(Untitled)
Look, I'm alive! ...or some reasonable facsimile thereof.
And, since I requested something so lovely from onetruesikorsky...
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. If you absolutely can't write ( Read more... )
And, since I requested something so lovely from onetruesikorsky...
The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. If you absolutely can't write ( Read more... )
Ratchet appeared to be reading something―a book sized for human hands, and Ironhide liked the implication of fine control in the delicate grip of those fingers. After a moment, something shifted in the quality of Ratchet’s posture, making a tension in his limbs. He knew he was being observed.
Giving up on stealth, Ironhide entered the room. “You said,” he began, “that you wanted a demonstration of my self-control.”
Ratchet twisted around to face him. “I thought you weren’t interested in control games.”
“I’m not,” Ironhide admitted, taking a seat beside the medical officer and giving him a frank gaze. He could probably blame himself for the wariness in Ratchet’s expression, but they could deal with that directly. “Unless it really is just a game.”
Flipping the book closed, Ratchet set it aside. “I didn’t mean it as a test,” he said, voice low. “Just as something we might both enjoy.”
Ironhide had to look twice to be sure of the gleam in Ratchet’s optics. It was subtle. But sensual.
He slid one hand over the medic’s chest. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to lock the door.” Ratchet quirked him a smile that was just shy of wicked. “Everyone here seems a little too eager to interrupt anything high in volume.”
“I don’t scream,” Ironhide scowled.
Ratchet laughed, a low but unrestrained sound that Ironhide found himself liking very much, even if it was at his expense. “No, you do not,” Ratchet agreed, rising from the berth and locking the door himself. “The shouted cursing more than makes up for it, however.”
---
The shaking spread through his frame in white-hot jolts of pleasure, his optics shuttering and his mouth open in silent screams of satisfaction.
Not enough, not for Optimus. “Tell me,” he rumbled against Mirage’s temple. “How does it feel?”
Mirage quaked and shuddered and stopped fighting himself long enough to surrender an aching groan.
One massive hand caught under Mirage’s chin and turned his head to bring them face to face, foreheads pressed together hard. “I’m glad,” Optimus said, and then he groaned as well.
Overwhelmed, Mirage clawed lightly at Optimus’ hands, jostling wires and connectors as he succumbed to quivering aftershocks. Those fingers still teased his spark, drawing fine strands of energy along the sensors beneath his chest plating. Optimus echoed Mirage's pleasure with a shudder of his own. With a soft, harmonic hum, Mirage gave up on thought and let himself drift in the weightless sensation of circuits resetting and components cooling.
“Feeling better?” Optimus asked at some length, once the steadiness had returned to his hands.
Mirage could laugh, just the low and husky sound of stressed transmitters.
Gravity had settled into his frame with the false weight of sensors returning online, and he felt good. Warmth buzzed through his wiring and loosened all the tension out of his joints. Laughing again, he gathered his limbs enough to turn against Optimus’ chest, arms draping over his shoulders and legs splayed to either side of his hips. They looked into each other, and Mirage grew gradually solemn. “I owe you one,” he murmured at length.
No more words. Optimus slid his fingers beneath the armor plates of Mirage’s back, casually intimate, and both stayed silent when they pressed forehead to forehead again. It wasn’t an easy closeness, but it was something singular, and Mirage was loathe to surrender it.
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I have had the day from the Pit, and this had put a smile on my face. Thank you, thank you, thank you a thousand times. They're both gorgeous and *guh* my brain totally melted with Mirage and Optimus.
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You are closer. I knew you were trying, but lost track. I have another week and a half of the school year to limp through, so maybe we can do something this summer. That would be wonderful.
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