Title: Word Play
Fandom: IDW's G1
Pairing/Characters: Dai AtlasxAxe
Rating: K+
Summary/Warnings: Little ficlets based on prompts given to me. Will contain more chapters and other pairings eventually. First chapter Dai Atlas/Axe
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro/Takara.
Thank you, GGG for being my beta.
"Normal talk"
Thinking
::Bonds::
- Nokkonen
Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone.
He knew he was staring but so was everybody else.
The mech stepping into the ring had that kind of effect; he'd enter a crowded room and everybody would notice him. He commanded attention like a general, his whole frame demanding respect and obedience, the latter forcened by the strong EM field that made weaker soldiers waver on their kneestruts.
Not to mention the mech was also "hot as Pit!". Not his words, but they were quite true.
Then Dai Atlas unsheathed his sword, the big white wings flaring out as he started his attack, and Axe thought he might as well just self-combust right there and then.
The big frame moved like that of a dancer's; fluid and graceful but there was strength in there too. A look of concentration ruled the stern face. Suddenly Axe felt the strongest urge to see what kind of face Dai Atlas made when the big mech was in the midst of pleasure.
When the last of the auto-combatants fell down, the big triple-changer stopped; slowly drawing himself to his full height. The mech next to Axe was reduced to garbling static, and you could hear more than one set of fans spinning wildly in the awed audience as they stared at the mech standing in the middle of the were more gasps when the blue armor flared out and the big wings trembled, held proudly in the air.
And if you craned your head just right, you could see the soft blue glow of the protoform underneath all that battle armor, and if that didn't send a mech's internal charge skyrocketing, then you had to be halfway into the scrapheap.
Dai Atlas sheathed his sword and turned around, the burning red optics sweeping through the rows of stunned and quite aroused mechs. Axe knew that there was not a single mech in the room who did not imagine having that same look directed at them, preferably with them lying on their back and the triple-changer looming over them.
Or underneath.
Axe wasn't picky.
Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.
The prickle started again at the base of his wings, the tips unfolding and folding. His proximity sensors reported that there was no physical presence within several mechanometers, though.
Dai Atlas rumbled quietly with unease.
As a veteran of several out-world campaigns, he had come to know that the so called 'gut feeling' the organics claimed experiencing held true even with Cybertronians. This particular gut feeling had started plaguing him ever since he had held that demonstration ten orns ago, and Dai Atlas had been more than aware of the… reaction it had gained.
Usually it ended there. Most of those wanting to berth with him were too intimidated to approach while the rest were held off by strict orders.
His wings twitched again, both of them, and they rose higher from their relaxed state. The prickle ceased, the source of it disappearing as they realized they had been noticed. Again.
Ten orns…
Dai Atlas allowed the smallest hint of a smirk to spread on his lips. Make it another ten and he would find the mech himself.
Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder.
The storm had been brewing for three orns; dark, reddish brown clouds hanging low over the ever-bustling Iacon. The occasional flashes of light and distant rumbles were grim reminders of the dangerous rain that was just waiting for to fall down. Mechs were understandably tense; on the third orn the air-space was almost empty of fliers and other avian traffic while the streets below the surface were crammed, bordering chaos. The last he had heard was that the Prime had organized some of his personal guards to help the strained police force.
Three orns stretched into five and then the skies opened and acid rain fell all over the city. The main target of the storm's full wrath was the inner area of Iacon itself. The corrosive rains battered the buildings and those stupid enough that had not looked for a shelter yet.
Stupid mechs like Axe.
He cursed, the skydart swerving dangerously as Axe raced through the rain and towards the nearest traffic tunnel. The corrosive rain fell against his plating, eating the finish and droplets glided towards the armor seams. A flash of light, followed by a BOOM blinded Axe's optics and turned his audial feed into static. The mech couldn't stop his armor flaring out in surprise, making his protoform vulnerable to the acid rain.
The big mech hissed as the corrosive liquid found its way into the wiring of his arm, disabling it.
With one arm out of commission, Axe was not able to correct his steering, the high speed of the skydart making it veer out of control. He saw the fast approaching wall, processor automatically calculating how soon he would hit it and the possible force of the impact, comparing the numbers to the damage he would get by jumping off.
Another loud boom tore through the air and Axe released his hold, hoping there would be enough to scrape him off the road so far down below and put back together.
The feeling of falling lasted for an astrosecond, the eerie sensation of no gravity he had experienced only once before. Then Axe's proximity sensors burst into action, warning him of the quickly approaching surface. Another batch of sensors swept upwards, looking for an option to stop the fall. And even with the acid burning his face, Axe frowned as the results came back, certain that the readings were glitching.
The blue optics un-shuttered, concentrating and as the lightning flashed again, Axe saw a big jet dive down from the skies and towards him.
The flier transformed, engines screaming and before Axe really realized it, he was caught, pulled tight against his rescuer's chest. The white wings spread, the big triple-changer performing a maneuver Axe had seen only Seekers to achieve.
Shocked optics stared at the stern face of his rather unexpected rescuer, who spared the smaller mech a brief glance with his fiery red optics.
Axe allowed himself to mutter a sub-vocal "scrap" as he settled for the flight, trying to ignore the way the big hands secured him tightly against the hot frame, shielding Axe from the acid rain, or the vibrations the powerful engines send through his frame as Dai Atlas flew them away.
oO0Oo
The servant rushed for aid, yellow optics big and frightened, when Dai Atlas entered his chambers, frame smoking from the acid. He sternly told the servant to leave them alone, the EM field of the mech in his arms recoiling ever so lightly at the order. Dai Atlas ignored it as he took the shortest route to the washracks. His main priority was to get rid of the any remnants of the acid on his and the other mech's armor.
