Houston we've got lift off!
Title: Let Yourself Go. (01/??)
General Rating: NC-17
Rating for this Part: PG-13
Warnings: Eventual Slash, sticky smut. Lots of sticky smut.
Pairing: Hound x Mirage
Setting: Imperium Cybertronium G1 AU.
Summary: Mirage believed no one would ever love him with the same strong and pure love his father felt for him nor that he'd ever feel true love for another mech until Hound challenged those beliefs.
Notes: About a year ago I promised to naggingfishwife I would write her a story as a thank you for her generosity and help when I needed it, but I did not want to begin to post until this was finished. The story is now finished, but I have not decided how many chapters it'll be split into. By her preference the smut on this fic is sticky. All parts will be labeled properly so it'll be easy to skip if that's not your flavor of smut. This be the prologue.
My apologies, I had to write this chapter again to introduce another character, updates will be more regular after this one. This fic is not beta read so feel free to correct me.
As a rule of thumb, Mirage always took time to analyze any new comer to his home. Staring was rude, but Mirage had a way to steal enough brief looks to get a good enough appreciation of the mech’s physical appearance.
For Mirage, it was far from a vain observation to determinate whether a mech was good looking or not, but he was a firm believer that looks told more about a mech’s story and background than many words could.
A frame could tell what a mech did, what was likely the specialty and the kind of grounds the mech grew up on. It could tell Mirage where the mech’s inception took place. Every spark was brought to Cybertron from the essence of Primus in Vos, where the cleric family resided and commuted with Primus, but the inception, the place where the spark shaped the protoform and the nutrients into the ultimate body it would affect the outcome of the final form as much as the CRN of the creator or creators. As much as the will of Primus.
Certainly mechs could modify themselves for different reasons during their life time, for aesthetic reasons or out of necessity. The frame a mech came into this world with wasn’t necessarily the one it’d have by the time the were as old as Kup, but for the most part the frames reflected the function or the territory a mech hailed from.
Mechs could be incept anywhere, not necessarily the place where their progenitors lived. Although they lived in Praxus, as Kup was one of the oldest mechs settled in the city, neither Skyfire or Mirage bore the characteristics of Praxian incept mechs. For one reason or another, Skyfire had been incept in Vos, while Mirage was incept in Altihex.
Different places affected what mechs were better suited for. Mechs like Drag Strip, his greatest rival in their Turbo Fox hunting games, was incept in Altihex like Mirage. Vos tended to produce flight capable mechs like Skyfire and the majority of Vosians were stubborn about ever taking the pods containing the protoforms and sparks away from Vos, even if they had to delay something important.
Vos wasn’t the only land to produce flight capable mechs; Altihex produced a handful as well and tended to produce some of the fastest mechs on the ground. Mechs from Kalis and Uraya were usually towering and too bulky that movement was almost a luxury.
So every dweller of a city had something about their frames that Mirage could use to discern where they came from and what their occupation might be, depending on whether they were nobles or slaves. Crystal City nobles tended to be great architects and many performers specialized in sculpting or plastic arts hauled from Crystal City. Although the trade of slaves often made it hard to tell if a mech was currently in residence in their place of inception or not, Mirage was usually fairly good at guessing where a mech came from just by looking at their frames.
Hound though, was proving to be a difficult subject for his guessing games. His frame was not too dissimilar to that of noblemech Swindle, and he was pretty sure their alt modes would bear resemblance, yet Hound did not seem tall and wide enough to come from Uraya and his frame showed no signs of mech that saw too much of hard labor like the slaves coming from Kalis for whom ‘too much hard labor’ was merely a work out and something their bodies did not resent.
He was too heavy to be a speedster from Altihex, and his form was too bulky and not graceful enough for Crystal City or Praxus, too short for Iacon and unlikely a secret flyer from Vos. So where did this mech come from and what role did he fill amongst his father’s aides? He had mechs to help him lift great weights, mechs that could carry items for him, and Skyfire recorded his own discoveries rather than use a scribe. Skyfire was too selective about the mechs he purchased as aides, what could Hound do that Skyfire wanted him?
“The new slave intrigues you.” Mirage looked up from his place on the window sill where he feigned to watch his father direct his slaves to load the supplies and fruits of his trip into the storage rooms before he could spend proper time with his son. Hound standing by his side.
“Drift,” Mirage greeted with a polite nod and a welcoming smile. “I did not expect to see you again so soon, I thought your retirement would last at least a vorn.”
The white mech smiled at the noble and returned the polite nod with a pronounced bow of his own. “My mentor was called back to assist on the christening of a new one amongst our numbers.”
Mirage gestured for the seat a few steps away from the window and Drift made himself comfortable in the plush seat. “It must be nice to sit on something soft after so many decacycles away.”
“It is nice, but you have not answered to me.”
Mirage raised an optic ridge. “You didn’t ask anything. You stated he intrigued me.”
