[Transformers G1] Apple a Day 11
a/n: See? I haven't forgotten about this series at all. :) I just get easily distracted with shiny new pairings (like this DreadwingxSoundwave that has eaten my brain, dear Primus) but I promise, RatchetxTwins' first date is coming up, I'll eventually reveal who Skyfire's pining over, and maybe even poor Optimus will get an interface out of the deal.
For now, though, have some WheeljackxProwl. Enjoy!
Title: Distractions
Characters: WheeljackxProwl, Optimus Prime
Universe: G1, Apple a Day 11
Rating: T
Warnings: light exhibitionism
Description: Wheeljack is a new temptation Prowl doesn't want to resist.
Set sometime between Poking Dragons with Sticks and P ermission Granted.
“I see you survived. With all limbs intact even.”
Prowl pauses as the familiar vocals trail after him the very moment he steps out of the medbay. He turns, spotting Wheeljack lurking just around the corner. Coward.
“Ratchet is not a fan of creating more work for himself,” Prowl replies, a smile curving his lips. “Nor do I make a habit of provoking him.”
Wheeljack laughs, his indicators lighting up an array of colors, reflecting his amusement. “You should. It's quite fun.”
Prowl turns back toward his office, Wheeljack falling into step beside him. “I'm beginning to suspect you have a penchant for both danger and pain.”
“Are you calling me a masochist?”
Prowl's doorwings twitch. “If the cog fits...”
Wheeljack bumps shoulders with him. “You've been spending far too much time listening to Bluestreak babble.”
Prowl arches an orbital ridge, shooting his lover a look. “And you're avoiding my observation.”
Wheeljack skips ahead of him, drawing to a halt and forcing Prowl to stop as well. “Maybe it's not my kinks I'm interested in,” the engineer says, leaning one arm against the wall and effectively blocking Prowl's path. “Maybe I want to know what makes your spark surge.”
“Ever the scientist.”
“Mmm. I do have theories.”
Prowl's lips twitch but he conceals his amusement carefully, tucking away his datapad so that his hands are free. “Such as?”
Wheeljack's gaze shifts past his helm, to the doorwings at his shoulders. “Those for one. Word around the Ark is that they're quite sensitive.”
Any other mech would have been offended. Prowl, however, knows just how overcharged Wheeljack had been that night. “You don't remember?”
“I didn't get to explore like I wanted.”
A thread of mischief begins to wind its way through Prowl's spark. He inclines his helm, twitching first one doorwing, then the other, noticing how Wheeljack's optics follow the minor movement. “Now's your chance.”
A bubble of laughter echoes in the engineer's chassis. He leans closer, increasing the sensation of being cornered, though they are of height. “Tempter.”
Prowl glances to the connecting hallway, one that leads away from the command offices and straight to the officer's barracks. “You have somewhere better to be?”
Technically, he's off-duty right now. Just because he can usually be found working in his office long after his shift has ended doesn't mean he needs to follow that pattern tonight. It's about time he started indulging in some of that down time Ratchet's been trying to convince him to take.
Wheeljack's indicators glow a deep, inviting blue. “Not for all the uranium in the world,” he says, leaning closer, mask nuzzling against the side of Prowl's neck.
Their energy fields brushed together, Wheeljack's hot and heavy with charge, Prowl's own frazzled and intrigued. He's got years and years of overloads stored up, stress making his systems eager to dispel the extra charge.
“Are you eager to feed the rumor mill or can you wait until we get to my quarters?” Prowl asks, and surprises himself with the husky nature of his vocals.
Wheeljack chuckles, fingers brushing over Prowl's side, where an interface panel hides beneath the curve of his armor. “I don't know. It might be interestin' to see what happens if someone else catches us.”
“Exhibitionist?” Prowl asks, making his panel twitch beneath Wheeljack's fingers, as though he's having difficult keeping it closed.
“Something like that.” Wheeljack's mask presses harder against his neck cables, vocalizations creating a light buzz. Their frames are in direct contact now, from chestplate to abdominal array. “Maybe I just like to see circuits snap.”
“Imagine the work that would create for Ratchet.”
Wheeljack laughs again. “It would be worth the wrench to the helm.” Charge zaps from his fingers straight against Prowl's port, making him judder and the panel pop right open. “Want to be daring?”
Prowl's cooling fans kick on with a telling whuff, sucking air into his overheated frame, his energy field rising and crashing down on the teasing engineer. “You are going to be the end of me.”
“That wasn't a no.”
It's Prowl's turn to laugh, though it's a quiet bubble from his vocalizer. He works an arm behind the engineer, fingers exploring, finding the base of those winglets and stroking them accordingly.
