubricant reservoir behind his oral cavity feels dry; drained back into his main lubricant drum to be rerouted toward his interfacing unit, maybe. He wonders if that really happens for a moment, before forcing his thoughts back to the report.
"No, sir, there's no problem, sir." He's learned, after the previous two times, that if he gives in to the distraction, the touches stop, and then he has to squirm through the rest of his report before finding somewhere private to jack off, all while thinking of Megatron's powerful hands on him. That isn't going to happen this time. He has notes to keep him on track.
"The, ah, the Autobots have their own squad stationed on the other side of the wall, sir, and Starscream's plan is to break through the Parade Gate instead."
Megatron makes a sound of acknowledgement, his fingers drumming a sharp pattern over Skywarp's panel. Skywarp shifts his stance in response, parting his legs slightly, leaning just a little farther forward, and flaring his wings. He drags the map sideways to show a close up image of the Parade Gate instead; it's huge and ornate, a symbol of the decadence of the upper class mechs they're fighting against.
"This is the least defensible spot surrounding the inner city," Skywarp says, trying not to moan as Megatron's fingers scrape over his panel. It clicks open without his even commanding it, loud in the relative quiet of the command center, and he glances back over his wing toward the mechs at the terminals. He half expects them to be staring at him disapprovingly, but they're ignoring him and Megatron, entirely focussed on whatever work they're doing. Megatron, on the other servo, looks immensely pleased.
"Continue, Skywarp," he says, fingers hovering so close to Skywarp's valve he can almost feel them. Almost, but not quite, and he gets the message: continue, and Megatron will continue; stop, and Megatron will stop.
Lubricant dribbles down his thigh from his open valve. He doesn't want Megatron to stop.
"Starscream, ah... Starscream says it's, uh..."
Skywarp pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. What had Starscream said about the gate?
Megatron shifts impatiently behind him, ready to move away, and Skywarp scrambles to say something.
"Built to look pretty!" he blurts out, and it's not the words that Starscream used but Megatron doesn't seem to mind, his engine rumbling and one finger touching the rim of Skywarp's valve, tracing a circle around it through the gathering lubricant. Skywarp fumbles with his datapad, switching it on and scrolling through his notes to give himself something to concentrate on other than the sudden rush of pleasure at the touch.
"Designed to be decorative instead of functional," he reads, and that's enough to remind him of what he needs to say. "It's too big to defend easily and its outposts are placed awkwardly. Starscream thinks they can force it open in another orn or two."
"Good," Megatron says. "And he is aware of the Autobot reinforcements mobilising out of Yuss?" His finger presses into Skywarp's valve as he speaks, up to the second knuckle, but his voice gives no indication of it.
"Yes!" Skywarp moans, clenching around the invasion. Megatron's fingers are thicker than his own, and the feel of just one pressing into him is... not what he's supposed to be thinking about right now. "I mean, uh, yes, sir," he corrects. "Starscream's got squads posted..." He pauses as the map zooms out again, then highlights the seven squad locations around the Praxus perimeter, squirming as Megatron's finger begins shallowly thrusting, just hard enough to make him want more. "And there are, ahh, there are patrols between each squad's location every quarter joor, and constant aerial surveillance. They've already stopped three Autobot supply and relief parties."
Megatron's engine rumbles, pleased, and Skywarp is certain he can feel the vibrations of it through the finger in his valve. "Excellent. I expect the supplies were confiscated for Decepticon use."
"Yes, Lord Megatron," Skywarp says, looking to his notes again. They're a little hard to read, with his processor putting a higher priority on the pleasure signals coming from his valve, but he focusses. "Seven hundred units of energon, medical supplies, and, ah, some datapads with encrypted information. Soundwave is ohhh, frag, sir, I-"
Skywarp cuts off, panting. Megatron is obviously pleased by the stuff Starscream's gotten from the Autobots, because there's a second finger pumping in and out of Skywarp's valve now. The rhythm doesn't change but the stretch is enough to distract him from what he was saying completely. His thighs tremble with the effort of keeping him upright, and he can feel lubricant seeping into his joints where it's leaked from his dripping valve.
"Soundwave is doing what, Skywarp?" Megatron asks, and there's a dangerous edge to his voice. His fingers slow down to a torturous pace, scraping over the walls of Skywarp's valve and pausing when they've drawn almost all the way out. Skywarp whines, his valve clutching hungrily at their retreat, trying to pull them back in, but Megatron refuses to move them. "Continue."
"Soundwave is... Soundwave is decrypting the information, sir," Skywarp gasps. "Starscream sent the datapads to him and he's figuring them out." He barely keeps from begging Megatron to keep going; that would break the rules for certain. "Soundwave's had them for an orn and a half now," he says instead, remembering that detail that he hadn't written down and hoping the extra information will convince Megatron that he's paying attention.
"Excellent. I expect he will have results for me soon," Megatron says, pressing smoothly back into Skywarp's valve and teasing at the anterior node with his thumb.
