[RP Log] (Insert joke about the one-armed man)
Summary: Tracks finds Bonecrusher outside, and things go from serious conversation to, uh, playing with open wounds. Imagine Blackout hovering somewhere in the distance at some point, because this is the one that leads to Blackout and Bonecrusher's Epic Fight Log and Tracks and Blackout's little " discussion" later on.
Tracks: *Tracks' mood had yet to really improve since earlier in the day by the time he was headed outside. He wasn't exactly angry, just... well, maybe somewhat. In any case, he realized he should go see Bonecrusher, if not for an explanation than at least so he did something besides sit in his room and sulk all day.
So, exiting the base in his alt-mode, at a speed probably not quite safe, he went looking for the mining vehicle near the last place they'd met*
Bonecrusher: *Tracks knows Bonecrusher eerily well, really, considering the Buffalo vehicle hasn't exactly moved from his spot. Well, a little. He moved a whole five feet! As far as he's concerned, that's a valid reason to deny any and all loitering-around-doing-nothing charges that might be brought up. He's also drinking, but since when has that ever been a surprise? Though, he's kind of wondering if he's had too much to drink, since he's hearing out-of-place noises like a nice engine roaring in his direction. Eh, another cube will solve that problem.*
Tracks: *Tracks approaches and, when he finds Bonecrusher unsurprisingly in the same spot as before, he accelerates a little to circle him a couple times, kicking up gritty sand and rocks before pulling into a skid that stops just near the other mech.* ::I hope you're not averse to some company.:: *Less a request and more of a statement, sounding a little sour maybe*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher isn't against the other's company, but he looks pretty unimpressed by Tracks' little display of speed and decent brakes.* :: NOT PARTICULARLY CARIN' HERE, GORGEOUS. :: *He shifts and takes a swig of his cube, looking over the Corvette idly* :: CAN'T SAY 'M NOT A LIL' SURPRISED, THOUGH - FIGURED YOU WERE MAD AT ME 'BOUT SOMETHIN' OR OTHER. BUT LOOKIT YOU, OUT AN' ABOUT. ::
Tracks: *Tracks would be miffed if he had done it to be impressive - as it is he feels a tiny bit better for having blown off some steam, so to speak* ::I'm not mad. Not with you, in any case.:: *He transforms with a bit of a shake to get the worst of the dust off of him, moving closer with a slight scowl, hands clenched loosely at his sides*
Bonecrusher: *The Decepticon tilts his head a bit to look at Tracks, before shrugging and grabbing a cube from the ground, holding it out for the Corvette.* :: SCOWLIN' DOESN'T SUIT YOU. WHO'RE Y'MAD AT, THEN, IF IT ISN'T ME? :: *Truth be told, it's rather rare for someone to be mad in Bonecrusher's vincinity and not be mad at him, so he's got to pry a little* :: ANYONE I CAN GET M'HANDS ON IN PARTICULAR? ::
Tracks: *He takes it, managing not to snatch despite the petty little urge. Taking a good drink of it, he finally lowers the cube with a dismissive flick of his wings* ::No one. Fate. Primus, I don't even know.:: *Turning, he sits down heavily beside the mining vehicle, not even bothering to leave the usual amount of discreet space between them for when they're in public. His cube sloshes a little and he takes another drink, the frown lightening but not disappearing entirely yet* ::I just wish I didn't feel like I don't know what use it is to be an Autobot anymore.::
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher lifts his free hand and puts it on Tracks' shoulder, giving the tire there a light squeeze - not exactly all that lightly, to be honest* :: CAN'T DO MUCH 'BOUT TH' FATE THING, GORGEOUS. 'S KINDA A CLUSTERFUCK FER EVERYONE. :: *He takes a drink himself, looking out towards the barrier* :: OLD HABITS DIE HARD, IS ALL. PROBABLY SHOULDN'T BE FACTIONS WHATSOEVER, BUT I DUNNO. DOUBT MANY OF US REALLY THINK THIS PEACE IS GONNA LAST. :: *That's not particularly reassuring, Bonecrusher, try coming up with something else.* :: ...WHY'RE YOU EVEN THINKIN' LIKE THAT? ::
Tracks: *Tracks glances at the other mech, then out towards the barrier as well, sipping at his cube a little more slowly* ::Prime and Megatron's decision. As you said, if there's to be peace, we probably shouldn't have factions... But I already feel like being an Autobot doesn't mean very much, with Prime in essance handing us over to Megatron, of all mechs.::
Bonecrusher: :: DON'T DISRESPECT LORD MEGATRON. :: *It's a kind of instinctive reaction, but at least his tone lacks most of it's usual threat.* :: MEGATRON'S GIVEN PRIME FREE REIGN OVER US, Y'KNOW. AIN'T A ONE-WAY STREET. :: *He takes a long drink to keep himself from adding that Megatron is totally whipped, finding that a bit hypocritical of himself, really.*
Tracks: *Tracks vents air in a snort, sand puffing out in a small cloud before settling to the ground* ::Prime never ordered executions. Prime never tortured mechs, or hurt others to prove a point. But then again, he also used to make us feel like we had a purpose in following him.:: *The Corvette lets his cube rest in his lap, looking down at it without really seeing it now*
Bonecrusher: :: PRIME GOT ALL TH' SMART, BALANCED MECHS FER HIS SIDE. MEGATRON GOT TH' SCRAPS LEFT OVER. IF MEGATRON HADN'T LED US AS HE HAD, HE WOULD'VE BEEN KILLED AN' SOMEONE WORSE'N HIM WOULD BE HERE NOW. AN' PRIME WON'T LET MEGATRON DEAL WITH 'BOTS LIKE HE DOES US. Y'ALL NEED A SOFTER HAND. :: *It's really not meant as the insult it no doubt sounds like, and Bonecrusher's hand tightens it's grip on Tracks briefly.* :: NOTHIN'S REALLY CHANGED, ONLY NOW 'S ACTUALLY OFFICIAL. 'BOTS AN' 'CONS HAVE BEEN TAKIN' ORDERS FROM TH' OPPOSIN' LEADERS FER MONTHS NOW - JUST NOW, PRIME AN' MEGS DON'T HAVE T'MAKE TWO ANNOUNCEMENTS THAT'RE BASICALLY TH' SAME. ::
