Rain
It was. . .peaceful, that was the only word he could think of that he could use to describe this situation, this situation so far from Cybertron, so far from the war, at least for a few minutes, a few hours. Quiet, peace, tranquility, other mechs would've thought him and his bondmate, his lover would not have appreciated such, but they did, and they both communicated their contentedness over their shared bond, whispering sweet little things in the dark of their shared quarters. Those slow moments were wondrous, and they both agreed that the minutes became hours, and the hours became days.
Outside, Earth was grey, grey all over, save for the brilliant verdant greens that punctuated the landscape. Only hours ago, that jade, emerald, jewel-like green hues seemed dull beneath the sky blue of Earth, but not now. No, the green was absolutely shimmering, breath-taking to those forms of life that had never quite seen anything like it on their own home planet. What had caused even more of a stir had been those little droplets, falling high from the sky, from rolling grey and charcoal clouds. It seemed to be what had so given the flora of Earth its life, yet to them, beings of various sizes, clad of metal versus soft tissues, it appeared something so frightening. Rain was what fell, yet here, rain was life giving, not the terror that could melt plating on their home of Cybertron. Gathered were many of them, shaped in a myriad of sizes, and even more colors, gathered upon a ramp extended from that large craft they called the Ark. Several were anxious, others were worried, not believing quite what they were seeing. In hushed tones they spoke, looking to one another, their sounds of speech lost in the pitter-patter of those droplets of water that splashed down. Thick rivulets pooled off their vessel, forming a veil of dripping water from port to starboard of that vessel, seeming like some protective cloak from the elements that laid only a few scant yards away.
Of course, they had glimpsed the fuss, yet, they preferred to be alone rather than gawk at the rain. So it wasn't acidic, big deal to them, thought the gilded mech as he flashed a little grin to the mech beside him, their optics the only light in that room. For now it was quiet, and they had these moments alone to share. Well, it was nearly quiet, that rain, upon the Ark, beating rhythmically against the outer hull, echoed through out the ship, piercing all the way to the bulkheads, causing the soft pitter-patter of rain to fill their shared quarters. It was relaxing, however, unobtrusive, and rather gave a beat to which their shared dance could commence. The smile widened as he saw the mech opposite of him return his smile, laying beside him on their berth. A shiver passed his lips when he felt a hand, with red arm plating, touch to his hip. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to those across from him, feeling a giddy sensation over his spark when his lover returned the kiss. Beside him, his lover laid, enjoying these quiet moments as well, slowly wrapping that red arm of his from hip to the small of the mech's back strut, drawing that golden figure closer to him so they were pressed flush together.
Outside, one mech had taken the plunge out from the safety of the arch. A thick bellow of laughter wafted from the mech's vocalizer as he splashed through the water that was, as it seemed, harmless, not a drop of it marring the green of his paint as he moved. It was, strikingly beautiful, romantic even as he spun, throwing up mud in his wake. Still chuckling, the broad mech leaned down to inspect what it was that now coated most his legs. Several of his compatriots looked horrified by what the mirthful mech had done, others were talking, and a few had already taken refuge deeper in the dark, in complete disbelief that rain could truly be so harmless. Standing straight, that green mech, with azure blue optics, reached out before beckoning to a mech that stood at the edge of the ramp. This mech, to whom he beckoned, was his complete antithesis. The green mech was broad, tall, powerfully built and not at all as elegantly as was the mech whom his optics had fallen upon. No, this mech was blue and white, lithe, tall, but several heads shorter than the mech that was now a muddy mess.
"C'mon!" the green mech called, watching those golden optics that belonged to the mech that seemed a world apart from him.
"C'mon," said a mech, sitting at the edge of a desk, watching another mech work. "This isn't the time ta be working," he murmured in soft tones, while his visored visage stared at the mech seated behind his desk, a small frown on his kindly features.
"The sooner this can be finished, the better," came the cool response from the mech hunkered over, chevron catching the light of the almost painfully bright florescent lights over head.