“And he does? Or does he not?”
“He does.” Mirage agreed and looked back down to see the green mech shadowing his father, there seemed to be a familiarity between them that Mirage couldn’t help but find strange and a little unnerving. “I can’t imagine why my father procured him.”
Drift crossed his legs, leaning back against the gel padding of the seat. “He’s a tracker.”
Mirage turned around with an incredulous look. “A tracker? How do you know?”
“It’s not on his frame but in his optics and his face. A frame changes, Mirage, but what you can see in their optics and their demeanour can tell you just as much as the frame itself.” Mirage knew Drift himself was a prime example of what he spoke about. The white armor and the blue optics were not what he was like when he left his pod as a sparkling.
At some point in his life, this Noblemech of Crystal City changed his outer appearance to represent a change within his spark, but even now the optics that were formerly of red hues still held a sharpness edging a calm that didn’t use to be there. It could be seen in the way he looked at others, that this mech was forever studying other mechs and what made them tick philosophically speaking.
“How do you know he is a tracker? What gives it away?” Mirage looked back at Hound from his perch on the window, trying to find what Drift could see.
“He’s like me. He’s always watching, always observing. He’s got keen audios and I could hear his intakes of air to be deeper. He’s smelling what’s around him, and he could tell who was behind him without turning around.” Drift explained gesturing briefly with his hand as he did. “Your father already has plenty of slaves that can do different jobs for him in his trips. What he lacked was someone that could help him to find what he seeks, a tracker.”
Mirage pondered what Drift said and paid more attention to Hound’s movements and what he could see from above. He did notice Hound’s head constantly turning around, looking and perhaps smelling his surroundings. Now that Drift had pointed it out Mirage wondered how he couldn’t see it all by himself before, thinking of how obvious it was.
“Sometimes, we need a little help to see the obvious.” Drift grinned as Mirage turned to look at him with a frown.
“You need to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Drift asked innocently.
“You know what.” Mirage huffed with a smile and threw a cushion at his guest that was easily caught by Drift. “Will you be staying? Or is your mentor done with the ceremonies?”
“I have a few orns free before we go back to the retreat.”
“Good, then you’ll have dinner with us.” Mirage raised a hand when Drift was about to protest. “Don’t worry, I’m aware of your fueling needs during this period. Let’s go.”
Drift watched Mirage stand up and head out of the room with that purposeful and elegant step of his, standing to follow with a less graceful but just as purposeful step of his own.
General Rating: NC-17
Rating for this Part: PG-13
Warnings: Eventual Slash, sticky smut. Lots of sticky smut.
Pairing: Hound x Mirage
Setting: Imperium Cybertronium G1 AU.
Summary: Mirage believed no one would ever love him with the same strong and pure love his father felt for him nor that he'd ever feel true love for another mech until Hound challenged those beliefs.
Notes: About a year ago I promised to naggingfishwife I would write her a story as a thank you for her generosity and help when I needed it, but I did not want to begin to post until this was finished. The story is now finished, but I have not decided how many chapters it'll be split into. By her preference the smut on this fic is sticky. All parts will be labeled properly so it'll be easy to skip if that's not your flavor of smut. This be the prologue.
My apologies, I had to write this chapter again to introduce another character, updates will be more regular after this one. This fic is not beta read so feel free to correct me.
As a rule of thumb, Mirage always took time to analyze any new comer to his home. Staring was rude, but Mirage had a way to steal enough brief looks to get a good enough appreciation of the mech’s physical appearance.
For Mirage, it was far from a vain observation to determinate whether a mech was good looking or not, but he was a firm believer that looks told more about a mech’s story and background than many words could.
A frame could tell what a mech did, what was likely the specialty and the kind of grounds the mech grew up on. It could tell Mirage where the mech’s inception took place. Every spark was brought to Cybertron from the essence of Primus in Vos, where the cleric family resided and commuted with Primus, but the inception, the place where the spark shaped the protoform and the nutrients into the ultimate body it would affect the outcome of the final form as much as the CRN of the creator or creators. As much as the will of Primus.
Certainly mechs could modify themselves for different reasons during their life time, for aesthetic reasons or out of necessity. The frame a mech came into this world with wasn’t necessarily the one it’d have by the time the were as old as Kup, but for the most part the frames reflected the function or the territory a mech hailed from.
Mechs could be incept anywhere, not necessarily the place where their progenitors lived. Although they lived in Praxus, as Kup was one of the oldest mechs settled in the city, neither Skyfire or Mirage bore the characteristics of Praxian incept mechs. For one reason or another, Skyfire had been incept in Vos, while Mirage was incept in Altihex.
Different places affected what mechs were better suited for. Mechs like Drag Strip, his greatest rival in their Turbo Fox hunting games, was incept in Altihex like Mirage. Vos tended to produce flight capable mechs like Skyfire and the majority of Vosians were stubborn about ever taking the pods containing the protoforms and sparks away from Vos, even if they had to delay something important.