Tracks: ::That's what I mean.:: *Not taking offense, because, even indelicately stated, it's not untrue. That doesn't mean he's shaking off the hand on his shoulder though, either* ::I don't want to cling to something that doesn't mean anything anymore. ...And I don't want to lose this peace. I'd rather they drop the factions entirely than carry on like they hold some importance anymore..::
Bonecrusher: :: THEY WILL. :: *His voice holds a finality in it, not sounding for or against the idea - almost violently neutral, really. He takes a small drink, then shrugs.* :: JUST GOTTA GO SLOW FER THOSE OF US WHO DON'T WANNA LET GO. TH' ONES WHO THINK THERE'S SOMETHIN' STILL THERE. :: *He polishes off his drink and reaches for a new one without thinking much of it at all, more or less distracted by trying to figure out his thoughts*
Tracks: ::I don't think it helps, to cling to a division that is so polarized... That has so much history behind it. Not that things should be forgotten, but obviously, we'll get nothing done now by dwelling too much on what happened.:: *And at the same time, he knows that he's influenced in large part by his current company, and he hopes it's a better way to be in the long run. Shifting his wings to a swept back position, he leans a little to the side, against Bonecrusher's grip on his shoulder, and feels oddly on edge, but less angrily upset*
Bonecrusher: :: WON'T HAPPEN. NOT FER A LONG WHILE, AT LEAST. 'S A SLOW PROCESS, WHAT WE'RE GOIN' THROUGH, AN' IF TH' HIGHER-UPS THINK IT'S FER TH' BEST, 'M GONNA GO WITH IT. OTHERWISE, 'M NO BETTER THAN TH' FRAGGERS WHO'RE BEIN' UTTER AFTS ABOUT THIS. :: *In response to the Corvette's movements, he shifts his hand a bit, bringing more of Tracks' shoulder into touching range while neither pulling him closer or pushing him away.* :: ...SO FAR, SO GOOD. ::
Tracks: ::I suppose.:: *His tone dubious, he finally picks up his cube to have another drink* ::I never have been entirely patient.::
Bonecrusher: :: I DUNNO 'BOUT THAT. YER PRETTY PATIENT WITH ME, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. :: *Bonecrusher grins at the Corvette, finally deciding to slide his arm over more and pull the other a bit closer*
Tracks: ::You can be trying, yes, but the payoff is usually very worth it.:: *Amused, he slides in under the other's arm, smiling*
Bonecrusher: :: ONLY USUALLY? DO I GOTTA WORK HARDER, GORGEOUS? :: *His grin is a little less innocent now, than it was a moment ago, and his claws tick against plating lightly - enough to not scratch the paint, at least*
Tracks: ::Maybe. It's not all about doing it harder, though.:: *His smile, in turn, becomes a smirk, and he shifts in a little closer still*
Bonecrusher: :: Softer, then? :: *His voice drops a bit in volume, torso twisting so he can look at Tracks easier* :: Just a bit rougher? ::
Tracks: *His wings quiver slightly as Bonecrusher's voice rumbles over the comm link, and he glances up to meet his optics* ::Whichever gets your hands on me quickest.::
Bonecrusher: *He chuckles lowly into the comm and leans forward, leaving only a bare centimeter or so of space between their faces, dimming his optics* :: All y'gotta do is ask... But we're gonna have t'make do with just th' one hand, sad t'say... :: *That one hand is gripping at plating and sliding to loop around Tracks' back*
Tracks: ::I don't think I'll be disappointed.:: *The Corvette's motor purrs a little as he twists around, getting up on his knees to lessen the difference in their heights somewhat. Reaching up, both hands slide around Bonecrusher's neck as he leans in for a kiss*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher growls and barely holds back from smashing their mouths together - nonetheless, he enters the kiss roughly, pulling the Corvette up against him. It's hard to balance without two arms, he's quickly realizing*
Tracks: *The noise of surprise he makes quickly becomes a pleased moan, kissing back hard as his fingers curl between Bonecrusher's neck struts to slide along fuel lines and neural cabling.*
Bonecrusher: *His arm braces against Tracks' back, claws hooking onto plating and pulling at it none too gently. He growls - over the commline and out loud - and bites at the Corvette's mouth*
Tracks: *Tracks' fingers curl tightly as he echoes Bonecrusher's growl with an encouraging rev of his engine. His armor flexes at its moorings under Bonecrusher's indelicate touch, resulting in an ache that just makes him want more, mouth opening under Bonecrusher's to deepen the kiss*
Bonecrusher: *He gladly helps Tracks deepen their kiss, pushing claws under the armor he's been pulling at and scraping at it from underneath. The gears and connectors in his shoulder shift as he instinctively goes to move his missing arm, and he groans into Tracks' mouth in annoyance. Having only one hand really has its disadvantages when you're trying to touch as much of someone as possible*
Tracks: *There's a thrill of welcome violation as claws go where they shouldn't be, sensory warnings flashing in the back of his processor as Tracks relaxes to allow armor to bend a little further. He feels the loss of Bonecrusher's arm almost as keenly, and he disengages a hand to reach over, -into- the joint, as he continues the kiss*
Bonecrusher: *Tracks' hand inside his joint sends nearly unknown sensations through active sensors in the area, causing Bonecrusher to shudder and moan. He struggles to deepen the kiss as much as possible, claws digging into wiring and circuits - the line between causing hurt and pleasure momentarily leaving his mind*
