Fic - Like Petrorabbits
Title: Like Petrorabbits
Warnings: comedy, some fluff, implies slash & smut (of the plug’n’play variety)
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war, in Kaon)
Characters/Pairing: implies Blast Off/Vortex, Brawl
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: Blast Off and Vortex are drunk and collapse on the floor
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Inspired by an RP log with ultharkitty on haven_rp. ;)
Title inspired by caiusmajor. Thanks for that. ;)
Like Petrorabbits
“You’re so hot!” Vortex said, his energy field flaring and crackling over Blast Off’s as he leant against the shuttle.
Blast Off couldn’t say if it was because Vortex was horny, or because he was too drunk to walk unaided. Blast Off guessed it was both.
Even he had problems walking upright, and he also grabbed at Vortex for purchase now and then, though he wasn’t as clingy as the ‘copter was. When he felt too dizzy, he preferred to take hold of a wall, or… something else.
Blast Off didn’t answer, and hindered his own energy field from flaring in response.
Only a few mechs looked at them, but none of their gazes were condescending - only amused, since it was quite common for drunken mechs to wander around Koan. Blast Off didn’t like it, though. Usually he wasn’t one of those mechs, and if it hadn’t been for Vortex, he’d never have been…
It was all the ‘copter’s fault. He’d annoyed Blast Off until he’d gave in, dragging him to this bar where he had a job to do. Then the mech Vortex had to take care of didn’t show up - he might have gotten a warning - and so Blast Off was stuck with a frustrated ‘copter.
The owner had offered them some new sort of high grade, and everything new and shiny is worthy of Vortex’ attention. He’d drunk three cubes, Blast Off only two.
Secretly, Blast Off wondered how Vortex was still able to walk when he was smaller than the shuttle and had taken even more of the drink. The thought passed by quickly, and Blast Off shrugged, deciding that he didn’t care, and that reaching Onslaught’s HQ safely without being robbed was far more important.
“You’re gonna frag me in HQ, aren’t you?” Vortex asked in his mischievous tone which even Blast Off could read. The rotor blades quivered, the tail rotors spun slowly, tempting, and inviting Blast Off to touch.
He didn’t. He was too preoccupied with walking and not falling over.
“Shut up,” Blast Off mumbled, his voice hoarse from the high grade.
“Hehe. That wasn’t a no.”
“I said shut up.”
“I know you want to…” Vortex laughed again, leaning closer, stumbling - on purpose or not, Blast Off couldn’t tell - and reaching for the shuttle’s arm shield. He was quiet for a moment, distracted by the ceramic plating, and Blast Off allowed the touch. It was better than hearing the stupid words.
He thoroughly denied that they might have been true.
The rest of the way was studded with incoherent mumbling and a few other attempts to touch him. Blast Off could hardly remember how they reached the door of HQ, but eventually, they did.
Vortex leant against his chest, the face hidden between Blast Off’s vents, making it rather hard for the shuttle to keep his equilibrium chip working. Especially with the other’s field throbbing, prickling, and making pretty clear what Vortex hoped for.
“Hmmm…” Vortex sighed, than giggled, the vibrations conducting into Blast Off’s plating, as he raised a hand and ran a finger along the shuttle’s winglet on the upper arm. He didn’t say anything, he probably couldn’t, but he also didn’t need to.
The ‘copter already knew that Blast Off wasn’t that put off by being touched when he was drunk. It was no wonder Vortex tried. And it was no wonder Blast Off didn’t push him away.
High grade made everything fuzzy.
How Blast Off opened the door, or how they ended up on the floor in whatever room, he didn’t know.
Vortex straddled his lap, engine purring as he made obvious use of his opportunity and let his hands rove over Blast Off’s plating, slowly, and also a little clumsily. Their energy fields pulsed with lust and dizziness, a tranquillising mixture which went along with the unusual non-greedy touches and kisses.
Their battle masks withdrawn, lip plates pressed together, Blast Off responded the lazy but intense kiss while his hands slid up Vortex’ thighs to his aft, pulling him closer. He earned himself a moan of approval, and the ‘copter’s energy field extended farther.
Blast Off shuddered. This was good, and even better when Vortex nibbled along his neck cables…
Sighing, Blast Off hoped Vortex would take care of the rest, since his arms suddenly felt as heavy and weak as his mind as his processor clocked more slowly. He hardly noticed the hands on his armour becoming lazier when his first systems began to shut down.
---
Brawl was tired when he entered the rec- room in the early morning hours. He’d just come back with Onslaught from a mission in Iacon, and now he really had earned himself some energon. No high grade, because Onslaught would find out and yell at him, but…
Surprised, Brawl stopped and stared. He rebooted his optics, unsure if it was only the lack of recharge producing the imagine in front of him.
He stepped closer, and realised it was real.
Blast Off sat on the floor, leaning at the wall of the rec-room, one arm on the ground, the other lazy around Vortex’ aft. The ‘copter sat on his lap, and seemed as though he’d slid down a little, his head only held up by Blast Off’s winglet, fingers curling at the shuttle’s plating.
