Crosshairs and Drift frot. While everyone's sleeping. In the same room
in that together ever after AU everyone agrees on. the one where the autobots hang on cades propety and joyce pays for everything which may or may not be taken from other fics.
look up cryptomnesia.
im from CT and the closest ive been to TX is NE. and ive only been there in the summer. yeah, I coulda done research but I had to feed the plotbunny. gotta atone for my sins somehow. who cares about dumb old texas anyway.
At night, Texan heat settled and became warmth, like a hug under blankets. Fall called leaves from trees. Flakes got caught everywhere and itched relentlessly until removed. Didn't help that each leaf cracked into more leaves.
Having someone else do it helped a lot. The Autobots helped each other, and the humans helped the Autobots. Tiny fingers were really convenient for picking leaf bits.
Of course, that didn't mean two Autobots preferred a human touch. They preferred each other's. They knew each other's bodies more than well enough, knew where foliage would stay, knew where it wouldn't, knew when they removed all the leaves because their plating would hum with relief.
After picking every scrap of shedded deciduous detritus, Cade treated all Autobots to a brief rinse. Not brief because of water expenses, Cade had created several water collectors and filters over the years with a pump or seven to borrow water from a nearby pond. Brief because it was fall. The water was cold.
It was a long day, full of grooming like those things the fleshies were before they were humans. Drift carefully pulled each leaf without breaking it like Crosshairs was a Jenga tower. The removal was somehow quick and efficient. Crosshairs had it the hardest. He wanted to clean Drift with the same care and diligence spent on him, but Drift's thighs collected leaves like a bee collects pollen. And, Crosshairs couldn't caress or grope in front of the others. His charge managed to dissipate with the rinse.
It did not rise again when he went to sleep, his green form draped over Drift like Astroturf; bright, artificially clean in a necessary way. Then, he felt Drift shift underneath him. Shift in a certain way that involved mostly pelvic movements.
He just got rid of his charge! Not the way he'd preferred, but anything was better than nothing. "What are you doing?" he hissed on the comlink.
"Are you not interested in making love?" Drift snuck a hand under the coat to grope Crosshairs' aft. His paratrooper could fool the others, but to anyone fluent in Crosshairs knew he was more charged than a plasma grenade.
"Of course I am. Just not near that lot," he jerked his head towards Hound and Bumblebee, just on the other side of the hangar.
Drift hugged his hips. "We must be silent, then," he whispered right into Crosshairs' audial. It was pointless, since they were using the comlink, but he still earned a shiver of anticipation from the paratrooper. Crosshairs could deny it all he wanted, but he was an exhibitionist.
Hound and Bumblebee were heavy sleepers, or as heavy as anyone in war could sleep and not be dead. The coat gave them enough cover that if either Sleeping Beauty saw them it wouldn't look like much. They hadn't survived Cemetery Wind for nothing. Both could be quiet and stealthy. Joyce said he'd build two more hangars, but he'd yet to start. Pit if he'd let that stop him from ravishing his samurai senseless.
Crosshairs made up his mind.
He hiked his left leg high until his patella poked Drift's shoulder servo. He pulled Drift's own left leg until it pressed against his posterior panel. He aligned their pelvises and huffed, "Open up."
Drift's panel was inaudible under the green coat.
"Wanna do it like this?" Crosshairs demonstrated by humping Drift's spike once, not quite grinding their equipment together in the brief contact. He pecked Drift's cheek and teased, "Or do you wanna do some in-'n'-out?"
Drift devoured Crosshairs' mouth like the chiloproclitic he was. Then said as if he didn't just defile his lover's mouth, "Whatever you wish, aijin."
Primus, he was too perfect. Crosshairs rubbed their spikes together, whole lengths, not missing an inch. This would be the easiest way. He licked a hand and shoved it between them to slick their arrays. Each slow pass finished with a dry kiss, void of sound but not pleasure. Drift tried to deepen the kisses again. His attempts were futile, foiled by Crosshairs pulling back at the last moment.