A full frame shudder spreads across Wheeljack, his energy field spiking. “Ohhh. I'm startin' to think the only circuits you want to see blown are your own.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Prowl asks, gathering charge at the tips of his fingers and plunging them into the gap at Wheeljack's dorsal armor, sparking across rarely touched sensors.
The engineer arches, pressing hard against him, pleasure flooding his energy field. “So not going to make it to your quarters. I'm about to take you here, hard and fast, against this wall. Give Red Alert a real show.”
Prowl smirks. “What makes you think he won't enjoy it?”
Wheeljack laughs, ex-vents washing heated air over Prowl's armor. “You know what they say about the quiet ones...?”
“They eventually find themselves in the brig for inappropriate displays of affection?”
Prowl jerks at the unexpected voice and both he and Wheeljack startle, whirling to find Optimus Prime standing there, giving them a look that somehow mixed amusement and impatience. As though their leader doesn't quite know what to think or how to respond to it.
Wheeljack stammers.
Prowl recovers himself smoothly. “Excuse us, sir,” he says, grabbing Wheeljack's hand and giving it a firm tug. “We were just on our way to the rec room.”
“Sure you were.” Prowl is sure that Prime is laughing at both of them behind that battle mask. “By all means, don't let me keep you.”
It is with enormous dignity that Prowl pulls Wheeljack along with him, helm held high as he walks past their Prime and around the curve of the hallway. Only then does Prowl hang a left, intending to double-back toward his quarters. The charge built in his circuits would not be denied.
Wheeljack, however, is still shaking.
And it isn't until the engineer suddenly bursts into laughter that Prowl realizes it isn't out of anxiety.
“Oh, the look on his face!” Wheeljack gasps out, fingers squeezing Prowl's as amusement rippled through his energy field. “Poor Prime.”
Prowl's lips twitch. “You succeeded in your goals. I do believe you may have fried a circuit or two.”
Wheeljack sends a burst of charge through their clasped hands. “Give me a chance and I'll fry half a dozen more,” he purrs.
Prowl shivers, more than a little relieved when the door to his quarters comes into view. “Challenge accepted,” he declares, keying the door open.
The engineer's vocal indicators flash brightly at him before Prowl drags Wheeljack inside, door slamming shut with a click of the lock.
At least they're out of the hall now.
***
a/n: This particular chapter was a lot easier to write than I thought it would be considering how hard I find writing Prowl (and Wheeljack) to be. But they just clicked together. So nice when a rare-pairing does that. :)
Don't forget! Flash Fiction Friday returns on December 14th!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/207763.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.
For now, though, have some WheeljackxProwl. Enjoy!
Title: Distractions
Characters: WheeljackxProwl, Optimus Prime
Universe: G1, Apple a Day 11
Rating: T
Warnings: light exhibitionism
Description: Wheeljack is a new temptation Prowl doesn't want to resist.
Set sometime between Poking Dragons with Sticks and P ermission Granted.
“I see you survived. With all limbs intact even.”
Prowl pauses as the familiar vocals trail after him the very moment he steps out of the medbay. He turns, spotting Wheeljack lurking just around the corner. Coward.
“Ratchet is not a fan of creating more work for himself,” Prowl replies, a smile curving his lips. “Nor do I make a habit of provoking him.”
Wheeljack laughs, his indicators lighting up an array of colors, reflecting his amusement. “You should. It's quite fun.”
Prowl turns back toward his office, Wheeljack falling into step beside him. “I'm beginning to suspect you have a penchant for both danger and pain.”
“Are you calling me a masochist?”
Prowl's doorwings twitch. “If the cog fits...”
Wheeljack bumps shoulders with him. “You've been spending far too much time listening to Bluestreak babble.”
Prowl arches an orbital ridge, shooting his lover a look. “And you're avoiding my observation.”
Wheeljack skips ahead of him, drawing to a halt and forcing Prowl to stop as well. “Maybe it's not my kinks I'm interested in,” the engineer says, leaning one arm against the wall and effectively blocking Prowl's path. “Maybe I want to know what makes your spark surge.”
“Ever the scientist.”
“Mmm. I do have theories.”
Prowl's lips twitch but he conceals his amusement carefully, tucking away his datapad so that his hands are free. “Such as?”
Wheeljack's gaze shifts past his helm, to the doorwings at his shoulders. “Those for one. Word around the Ark is that they're quite sensitive.”
Any other mech would have been offended. Prowl, however, knows just how overcharged Wheeljack had been that night. “You don't remember?”
“I didn't get to explore like I wanted.”
A thread of mischief begins to wind its way through Prowl's spark. He inclines his helm, twitching first one doorwing, then the other, noticing how Wheeljack's optics follow the minor movement. “Now's your chance.”
