It was a rare instance of calm. An abnormal moment where they just lay on the berth together in their after glow. Thunderhoof wasn't in any shape to get up, simply laying flat out on his front beside Steeljaw. His partner was on his back, steadying his breathing with his optics closed and gear box still wide open. He watched the wolf Con silently, how his chest rose and fell.
He'd never slept with a Cybertronian like Steel before. The sleek and sly Lycan breed didn't usually catch his eye, but were good for doing business with. They were very reliable.
Still, this left him at a disadvantage. Let it never be said Thunderhoof was an inattentive or selfish lover; if the Boss decided you were good enough to frag, you were not to be disappointed. He preferred to do everything in his power to keep his partners happy. Now aside from the fact they were no longer on Cybertron, and thus his usual method of pleasing his lovers was virtually unattainable, he doubted Steeljaw would be the type to enjoy being lavished with gifts anyway. He wasn't a materialistic mech.
Steeljaw was more the type to appreciate effort, rather than generosity. He was a prize to be worked for, not bought or bedazzled. So Hoof would do just that.
He ran through what he knew of wolf Cons from general databases on the species, and even what he'd learned about Earth canines. He'd already worked out there were similarities between the two after Steeljaw had gotten a sudden look of excitement the first time he watched Fracture deploy his Minicons, like a dog watching a ball being thrown. But he'd quickly composed himself before anyone else noticed, sadly refraining from chasing Airazor and Divebomb. The mobster might have busted a fuse laughing if he had.
Thunderhoof's optics searched all over Steeljaw's frame. He knew most of his sweet spots, where Steel liked to be kissed, bitten and licked, but he was looking for something a little different. He debated on whether the wolf would appreciate a massage of some kind, since the mobster didn't have any problems with putting his hands all over him.
He shifted onto his side, propped up on his elbow. Steeljaw's ear twitched, and he tilted his head without opening his optics.
"You leaving already?," he asked gently, not sounding at all disappointed nor relieved. Hoof just grunted and reached forward, pressing his servo on Steel's abdomen. The wolf Con's eyes opened, looking up at him curiously. "What are you doing?"
"Donno," he muttered, running his hand down his partner's front. He wasn't sure whether to try a shoulder or back rub first, but Steeljaw made an odd grumbling sound as he felt down his front. "Is dat annoyin' youse?"
"No," Steel answered quickly, wriggling on the bed. "Not really." Thunderhoof raised an optic ridge, then experimentally dragged his hand back up. Steeljaw made the noise again, and a smile even pulled at his face. Hoof chuckled a little, and continued stroking his front.
"Wut de heck," he snorted. "Ye like dis?" He tried rubbing in circles instead, and Steeljaw responded with that bizarre growl and wiggled some more, as though he was trying to urge Thunderhoof's hand to cover more space. Listening intently, he realised the growl was more like a purr, but far deeper and rougher than a feline's.
Thunderhoof's grin widened, rubbing Steeljaw's belly more vigorously. That bushy tail began to wag, beating against the berth as his legs hitched up and he wriggled more and more. The mobster finally lost it and burst out laughing when the stupidest grin spread over Steeljaw's face, and his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. "Wut de heck are you doin'?," he laughed, sitting up to use both hands.
"Nng, I don't know!," Steeljaw grinned, one leg kicking a little. His body was reacting involuntarily, but getting so much attention to his tummy felt far too good to resist. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but so long as it was only Thunderhoof seeing him, he could stand it for a while longer.