Nanosnipmo - Day 15 got a little carried away
This one started as a snippet and ended up a full-fledged fic! I was feeling guilty for all the terrible trauma I keep putting Aid through, so least I could do is give him some fun sexytimes ^^ This is also me having fun turning characterizations on their heads. The twins are usually portrayed as experienced hotties, so I wondered...what if they're not? The experienced part, I mean. The hottie is a given, of course ^_~
Title: Slow Fuse
Characters: First Aid/Sunstreaker
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: M? I think this maybe sort of approaches an M! Go me! :D
Word Count: 1867 words
Warnings/Content: tactile, with some talk of plug-n-play
Summary: First Aid...has no idea what he's doing. Neither does Sunstreaker. Somehow it all still works out.
“You’re sure about this?” First Aid asked. “I can hack the door, you know. Emergency medical overrides.” Sunstreaker’s optic ridges rose, intrigued by that last part, and First Aid hastened to add, “And no, I’m not helping you two break into anyone’s quarters, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“Hm, pity,” Sunstreaker said, one corner of his mouthplates quirking in a small grin. Looking down at First Aid’s uptilted blue visor, Sunstreaker briefly contemplated taking the medic up on his offer to escape his brother’s most current scheme. Locking them together in their quarters, though, how uncreative. Sunstreaker was almost disappointed. He sighed and shook his head. How hard could this be, anyway? “I’m sure. Sideswipe will never give me any peace, otherwise.”
//You bet I won’t// Sideswipe sent. //You and Aid have been making googly optics at one another for at least a hundred vorns! It’s high time you do something about it already// Sunstreaker determinedly blocked him, clamping down on the bond with his best mental scowl. He was left with the fleeting sense of Sideswipe’s high amusement (and hopeful encouragement, but Sunstreaker wasn’t in any way shape or form going to admit that he needed it.)
First Aid tilted his head at Sunstreaker’s momentarily abstracted expression, but seemed to decide to take him at his word. “Ok, let’s see here…” First Aid positioned himself in front of Sunstreaker, frowning a little in concentration as he sized the frontliner up. Sunstreaker shifted a little, uneasily, then let out a surprised “mmph!” staggering back a step as First Aid launched himself into his arms and began vigorously stroking, groping, and kissing various parts of his anatomy.
“What on Cybertron are you doing?” he finally asked, with a bemused laugh, squinching his helm to the side as First Aid kissed all over his left helm vent. That tickled! First Aid stopped immediately, leaning back in his arms a little to examine his face in concern.
“Trying to arouse you. It’s not working?” he asked.
“Um…”
“Hm.” First Aid slid back down to the floor, brow furrowed and mouthplates pressed together a little in concentration, and ran a quick scan over Sunstreaker’s systems. “Your core temp hasn’t elevated at all. ‘The Joy of Plugging In’ recommends an aggressive approach for warbuilds and frontliners, but then again, Ratchet says it’s an outdated text. Maybe…” First Aid tapped two of his fingers together, thinking. “Have you been a naughty mech?” he asked after a moment, looking up at Sunstreaker inquiringly. “Do you need to be punished?”
Sunstreaker snorted. “No. No more so than usual, anyway.”
“That’s probably not it, then, hm. And you really don't react well to restraints, so..." First Aid thought a little more. "What if...I talk about your paint job?”
“What about my paint job?” Sunstreaker blinked and started examining his frame, suddenly worried. “Is there a scuff?”
“No, don’t worry, Sunstreaker, I was just being hypothetical. You don’t have any scuffs. You’re very shiny, and yellow, and...shiny?”
First Aid looked at him hopefully, and Sunstreaker couldn’t suppress a snicker. Aid was trying so hard. It was kind of adorable. And it wasn’t as if he’d minded being kissed before, it was just...wasn’t something else supposed to happen?
"I should have watched more episodes of 'General Medbay' when I had the chance," First Aid sighed. “I don’t think I’m going about this right at all. Let me comm Ratchet and see if he has any suggestions--”
Sunstreaker twitched in alarm. “No!”
“But...Sunstreaker, I really think this sort of thing goes smoother if at least one person has some experience with what they’re doing. Maybe we should call in some back up. Optimus has a standing offer to--”
Sunstreaker’s optics widened and he twitched again. “Augh! Definitely not!”
“It’s good for him, too, you know, as a leader. Optimus says regular interface exchange with a variety of mechs keeps him open-minded and flexible.”