Tracks: *Tracks winces as an unpleasant jolt reminds him why claws -shouldn't- go there, vocalizer emitting a low near-hiss of pain that nonetheless doesn't make him want to stop -- it wasn't on his paint, at least. He bites at Bonecrusher's mouth as he pushes himself to his feet, giving himself more leverage as he slides his hand in further to see what other things he can make the other mech do*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher growls, pushing up against Tracks' hand and tightening his grip on wiring before registering that it's probably not all that comfortable, still hesitating but pulling back a bit nonetheless.* :: Primus, that feels good! ::
Tracks: ::I'd rather hoped it would.:: *Dryly, his voice almost a rumble on its own as he pushes down deeper into the joint, tugging at wiring just barely healing over, dragging fingertips over servos and connectors.*
Bonecrusher: *His hand pulls away from Tracks' back as he shifts, bringing his arm across the Corvette and tugging at him, aiming to bring him into his lap. After all, it's so impersonal, sitting so far apart.*
Tracks: *He goes happily, his free hand sliding across Bonecrusher's chestplate as he almost teasingly strokes the torn end of a fuel line, glossa tracing the edge of the other's mouth components*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher slides his hand around to the back of Tracks' neck, groaning into the other's mouth and pulling him physically down against him, claws pricking at fuel lines briefly before his hand settles into a firmer massaging motion*
Tracks: *Tracks purrs as he traces a chestplate seam, stretching against Bonecrusher lithely as he's pressed closer and his touch firms as he deepens the kiss again*
Bonecrusher: :: Wonderful noises, gorgeous... :: *He's trying to make the most of his only hand, sliding it from the back of Tracks' neck to his wing, then to his side, then back again, pulling and sliding against wires as he goes*
Tracks: *From the small groans and muffled cries the Corvette makes as claws play along his chassis and wings, Tracks is all to happy to be pleasing Bonecrusher that way. And he returns the favor by delving past the joint, scratching cable insulation and twisting them between his fingers*
Bonecrusher: *His spark is pulsing in its chamber and he pulls out of the kiss to move to Tracks' neck, biting down harshly on a fuel line. Primus, he might actually overload from this. That'd be new -- ooh. He pushes against Tracks' hand again and moans into the other's neck, jaw clenching down briefly*
Tracks: *Moaning almost directly into Bonecrusher's audio receptor, Tracks' grip tightens further at the bite, other hand gripping at the larger mech wherever he can find purchase. He thinks he might like having Bonecrusher clinging to -him- for a change.*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher's not complaining much about the situation either, gears twisting a bit to move in ways they probably shouldn't, giving Tracks all the room to move, hand dropping down to where it had been previously pulling at armor, slipping beneath it once more and tangling his claws partially in wiring, alternating between light tugs and stronger pulls*
Tracks: *His free hand gripping at the edge of Bonecrusher's chest plate for balance, Tracks stretches up on his knees with a groan to give those claws more room to get deeper, and scrapes his fingertips around the inside of the joint, across wires and sensors that were normally so well armored*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher will be loathe to admit it later, but he actually gasps, fans flaring to full blast as his hand scrambles against wiring, twisting around them and stroking them harshly. Primus, he might really honestly overload off of this. Some part of his processor is already demanding he lose more limbs.*
Tracks: *The noise Tracks makes is half-victorious and half-needy, writhing under the feel of claws against sensors and giving just as good as he pulls himself up to lean his weight into the abuse of Bonecrusher's open joint, his other hand reaching up to play inside wheel-wells. It's a little frantic, and definitely less gentle than he's been with any other mech, but in a way it's sort of freeing*
Bonecrusher: *All Bonecrusher's even considering at this point, practically chewing on lines in Tracks' neck, is that he has to be a little careful here - don't pull too hard, don't cut anything, just rub and stroke. It's hard to control his movements, body shuddering with energy buildup and impending overload, but he does it anyways, making low noises into the Corvette's neck and twisting into the hands on him*
Tracks: *Tracks can feel it, the tension in the one hand on him, the almost measured pressure in his touch, and he cries out in some frustration as his chassis twists, gripping even more desperately tight.* ::I'm not glass-- Just -do- it, Bonecrusher.::
Bonecrusher: :: Just - don't wanna break somethin'.... :: *But even as he says it he can't help but wrench his claws out, dragging them along armor before digging in again, this time at Tracks' chest, pulling at wiring as he digs in deep*
Tracks: *The next sound that escapes his vocalizer is a groan of pain, but he's had worse, and he's not asking Bonecrusher to stop, either. He whimpers as he arches, shuddering, beneath claws and each sliced wire - he's not even entirely sure that it's not fear that makes him scratch and tear so, his spark pulsing tightly beneath his chestplate*
Bonecrusher: *He nearly does stop at the noise, body tensing at Tracks' noise - and then he growls, clawing deeper and pushing up against the chestplate, trying to make more room for him to get closer to Tracks' spark chamber even as his own spark feels like it's going to explode*
