More fluff!
Title: Borealis 55/80: Interlewd: Harmonices Mundi
Author: tainry
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Mirage/Hound, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Prime
Warnings: PnP & spark-smexing, fluff
Summary: Wherein Hound and Mirage decide to take the spark-merge plunge.
Notes: Short and waffy! Yes, you'll get to meet the result later. :D
~1100 words.
Interlewd: Harmonices Mundi
2024 - March
Hound came online slowly. Haptics first as his CPU booted up, closely followed by audio and most of his EM receptors. His optics brightened like the first stars as evening falls. Mirage was a comfortable heat and weight atop him, his head resting on Hound’s chest, his long, graceful limbs in disarray. Hound didn’t want to move, even to arrange them both less precariously. And anyway, he liked Mirage very much right where he was.
The recharge table and their sides were still warm from where Wheeljack had been. He must have gone moments before, probably back to his tower. Wheeljack had carried them off Borealis upon their return from Mars and brought them into the recharge bay, overloading both of them to ensure that they would come online smoothly, needing only refueling.
Hound felt as much as heard Mirage’s CPU boot up and greeted him with transmitted contentment and affection. Hound liked this almost better than overload itself, when they had the leisure to stay cabled together for a good long while afterward. Words were there if they wanted them, but they weren’t needed.
Mmm. That was nice, Mirage said, ever courteous and appreciative, though small glyphs wafting through indicated he wished Wheeljack had stayed, and that Prowl and Tracks had been there, too.
Prowl was keeping Strake busy, however, and Tracks had decided to assist in the healing of the former Decepticon. Tracks’ second alt mode made him a Theta-class Seeker, much to Strake’s - who was, like Starscream, an Alpha - consternation. Tracks was smaller and more maneuverable, but not as fast, and his high power consumption made his range limited. Tracks therefore fought dirty and very, very smart. Backed by Prowl’s tactics, Tracks flew Strake into the ground on a regular basis.
Mirage didn’t seem inclined to move any more than Hound, but he did send low-power pulses through his invisibility net, knowing Hound’s sensitive scanners would pick that up as rather interesting sensations.
Mmm, still a little overclocked eh, Mir? Nice yourself.
Hound draped an arm around Mirage’s waist, which was about all the action he was prepared for at the moment. Vague, half-formed thoughts cycled between them, gaining cohesion with each slow iteration. Curiosity, supposition, desire to be of service, aid to Prime, it was possible, they should at least make the attempt.
Everyone, except Wheeljack and Bumblebee, keeps asking Prime to merge. We should be able to do it ourselves, spare him more scars. We saw him after that time with Prowl, he draws more than his share of the pain and damage. It’s not right. Besides, why should he have all the fun? We’ll be swamped by Prime progeny! Oh no! They laughed, not hard enough to make Mirage fall, but it felt good. Shall we go annoy Ratchet now or later? How about later. And maybe we can get Prime to observe, give us some pointers. They both found the thought of Prime’s presence, and perhaps participation, highly stimulating.
Their hands moved, as much of the other’s volition as their own, stroking and plucking in familiar patterns, a comforting ritual, no less arousing for its familiarity. They knew exactly how to turn each other on. And the thrill of what they had decided to do added what little jolt of novelty they could want.
<{>~~~<(o)>~~~<}>
Are you both ready?
Yes, Prime. They sat upon the recharge table near the growth tanks, legs and arms wrapped around each other, already in unison, cables firmly docked, chest armor parted slightly, shivering with shared heat.
Hey, came a query from Wheeljack, who was standing outside the repair bay, head down to aim his sensory fins, hands clasped. Would you guys mind… I mean, could I… if you…?
Oh! Yes! Yes, Wheeljack, please come in!
Ratchet unlocked the doors, and Wheeljack hurried inside, pressing his forehelm to Hound’s and Mirage’s, then withdrawing to a safe distance to observe.
Remember, Ratchet chided them. Pay attention to what you’re doing. You’re just overloading in public, otherwise. He was concerned. It seemed on the surface that there was more love and passion between these two than determination. They needed to focus. This was still a hazardous game to play. He decided to scan them carefully throughout the process.