Sunstreaker made a strangled sound. In the gladiator pits interfacing had been a hazardous, often brutal, but hardly uncommon activity, although as neither he nor Sideswipe had been old enough to have their interface systems online at the time they’d been spared the worst excesses (or comforts? Sometimes the difference had been hard to tell) of the pits in that arena at least. He was hardly completely innocent, nevermind what Sideswipe said, but somehow the thought of his Prime and...Sunstreaker’s thought processes ground to a halt again.
“Ok, ok,” First Aid was patting his arm reassuringly. “It’s all right. We don’t have to do anything right now.” Sunstreaker growled wordlessly, wrapping an arm around the medic to pull him close and dropping his face down to press against the top of First Aid’s helm.
“I’m being difficult, aren’t I,” he mumbled. First Aid felt very warm and solid against him. Steady and patient, only kindness and healing from his hands, always. Why couldn’t he just fraggin’ return the favor, for once?
“Never,” First Aid said, snuggling in closer. Sunstreaker sighed into his helm. “I’m sure we can figure something out. If nothing else, I could always just trigger a medical overload.”
“You can do that?” Sunstreaker said in surprise.
“Oh sure! You have to get around Kup’s age for regular overloads to become medically advisable if the patient isn’t receiving them recreationally, but they have a variety of other applications. Like getting Sideswipe off your back?” First Aid suggested.
Sunstreaker thought about that a moment. “I don’t know. Almost seems like cheating.”
‘Hm,” First Aid said softly into his chest, still clinging to him tightly. He didn’t say anything else for awhile, and Sunstreaker wondered if he was starting to go into recharge, but if anything First Aid’s ventilations were increasing. And he felt...very warm.
“What about you?” Sunstreaker asked, running his thumb down the side of First Aid’s face to test the temperature. Are you aroused? he meant to ask, but First Aid pressed his face against Sunstreaker’s hand with a sharp indraw of his vents, and then Sunstreaker found himself stroking and gripping wherever First Aid pushed and rubbed against him so urgently. First Aid made an incoherent sound and pulled himself closer when Sunstreaker’s hands brushed over the lines of data ports along his sides, frantically kissing and gusting hot vents into Sunstreaker’s neck.
Sunstreaker froze, however, when First Aid made a startled “bzzzt!” and shuddered hard against him for a long moment. Aid’s hands lifted as the shudders eased to run in a long, firm-but-gentle stroke down either side of Sunstreaker’s helm to cross behind his neck, and then First Aid’s engine stuttered once and downshifted into a steady purr. First Aid’s helm dropped against his shoulder and he made another somewhat surprised incoherent sound as his whole frame relaxed with a long sigh.
Suddenly concerned, Sunstreaker scooped him up and settled the medic on his berth. “Are you ok?”
First Aid blinked back at him dazedly through his visor, waved a hand through the air, and said something that sounded like “fwoom.”
“Right,” Sunstreaker muttered. “I’m calling Ratchet.” Slag, the poor medic was completely scrambled! What had he done to him?
First Aid gusted a faint laugh and lifted himself up to tug at Sunstreaker’s arm. “No, I’m ok, really. Just...give me a moment to find my language modules again.” Sunstreaker eyed him doubtfully, but allowed himself to sit down on the berth next to Aid.
“So that was…you overloaded?”
“Mm hm! That was...very nice,” First Aid confirmed with a long, languorous sigh, snuggling in against Sunstreaker’s side. “I wasn’t expecting that at all, but...wow.”
“But...we didn’t even plug in! All it took was…” Sunstreaker ran an experimental hand down First Aid’s helm and down his side and First Aid exvented and arched, pressing in to him again.
“Apparently!” First Aid laughed a little breathlessly, lifting to rest his forehelm against Sunstreaker’s. “This...isn’t...fair...to you though!” he managed to gasp out, and then Aid appeared to lose track of his language protocols again as Sunstreaker continued to stroke and press all the same places as before, as well as investigating some new ones. First Aid’s hands attempted to reciprocate, one hand slipping under Sunstreaker’s shoulder armor while the other kneaded at his chest. Sunstreaker found that if he stroked down First Aid’s arms to gently capture a hand and gust hot air over it with his vents that Aid would make several interesting new sounds, and in short order the medic had overloaded again.
After the third overload First Aid didn’t even bother to online his optics, just sighed and nuzzled a little aimlessly against Sunstreaker’s armor, and powered down in recharge.