Tracks: *The Corvette jerks, a static-glitched moan escaping him as they slide deeper, clawing beneath his armor, barely grazing his core. It hurts more than it feels good, but it's intense, and he - probably foolishly - trusts Bonecrusher, even as his spark pulses again, towards that touch.*
Bonecrusher: :: Tell me t'stop- :: *Even as he scrapes down and catches wiring surrounding the spark chamber, he's still double-checking, more interested in feeling Tracks than what he's going through*
Tracks: ::No nonono-::His vocalizer shorts out during a moan, Tracks using his grip to get higher, taller, not entirely sure if it's to give Bonecrusher more access or keep the touch at that bare edge of sensation, clawtips like needles through his spark
Bonecrusher: *His hand follows upwards with Tracks' movements, twisting slightly and taking important wires in his grip, keeping them intact but just barely - with more restraint than he's letting on, really, stroking along thick wiring and touching at the casing itself in spots* :: Primus, I just want to hear you. ::
Tracks: *Nothing but static for a moment, and then a shriek as his vocalizer cuts back in -- he clings almost desperately, taut with the sudden, sharp heat of his spark in overload, near impaled with Bonecrusher's hand half inside him*
Bonecrusher: *He can feel the energy from Tracks' spark against his hand, nearly burning in its heat, and he groans, pulling his head back to watch Tracks as he overloads. He's committing the image to memory even as he feels his own overload just moments away-* :: Just a little deeper, gorgeous - a little harder- ::
Tracks: *The Corvette utters a ragged, pained sound as his spark pulses, half-collapsing against the other mech as he -reaches- for that little bit more, digging his fingers into masses of wiring and circuitry*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher holds on long enough to disengage his hand from Tracks, pulling it out and away from his chest before his spark nearly bursts, expelling pent up energy and pulling a low, hoarse kind of roar from his vocalizer. His hand scrapes against armor as he jerks, clasping down on the Corvette's aft even as he offlines, slumping backward and hitting the ground with a loud thud*
Tracks: *Tracks falls forward against him, not quite offlined but certainly dazed, his diagnostics slowly tallying the list of hurts and dings that'd normally make him annoyed - this time they leave him feeling smug, content. For the moment, he settles where he is, armor pinging softly as the heat of his exertions dissipates, head resting on Bonecrusher's chest*
Bonecrusher: *It takes a few short moments before processes start back up, bringing the Decepticon back online. His engine picks up slightly, a low, contented rumble as his hand slides up along Tracks' back, settling lightly on a wing as his optics focus up on the sky for the time being*
Tracks: *Optics offlined, he slides his palm in a slow, idle circle against the heavy chestplate, comfortably worn. His voice over the comm is low and amused* ::I'd ask if you were all right, but I think I'd have to shoot you to do any actual damage.::
Bonecrusher: :: 'm fine. :: *Though he's not particularly enthusiastic about moving at the moment, he pushes himself up slightly to look down at Tracks in mild amusement* :: Though, maybe I should be askin' th' same question. I think I mighta scraped yer paint job a bit. ::
Tracks: ::I'm considering it worthwhile, for the moment.:: *Dryly, lifting his head to smirk at the mining vehicle.* ::And I'm otherwise very well indeed.::
Bonecrusher: :: Good. 'S th' main plan, mosta th' time, really, so looks like it's all workin' out all right on my end. :: *His hand curls slightly against the wing, for no particular reason except that it's there*
Tracks: *Even that light a touch draws a slow shiver of pleasure and a faint groan* ::Mmm. I'd say so.:: *He levers himself up on his elbows, rubbing a trace of energon between his fingertips with a look of satisfaction*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher turns his head and twists slightly, trying to get a better look at his open joint* :: Slaggin' cat's gonna be pissed, couple of th' seals are broken. Ah well. :: *Continues in an almost cheerful sounding voice* :: Which limb do we remove next? ::
Tracks: ::Not your other arm, that's for certain.:: *Grinning quickly* ::And which cat are you speaking of -- not Cat, I'm assuming?::
Bonecrusher: :: Nah... th' medic. Uh, Glit. An' I was thinkin' a foot or somethin'. Never gonna wanna be without any hands. ::
Tracks: ::You might look a little silly with two limbs gone.:: *He points out, not without affection*
Bonecrusher: :: Maybe, but it'd be worth it t'feel yer hands like that. :: *It's a rather casual statment, considering the fact that Bonecrusher doesn't really like looking silly*
Tracks: *Tracks looks quietly pleased* ::You are going to have to get your arm replaced sometime, though. Whenever you manage to find it.::
Bonecrusher: :: Eventually. I'll get around to it. :: *His hand slides up and he runs the dull edge of one claw along the fuel line he had been fairly gnawing at the entire time, optics looking to the sky once more*
Tracks: *Sensors flash a warning at the caress and his vocalizer catches on a sigh, but it's just at the slight oversensitivity of it. His own optics dim, and he curls up a little more on top of the other mech with no intent to move for a bit* ::No hurry. You do well enough with one, so far.::
(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)
Tracks: *Tracks' mood had yet to really improve since earlier in the day by the time he was headed outside. He wasn't exactly angry, just... well, maybe somewhat. In any case, he realized he should go see Bonecrusher, if not for an explanation than at least so he did something besides sit in his room and sulk all day.