We know, they thrummed. Link deepening, sparks spinning bright, copper and pale clear green, conductive, ductile, soft as the first tendrils of their coronae wound together, coiling tightly, generating a static charge that arced across the med-bay, making Ratchet duck involuntarily, despite his proclaimed enjoyment of high voltage electrical tinglies. Wheeljack snickered. Slowly they turned their lambent optics up at Prime, their mouths open slightly, their vocal processors beginning a subsonic hum. Mirage and Hound traded scanning and cloaking pulses to wind each other higher, while their optics stayed focused on Prime. We know, they spun, weaving long history, long friendship, long threads of life and time, warp and woof, gravitational, but not as dangerous. Oh Mir, Oh Hound. Their chests sprang wide, spark chambers completely unlocked and engaged, edges touching, coronae fully overlapped. We are. We are one. Oh Prime, we are. They passed everything by, let everything go as they dove into the well of matter, of the universe. It was hard, the strands were slippery, mischievous. Hound and Mirage focused doggedly, kept trying until two strands caught and held. More joined them, slowly, then quickly, gathering, spinning - ignition.
They shouted through the explosive backwash of power, through the pain to overload, caught and held in Prime’s arms.
<{>~~~<(o)>~~~<}>
They came online laughing, though they found, once they accessed their internal clocks, that an entire day had passed. Prime! We did it!
You did indeed. Beautifully done, both of you. It had been moving to watch, to observe from the outside for once. He had stayed close, scanning closer, his spark humming in sympathetic harmony, unflinching from the lightning and heat that sprayed around the room. Prime and Ratchet had conveyed the new spark to the protomass tank, allowing Hound and Mirage to recharge where they were, side by side. Ratchet hoped this might ameliorate some of the effects of the merge. Both Hound and Mirage bore the tell-tale lightning-tree scars across their chests, concealed by their chameleon mesh.
Prime, Wheeljack and Ratchet had left them cabled together. Ratchet felt it would be too jarring to disconnect them until they regained awareness. Hound and Mirage made no move to disconnect, however. Instead they clasped hands, fingers intertwining. Prime leaned down and held their linked hands within his own. Rest for now. Ratchet will take care of the spark. Just remember later on, you need to come visit it, talk to it.
Wait a minute, Hound said. You mean to tell me you and old Ratchet were in here singing lullabies to Borealis while she was in the tank? He and Mirage both laughed at the mental image.
Prime chuckled. Not lullabies as such, no.
Don’t be ridiculous, Ratchet put in. Prime can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Table of Contents
.
Author: tainry
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairing: Mirage/Hound, Wheeljack, Ratchet, Prime
Warnings: PnP & spark-smexing, fluff
Summary: Wherein Hound and Mirage decide to take the spark-merge plunge.
Notes: Short and waffy! Yes, you'll get to meet the result later. :D
~1100 words.
Interlewd: Harmonices Mundi
2024 - March
Hound came online slowly. Haptics first as his CPU booted up, closely followed by audio and most of his EM receptors. His optics brightened like the first stars as evening falls. Mirage was a comfortable heat and weight atop him, his head resting on Hound’s chest, his long, graceful limbs in disarray. Hound didn’t want to move, even to arrange them both less precariously. And anyway, he liked Mirage very much right where he was.
The recharge table and their sides were still warm from where Wheeljack had been. He must have gone moments before, probably back to his tower. Wheeljack had carried them off Borealis upon their return from Mars and brought them into the recharge bay, overloading both of them to ensure that they would come online smoothly, needing only refueling.
Hound felt as much as heard Mirage’s CPU boot up and greeted him with transmitted contentment and affection. Hound liked this almost better than overload itself, when they had the leisure to stay cabled together for a good long while afterward. Words were there if they wanted them, but they weren’t needed.
Mmm. That was nice, Mirage said, ever courteous and appreciative, though small glyphs wafting through indicated he wished Wheeljack had stayed, and that Prowl and Tracks had been there, too.
Prowl was keeping Strake busy, however, and Tracks had decided to assist in the healing of the former Decepticon. Tracks’ second alt mode made him a Theta-class Seeker, much to Strake’s - who was, like Starscream, an Alpha - consternation. Tracks was smaller and more maneuverable, but not as fast, and his high power consumption made his range limited. Tracks therefore fought dirty and very, very smart. Backed by Prowl’s tactics, Tracks flew Strake into the ground on a regular basis.
Mirage didn’t seem inclined to move any more than Hound, but he did send low-power pulses through his invisibility net, knowing Hound’s sensitive scanners would pick that up as rather interesting sensations.
Mmm, still a little overclocked eh, Mir? Nice yourself.