Upon his back, two protrusions formed, sprouted from his back, and shivering now and again, quite visibly to the mech who was seated atop the desk. Truly, the working mech was tired, he could see it so easily, yet his partner, lover, refused to rest.
"Just for a few, Prowl, come watch the rain with me, just for a few minutes," he asked softly, tone almost pleading. Things were rough between them to say the least. The war had brought some together, but with Jazz and Prowl, it had only drawn them apart, leaving a veritable rift separating them.
"Jazz, I need to get this done," he said, tone becoming almost exasperated with the other. Almost, yet he cooled his tone, and continued, "If you want to go watch, I won't mind, there's just so much to be done, and I want to get these things done before more piles up on me." Still, the chevron'd mech didn't look up, all intent on that stack of datapads.
"Alright," the other, Jazz, murmured softly, slipping of the desk, pedes touching lightly against the floor. Dejectedly, he turned, "See ya later?" he murmured, turning to look over his shoulder, the working tactician only offering a monotone, "Yeah," to his statement. Frowning, he turned before slipping out the door and into a hall, sighing.
"Yeah. . .That's it. . ." came a soft, keening moan from the gilded mech's vocalizer to a less than chaste kiss pressed to his cheek.
Those lips moved so well against the cables in his neck, and he couldn't help but moan. "Sideswipe. . ." he said breathlessly as what had been a tender embrace was working into so much more.
Golden arms wrapped about red shoulders, while Sunstreaker's backstrut arched up from the berth, his twin half atop him. Slender digits slipped down scarlet stomach plating, falling down to those erogenous regions upon his lover's legs before he would caress them softly. Drawing little shapes upon Sideswipe's legs like he would do with an artist's stylus, Sunstreaker was pleased when his touches elicited a most beautiful sound from the red mech.
"Sunstreaker! Oh, beautiful. . ." the mech breathed, azure optics flaring, causing light to illuminate his dark features, voice muffled against his lover's, his bondmate's, his twin's neck.
"Beautiful. . ." he whispered, looking to the panes of thick glass like material, translucent, offering a view of the Earthen landscape beyond, deep, dull greys brushed with sheer greens.
A soft sigh broke his lips, he was incredibly lonely, sitting there in a chair that was bolted to the floor, that would swivel left and right should he will it. Brushing fluids from the small ducts under his optics, he looked to the view ports contained within the bridge of the Ark so that he could watch as the rain streaked down that glass like tears threatened to streak down his cheeks. No one else was about, they were all either with loved ones, or had left to explore, or were now at the exit ramps, watching the harmless wonder that was Terran rain. The acidic rains of Cybertron could ruin the plating of Cybertronians, even kill; it could even weaken the plating of battle cruisers like that of the Ark. Yet, Earthen rain was. . .simply wet, and here, it seemed to have life giving properties.
Lost in thought, the grey, diminutive mech missed the sounds of softly falling pedes.
Softly a voice called, a warm tenor, smooth, "What are you doing. . .?" the voice asked, fading, missing the last word, 'here,' as the mech who had asked glimpsed those tear streaked features.
"What are you doing!? Put me down!" came a lilting, disgruntled cry cutting through the soft sound of rain suddenly.
Yet the mech whose voice had made that call had done little to the green mech who had started to carry him off.
"Hound, I demand that you put me down this very instance!" the lithe mech ranted while his optics flared brightly. In the sharp gray of the atmosphere, his optics, a sharp gold, appeared to have an even purer hue than normal.
A chuckle came from the mech who carried the other. The mech, Hound, the one who made to carry off the smaller, possessed a deep voice, almost baritone, but not quite, yet held a rumbling timbre to it. "Don't be a spoil-sport, Mirage," he chimed, which elicited a sharp hiss from the smaller mech in his arms. "Besides, the mud'll look good on you," he added with another little snicker.