So, exiting the base in his alt-mode, at a speed probably not quite safe, he went looking for the mining vehicle near the last place they'd met*
Bonecrusher: *Tracks knows Bonecrusher eerily well, really, considering the Buffalo vehicle hasn't exactly moved from his spot. Well, a little. He moved a whole five feet! As far as he's concerned, that's a valid reason to deny any and all loitering-around-doing-nothing charges that might be brought up. He's also drinking, but since when has that ever been a surprise? Though, he's kind of wondering if he's had too much to drink, since he's hearing out-of-place noises like a nice engine roaring in his direction. Eh, another cube will solve that problem.*
Tracks: *Tracks approaches and, when he finds Bonecrusher unsurprisingly in the same spot as before, he accelerates a little to circle him a couple times, kicking up gritty sand and rocks before pulling into a skid that stops just near the other mech.* ::I hope you're not averse to some company.:: *Less a request and more of a statement, sounding a little sour maybe*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher isn't against the other's company, but he looks pretty unimpressed by Tracks' little display of speed and decent brakes.* :: NOT PARTICULARLY CARIN' HERE, GORGEOUS. :: *He shifts and takes a swig of his cube, looking over the Corvette idly* :: CAN'T SAY 'M NOT A LIL' SURPRISED, THOUGH - FIGURED YOU WERE MAD AT ME 'BOUT SOMETHIN' OR OTHER. BUT LOOKIT YOU, OUT AN' ABOUT. ::
Tracks: *Tracks would be miffed if he had done it to be impressive - as it is he feels a tiny bit better for having blown off some steam, so to speak* ::I'm not mad. Not with you, in any case.:: *He transforms with a bit of a shake to get the worst of the dust off of him, moving closer with a slight scowl, hands clenched loosely at his sides*
Bonecrusher: *The Decepticon tilts his head a bit to look at Tracks, before shrugging and grabbing a cube from the ground, holding it out for the Corvette.* :: SCOWLIN' DOESN'T SUIT YOU. WHO'RE Y'MAD AT, THEN, IF IT ISN'T ME? :: *Truth be told, it's rather rare for someone to be mad in Bonecrusher's vincinity and not be mad at him, so he's got to pry a little* :: ANYONE I CAN GET M'HANDS ON IN PARTICULAR? ::
Tracks: *He takes it, managing not to snatch despite the petty little urge. Taking a good drink of it, he finally lowers the cube with a dismissive flick of his wings* ::No one. Fate. Primus, I don't even know.:: *Turning, he sits down heavily beside the mining vehicle, not even bothering to leave the usual amount of discreet space between them for when they're in public. His cube sloshes a little and he takes another drink, the frown lightening but not disappearing entirely yet* ::I just wish I didn't feel like I don't know what use it is to be an Autobot anymore.::
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher lifts his free hand and puts it on Tracks' shoulder, giving the tire there a light squeeze - not exactly all that lightly, to be honest* :: CAN'T DO MUCH 'BOUT TH' FATE THING, GORGEOUS. 'S KINDA A CLUSTERFUCK FER EVERYONE. :: *He takes a drink himself, looking out towards the barrier* :: OLD HABITS DIE HARD, IS ALL. PROBABLY SHOULDN'T BE FACTIONS WHATSOEVER, BUT I DUNNO. DOUBT MANY OF US REALLY THINK THIS PEACE IS GONNA LAST. :: *That's not particularly reassuring, Bonecrusher, try coming up with something else.* :: ...WHY'RE YOU EVEN THINKIN' LIKE THAT? ::
Tracks: *Tracks glances at the other mech, then out towards the barrier as well, sipping at his cube a little more slowly* ::Prime and Megatron's decision. As you said, if there's to be peace, we probably shouldn't have factions... But I already feel like being an Autobot doesn't mean very much, with Prime in essance handing us over to Megatron, of all mechs.::
Bonecrusher: :: DON'T DISRESPECT LORD MEGATRON. :: *It's a kind of instinctive reaction, but at least his tone lacks most of it's usual threat.* :: MEGATRON'S GIVEN PRIME FREE REIGN OVER US, Y'KNOW. AIN'T A ONE-WAY STREET. :: *He takes a long drink to keep himself from adding that Megatron is totally whipped, finding that a bit hypocritical of himself, really.*
Tracks: *Tracks vents air in a snort, sand puffing out in a small cloud before settling to the ground* ::Prime never ordered executions. Prime never tortured mechs, or hurt others to prove a point. But then again, he also used to make us feel like we had a purpose in following him.:: *The Corvette lets his cube rest in his lap, looking down at it without really seeing it now*
Bonecrusher: :: PRIME GOT ALL TH' SMART, BALANCED MECHS FER HIS SIDE. MEGATRON GOT TH' SCRAPS LEFT OVER. IF MEGATRON HADN'T LED US AS HE HAD, HE WOULD'VE BEEN KILLED AN' SOMEONE WORSE'N HIM WOULD BE HERE NOW. AN' PRIME WON'T LET MEGATRON DEAL WITH 'BOTS LIKE HE DOES US. Y'ALL NEED A SOFTER HAND. :: *It's really not meant as the insult it no doubt sounds like, and Bonecrusher's hand tightens it's grip on Tracks briefly.* :: NOTHIN'S REALLY CHANGED, ONLY NOW 'S ACTUALLY OFFICIAL. 'BOTS AN' 'CONS HAVE BEEN TAKIN' ORDERS FROM TH' OPPOSIN' LEADERS FER MONTHS NOW - JUST NOW, PRIME AN' MEGS DON'T HAVE T'MAKE TWO ANNOUNCEMENTS THAT'RE BASICALLY TH' SAME. ::
Tracks: ::That's what I mean.:: *Not taking offense, because, even indelicately stated, it's not untrue. That doesn't mean he's shaking off the hand on his shoulder though, either* ::I don't want to cling to something that doesn't mean anything anymore. ...And I don't want to lose this peace. I'd rather they drop the factions entirely than carry on like they hold some importance anymore..::