Sunstreaker, not tired at all, grinned and propped himself up more comfortably on the berth next to Aid, inordinately pleased with himself. He had seen First Aid offline before - hands tucked beneath his chin, buttressed on all sides by the frames of his brothers (or Aerialbots, or himself and Sideswipe, when the other Protectobots were still missing), or lightly dozing in the medbay, ready to spring awake at the smallest change in a patient’s condition. This was different though. The little medic was recharging deeply, a faint smile on his faceplates, one hand flung loosely above his helm, the other resting peacefully in Sunstreaker’s own hand. Both their hands, faintly stained here and there with energon, but for very different reasons.
Sunstreaker felt his smile fade a little. Sideswipe nudged at him curiously through the bond and Sunstreaker firmly walled him out again. Not sure how much First Aid’s gestalt had been aware of through their own bond, Sunstreaker sent Hot Spot a non-urgent message, letting him know where First Aid was and checking on Bee and when he was due for his next shift in medbay (Sunstreaker congratulated himself for thinking of the things that First Aid would worry about). Hot Spot’s reply had a happy, appreciative glyph at the end of it that made him suspect the rest of the Protectobots had at least an inkling of events, and Sunstreaker squirmed a little, wondering if there would be a reckoning, later. Ah well, First Aid wouldn’t let them tease him too much. He looked down at the medic again, finding himself not tired at all, strangely content just to gaze at First Aid’s peaceful, recharging form, tracing lines of shadow and light.
He was still watching several joors later, when First Aid’s optics lit at last. They focused on Sunstreaker’s face and brightened in a smile, supremely unconcerned to wake to a large frontline warrior looming over him.
“Sunstreaker,” he murmured, and at the sleepy welcome in his voice Sunstreaker felt something wild and tender and brooding stir in his spark and spread all through his systems. It suddenly seemed like a good idea to kiss First Aid deeply on the lips, and as he did so, First Aid arched appreciatively against him. Heat bloomed and ignited everywhere they touched.
So this is what it is, he thought a little dizzily, mouthing hungrily at First Aid’s throat cables.
“Ah ha! There we go,” First Aid said, laughing delightedly and touching him in places that made the hungry longing in his spark and frame burn even higher. Sunstreaker found it was his turn to make incoherent noises.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/122821.html. Please comment wherever you wish.
Title: Slow Fuse
Characters: First Aid/Sunstreaker
Universe: Protectobot Beginnings AU
Rating: M? I think this maybe sort of approaches an M! Go me! :D
Word Count: 1867 words
Warnings/Content: tactile, with some talk of plug-n-play
Summary: First Aid...has no idea what he's doing. Neither does Sunstreaker. Somehow it all still works out.
“You’re sure about this?” First Aid asked. “I can hack the door, you know. Emergency medical overrides.” Sunstreaker’s optic ridges rose, intrigued by that last part, and First Aid hastened to add, “And no, I’m not helping you two break into anyone’s quarters, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“Hm, pity,” Sunstreaker said, one corner of his mouthplates quirking in a small grin. Looking down at First Aid’s uptilted blue visor, Sunstreaker briefly contemplated taking the medic up on his offer to escape his brother’s most current scheme. Locking them together in their quarters, though, how uncreative. Sunstreaker was almost disappointed. He sighed and shook his head. How hard could this be, anyway? “I’m sure. Sideswipe will never give me any peace, otherwise.”
//You bet I won’t// Sideswipe sent. //You and Aid have been making googly optics at one another for at least a hundred vorns! It’s high time you do something about it already// Sunstreaker determinedly blocked him, clamping down on the bond with his best mental scowl. He was left with the fleeting sense of Sideswipe’s high amusement (and hopeful encouragement, but Sunstreaker wasn’t in any way shape or form going to admit that he needed it.)
First Aid tilted his head at Sunstreaker’s momentarily abstracted expression, but seemed to decide to take him at his word. “Ok, let’s see here…” First Aid positioned himself in front of Sunstreaker, frowning a little in concentration as he sized the frontliner up. Sunstreaker shifted a little, uneasily, then let out a surprised “mmph!” staggering back a step as First Aid launched himself into his arms and began vigorously stroking, groping, and kissing various parts of his anatomy.
“What on Cybertron are you doing?” he finally asked, with a bemused laugh, squinching his helm to the side as First Aid kissed all over his left helm vent. That tickled! First Aid stopped immediately, leaning back in his arms a little to examine his face in concern.