The blue and white mech gave another little hiss, before his voice cut off, becoming static as that veil of water descended upon him causing his optics to flare as the water hit him, cool, soft, almost relaxing yet not given the circumstance. No, it wasn't burning and it wasn't melting his plating, but it almost tickled.
"See? Nothing to worry about, rain's nice, here," the green mech spoke encouragingly.
The mech, named as Mirage, looked up as the shade of the Ark was relinquished, looking up into the sponge-spattered grey of clouds over head, feeling the drops hit his optics, his cheeks, his vents, watching as the little droplets obscured his vision, but did not harm. Entranced, he hardly noticed as he was set down, barely noticing as his pedes hit ground that was solid, yet not solid, not noticing the horrible mud touch to the bottom of his pedes.
"Lovely," he whispered, caught in the view as he felt warm lips press to a cheek just below the blue plating of a mask he wore about his gilded optics.
"Oh! Lovely, lovely, lovely, please, please more!" the red mech heard from his golden lover as he touched his digits to heating metal.
Such a beautiful sight, even in dim lighting, there, sprawled on the berth, frame completely spread out for him, no less, was a lithe mech, gleaming and writhing against his hands that seemed to be teasing at every little place that Sunstreaker felt pleasure. "Call my name. . ." he asked, voice a little deeper than that of his twin. Their frames were almost identical but for their faces and helms, yet, Sideswipe rather thought his twin was far more beautiful, not just in his facial appearances, which, were beyond divine, but even to that frame.
"Sideswipe. . ." came the lilting drawl Sideswipe wanted to hear, coy and beautiful.
The red mech couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of Sunstreaker completely at his mercy. It had been far too long, Sideswipe thought, reflecting that the moment was their first rendevous in a long time. So much anger had been shared between them, Sunstreaker's playing in gladitoriums of Kaon while Sideswipe had fought with a failing business, along with all their shortcomings of being lovers to each other. Barely did he note the rumble of sound that mingled with the soft patter of rain seeping into their room, his only thoughts on his lover. Smiling at the mess he had his twin in, a pleasured little mess, he thought, he touched a hand against Sunstreaker's side, trailing it up slowly while his other hand rubbed at one of those thighs, hearing instantly the reaction from his twin's vocalizer. Such a beautiful moan, he thought as Sunstreaker's hands, skilled and perfect, gripped to his sides as he watched his twin writhe.
"Yes. . ." murmured the gilded mech, writhing into those digits as he pressed his digits into the berth.
"Yes. . ." said the charcoal-silver mech, knowing that it wasn't right that he was enjoying the feel of the saboteur's lips against his. Oh, he had wanted this so much. . . A moment later, the kiss was deepened and he moaned softly while his door wings flickered and wiggled about excitedly.
"Bluestreak," Jazz whispered. His very designation on the saboteur's lips sent electricity running up Bluestreak's circuits.
"Oh Jazz, I've always had optics for you I just. . . you and Prowl. . .And I knew you two were close but oh, I just see him treat you so ba---" Bluestreak started off only to find a singular digit pressed gently to his lips to shush him.
Obliging the mech, Bluestreak threw his helm back to moan as he felt Jazz's skilled lips dart over his neck cables, only to settle on one that proved especially erogenous for the effusive Bluestreak.
Before he knew it, Bluestreak found himself seated on a counsol, his legs spread and Jazz pressed between them. Hands were roaming were all over him, upon his sides, pinching his door wings and teasing all sorts of pleasured little sounds from his petulant, full lips. Things were getting heated, and quickly, but Bluestreak wanted it all, but then he heard Jazz speak, shattering the moment instantly.
"Wait. . ."
"Wait!" cried the blue and white mech as they approached the tree line as that rolling sound rumbled from east to west across the sky.
"It's alright, Mirage, c'mon," Hound assured, waving the mech to follow. Gilded optics flickering, Mirage followed, crossing his arms before taking a few hastened steps after his lover.
