Flash Fiction Fills (Take 27) Part Two
Jan. 29th, 2012 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Only have two more for ya tonight. Again with the RL nonsense. But I'll have all four of the rest for ya tomorrow. Promise. Until then, enjoy.
For jalaperilo
Prompt: Mirage/Hound, decadence
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for light mechslash, probably ooc
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Tracks/Wheeljack, he blinded me with science
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for mechslash, temporary blindness, intent to interface, ooc? , literal interpretation of a prompt
a/n: Still in a bit of a cracky mood. The more tired I am, the more cracky I write. lol
Feedback is appreciated. See ya tomorrow!
For jalaperilo
Prompt: Mirage/Hound, decadence
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for light mechslash, probably ooc
Watching Mirage flutter around his cramped quarters like a hummingbird brings a smile to Hound's face. He has no idea what Mirage has planned, but he can be patient. If only those doubting bots could see Mirage like this, they wouldn't think him so cold and untouchable.
But then, that Hound is the only one with this knowledge makes him feel like he and Mirage are sharing a secret. He likes the sound of that, too.
“Hound.”
He looks up, finding Mirage standing in front of him, his hands behind his back and obviously clutching something of importance.
Hound spreads his hands, palms upward, a common gesture to indicate his willingness to accept whatever Mirage has for him. “Yes?”
“Offline your optics,” Mirage says, and then pauses, adding, “please.”
Intrigued, Hound does as requested of him.
“Do you trust me?”
“You know that I do.”
He doesn't have to see Mirage to imagine the soft smile on the Towers mech's lips. “Open your mouth,” Mirage asks quietly, a pleased lilt in his vocalizer.
Again, Hound obeys, and is pleasantly surprised when he feels an energon cube pressed to his lips. The scent of it floats to his olfactory sensors. Light. Sweet. Airy. With a crisp bite. This isn't their usual ration.
Mirage tips the cube and the energon slides into Hound's mouth with a pop-pop of sensation over his glossa, chemoreceptors identifying a mix of metals in the energon that arouse a pleased hum in his systems. It's unusual, the way the energon crackles over his glossa, like a thousand ticklish prickles. And the taste? Even more so. Hound has never had anything like it.
“What is it?” Hound asks, vocal tones filled with appreciative glyphs.
“My own special blend. It's new. I thought I'd let you try it first.” Mirage all but preens, though Hound has yet to online his optics, he can practically see it. “You like?”
“Very much so.” Hound plants a hopeful expression on his face. “Got any more?”
But then, that Hound is the only one with this knowledge makes him feel like he and Mirage are sharing a secret. He likes the sound of that, too.
“Hound.”
He looks up, finding Mirage standing in front of him, his hands behind his back and obviously clutching something of importance.
Hound spreads his hands, palms upward, a common gesture to indicate his willingness to accept whatever Mirage has for him. “Yes?”
“Offline your optics,” Mirage says, and then pauses, adding, “please.”
Intrigued, Hound does as requested of him.
“Do you trust me?”
“You know that I do.”
He doesn't have to see Mirage to imagine the soft smile on the Towers mech's lips. “Open your mouth,” Mirage asks quietly, a pleased lilt in his vocalizer.
Again, Hound obeys, and is pleasantly surprised when he feels an energon cube pressed to his lips. The scent of it floats to his olfactory sensors. Light. Sweet. Airy. With a crisp bite. This isn't their usual ration.
Mirage tips the cube and the energon slides into Hound's mouth with a pop-pop of sensation over his glossa, chemoreceptors identifying a mix of metals in the energon that arouse a pleased hum in his systems. It's unusual, the way the energon crackles over his glossa, like a thousand ticklish prickles. And the taste? Even more so. Hound has never had anything like it.
“What is it?” Hound asks, vocal tones filled with appreciative glyphs.
“My own special blend. It's new. I thought I'd let you try it first.” Mirage all but preens, though Hound has yet to online his optics, he can practically see it. “You like?”
“Very much so.” Hound plants a hopeful expression on his face. “Got any more?”
For azardarkstar
Prompt: Tracks/Wheeljack, he blinded me with science
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for mechslash, temporary blindness, intent to interface, ooc? , literal interpretation of a prompt
“Ratchet says that he'll have some new optics ready for you by the end of the week,” Wheeljack says, and he sounds half-fretting, half-excited.