Vos wasn’t the only land to produce flight capable mechs; Altihex produced a handful as well and tended to produce some of the fastest mechs on the ground. Mechs from Kalis and Uraya were usually towering and too bulky that movement was almost a luxury.
So every dweller of a city had something about their frames that Mirage could use to discern where they came from and what their occupation might be, depending on whether they were nobles or slaves. Crystal City nobles tended to be great architects and many performers specialized in sculpting or plastic arts hauled from Crystal City. Although the trade of slaves often made it hard to tell if a mech was currently in residence in their place of inception or not, Mirage was usually fairly good at guessing where a mech came from just by looking at their frames.
Hound though, was proving to be a difficult subject for his guessing games. His frame was not too dissimilar to that of noblemech Swindle, and he was pretty sure their alt modes would bear resemblance, yet Hound did not seem tall and wide enough to come from Uraya and his frame showed no signs of mech that saw too much of hard labor like the slaves coming from Kalis for whom ‘too much hard labor’ was merely a work out and something their bodies did not resent.
He was too heavy to be a speedster from Altihex, and his form was too bulky and not graceful enough for Crystal City or Praxus, too short for Iacon and unlikely a secret flyer from Vos. So where did this mech come from and what role did he fill amongst his father’s aides? He had mechs to help him lift great weights, mechs that could carry items for him, and Skyfire recorded his own discoveries rather than use a scribe. Skyfire was too selective about the mechs he purchased as aides, what could Hound do that Skyfire wanted him?
“The new slave intrigues you.” Mirage looked up from his place on the window sill where he feigned to watch his father direct his slaves to load the supplies and fruits of his trip into the storage rooms before he could spend proper time with his son. Hound standing by his side.
“Drift,” Mirage greeted with a polite nod and a welcoming smile. “I did not expect to see you again so soon, I thought your retirement would last at least a vorn.”
The white mech smiled at the noble and returned the polite nod with a pronounced bow of his own. “My mentor was called back to assist on the christening of a new one amongst our numbers.”
Mirage gestured for the seat a few steps away from the window and Drift made himself comfortable in the plush seat. “It must be nice to sit on something soft after so many decacycles away.”
“It is nice, but you have not answered to me.”
Mirage raised an optic ridge. “You didn’t ask anything. You stated he intrigued me.”
“And he does? Or does he not?”
“He does.” Mirage agreed and looked back down to see the green mech shadowing his father, there seemed to be a familiarity between them that Mirage couldn’t help but find strange and a little unnerving. “I can’t imagine why my father procured him.”
Drift crossed his legs, leaning back against the gel padding of the seat. “He’s a tracker.”
Mirage turned around with an incredulous look. “A tracker? How do you know?”
“It’s not on his frame but in his optics and his face. A frame changes, Mirage, but what you can see in their optics and their demeanour can tell you just as much as the frame itself.” Mirage knew Drift himself was a prime example of what he spoke about. The white armor and the blue optics were not what he was like when he left his pod as a sparkling.
At some point in his life, this Noblemech of Crystal City changed his outer appearance to represent a change within his spark, but even now the optics that were formerly of red hues still held a sharpness edging a calm that didn’t use to be there. It could be seen in the way he looked at others, that this mech was forever studying other mechs and what made them tick philosophically speaking.
“How do you know he is a tracker? What gives it away?” Mirage looked back at Hound from his perch on the window, trying to find what Drift could see.
“He’s like me. He’s always watching, always observing. He’s got keen audios and I could hear his intakes of air to be deeper. He’s smelling what’s around him, and he could tell who was behind him without turning around.” Drift explained gesturing briefly with his hand as he did. “Your father already has plenty of slaves that can do different jobs for him in his trips. What he lacked was someone that could help him to find what he seeks, a tracker.”
Mirage pondered what Drift said and paid more attention to Hound’s movements and what he could see from above. He did notice Hound’s head constantly turning around, looking and perhaps smelling his surroundings. Now that Drift had pointed it out Mirage wondered how he couldn’t see it all by himself before, thinking of how obvious it was.
“Sometimes, we need a little help to see the obvious.” Drift grinned as Mirage turned to look at him with a frown.
“You need to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Drift asked innocently.
“You know what.” Mirage huffed with a smile and threw a cushion at his guest that was easily caught by Drift. “Will you be staying? Or is your mentor done with the ceremonies?”
“I have a few orns free before we go back to the retreat.”
“Good, then you’ll have dinner with us.” Mirage raised a hand when Drift was about to protest. “Don’t worry, I’m aware of your fueling needs during this period. Let’s go.”
Drift watched Mirage stand up and head out of the room with that purposeful and elegant step of his, standing to follow with a less graceful but just as purposeful step of his own.