Dirty, a Transformers G1 oneshot
Title: Dirty
Universe: G1
Rating: PG13 (for blatant sexual refrences)
Prompt: 6. Hound/Trailbreaker-G1-"I like it when you're dirty." Request: Please no mention of Mirage.
Word Count: 593
Notes: written for the weekly challenge over at tf_rare_pairing. the idea was nagging at me from the moment the post went up, but like a lot of other things, it was derailed by the evil!Jazz bunny.
Hound’s laugh was warm and rich and resonated through the patch of woods like a song. It was infectious, and despite the pain he was in from slowly healing injuries, Trailbreaker couldn’t help but smile in response. Bluestreak laughed with the tracker, and for a moment the defensive strategist was consumed with a wave of jealousy.
The feeling was brief and fleeting, though; he was irritated at being confined to the base by Ratchet, not jealous of the sniper going on patrol with his lover. He did wish he was sharing the joke, though.
As the pair came closer to the entryway, he could see them-and see that Hound was coved from cranium to pede in mud and rust red clay. It explained why they were laughing and why they were walking. Even as he wondered what had happened to the green mech, Trailbreaker felt his engine rev at the sight of him.
Nothing was as arousing as his lover covered in the mud and organic matter of the planet they both loved so much.
Bluestreak caught sight of him waiting in the entry wave and pointed him out to Hound. Trailbreaker thought he saw the normally-green mech smile and they both waved. The black mech waved back, glad to know he had made his lover happy.
Hound wrapped him in a gentle hug when they reached the entryway. “How you feeling?”
“Still sore,” Trailbreaker replied. “And be careful, there. Ratchet will deactivate both of us if you get any of that in my internals.”
The tracker gave him a fake pout. “Aw, I thought you liked the mud.”
“You know I do.” The strategist used his thumb to wipe some of the clay from Hound’s lip components so he could kiss him. “But I also like being online to play in it with you.”
“Oh, TMI!” Bluestreak squawked. “I did not need to know that!”
“Like you haven’t let Sunstreaker paint you before,” the green mech replied with a wicked grin.
The sniper opened and closed his mouth several times before letting out an embarrassed squeak. “How did you know about that?”
“When you wash yourself, you don’t always get it out from between your doorwings,” Trailbreaker replied solemnly.
Bluestreak’s expression went from embarrassed to horrified. Without another word, he dashed inside the Ark.
Hound chuckled as the younger mech retreated. “Poor Blue. I didn’t mean to embarrass him quite like that.”
“He’s young,” Trailbreaker replied. “He’ll get over it. Sunstreaker probably won’t get an interface for several days, but he’ll get over it. Now, let’s get you clean enough to come inside.”
The tracker didn’t argue as the strategist led the way to the hose that had been run from the wash racks outside for the purpose of removing excess mud and organic matter. He did, however, take the hose out of the black mech’s hand when he moved to turn the water on.
“You don’t need to strain yourself,” Hound said gently. “I can handle it.”
Trailbreaker whimpered when Hound’s fingers trailed over the armor that covered his interface cables. “But I want to.”
“I know,” the green mech replied. “But Ratchet will deactivate us both if I let you stress your repairs, too. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
He leaned down and pressed another kiss to Hound’s lip components. “Are you going to make it a good one, then?”
“The best,” the tracker replied. “And once your repairs are finished, I promise that we’ll go out and get dirty together.”
Trailbreaker’s engine purred at that statement.