“Trying to arouse you. It’s not working?” he asked.
“Um…”
“Hm.” First Aid slid back down to the floor, brow furrowed and mouthplates pressed together a little in concentration, and ran a quick scan over Sunstreaker’s systems. “Your core temp hasn’t elevated at all. ‘The Joy of Plugging In’ recommends an aggressive approach for warbuilds and frontliners, but then again, Ratchet says it’s an outdated text. Maybe…” First Aid tapped two of his fingers together, thinking. “Have you been a naughty mech?” he asked after a moment, looking up at Sunstreaker inquiringly. “Do you need to be punished?”
Sunstreaker snorted. “No. No more so than usual, anyway.”
“That’s probably not it, then, hm. And you really don't react well to restraints, so..." First Aid thought a little more. "What if...I talk about your paint job?”
“What about my paint job?” Sunstreaker blinked and started examining his frame, suddenly worried. “Is there a scuff?”
“No, don’t worry, Sunstreaker, I was just being hypothetical. You don’t have any scuffs. You’re very shiny, and yellow, and...shiny?”
First Aid looked at him hopefully, and Sunstreaker couldn’t suppress a snicker. Aid was trying so hard. It was kind of adorable. And it wasn’t as if he’d minded being kissed before, it was just...wasn’t something else supposed to happen?
"I should have watched more episodes of 'General Medbay' when I had the chance," First Aid sighed. “I don’t think I’m going about this right at all. Let me comm Ratchet and see if he has any suggestions--”
Sunstreaker twitched in alarm. “No!”
“But...Sunstreaker, I really think this sort of thing goes smoother if at least one person has some experience with what they’re doing. Maybe we should call in some back up. Optimus has a standing offer to--”
Sunstreaker’s optics widened and he twitched again. “Augh! Definitely not!”
“It’s good for him, too, you know, as a leader. Optimus says regular interface exchange with a variety of mechs keeps him open-minded and flexible.”
Sunstreaker made a strangled sound. In the gladiator pits interfacing had been a hazardous, often brutal, but hardly uncommon activity, although as neither he nor Sideswipe had been old enough to have their interface systems online at the time they’d been spared the worst excesses (or comforts? Sometimes the difference had been hard to tell) of the pits in that arena at least. He was hardly completely innocent, nevermind what Sideswipe said, but somehow the thought of his Prime and...Sunstreaker’s thought processes ground to a halt again.
“Ok, ok,” First Aid was patting his arm reassuringly. “It’s all right. We don’t have to do anything right now.” Sunstreaker growled wordlessly, wrapping an arm around the medic to pull him close and dropping his face down to press against the top of First Aid’s helm.
“I’m being difficult, aren’t I,” he mumbled. First Aid felt very warm and solid against him. Steady and patient, only kindness and healing from his hands, always. Why couldn’t he just fraggin’ return the favor, for once?
“Never,” First Aid said, snuggling in closer. Sunstreaker sighed into his helm. “I’m sure we can figure something out. If nothing else, I could always just trigger a medical overload.”
“You can do that?” Sunstreaker said in surprise.
“Oh sure! You have to get around Kup’s age for regular overloads to become medically advisable if the patient isn’t receiving them recreationally, but they have a variety of other applications. Like getting Sideswipe off your back?” First Aid suggested.
Sunstreaker thought about that a moment. “I don’t know. Almost seems like cheating.”
‘Hm,” First Aid said softly into his chest, still clinging to him tightly. He didn’t say anything else for awhile, and Sunstreaker wondered if he was starting to go into recharge, but if anything First Aid’s ventilations were increasing. And he felt...very warm.
“What about you?” Sunstreaker asked, running his thumb down the side of First Aid’s face to test the temperature. Are you aroused? he meant to ask, but First Aid pressed his face against Sunstreaker’s hand with a sharp indraw of his vents, and then Sunstreaker found himself stroking and gripping wherever First Aid pushed and rubbed against him so urgently. First Aid made an incoherent sound and pulled himself closer when Sunstreaker’s hands brushed over the lines of data ports along his sides, frantically kissing and gusting hot vents into Sunstreaker’s neck.
