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Pt. 38 : "Autoasphyxiation"
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"What're you doing with that?" the trusting fool of an Autobot said as Thundercracker picked up the damn walking stick. "I need that, y'know." Bumblebee didn't sound weary of that fact; merely accepting in a matter-of-fact, nothing-to-be-done-about-it manner. The guileless blue optics turned up at the Decepticon standing over him held interest, not fear.
Thundercracker pulled the walking stick through one hand and back through the other as he gazed down at it. Never had a single, simple device managed to make him feel guiltier, and that on top of frustration from unsuccessfully doing his best to reject any form of guilt for what his faction had done. He couldn't take responsibility for anything beyond his own actions. He couldn't. History would crush him if he tried, and he refused.
However, Bumblebee summoned guilt and pride in equal amounts every time he broke into Thundercracker's home.
(He wasn't visiting. Thundercracker wasn't so weak that he felt lonely. He would never invite someone here. He had his televisions and the secret screenplay tucked into his cockpit, and he didn't need anything else.)
The cheery yellow Autobot was a reminder of what he'd sacrificed while simultaneously existing as a reason for why he'd done it. Thundercracker still wasn't certain what he felt about the mech overall, but he knew how to put off thinking about the unspoken issues between them. He twirled the walking stick, judging the balance with a thoughtful expression. Too short and light for a sword, but he'd used worse.
He'd learned some things from Earthling TV. Things he'd been curious about, things he hadn't wanted to know, things he'd attempted to scratch from his databanks, and some things that gave him ideas.
"Thundercracker?" Bumblebee asked, a little more alert this time.
The Seeker smoothly spun the chair in front of the TVs around, leaning forward over Bumblebee with his knees holding the chair in place on either side of the minibot's feet. "The Earthlings have something called autoerotic asphyxiation," he said while sliding his hands apart on the stick. He cradled it between thumbs and forefingers. Bumblebee's optics widened as it pressed like a restraint bar across his hood, and Thundercracker slid it slowly up to nestle into the more vulnerable cables of his throat. "Autoasphyxiation seems more appropriate in this situation."
Bumblebee blinked several times even as he leaned back under the pressure. The walking stick compressed his main air shaft, but he managed a laugh. "Was that - did you make a pun?"
Wordplay was a good writing skill, but not one Thundercracker felt like discussing right now. He put a little more weight onto the stick to cut off the distracting noise. "Mm."
Face lit in laughter blocked by the stick, the minibot reached up under the stick to grab a handhold and pull Thundercracker down into a breathless kiss.
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