Brawl’s optics flickered anew. He didn’t see any cables, so he wasn’t sure if his colleagues had interfaced or not, or why they were on the ground at all…
As quietly as possibly, he got closer, and then his vents inhaled the smell of some quite heavy high grade.
“What? You two were drinking without me?” Brawl asked loudly, forgetting that Blast Off and Vortex were still in recharge.
Well, they had been in recharge. After Brawl’s quite lively question, the two mechs on the floor began moving, groaning, and Blast Off was the first one to clutch his hand to his helm.
“Oh Sigma… what the…” he groaned as his optics slowly brightened and dimmed again.
With the battle mask retracted, Brawl could see the confusion, then the disgust and pain. “Oh frag…” The purple optics shut down again.
Vortex came online less quickly. He mumbled something incoherent, and hands on the shuttle’s armour began to trace lazily over seams.
Brawl tipped his head to a side, grinning. “Yo, what the pit is going on? You were drinking without me, weren’t you?”
Blast Off’s optics snapped back online, looking at him, the face suddenly blank, and the gaze turning into a glare.
Brawl winced, his grin vanished, and now it was Vortex who smirked. Turning his head lightly, the tank could see the ‘copter’s expression, and rotors began quivering.
“Hey Brawl…”
The tank shifted uncomfortably. He neither liked Vortex’ naughty face, nor Blast Off’s glare, and as tempting as it was to say something provocative, he knew this wouldn’t be a good idea. Even if Vortex might think it was funny, Blast Off wouldn’t. And unlike Vortex, Brawl wouldn’t appreciate being shot at by those cannons…
“Ehm…”
Blast Off’s optics twitched.
“I didn’t see anything!” He said quickly, and turned around.
When Brawl left the room a snapped “And you get the frag off me!” was the last thing he heard, before he closed the door.
He truly needed recharge now. The energon could wait.
---
Vortex’ grin only broadened at Blast Off’s angry tone, and he didn’t move. The high grade had been really potent and even if his head hurt, he was still dizzy.
With his forehead leaning against Blast Off’s chest, he licked the purple plating, and traced with a finger over the rim of a vent.
Blast Off’s intakes hitched. It was promising that the shuttle didn’t say anything against the touch or try to push him away.
“Hehe… I’m still horny,” Vortex’ laugh crackled with static. “What about you?” His energy field flared.
A pause, before the shuttle answered, “Not here.”
Blast Off’s field flared back.
Warnings: comedy, some fluff, implies slash & smut (of the plug’n’play variety)
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war, in Kaon)
Characters/Pairing: implies Blast Off/Vortex, Brawl
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: Blast Off and Vortex are drunk and collapse on the floor
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Inspired by an RP log with ultharkitty on haven_rp. ;)
Title inspired by caiusmajor. Thanks for that. ;)
Like Petrorabbits
“You’re so hot!” Vortex said, his energy field flaring and crackling over Blast Off’s as he leant against the shuttle.
Blast Off couldn’t say if it was because Vortex was horny, or because he was too drunk to walk unaided. Blast Off guessed it was both.
Even he had problems walking upright, and he also grabbed at Vortex for purchase now and then, though he wasn’t as clingy as the ‘copter was. When he felt too dizzy, he preferred to take hold of a wall, or… something else.
Blast Off didn’t answer, and hindered his own energy field from flaring in response.
Only a few mechs looked at them, but none of their gazes were condescending - only amused, since it was quite common for drunken mechs to wander around Koan. Blast Off didn’t like it, though. Usually he wasn’t one of those mechs, and if it hadn’t been for Vortex, he’d never have been…
It was all the ‘copter’s fault. He’d annoyed Blast Off until he’d gave in, dragging him to this bar where he had a job to do. Then the mech Vortex had to take care of didn’t show up - he might have gotten a warning - and so Blast Off was stuck with a frustrated ‘copter.
The owner had offered them some new sort of high grade, and everything new and shiny is worthy of Vortex’ attention. He’d drunk three cubes, Blast Off only two.
Secretly, Blast Off wondered how Vortex was still able to walk when he was smaller than the shuttle and had taken even more of the drink. The thought passed by quickly, and Blast Off shrugged, deciding that he didn’t care, and that reaching Onslaught’s HQ safely without being robbed was far more important.
“You’re gonna frag me in HQ, aren’t you?” Vortex asked in his mischievous tone which even Blast Off could read. The rotor blades quivered, the tail rotors spun slowly, tempting, and inviting Blast Off to touch.
He didn’t. He was too preoccupied with walking and not falling over.
“Shut up,” Blast Off mumbled, his voice hoarse from the high grade.
“Hehe. That wasn’t a no.”
“I said shut up.”
“I know you want to…” Vortex laughed again, leaning closer, stumbling - on purpose or not, Blast Off couldn’t tell - and reaching for the shuttle’s arm shield. He was quiet for a moment, distracted by the ceramic plating, and Blast Off allowed the touch. It was better than hearing the stupid words.
