TITLE:
Touch
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
JDISCLAIMER: None of the characters
belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):
English is not my first language; it's German. This is the best I can do.
Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know
how trustworthy those thingies are...
FEEDBACK: Loved:
Part 4 of the Imperfection fics. Click on my name to find the other
three prequels
+++
Physical touch held no real meaning to him. Touch was usually associated with an attack, so Barricade didn't let anyone closer than was truly necessary. Frenzy had been closest to him, but he had been a trusted partner – as far as Barricade trusted anyone. The interface circuits didn't go very deep and Frenzy was denied access to the vital systems by defensive mechanism of a very sophisticated origin.
The caress running over his hood had him shudder. How his metal skin could be so responsive was beyond him. But it had always been this way when it came to Jazz touching him.
Barricade transformed and caught the trespassing hand, trapping it on the hard desert ground. The grin in the familiar face was almost disarming.
"Still ticklish, 'Cade?" Jazz teased.
"I am not ticklish!" he growled.
The very memory of the caress had him want more.
"Oh, grumpy this fine morning. Still a sore loser about last night's race?"
He snarled and caught the second hand that had come inching toward him.
"I let you win, Autobot."
"Huh. Right. So not true. I'm just the fastest, slickest and cutest thing alive."
Well, he could hardly argue with that. Especially when blue optics danced merrily, the smile still infuriating, and the very closeness of the other was influencing his thought processes.
With a hiss of anger he pushed the silver Autobot away.
"Want a rematch?" Jazz asked slyly. "I'll let you have a head start this time. Count to ten…"
Barricade reacted like any Decepticon warrior would when the other reached for him again in a clear gesture of gentleness. He flipped the Autobot to the ground, on his back, and held him immobile.
"Or we could just skip the race and go with the flow," the Autobots' second in command finished. He looked far from afraid or disturbed.
Barricade was twice as disturbed by his reactions and he couldn't but shudder when the touch came again. Before the war they had been this close and never engaged in the clearly more human way of showing affection. They shared their sparks, which was more intimate than sexual acts by humans, but never had there been a touch.
"Jazz…" he hissed a warning.
"That's my name, 'Cade."
"You have spent too much time on this planet," he said roughly.
"Not as much as you. Haven't you learned anything? Unwind, have fun, relax. Life's short."
He glowered. "For a human."
"Time is relative."
Again the silver hand caressed his side. Barricade had none of the highly sensitive receptors that were embedded in Jazz's skin, but the sensations were intense.
"Stop," he whispered.
"Why? Like it?"
Claws wrapped around Jazz's wrist, pushing it away. "No."
"Liar." Jazz smiled widely.
Barricade felt his spark react and it was a warm glow deep in his chest. It seemed to envelop him completely.
Jazz leaned closer. "Liar, liar, pants on fire."
Barricade gave a growl, but he couldn't fight his mate's closeness. Pulling him even closer, he let the connection between them slide open in an invitation to share. It was an invitation only gladly taken.