Sunstreaker froze, however, when First Aid made a startled “bzzzt!” and shuddered hard against him for a long moment. Aid’s hands lifted as the shudders eased to run in a long, firm-but-gentle stroke down either side of Sunstreaker’s helm to cross behind his neck, and then First Aid’s engine stuttered once and downshifted into a steady purr. First Aid’s helm dropped against his shoulder and he made another somewhat surprised incoherent sound as his whole frame relaxed with a long sigh.
Suddenly concerned, Sunstreaker scooped him up and settled the medic on his berth. “Are you ok?”
First Aid blinked back at him dazedly through his visor, waved a hand through the air, and said something that sounded like “fwoom.”
“Right,” Sunstreaker muttered. “I’m calling Ratchet.” Slag, the poor medic was completely scrambled! What had he done to him?
First Aid gusted a faint laugh and lifted himself up to tug at Sunstreaker’s arm. “No, I’m ok, really. Just...give me a moment to find my language modules again.” Sunstreaker eyed him doubtfully, but allowed himself to sit down on the berth next to Aid.
“So that was…you overloaded?”
“Mm hm! That was...very nice,” First Aid confirmed with a long, languorous sigh, snuggling in against Sunstreaker’s side. “I wasn’t expecting that at all, but...wow.”
“But...we didn’t even plug in! All it took was…” Sunstreaker ran an experimental hand down First Aid’s helm and down his side and First Aid exvented and arched, pressing in to him again.
“Apparently!” First Aid laughed a little breathlessly, lifting to rest his forehelm against Sunstreaker’s. “This...isn’t...fair...to you though!” he managed to gasp out, and then Aid appeared to lose track of his language protocols again as Sunstreaker continued to stroke and press all the same places as before, as well as investigating some new ones. First Aid’s hands attempted to reciprocate, one hand slipping under Sunstreaker’s shoulder armor while the other kneaded at his chest. Sunstreaker found that if he stroked down First Aid’s arms to gently capture a hand and gust hot air over it with his vents that Aid would make several interesting new sounds, and in short order the medic had overloaded again.
After the third overload First Aid didn’t even bother to online his optics, just sighed and nuzzled a little aimlessly against Sunstreaker’s armor, and powered down in recharge.
Sunstreaker, not tired at all, grinned and propped himself up more comfortably on the berth next to Aid, inordinately pleased with himself. He had seen First Aid offline before - hands tucked beneath his chin, buttressed on all sides by the frames of his brothers (or Aerialbots, or himself and Sideswipe, when the other Protectobots were still missing), or lightly dozing in the medbay, ready to spring awake at the smallest change in a patient’s condition. This was different though. The little medic was recharging deeply, a faint smile on his faceplates, one hand flung loosely above his helm, the other resting peacefully in Sunstreaker’s own hand. Both their hands, faintly stained here and there with energon, but for very different reasons.
Sunstreaker felt his smile fade a little. Sideswipe nudged at him curiously through the bond and Sunstreaker firmly walled him out again. Not sure how much First Aid’s gestalt had been aware of through their own bond, Sunstreaker sent Hot Spot a non-urgent message, letting him know where First Aid was and checking on Bee and when he was due for his next shift in medbay (Sunstreaker congratulated himself for thinking of the things that First Aid would worry about). Hot Spot’s reply had a happy, appreciative glyph at the end of it that made him suspect the rest of the Protectobots had at least an inkling of events, and Sunstreaker squirmed a little, wondering if there would be a reckoning, later. Ah well, First Aid wouldn’t let them tease him too much. He looked down at the medic again, finding himself not tired at all, strangely content just to gaze at First Aid’s peaceful, recharging form, tracing lines of shadow and light.
He was still watching several joors later, when First Aid’s optics lit at last. They focused on Sunstreaker’s face and brightened in a smile, supremely unconcerned to wake to a large frontline warrior looming over him.
“Sunstreaker,” he murmured, and at the sleepy welcome in his voice Sunstreaker felt something wild and tender and brooding stir in his spark and spread all through his systems. It suddenly seemed like a good idea to kiss First Aid deeply on the lips, and as he did so, First Aid arched appreciatively against him. Heat bloomed and ignited everywhere they touched.
So this is what it is, he thought a little dizzily, mouthing hungrily at First Aid’s throat cables.
“Ah ha! There we go,” First Aid said, laughing delightedly and touching him in places that made the hungry longing in his spark and frame burn even higher. Sunstreaker found it was his turn to make incoherent noises.
This entry was originally posted at http://playswithworms.dreamwidth.org/122821.html. Please comment wherever you wish.