Bonecrusher: :: THEY WILL. :: *His voice holds a finality in it, not sounding for or against the idea - almost violently neutral, really. He takes a small drink, then shrugs.* :: JUST GOTTA GO SLOW FER THOSE OF US WHO DON'T WANNA LET GO. TH' ONES WHO THINK THERE'S SOMETHIN' STILL THERE. :: *He polishes off his drink and reaches for a new one without thinking much of it at all, more or less distracted by trying to figure out his thoughts*
Tracks: ::I don't think it helps, to cling to a division that is so polarized... That has so much history behind it. Not that things should be forgotten, but obviously, we'll get nothing done now by dwelling too much on what happened.:: *And at the same time, he knows that he's influenced in large part by his current company, and he hopes it's a better way to be in the long run. Shifting his wings to a swept back position, he leans a little to the side, against Bonecrusher's grip on his shoulder, and feels oddly on edge, but less angrily upset*
Bonecrusher: :: WON'T HAPPEN. NOT FER A LONG WHILE, AT LEAST. 'S A SLOW PROCESS, WHAT WE'RE GOIN' THROUGH, AN' IF TH' HIGHER-UPS THINK IT'S FER TH' BEST, 'M GONNA GO WITH IT. OTHERWISE, 'M NO BETTER THAN TH' FRAGGERS WHO'RE BEIN' UTTER AFTS ABOUT THIS. :: *In response to the Corvette's movements, he shifts his hand a bit, bringing more of Tracks' shoulder into touching range while neither pulling him closer or pushing him away.* :: ...SO FAR, SO GOOD. ::
Tracks: ::I suppose.:: *His tone dubious, he finally picks up his cube to have another drink* ::I never have been entirely patient.::
Bonecrusher: :: I DUNNO 'BOUT THAT. YER PRETTY PATIENT WITH ME, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED. :: *Bonecrusher grins at the Corvette, finally deciding to slide his arm over more and pull the other a bit closer*
Tracks: ::You can be trying, yes, but the payoff is usually very worth it.:: *Amused, he slides in under the other's arm, smiling*
Bonecrusher: :: ONLY USUALLY? DO I GOTTA WORK HARDER, GORGEOUS? :: *His grin is a little less innocent now, than it was a moment ago, and his claws tick against plating lightly - enough to not scratch the paint, at least*
Tracks: ::Maybe. It's not all about doing it harder, though.:: *His smile, in turn, becomes a smirk, and he shifts in a little closer still*
Bonecrusher: :: Softer, then? :: *His voice drops a bit in volume, torso twisting so he can look at Tracks easier* :: Just a bit rougher? ::
Tracks: *His wings quiver slightly as Bonecrusher's voice rumbles over the comm link, and he glances up to meet his optics* ::Whichever gets your hands on me quickest.::
Bonecrusher: *He chuckles lowly into the comm and leans forward, leaving only a bare centimeter or so of space between their faces, dimming his optics* :: All y'gotta do is ask... But we're gonna have t'make do with just th' one hand, sad t'say... :: *That one hand is gripping at plating and sliding to loop around Tracks' back*
Tracks: ::I don't think I'll be disappointed.:: *The Corvette's motor purrs a little as he twists around, getting up on his knees to lessen the difference in their heights somewhat. Reaching up, both hands slide around Bonecrusher's neck as he leans in for a kiss*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher growls and barely holds back from smashing their mouths together - nonetheless, he enters the kiss roughly, pulling the Corvette up against him. It's hard to balance without two arms, he's quickly realizing*
Tracks: *The noise of surprise he makes quickly becomes a pleased moan, kissing back hard as his fingers curl between Bonecrusher's neck struts to slide along fuel lines and neural cabling.*
Bonecrusher: *His arm braces against Tracks' back, claws hooking onto plating and pulling at it none too gently. He growls - over the commline and out loud - and bites at the Corvette's mouth*
Tracks: *Tracks' fingers curl tightly as he echoes Bonecrusher's growl with an encouraging rev of his engine. His armor flexes at its moorings under Bonecrusher's indelicate touch, resulting in an ache that just makes him want more, mouth opening under Bonecrusher's to deepen the kiss*
Bonecrusher: *He gladly helps Tracks deepen their kiss, pushing claws under the armor he's been pulling at and scraping at it from underneath. The gears and connectors in his shoulder shift as he instinctively goes to move his missing arm, and he groans into Tracks' mouth in annoyance. Having only one hand really has its disadvantages when you're trying to touch as much of someone as possible*
Tracks: *There's a thrill of welcome violation as claws go where they shouldn't be, sensory warnings flashing in the back of his processor as Tracks relaxes to allow armor to bend a little further. He feels the loss of Bonecrusher's arm almost as keenly, and he disengages a hand to reach over, -into- the joint, as he continues the kiss*
Bonecrusher: *Tracks' hand inside his joint sends nearly unknown sensations through active sensors in the area, causing Bonecrusher to shudder and moan. He struggles to deepen the kiss as much as possible, claws digging into wiring and circuits - the line between causing hurt and pleasure momentarily leaving his mind*