A bubble of laughter echoes in the engineer's chassis. He leans closer, increasing the sensation of being cornered, though they are of height. “Tempter.”
Prowl glances to the connecting hallway, one that leads away from the command offices and straight to the officer's barracks. “You have somewhere better to be?”
Technically, he's off-duty right now. Just because he can usually be found working in his office long after his shift has ended doesn't mean he needs to follow that pattern tonight. It's about time he started indulging in some of that down time Ratchet's been trying to convince him to take.
Wheeljack's indicators glow a deep, inviting blue. “Not for all the uranium in the world,” he says, leaning closer, mask nuzzling against the side of Prowl's neck.
Their energy fields brushed together, Wheeljack's hot and heavy with charge, Prowl's own frazzled and intrigued. He's got years and years of overloads stored up, stress making his systems eager to dispel the extra charge.
“Are you eager to feed the rumor mill or can you wait until we get to my quarters?” Prowl asks, and surprises himself with the husky nature of his vocals.
Wheeljack chuckles, fingers brushing over Prowl's side, where an interface panel hides beneath the curve of his armor. “I don't know. It might be interestin' to see what happens if someone else catches us.”
“Exhibitionist?” Prowl asks, making his panel twitch beneath Wheeljack's fingers, as though he's having difficult keeping it closed.
“Something like that.” Wheeljack's mask presses harder against his neck cables, vocalizations creating a light buzz. Their frames are in direct contact now, from chestplate to abdominal array. “Maybe I just like to see circuits snap.”
“Imagine the work that would create for Ratchet.”
Wheeljack laughs again. “It would be worth the wrench to the helm.” Charge zaps from his fingers straight against Prowl's port, making him judder and the panel pop right open. “Want to be daring?”
Prowl's cooling fans kick on with a telling whuff, sucking air into his overheated frame, his energy field rising and crashing down on the teasing engineer. “You are going to be the end of me.”
“That wasn't a no.”
It's Prowl's turn to laugh, though it's a quiet bubble from his vocalizer. He works an arm behind the engineer, fingers exploring, finding the base of those winglets and stroking them accordingly.
A full frame shudder spreads across Wheeljack, his energy field spiking. “Ohhh. I'm startin' to think the only circuits you want to see blown are your own.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Prowl asks, gathering charge at the tips of his fingers and plunging them into the gap at Wheeljack's dorsal armor, sparking across rarely touched sensors.
The engineer arches, pressing hard against him, pleasure flooding his energy field. “So not going to make it to your quarters. I'm about to take you here, hard and fast, against this wall. Give Red Alert a real show.”
Prowl smirks. “What makes you think he won't enjoy it?”
Wheeljack laughs, ex-vents washing heated air over Prowl's armor. “You know what they say about the quiet ones...?”
“They eventually find themselves in the brig for inappropriate displays of affection?”
Prowl jerks at the unexpected voice and both he and Wheeljack startle, whirling to find Optimus Prime standing there, giving them a look that somehow mixed amusement and impatience. As though their leader doesn't quite know what to think or how to respond to it.
Wheeljack stammers.
Prowl recovers himself smoothly. “Excuse us, sir,” he says, grabbing Wheeljack's hand and giving it a firm tug. “We were just on our way to the rec room.”
“Sure you were.” Prowl is sure that Prime is laughing at both of them behind that battle mask. “By all means, don't let me keep you.”
It is with enormous dignity that Prowl pulls Wheeljack along with him, helm held high as he walks past their Prime and around the curve of the hallway. Only then does Prowl hang a left, intending to double-back toward his quarters. The charge built in his circuits would not be denied.
Wheeljack, however, is still shaking.
And it isn't until the engineer suddenly bursts into laughter that Prowl realizes it isn't out of anxiety.
“Oh, the look on his face!” Wheeljack gasps out, fingers squeezing Prowl's as amusement rippled through his energy field. “Poor Prime.”
Prowl's lips twitch. “You succeeded in your goals. I do believe you may have fried a circuit or two.”
Wheeljack sends a burst of charge through their clasped hands. “Give me a chance and I'll fry half a dozen more,” he purrs.
Prowl shivers, more than a little relieved when the door to his quarters comes into view. “Challenge accepted,” he declares, keying the door open.
The engineer's vocal indicators flash brightly at him before Prowl drags Wheeljack inside, door slamming shut with a click of the lock.
At least they're out of the hall now.
***
a/n: This particular chapter was a lot easier to write than I thought it would be considering how hard I find writing Prowl (and Wheeljack) to be. But they just clicked together. So nice when a rare-pairing does that. :)
Don't forget! Flash Fiction Friday returns on December 14th!
This entry was originally posted at http://dracoqueen22.dreamwidth.org/207763.html. Feel free to comment wherever you find most convenient.