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ajremixDon't know where this came from. I don't really agree with the idea of robot kisses myself but... I can make exceptions for myself :P
Title: Last Call
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 363
Characters: Sandstorm, Fireflight, Wreckers and Aerialbots in the background.
Summary: Sandstorm has issues retracting his battlemask. Unless he’s really drunk.
No one really remembered why, exactly, they were all clustered around together but after some creative redecorating, the Wreckers and Aerialbots managed to sit at the same table, passing around containers of energon. An especially potent batch of Whirl’s if their raucous laughter was any indication. Even Slingshot, sandwiched between Silverbolt and Skydive, was overcharged enough to howl into his drink at some over exaggerated story Twin Twist was telling (that no one would be able to remember what it was about later).
Hands were slapping the table and vents wheezed desperately for air as he just laid it on thicker and more insane as he went. Fireflight was practically sitting in Sandstorm’s lap, laughing in turns at the story or giving little unnoticed shudders at the feel of Sandstorm’s engines thrumming hard against the length of his body. When the vibrations suddenly dropped to a low rumble, Fireflight looked up at the triplechanger, taking a drink of his energon now that he wasn’t laughing so hard.
Silverbolt snerked as the orange triplechanger glare at his empty container. “All out?”
Whirl waved his hand absently. “’S the last of it. We’re dry.”
Sandstorm scowled. Then his optics caught the red jet that was next to him, downing the last of his own energon. “Flight,” he rumbled, optic band flickering and intensely bright.
“Hm?”
He lifted Fireflight’s head up and- to the shock of everyone –retracted his battlemask to place his mouth component over the Aerialbot’s. Spit-takes and jawdrops prevailed all around the table and Fireflight spluttered against Sandstorm until the other mech pulled back. Fireflight swallowed reflexively, optics stunned and wide.
Sandstorm just smiled back, hungry and he leaned in the lick up the glowing lines of energon that trickled down the jet’s chin. “Tastes better from you.” He rumbled almost subsoncially. The Wrecker didn’t seem to remember that there was anyone else around or that they were even in the Hub’s common area as he leaned over to scrap his dental plating along the corners of Fireflight’s helmet. Fireflight didn’t seem to recall, either, when he jammed his mouth back to Sandstorm’s so hard the both of them fell to the floor.
Title: Last Call
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: PG
Word Count: 363
Characters: Sandstorm, Fireflight, Wreckers and Aerialbots in the background.
Summary: Sandstorm has issues retracting his battlemask. Unless he’s really drunk.
No one really remembered why, exactly, they were all clustered around together but after some creative redecorating, the Wreckers and Aerialbots managed to sit at the same table, passing around containers of energon. An especially potent batch of Whirl’s if their raucous laughter was any indication. Even Slingshot, sandwiched between Silverbolt and Skydive, was overcharged enough to howl into his drink at some over exaggerated story Twin Twist was telling (that no one would be able to remember what it was about later).
Hands were slapping the table and vents wheezed desperately for air as he just laid it on thicker and more insane as he went. Fireflight was practically sitting in Sandstorm’s lap, laughing in turns at the story or giving little unnoticed shudders at the feel of Sandstorm’s engines thrumming hard against the length of his body. When the vibrations suddenly dropped to a low rumble, Fireflight looked up at the triplechanger, taking a drink of his energon now that he wasn’t laughing so hard.
Silverbolt snerked as the orange triplechanger glare at his empty container. “All out?”
Whirl waved his hand absently. “’S the last of it. We’re dry.”
Sandstorm scowled. Then his optics caught the red jet that was next to him, downing the last of his own energon. “Flight,” he rumbled, optic band flickering and intensely bright.
“Hm?”
He lifted Fireflight’s head up and- to the shock of everyone –retracted his battlemask to place his mouth component over the Aerialbot’s. Spit-takes and jawdrops prevailed all around the table and Fireflight spluttered against Sandstorm until the other mech pulled back. Fireflight swallowed reflexively, optics stunned and wide.
Sandstorm just smiled back, hungry and he leaned in the lick up the glowing lines of energon that trickled down the jet’s chin. “Tastes better from you.” He rumbled almost subsoncially. The Wrecker didn’t seem to remember that there was anyone else around or that they were even in the Hub’s common area as he leaned over to scrap his dental plating along the corners of Fireflight’s helmet. Fireflight didn’t seem to recall, either, when he jammed his mouth back to Sandstorm’s so hard the both of them fell to the floor.