Tracks: *Tracks winces as an unpleasant jolt reminds him why claws -shouldn't- go there, vocalizer emitting a low near-hiss of pain that nonetheless doesn't make him want to stop -- it wasn't on his paint, at least. He bites at Bonecrusher's mouth as he pushes himself to his feet, giving himself more leverage as he slides his hand in further to see what other things he can make the other mech do*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher growls, pushing up against Tracks' hand and tightening his grip on wiring before registering that it's probably not all that comfortable, still hesitating but pulling back a bit nonetheless.* :: Primus, that feels good! ::
Tracks: ::I'd rather hoped it would.:: *Dryly, his voice almost a rumble on its own as he pushes down deeper into the joint, tugging at wiring just barely healing over, dragging fingertips over servos and connectors.*
Bonecrusher: *His hand pulls away from Tracks' back as he shifts, bringing his arm across the Corvette and tugging at him, aiming to bring him into his lap. After all, it's so impersonal, sitting so far apart.*
Tracks: *He goes happily, his free hand sliding across Bonecrusher's chestplate as he almost teasingly strokes the torn end of a fuel line, glossa tracing the edge of the other's mouth components*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher slides his hand around to the back of Tracks' neck, groaning into the other's mouth and pulling him physically down against him, claws pricking at fuel lines briefly before his hand settles into a firmer massaging motion*
Tracks: *Tracks purrs as he traces a chestplate seam, stretching against Bonecrusher lithely as he's pressed closer and his touch firms as he deepens the kiss again*
Bonecrusher: :: Wonderful noises, gorgeous... :: *He's trying to make the most of his only hand, sliding it from the back of Tracks' neck to his wing, then to his side, then back again, pulling and sliding against wires as he goes*
Tracks: *From the small groans and muffled cries the Corvette makes as claws play along his chassis and wings, Tracks is all to happy to be pleasing Bonecrusher that way. And he returns the favor by delving past the joint, scratching cable insulation and twisting them between his fingers*
Bonecrusher: *His spark is pulsing in its chamber and he pulls out of the kiss to move to Tracks' neck, biting down harshly on a fuel line. Primus, he might actually overload from this. That'd be new -- ooh. He pushes against Tracks' hand again and moans into the other's neck, jaw clenching down briefly*
Tracks: *Moaning almost directly into Bonecrusher's audio receptor, Tracks' grip tightens further at the bite, other hand gripping at the larger mech wherever he can find purchase. He thinks he might like having Bonecrusher clinging to -him- for a change.*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher's not complaining much about the situation either, gears twisting a bit to move in ways they probably shouldn't, giving Tracks all the room to move, hand dropping down to where it had been previously pulling at armor, slipping beneath it once more and tangling his claws partially in wiring, alternating between light tugs and stronger pulls*
Tracks: *His free hand gripping at the edge of Bonecrusher's chest plate for balance, Tracks stretches up on his knees with a groan to give those claws more room to get deeper, and scrapes his fingertips around the inside of the joint, across wires and sensors that were normally so well armored*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher will be loathe to admit it later, but he actually gasps, fans flaring to full blast as his hand scrambles against wiring, twisting around them and stroking them harshly. Primus, he might really honestly overload off of this. Some part of his processor is already demanding he lose more limbs.*
Tracks: *The noise Tracks makes is half-victorious and half-needy, writhing under the feel of claws against sensors and giving just as good as he pulls himself up to lean his weight into the abuse of Bonecrusher's open joint, his other hand reaching up to play inside wheel-wells. It's a little frantic, and definitely less gentle than he's been with any other mech, but in a way it's sort of freeing*
Bonecrusher: *All Bonecrusher's even considering at this point, practically chewing on lines in Tracks' neck, is that he has to be a little careful here - don't pull too hard, don't cut anything, just rub and stroke. It's hard to control his movements, body shuddering with energy buildup and impending overload, but he does it anyways, making low noises into the Corvette's neck and twisting into the hands on him*
Tracks: *Tracks can feel it, the tension in the one hand on him, the almost measured pressure in his touch, and he cries out in some frustration as his chassis twists, gripping even more desperately tight.* ::I'm not glass-- Just -do- it, Bonecrusher.::
Bonecrusher: :: Just - don't wanna break somethin'.... :: *But even as he says it he can't help but wrench his claws out, dragging them along armor before digging in again, this time at Tracks' chest, pulling at wiring as he digs in deep*
Tracks: *The next sound that escapes his vocalizer is a groan of pain, but he's had worse, and he's not asking Bonecrusher to stop, either. He whimpers as he arches, shuddering, beneath claws and each sliced wire - he's not even entirely sure that it's not fear that makes him scratch and tear so, his spark pulsing tightly beneath his chestplate*
Bonecrusher: *He nearly does stop at the noise, body tensing at Tracks' noise - and then he growls, clawing deeper and pushing up against the chestplate, trying to make more room for him to get closer to Tracks' spark chamber even as his own spark feels like it's going to explode*