Skywarp puts a hand on the holomap table to steady himself, fighting to keep his tone calm when he says, "Yes, sir, probably."
"Mm." Megatron's free hand settles heavily on Skywarp's wing as his fingers continue pumping his valve; in any other situation the touch would have felt threatening, but right now it has Skywarp biting back a moan. "And what about--"
"Lord Megatron!"
Skywarp can feel Megatron's frown at the interruption in the way the fingers of the hand on his wing clench, scraping over his paint.
"What is it?" he growls.
Turning his helm to see who's talking, Skywarp sees one of the console mechs standing from his chair, looking concerned. The mech glances at Skywarp, then at Skywarp's aft, then at Megatron, and Skywarp tenses up with embarrassment, but whatever the mech is thinking, he doesn't make any comment.
"Unsecured Autobot transmissions from Base Delta-Delta-Two, sir, ident code Praxus-Roster-Orbit-Seven-Seven, requesting communication with Decepticon Command."
"Patch it through," Megatron says, before pressing closer to Skywarp, his heated vents washing over his wings and back. "Stay quiet, and do not overload until I tell you to," he rumbles quietly, right next to Skywarp's audial sensor. "I will expect the rest of your report when I am finished with this."
"Yes, sir," Skywarp says, a shiver going up his backstruts and through his wings. Megatron rumbles approval, and his fingers twist in Skywarp's valve in a way that almost makes his knees buckle.
"Autobot Base Delta-Delta-Two, this is Decepticon Command," Megatron says. "What is the purpose of your communication?"
"Decepticon Command, this is Autobot Commander General Prowl." The voice that comes over the comm channel sounds like a boring fragger, and Skywarp tunes him out in moments. Megatron is paying attention to Commander Boring though, which means that Skywarp doesn't have to think about his report anymore, and he loses himself in the feel of Megatron's thrusting fingers, the heavy pressure of his hand on Skywarp's wing, the hot rush of air from his vents and the rumble of his voice as he talks to the Autobot.
Commander Boring is saying something about civilian relief parties and critical supplies when a third finger joins the two already in Skywarp's valve, and he can't mute his vocaliser fast enough. The Autobot pauses for a moment, and Megatron leans forward so that the front of his chassis presses against Skywarp's back, the vibrations from his engine travelling through both their plating and making Skywarp moan.
"Quiet, Skywarp," Megatron says, low enough that the comm equipment probably doesn't pick it up. "I told you to be quiet."
"Yes, Lord Megatron," Skywarp gasps. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Hmm." The sound is not entirely pleased, and Skywarp leans his weight back against the larger mech just a little, shimmying his hips as temptingly as he can. Please don't stop please don't stop please, he thinks desperately, but he doesn't dare say it aloud.
"It seems I do not have your full attention," the Autobot finally says, stiff and offended.
"You have enough of it," Megatron says.
Without thinking, Skywarp huffs. "More than you deserve," he grumbles. Megatron's attention should be on good, loyal Decepticons, not boring Autobot officers.
"Skywarp," Megatron says sharply, and all at once Skywarp's valve is empty, his plating gone cold where Megatron had been touching him. "I have been more than patient with you. Sit. I will hear the remainder of your report when I am finished here."
Skywarp does as he's told, and he even thinks he manages it without pouting. He's sure he sees the console mech who looked at his aft earlier smirking, though.
It's another three joor before Skywarp finally gets some time to himself, and by the time he sprawls out on his berth and grabs for his panel, he's squirming for release. He's been thinking about Megatron's hands all shift, and it's lucky his trine isn't here to see how distracted he was during maneuvers. They would have laughed him out of the sky. His circuits burn with embarrassment. Or maybe it's lust?
Yeah, definitely lust. He doesn't even bother letting his spike extend, just plunges three fingers into his dripping valve.
"Ohhh. Oh, frag." It's not as good as it was with Megatron, but Skywarp imagines his fingers are longer, thicker, more powerful, and-- "Ohh, frag, yes, Lord Megatron! Ah! ah, sir, please!"
His fingers twist and curl and pump, mimicking the way Megatron had fragged him in the command room, and he lets out every moan and shout and whimper that he'd held back. His vision is whiting out, charge high enough to peak and come crashing down at any moment when he remembers: do not overload until I tell you to.
He sobs, slowing down the pace of his thrusting just enough to hold himself on the edge, and opens up a comm line to Megatron, a personal liberty he would never take if he was thinking straight. Please answer please answer please--
« Skywarp. » Megatron's voice is even, but it's obviously a question.
« Lord Megatron, » Skywarp says. « I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but-- ah! nnngh, please, please can I overload, sir? »
There's surprised silence over the line for several moments, and Skywarp is starting to think he got it wrong, he should have just fragged himself to overload and forgotten about it, when Megatron finally speaks.
« Yes, » he says, slow and pleased. « You have my permission, Skywarp. »