Crosshairs angled his hips up to glide Drift's spike through his exposed valve folds. Drift assisted by manually adjusting the paratrooper's aft until he sat with his nub making more contact than his folds. "Love how ya always know what I need," he crooned, and continued pressing.
Crosshairs stiffened, shifting his weight side to side. Drift took it as a sign of overload and tried to draw it out by rolling his hips up harder.
He stopped when Crosshairs hissed, "Shit, hold on. Leg's crampin' up again."
"Would you—"
"Nah, I got it." Crosshairs switched to his right leg cradling Drift's side. He made sure to pop his left hip when he straightened it.
Drift gave a worried peck. "Daijoubu desu ka?"
Crosshairs grinned. "Perfect. Now where were we..."
Drift's hands magnetized themselves to the aft, never leaving through the gentle push and pull of Crosshairs' moments. He squeezed the metal when he needed a harder pace, something Crosshairs gladly indulged.
They knew each other well enough that talking was unnecessary. Both were quiet when they interfaced naturally. Huddled behind enemy lines, trying to translate passionate Thank-Primus-you're-alives into quickies between battles did that. Crosshairs actually had always been quiet, it was Drift who had to suppress his urge to sing the body electric.
They continued their gentle rocking. The pace was hard and slow, fortified over eons in the wake of true peace, to create pleasure together and enjoy each other's company. Crosshairs traced all over Drift with his fingers, tongue, anything he wasn't using elsewhere. He nipped a golden crest, his favorite hotspot.
"Dōzo." Drift murmured.
Crosshairs searched blindly for Drift's hands, prying them from his aft, linking them with his own as he felt bliss flow through his energon. Drift's crushing grip told him he was on the brink, too.
Drift surged. "Iku, iku!" he whispered, voice harsh from the last-minute suppression of a throaty moan. His body trembled under the force of his pleasure as a jet of transfluid came out his spike. He pressed close as he could to Crosshairs.
He lured Crosshairs down with a kiss and gave some thrusts of his own before the paratrooper finished, venting stopped, lips and hands crushed together. Drift rocked into the last spinal curves Crosshairs' frame formed, each slow and wide like a crescent moon. They came down a panting mess, hangar occupants forgotten, bellies coated in shared fluids, arrays not much better.
Crosshairs touched their foreheads together. "Slaggin' hot when you talk Japanese, cherry blossom," he reminded.
Drift sighed, "I do not understand your choice of a pet name for me. Surely there are better ones." Ones less racist.
"'Course there are," Crosshairs scoffed.
"HrZhn."
The afterglow was cut, frozen, and melted into fear when Hound made a noise from across the hangar.
Crosshairs dropped his head to Drift's shoulder. Optics off, both waited a long while, pretending they were not just having an ardent affair.
Drift peered through the darkness. He pressed a hysterical and relieved laugh into Crosshairs' cheek and finished it with a gentle press of his lips. "That was quite something."
Crosshairs didn't even have enough fucks leftover to tease. "Yeah." He pulled his head out from Drift's shoulder to kiss him proper. He unintentionally waited a long while before speaking again, "You're too good to me."
Drift nuzzled the green plating. "How so?"
"The leaf pickin', this," he gave a gentle rock, "Lovemakin'. What did I do to deserve you."
"You were yourself. That is why I chose you," Drift breathed, nearly speechless.
"But I can't pick the damn leaves outta your platin' like you can." Crosshairs settled on blue plating, ready to go to sleep for good. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? G'Night, love."
He went to sleep like that, mess and all. Crosshairs indeed did not have Drift's dexterity at removing leaves, but he did his best, and it was more than enough. How could he be dwelling on something as trivial as that? Drift gawked.
His face softened and he kissed Crosshairs' head. "Aishiteru." He'd show him how much he loved him again.