Tracks: *The Corvette jerks, a static-glitched moan escaping him as they slide deeper, clawing beneath his armor, barely grazing his core. It hurts more than it feels good, but it's intense, and he - probably foolishly - trusts Bonecrusher, even as his spark pulses again, towards that touch.*
Bonecrusher: :: Tell me t'stop- :: *Even as he scrapes down and catches wiring surrounding the spark chamber, he's still double-checking, more interested in feeling Tracks than what he's going through*
Tracks: ::No nonono-::His vocalizer shorts out during a moan, Tracks using his grip to get higher, taller, not entirely sure if it's to give Bonecrusher more access or keep the touch at that bare edge of sensation, clawtips like needles through his spark
Bonecrusher: *His hand follows upwards with Tracks' movements, twisting slightly and taking important wires in his grip, keeping them intact but just barely - with more restraint than he's letting on, really, stroking along thick wiring and touching at the casing itself in spots* :: Primus, I just want to hear you. ::
Tracks: *Nothing but static for a moment, and then a shriek as his vocalizer cuts back in -- he clings almost desperately, taut with the sudden, sharp heat of his spark in overload, near impaled with Bonecrusher's hand half inside him*
Bonecrusher: *He can feel the energy from Tracks' spark against his hand, nearly burning in its heat, and he groans, pulling his head back to watch Tracks as he overloads. He's committing the image to memory even as he feels his own overload just moments away-* :: Just a little deeper, gorgeous - a little harder- ::
Tracks: *The Corvette utters a ragged, pained sound as his spark pulses, half-collapsing against the other mech as he -reaches- for that little bit more, digging his fingers into masses of wiring and circuitry*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher holds on long enough to disengage his hand from Tracks, pulling it out and away from his chest before his spark nearly bursts, expelling pent up energy and pulling a low, hoarse kind of roar from his vocalizer. His hand scrapes against armor as he jerks, clasping down on the Corvette's aft even as he offlines, slumping backward and hitting the ground with a loud thud*
Tracks: *Tracks falls forward against him, not quite offlined but certainly dazed, his diagnostics slowly tallying the list of hurts and dings that'd normally make him annoyed - this time they leave him feeling smug, content. For the moment, he settles where he is, armor pinging softly as the heat of his exertions dissipates, head resting on Bonecrusher's chest*
Bonecrusher: *It takes a few short moments before processes start back up, bringing the Decepticon back online. His engine picks up slightly, a low, contented rumble as his hand slides up along Tracks' back, settling lightly on a wing as his optics focus up on the sky for the time being*
Tracks: *Optics offlined, he slides his palm in a slow, idle circle against the heavy chestplate, comfortably worn. His voice over the comm is low and amused* ::I'd ask if you were all right, but I think I'd have to shoot you to do any actual damage.::
Bonecrusher: :: 'm fine. :: *Though he's not particularly enthusiastic about moving at the moment, he pushes himself up slightly to look down at Tracks in mild amusement* :: Though, maybe I should be askin' th' same question. I think I mighta scraped yer paint job a bit. ::
Tracks: ::I'm considering it worthwhile, for the moment.:: *Dryly, lifting his head to smirk at the mining vehicle.* ::And I'm otherwise very well indeed.::
Bonecrusher: :: Good. 'S th' main plan, mosta th' time, really, so looks like it's all workin' out all right on my end. :: *His hand curls slightly against the wing, for no particular reason except that it's there*
Tracks: *Even that light a touch draws a slow shiver of pleasure and a faint groan* ::Mmm. I'd say so.:: *He levers himself up on his elbows, rubbing a trace of energon between his fingertips with a look of satisfaction*
Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher turns his head and twists slightly, trying to get a better look at his open joint* :: Slaggin' cat's gonna be pissed, couple of th' seals are broken. Ah well. :: *Continues in an almost cheerful sounding voice* :: Which limb do we remove next? ::
Tracks: ::Not your other arm, that's for certain.:: *Grinning quickly* ::And which cat are you speaking of -- not Cat, I'm assuming?::
Bonecrusher: :: Nah... th' medic. Uh, Glit. An' I was thinkin' a foot or somethin'. Never gonna wanna be without any hands. ::
Tracks: ::You might look a little silly with two limbs gone.:: *He points out, not without affection*
Bonecrusher: :: Maybe, but it'd be worth it t'feel yer hands like that. :: *It's a rather casual statment, considering the fact that Bonecrusher doesn't really like looking silly*
Tracks: *Tracks looks quietly pleased* ::You are going to have to get your arm replaced sometime, though. Whenever you manage to find it.::
Bonecrusher: :: Eventually. I'll get around to it. :: *His hand slides up and he runs the dull edge of one claw along the fuel line he had been fairly gnawing at the entire time, optics looking to the sky once more*
Tracks: *Sensors flash a warning at the caress and his vocalizer catches on a sigh, but it's just at the slight oversensitivity of it. His own optics dim, and he curls up a little more on top of the other mech with no intent to move for a bit* ::No hurry. You do well enough with one, so far.::
(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)