Shiva (Transformers, Ironhide/Chromia, G)
Title: Shiva
Author/Artist: raisedbymoogles
Rating: G
Warnings: a bit pretentious on my part.
Word Count: 168
Summary: Chromia watches Ironhide dance.
Prompt: Transformers G1, Chromia/Ironhide - erotic dance - Raising hell and the seventh veil.
War suited Ironhide, as peace never had. In the cruel forge of the Decepticons' march across Cybertron, Ironhide was stripped of his fears and worries and became who he was.
Or so it seemed to Chromia. For in the fading light of Iacon's streetlights, Ironhide was dancing for her.
It was not a dance that the cultured mechs among them would have recognized. Ironhide stepped into lunges and pivots, his hands wrapped firmly around his unpowered rifle. The movements were a slower rendition of his actions in battle, repeated over and over until they were perfected. The set of his legs, to bear his weight centered and steady; the flex of an arm just so to block an imagined attack; his rifle, an extension of his body, tracking across miles of suspended roadway as if searching for targets.
Chromia felt privileged simply to watch him. Yet Ironhide had more to give: he held out his hand to her with a welcoming smile.
Bathed in electric light, they danced.
Author/Artist: raisedbymoogles
Rating: G
Warnings: a bit pretentious on my part.
Word Count: 168
Summary: Chromia watches Ironhide dance.
Prompt: Transformers G1, Chromia/Ironhide - erotic dance - Raising hell and the seventh veil.
War suited Ironhide, as peace never had. In the cruel forge of the Decepticons' march across Cybertron, Ironhide was stripped of his fears and worries and became who he was.
Or so it seemed to Chromia. For in the fading light of Iacon's streetlights, Ironhide was dancing for her.
It was not a dance that the cultured mechs among them would have recognized. Ironhide stepped into lunges and pivots, his hands wrapped firmly around his unpowered rifle. The movements were a slower rendition of his actions in battle, repeated over and over until they were perfected. The set of his legs, to bear his weight centered and steady; the flex of an arm just so to block an imagined attack; his rifle, an extension of his body, tracking across miles of suspended roadway as if searching for targets.
Chromia felt privileged simply to watch him. Yet Ironhide had more to give: he held out his hand to her with a welcoming smile.
Bathed in electric light, they danced.