Tracks imagines that his indicators are lighting up with shades of blue and purple right now. And imagining is all he's doing because right now, he doesn't have any optics. At all.
Wheeljack's fault, of course. Or maybe his own since he ought to know better than to linger around the engineer when he's off Attempting Science.
The sound of footsteps and Tracks' own proximity sensors alert him to the fact that Wheeljack is still hovering around him. His energy field is tight with fretting.
Tracks isn't angry, per se, but he is a mite.. perturbed. He looks less than stellar right now and that just won't do. “I hope you have a plan for how you're going to make this up to me.”
Hands land on his shoulders, nearly making Tracks startle as he hadn't known the touch was coming. “Of course I do!” Wheeljack replies exuberantly. “In fact,” he adds with a soft purr of his vocalizer. “I could start right now if you want.” His hands slide across Tracks' plating with a buzz of enticing static.
Without his optics, somehow the touch is that much more electric. Tracks feels a shiver race across his circuitry. “I'll take five tins of that special wax you're known for.”
“Is that all?” Wheeljack sounds amused, and those talented fingers of his dip into a gap in Tracks' plating, finding and tweaking a sensitive line of cabling. “Well, your forgiveness comes cheap.”
“That's only the start,” Tracks retorts, a flush of heat spiraling outward, all of his focus pinning down on the delicious teasing of Wheeljack's fingers. Which, by the way, are now dipping into the rims of his arm tires. “I'll have you waiting on me hand and foot.”
Wheeljack chuckles, and that's when a hand settles on Track's hip, fingers sliding into a gap in his armor and brushing over a transforming node that's rife with sensor clusters. “I think you just wanted an excuse to acquire a servant. Who knows? Maybe you planned all of this. Maybe... I fell into your wicked scheme.”
Despite himself, Tracks bursts into laughter, Wheeljack's absurd statements making him shake his head even as arousal threads slowly through his processor. “You, Wheeljack, are insane.”
“So I've heard.” Amusement is thick in the engineer's tone. “But they said the same thing about you when you took up with me in the first place.”
Tracks imagines that his indicators are lighting up with shades of blue and purple right now. And imagining is all he's doing because right now, he doesn't have any optics. At all.
Wheeljack's fault, of course. Or maybe his own since he ought to know better than to linger around the engineer when he's off Attempting Science.
The sound of footsteps and Tracks' own proximity sensors alert him to the fact that Wheeljack is still hovering around him. His energy field is tight with fretting.
Tracks isn't angry, per se, but he is a mite.. perturbed. He looks less than stellar right now and that just won't do. “I hope you have a plan for how you're going to make this up to me.”
Hands land on his shoulders, nearly making Tracks startle as he hadn't known the touch was coming. “Of course I do!” Wheeljack replies exuberantly. “In fact,” he adds with a soft purr of his vocalizer. “I could start right now if you want.” His hands slide across Tracks' plating with a buzz of enticing static.
Without his optics, somehow the touch is that much more electric. Tracks feels a shiver race across his circuitry. “I'll take five tins of that special wax you're known for.”
“Is that all?” Wheeljack sounds amused, and those talented fingers of his dip into a gap in Tracks' plating, finding and tweaking a sensitive line of cabling. “Well, your forgiveness comes cheap.”
“That's only the start,” Tracks retorts, a flush of heat spiraling outward, all of his focus pinning down on the delicious teasing of Wheeljack's fingers. Which, by the way, are now dipping into the rims of his arm tires. “I'll have you waiting on me hand and foot.”
Wheeljack chuckles, and that's when a hand settles on Track's hip, fingers sliding into a gap in his armor and brushing over a transforming node that's rife with sensor clusters. “I think you just wanted an excuse to acquire a servant. Who knows? Maybe you planned all of this. Maybe... I fell into your wicked scheme.”
Despite himself, Tracks bursts into laughter, Wheeljack's absurd statements making him shake his head even as arousal threads slowly through his processor. “You, Wheeljack, are insane.”
“So I've heard.” Amusement is thick in the engineer's tone. “But they said the same thing about you when you took up with me in the first place.”
a/n: Still in a bit of a cracky mood. The more tired I am, the more cracky I write. lol
Feedback is appreciated. See ya tomorrow!