Placing the other on the stool, where Dai Atlas sat, when wings were being detailed, the big mech made some adjustments to the washrack's programming. The solvent started flowing from the three showerheads, thicker and cooler than normally. Satisfied, Dai Atlas tugged the black mech up, pushing him under the spray, back against the wall. He waited till the other was completely drenched, before starting from the wide pauldrons, white hands rubbing the warm metal in slow circles.
Underneath the golden chevron, a pair of alert optics followed his every move. The smaller mech's field was pulled tight against his frame, revealing almost next to nothing just like the blank faceplates.
Once Dai Atlas was done with the pauldrons, he moved onto the functioning arm, carefully twisting it in order to for the solvent to reach between the plating and the protoform. Satisfied, he reached for the other arm, Dai Atlas frowned, when the appendage hung limply in his hold, indicating the acid rain had managed to damage it more than he had initially thought.
"You will need to see a medic for this," he informed, fingers slowly massaging the dual-colored hands.
The controlled field flickered, and Dai Atlas was able to feel the slightest hint of displeasure before it settled again. "I am aware of that," a deep voice answered, the tone neutral, and Dai Atlas found it quite pleasant, even if it held the faintest trace of a Tarnian accent.
The silence fell between them again, the only sounds being the muted booms of storm still brewing upon the city, the rushing solvent and the pitter-patter of droplets hitting metal. The lights of the washracks flickered once but it did not break the silence between the two mechs.
"Seventeen."
The black helm raised sharply, the blue optics staring up at Dai Atlas in confusion so obvious even as the smaller mech's control slipped. For a moment Dai Atlas felt the other's EM field wash over his, strong and vibrant that he almost reached out to meet with his own.
Almost.
"For seventeen orns of I've been… watched," Dai Atlas explained, and the other's field flared in a mix of shock and embarrassment. The startled gaze turned downwards as the mech reined in his field once again, watching his limp hand that was still being held by the white ones. "For seventeen orns I have felt optics on my back, following my steps in the halls of the Grand Imperium and even during my leisure flights. But not once have I seen the one watching me, just felt their presence, before vanishing again. Not even the guards could pinpoint the location of my follower, much to their frustration.
"Today would've been the eighteenth orn. I wasn't expecting them to be this persistent, to be reckless enough to risk their lives for an infatuation. And yet they came, right before the storm. But this time I was able to see them, a skydart leaving in haste just as the rain began falling."
Dai Atlas kept massaging the limp hand as he spoke, red optics focused on the blue ones that refused to meet his. The storm rumbled again, as if to remind it was still there, but the two mechs paid no attention to it.
"There was no reason to follow me," the mech finally murmured, and Dai Atlas was pleased that he wasn't trying to deny the truth.
"You are right. There was not," he answered, thoughtful, as the triple-changer recalled how he had been watching the retreating skydart, before the acid rain made it impossible to see anything. Dai Atlas did not know why it had happened; the moment the first lightning struck he had been out and flying after the disappearing skydart long before his transformation had finished. "And yet..."
The smaller mech shifted, armor ruffling and settling again. "I apologize for my behavior, it was out of order. If you feel like contacting my commander for my punishment, I can fully understand that," he said quietly and tilted his helm just enough to look at Dai Atlas in the optics before bowing respectfully, "senator."
Dai Atlas scowled, wings flaring and rising. He didn't answer, instead turning off the showers. The blue optics blinked, confused, but the mech didn't say a thing, when Dai Atlas tugged him out of the washracks and started drying the wet frame.
oO0Oo
"Senator - ," Axe started again but was silenced by the low growl of powerful engines, the warning even more impressive as it blend together with the rumbles of the thunder.
His CPU tripped from surprise and arousal, trying to come up with an explanation for Dai Atlas' behavior. He knew the mech followed strict personal rules and was a harsh but just commander. The actions Axe had done, the borderline stalking, was something the senator would have not wasted time punishing his own soldiers for.
So why had he not been carted away by guards and facing his commander for a dressing down?
"What is your designation, soldier?"
The question caught him off guard and for a moment Axe thought the acid rain had damaged his audios, but the expecting look the bigger mech had begged to differ.
"Axe, senator."
The hands stopped for a fraction of a klik, before continuing the drying. "Axe," Dai Atlas repeated, slowly.
The black mech almost shivered, when the glyphs of his designation were carefully pronounced by that deep, rumbling voice. Axe could not deny it made his internal temperature raise a notch but he was better than that at controlling his frame, his field.
"Senator," Axe spoke, calm but determined. The red optics narrowed, the crowned helm tilting. "Senator, I am prepared to - "
"The medic is here."
This time he couldn't stop himself, open confusion spreading on his face as Axe's processor tried to understand the unexpected words.
"Excuse me?"
For a moment Axe was certain his shock amused the other mech. But before he could confirm the smirk had been there, his arm was released and Dai Atlas moved away. Uncertain, Axe turned on his heel, following the retreating back with his optics.
The big triple-changer stopped at the door of the washracks, turning just enough for the red optics to meet his cautious gaze.
"Perhaps I should ask for the medic to check, if there's any audial damage, Axe," Dai Atlas commented and this time Axe did see the small smirk.
The black mech blinked, his previous befuddlement turning into mischief. "Perhaps… Dai Atlas."
The wide wings flared, white panels flashing in the flickering lights and for a moment Axe thought he heard the deep purr of highly-tuned engines through the booming of the storm.