Title: Crystal'verse Drabbles
Author: diayang
Rating: T
Pairing: Barricade/OC
Summary: Life goes on. Sort of.
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
A/N: Quick and dirty drabble(s).
"Hey, Calle," he smirked winningly, offering yet another garment as the woman poked her head out from the dressing room. She rolled her eyes at him, obligingly took the dress from his hands, and vanished back into the small space, muttering under her breath about things he couldn't quite catch. The saleswoman hovered rather nervously around the pair of them, before he sent her flitting off with a meaningful glare.
"You shithead," came the nearly affectionate growl as she stepped out, balanced just so in the high heels he'd slipped onto her feet himself. The 'form let his gaze travel up the length of her legs in the black silk stockings, over the sharp flare of the skirt and the way the folds fell in controlled chaos around her legs. 'Cade quirked an eyebrow at her, eyeing the stretch of the material over her hips and waist, the swell of her bosom enticingly revealed by the square-cut neckline, milky skin standing out in stark contrast to all that black. "It's missing something, though."
"Something red?" he offered, striding forward to curve his hands around her waist, pressing into the lush body. Primus damn but he wanted to throw those skirts up and fuck her against his hood. Maybe later...
"Yeah? Like your optics?" Calleigh snarked, leaning into him just a little, surveying them both in the mirror. 'Cade smirked again, dipped his mouth to her throat, chuckling at the outraged hiss from Calleigh when he nipped and suckled at skin, her hands flying out to steady herself, push at him.
"Fuckwit! Quit it!"
"Now it's perfect," he purred, lapping over the raised red mark on her skin, the hickey standing out like a rose. "Though a choker would be adaquate – or better yet, a collar - "
"Arsehole," she growled, jabbing an elbow into his ribs. Everything looked good – in a rather funereal sort of way – except for that goddamned hickey he'd left on her neck, and shit, if she had to go the rest of the day without hiding it she'd die from being ribbed to hell and back by her coworkers. "You twit."
"My pleasure."