He thoroughly denied that they might have been true.
The rest of the way was studded with incoherent mumbling and a few other attempts to touch him. Blast Off could hardly remember how they reached the door of HQ, but eventually, they did.
Vortex leant against his chest, the face hidden between Blast Off’s vents, making it rather hard for the shuttle to keep his equilibrium chip working. Especially with the other’s field throbbing, prickling, and making pretty clear what Vortex hoped for.
“Hmmm…” Vortex sighed, than giggled, the vibrations conducting into Blast Off’s plating, as he raised a hand and ran a finger along the shuttle’s winglet on the upper arm. He didn’t say anything, he probably couldn’t, but he also didn’t need to.
The ‘copter already knew that Blast Off wasn’t that put off by being touched when he was drunk. It was no wonder Vortex tried. And it was no wonder Blast Off didn’t push him away.
High grade made everything fuzzy.
How Blast Off opened the door, or how they ended up on the floor in whatever room, he didn’t know.
Vortex straddled his lap, engine purring as he made obvious use of his opportunity and let his hands rove over Blast Off’s plating, slowly, and also a little clumsily. Their energy fields pulsed with lust and dizziness, a tranquillising mixture which went along with the unusual non-greedy touches and kisses.
Their battle masks withdrawn, lip plates pressed together, Blast Off responded the lazy but intense kiss while his hands slid up Vortex’ thighs to his aft, pulling him closer. He earned himself a moan of approval, and the ‘copter’s energy field extended farther.
Blast Off shuddered. This was good, and even better when Vortex nibbled along his neck cables…
Sighing, Blast Off hoped Vortex would take care of the rest, since his arms suddenly felt as heavy and weak as his mind as his processor clocked more slowly. He hardly noticed the hands on his armour becoming lazier when his first systems began to shut down.
---
Brawl was tired when he entered the rec- room in the early morning hours. He’d just come back with Onslaught from a mission in Iacon, and now he really had earned himself some energon. No high grade, because Onslaught would find out and yell at him, but…
Surprised, Brawl stopped and stared. He rebooted his optics, unsure if it was only the lack of recharge producing the imagine in front of him.
He stepped closer, and realised it was real.
Blast Off sat on the floor, leaning at the wall of the rec-room, one arm on the ground, the other lazy around Vortex’ aft. The ‘copter sat on his lap, and seemed as though he’d slid down a little, his head only held up by Blast Off’s winglet, fingers curling at the shuttle’s plating.
Brawl’s optics flickered anew. He didn’t see any cables, so he wasn’t sure if his colleagues had interfaced or not, or why they were on the ground at all…
As quietly as possibly, he got closer, and then his vents inhaled the smell of some quite heavy high grade.
“What? You two were drinking without me?” Brawl asked loudly, forgetting that Blast Off and Vortex were still in recharge.
Well, they had been in recharge. After Brawl’s quite lively question, the two mechs on the floor began moving, groaning, and Blast Off was the first one to clutch his hand to his helm.
“Oh Sigma… what the…” he groaned as his optics slowly brightened and dimmed again.
With the battle mask retracted, Brawl could see the confusion, then the disgust and pain. “Oh frag…” The purple optics shut down again.
Vortex came online less quickly. He mumbled something incoherent, and hands on the shuttle’s armour began to trace lazily over seams.
Brawl tipped his head to a side, grinning. “Yo, what the pit is going on? You were drinking without me, weren’t you?”
Blast Off’s optics snapped back online, looking at him, the face suddenly blank, and the gaze turning into a glare.
Brawl winced, his grin vanished, and now it was Vortex who smirked. Turning his head lightly, the tank could see the ‘copter’s expression, and rotors began quivering.
“Hey Brawl…”
The tank shifted uncomfortably. He neither liked Vortex’ naughty face, nor Blast Off’s glare, and as tempting as it was to say something provocative, he knew this wouldn’t be a good idea. Even if Vortex might think it was funny, Blast Off wouldn’t. And unlike Vortex, Brawl wouldn’t appreciate being shot at by those cannons…
“Ehm…”
Blast Off’s optics twitched.
“I didn’t see anything!” He said quickly, and turned around.
When Brawl left the room a snapped “And you get the frag off me!” was the last thing he heard, before he closed the door.
He truly needed recharge now. The energon could wait.
---
Vortex’ grin only broadened at Blast Off’s angry tone, and he didn’t move. The high grade had been really potent and even if his head hurt, he was still dizzy.
With his forehead leaning against Blast Off’s chest, he licked the purple plating, and traced with a finger over the rim of a vent.
Blast Off’s intakes hitched. It was promising that the shuttle didn’t say anything against the touch or try to push him away.
“Hehe… I’m still horny,” Vortex’ laugh crackled with static. “What about you?” His energy field flared.
A pause, before the shuttle answered, “Not here.”
Blast Off’s field flared back.