While Mirage didn't like to be dirty, there was something rather attractive about his lover being so caked with mud, though he didn't voice that. Casting a furtive look back to the Ark, he gave a sigh as rain ran over his frame. Still, it was odd to him that something so feared on Cybertron could be so harmless here. Barely did he have a chance to turn his head back before he was drawn into a powerful embrace, Hound's lips on his, demanding for affection which Mirage was all too amiable to return. Never had the noble mech even heard the other close the distance between them! Lifting slender hands, Mirage touched them to the tracker's shoulders, letting the mech guide him back into the woods, somewhere private, out of sight. Before the war, Mirage had never known a mech like Hound, nor would he have if it weren't for the war and inconceivable odds. No, the tracker was completely out of his caste, living in fringe society before joining in the Autobot cause, where Mirage had been the highest of the high, a Tower's mech, before becoming a survivor when those crystalline towers fell. Before the noble mech had much of a chance of anything except for returning the kiss, he found himself pressed against a tree, that powerful frame against his, amused that Hound was already making use of the local vegetation to have his way with him.
Smirking against those lips, Mirage asked in a whisper, "So soon, my lover?"
"Lover!" Sunstreaker shrieked as Sideswipe brushed a bundle of sensors in his backstrut, a place only Sideswipe knew about.
A self satisfied smile appeared on the scarlet toughline's lips before he buried them against Sunstreaker's neck. Hot little teases were spread out upon the neck cabling, each touch making Sunstreaker squirm just a little more beneath him and moan a bit louder. Yet his twin was hardly idle, which Sideswipe was glad for. A shiver broke from Sideswipe before he fanned his intakes against Sunstreaker's neck while the artist's digits stroked down his chest plating. Pleasurable little thrills of energy shot up his frame as he felt those digits dart ever lower on his frame. Amusing was all the assumptions, Sideswipe reflected, those mechs who assumed that it was him on the bottom given Sunstreaker's outward behavior. Yet on the berth, it was generally Sideswipe on top, Sideswipe leading with Sunstreaker wrapped around his dexterous digits. Yet he loved it and knew Sunstreaker loved being the submissive behind closed doors. Hunkering his frame down, Sideswipe grinded down upon that gilded frame, only to hear more pleasured sounds from Sunstreaker.
"So wonderful," Sideswipe purred adoringly.
"Wonderful. . .oh. . .Jazz. . . that's so lovely. . . feels so good," Bluestreak babbled as Jazz's lips wrapped over one of his door wings.
The saboteur was directly behind him, seated upon his berth, hands on his door wings along with his mouth. Oral fluid dripped into the seams of his wings and it was just conductive enough to cause a wonderful surge of electricity over a door wing. Minutes ago, Bluestreak had feared that Jazz would've left him instead of continuing, but it hadn't happened like that. The saboteur had gone with him to his quarters, and while it still felt so wrong, it felt so right as well. Prowl never seemed to care about Jazz enough, Bluestreak thought as his door wings flickered under Jazz's caresses.
Skilled digits played over the seams, dipping into them, stroking at cables, wires, even rubbing at the sensitive joints where those door wings met his back strut. All of it was so pleasurable and no doubt Jazz had his practice with Prowl. Surely, Bluestreak believe he could better give Jazz what he wanted and need, like love and affection. Leaning back into the touches, Bluestreak gave a pleasured sigh. Every touch sent electricity up Bluestreak's frame and he could help but sigh and mewl at every sensation that was made upon him by Jazz.
Optics dimmed, Bluestreak's optics seemed focus on nothing, even though they were pointed towards a wall. All of Bluestreak's attention was on Jazz. A moan left his vocalizer as the saboteur slipped his glossa into the seam of one of his door wings. Trembling, Bluestreak leaned back further, eager to receive more of that pleasure. The only light in the dim room was that coming from Jazz's visor and Bluestreak's optics that were flickering brightly as the pleasure intensified. Skilled digits continued to ply Bluestreak and as Jazz stroked a digit against an especially sensitive node in Bluestreak's door wings, the young gunner was unable to stop himself from throwing his helm back before crying, "Jazz!"