Hound draped an arm around Mirage’s waist, which was about all the action he was prepared for at the moment. Vague, half-formed thoughts cycled between them, gaining cohesion with each slow iteration. Curiosity, supposition, desire to be of service, aid to Prime, it was possible, they should at least make the attempt.
Everyone, except Wheeljack and Bumblebee, keeps asking Prime to merge. We should be able to do it ourselves, spare him more scars. We saw him after that time with Prowl, he draws more than his share of the pain and damage. It’s not right. Besides, why should he have all the fun? We’ll be swamped by Prime progeny! Oh no! They laughed, not hard enough to make Mirage fall, but it felt good. Shall we go annoy Ratchet now or later? How about later. And maybe we can get Prime to observe, give us some pointers. They both found the thought of Prime’s presence, and perhaps participation, highly stimulating.
Their hands moved, as much of the other’s volition as their own, stroking and plucking in familiar patterns, a comforting ritual, no less arousing for its familiarity. They knew exactly how to turn each other on. And the thrill of what they had decided to do added what little jolt of novelty they could want.
<{>~~~<(o)>~~~<}>
Are you both ready?
Yes, Prime. They sat upon the recharge table near the growth tanks, legs and arms wrapped around each other, already in unison, cables firmly docked, chest armor parted slightly, shivering with shared heat.
Hey, came a query from Wheeljack, who was standing outside the repair bay, head down to aim his sensory fins, hands clasped. Would you guys mind… I mean, could I… if you…?
Oh! Yes! Yes, Wheeljack, please come in!
Ratchet unlocked the doors, and Wheeljack hurried inside, pressing his forehelm to Hound’s and Mirage’s, then withdrawing to a safe distance to observe.
Remember, Ratchet chided them. Pay attention to what you’re doing. You’re just overloading in public, otherwise. He was concerned. It seemed on the surface that there was more love and passion between these two than determination. They needed to focus. This was still a hazardous game to play. He decided to scan them carefully throughout the process.
We know, they thrummed. Link deepening, sparks spinning bright, copper and pale clear green, conductive, ductile, soft as the first tendrils of their coronae wound together, coiling tightly, generating a static charge that arced across the med-bay, making Ratchet duck involuntarily, despite his proclaimed enjoyment of high voltage electrical tinglies. Wheeljack snickered. Slowly they turned their lambent optics up at Prime, their mouths open slightly, their vocal processors beginning a subsonic hum. Mirage and Hound traded scanning and cloaking pulses to wind each other higher, while their optics stayed focused on Prime. We know, they spun, weaving long history, long friendship, long threads of life and time, warp and woof, gravitational, but not as dangerous. Oh Mir, Oh Hound. Their chests sprang wide, spark chambers completely unlocked and engaged, edges touching, coronae fully overlapped. We are. We are one. Oh Prime, we are. They passed everything by, let everything go as they dove into the well of matter, of the universe. It was hard, the strands were slippery, mischievous. Hound and Mirage focused doggedly, kept trying until two strands caught and held. More joined them, slowly, then quickly, gathering, spinning - ignition.
They shouted through the explosive backwash of power, through the pain to overload, caught and held in Prime’s arms.
<{>~~~<(o)>~~~<}>
They came online laughing, though they found, once they accessed their internal clocks, that an entire day had passed. Prime! We did it!
You did indeed. Beautifully done, both of you. It had been moving to watch, to observe from the outside for once. He had stayed close, scanning closer, his spark humming in sympathetic harmony, unflinching from the lightning and heat that sprayed around the room. Prime and Ratchet had conveyed the new spark to the protomass tank, allowing Hound and Mirage to recharge where they were, side by side. Ratchet hoped this might ameliorate some of the effects of the merge. Both Hound and Mirage bore the tell-tale lightning-tree scars across their chests, concealed by their chameleon mesh.
Prime, Wheeljack and Ratchet had left them cabled together. Ratchet felt it would be too jarring to disconnect them until they regained awareness. Hound and Mirage made no move to disconnect, however. Instead they clasped hands, fingers intertwining. Prime leaned down and held their linked hands within his own. Rest for now. Ratchet will take care of the spark. Just remember later on, you need to come visit it, talk to it.
Wait a minute, Hound said. You mean to tell me you and old Ratchet were in here singing lullabies to Borealis while she was in the tank? He and Mirage both laughed at the mental image.
Prime chuckled. Not lullabies as such, no.
Don’t be ridiculous, Ratchet put in. Prime can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Table of Contents
.