"Jazz. . ." whispered Prowl as his hand was pressed to a door, windowless and closed. For just a moment, the tactician's expression was something resembling sadness before it faded into that dull, expressionless mask that he wore almost entirely. Looking down, Prowl supposed it was for the better while another cry erupted from the room that was closed from his vision. Striding down the hall, Prowl found himself distracted by the thought of his once lover, his still bonded, sharing in comfort with another. Most mechs would've been angry, but Prowl wasn't, if someone could comfort Jazz, that would be fine. . . They had fought so long in the past years, even decades now, as their once close affections for each other had faded. It was. . .his own fault, Prowl thought quietly, knowing he had pushed Jazz away. A wince appeared on Prowl's features as his thoughts delved too deep into the past. Giving his helm a shake, he pushed those bad memories away as he reached his office. The door opened automatically for him now, everything was about efficiency for Prowl as he strode to his desk, sitting down so that he could prepare tomorrow's work. Work helped to distract him from everything that was crashing in on him, yet he couldn't help but focus his optics on the slight reflection of himself in the datapad. "I'm sorry. . ." he whispered faintly.
"Sorry for making such a mess out of ya. . ." Hound chuckled, hardly sounding apologetic as he held the noble in his arms. The rain still fell, slowly adding to the droplets already clinging to their plating while they sat among the gently swaying trees.
"Should I expect any less?" Mirage responded as he looked up from watching Hound swirl his digits upon his blue plating.
Mirage enjoyed the thick chuckle that then left his lover afterwards, "Just playing, Raj," Hound murmured as he pressed his lips to Mirage's cheek.
Such a touch caused Mirage to smile but not for long as he watched Hound dip his digits in mud, only to smear it over a section of white plating on his chest. "Really, Hound, must you continue and make larger the mess you've already created of me?" chided Mirage as he looked back.
Another chuckle left Hound, "I told you, the mud looks good on you," Hound breathed against one of Mirage's audio receptors, which only made the noble shudder visibly.
Giving a huff, Mirage simply decided to give in, leaning his helm against Hound's shoulder. "It's getting dark," the noble mumbled.
"So?" Hound asked.
"So, I thought we'd go back inside. . ." Mirage murmured as a petulant expression took his lips, though he moved little from that position sitting on Hound's lap.
"But it's nice out here. . ." Hound murmured happily as he plied his hands over Mirage's plating, "And I've got you all to myself without anyone around," Hound teased with a nip to Mirage's shoulder.
"Besides, maybe the skies will clear up and we can look at the stars tonight. . ." Hound murmured against one of Mirage's audio receptors.
"Tonight was beautiful, dear," drawled Sunstreaker as he nuzzled Sideswipe's neck.
"What, you think it's over already?" Sideswipe responded with a wide grin before ducking his helm so he could nip at Sunstreaker's perfect lips.
"Hardly. . . Else I would be gravely disappointed," Sunstreaker feigned before pressing his lips to Sideswipe's.
The twin toughliners were each positioned on their sides upon the berth, facing each other and pressed chest to chest. Vermillion plating and saffron plating both shown with little droplets, as if the two had ventured out in the rain after all. Yet it was the after effect of such a venerated meeting. Every now and again, the smallest waft of steam would rise up between one of the niches in their armor from the heat still buried within their frames.
"I never disappoint, Sunny, you should know that," Sideswipe crooned softly against one of Sunstreaker's audio receptors after breaking the kiss. Dancing his digits over a glittering arm, Sideswipe couldn't help but draw a few languid swirls in the condensation.
"Of course I know that, you glitch," Sunstreaker whispered just before Sideswipe initiated a second kiss that was lovelier than the last. . .