Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 3, 2010 20:00:39 GMT -5
It is as much the unfamiliarity of the sensation as it is the sensation itself that sets Wreckage off when Skystrike actually makes contact. He goes utterly still, back rigid, arms all but locked in place. His wings shiver with the continued strain. Not once does he look away from her, expecting a proper explanation for her behaviour.
The hardest part is keeping himself from either leaping over the table to get away from her or shoving her away from him. Or worse still, grabbing her ailerons in return.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 4, 2010 1:12:02 GMT -5
"About right," Skystrike rumbles to herself, carefully keeping a tight reign on any immensely pleased smiles that threatened to take over her face. Lifting her finger off the quivering edge and straightening, she crosses her arms and looks thoughtful for a moment before glancing at Wreckage's face, seemingly oblivious to the tension in his frame. "Testing," she supplies in vague answer to his bewildered look, keeping a practiced air of aloof professionality.
The seeker then reaches out to try and very, very gently tweak a canard. "Any trouble controlling these?"
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 4, 2010 12:20:50 GMT -5
"Enough." Wreckage turns to grab Skystrike by the wrist before she can make contact again, optics narrow and bright, wings still trembling, canards flattened to his back now. He has had enough testing for one day.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 4, 2010 14:30:38 GMT -5
Despite expecting this particular outcome, she still needed to forcibly squash down the instinct to snatch her wrist back and get out of Wreckage's reach. Skystrike carefully keeps her face impassive, flexing the fingers on her captured hand to test the hold, before returning her attention to Wreckage. She takes in the way his wings can't seem to stop quivering and the overt brightness of his optics, a low pulse of warmth running through her fuel lines at the sight.
"Wreckage." Her voice wasn't at its deepest setting but it was quite close; more vibration than an actual sound. There was an almost soft undertone to the way the seeker spoke his name and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to add more. Instead, she merely watches the stryker with dimmed optics, waiting patiently.
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 5, 2010 11:36:37 GMT -5
He could crush her wrist. Tear off her arm. He could do it so easily. Teach her a lesson for toying with him like this. Wreckage's arm shakes and he tightens his grip, features drawing into a suspicious, expectant look.
He quashes the urge, pulling on her arm only enough to keep her from moving away, and he leans in close.
"What?" he growls, low and guttural, a thrum in the pit of his chest.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 5, 2010 12:55:10 GMT -5
Skystrike had no intention of pulling away, especially when Wreckage was so close. Retreat wasn't an option now anyways, considering the current grip on her wrist. It makes her fingers twitch but the seeker shoves the little burst of nervousness away in favor of reaching up to gently touch his cheek with her free hand. She then closes the little gap between them, leaning in to rest her forehead against his.
"Wreckage," she says again simply, slightly exasperated affection underlining her voice now.
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 7, 2010 23:01:30 GMT -5
The forehead pressing up to his is simply prelude to more kissing, of that much Wreckage is certain. The hand Skystrike rests on his cheek only cements the notion. Why else would she lay her hands on him? Unless she dissembles with greater sincerity than Barricade, she has done nothing but prove that harming him is quite possibly the furthest thing from her mind. No, she is much more interested in wearing down his guard so she can touch him. Perhaps she wants her arm broken.
That frustration she voices when she repeats his name exacerbates his irritation. She is getting to him – making him curious if her control surfaces are as sensitive. Is that why she protested so when he held her ailerons in place to paint them? What would she do if he tried it again?
What would she do, he wonders in a different, darker part of himself, if he shaved them down a centimetre at a time? He scowls at the thought, physically recoiling with a shake of his head and a gape-mouthed look of disgust; torture is reserved for Autobots and traitors, not–
"You," he says in warning, leaning in close enough for his tusks to almost scrape her chin. An edge of fear as sharp and fine as his swords underscores that word. Not of Skystrike. He has nothing to fear from her. What she does to him – the way she has managed to get under his armour before he realised it, how he can brush off the death of a fellow soldier in battle with hardly a blink but the very idea of Skystrike no longer being there simple to sit nearby tugs at his spark with a strange sense of loss – it should not be. It makes no sense. "Bother me."
Wreckage punctuates that grudging admission with a shift of his grip, fingers cinching even more tightly on Skystrike's wrist as if to make sure she stays. He could still do it. He could break it. He could break her. He tells her this much in his grasp.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 9, 2010 14:32:31 GMT -5
If Wreckage wanted to avoid getting more kisses, this probably wasn't the way to go.
His admission earns a dark little purr and a sigh of warmed air from her helm vents, despite the sharp sparks of pain snapping up her arm and the underlying message therein. It was entirely possible that Skystrike could still lose her limb, but if Wreckage had truly been so averse to her attention in the first place the seeker wouldn't be here, touching his face, much less actually having a hand to touch with.
While it would be truly be sad to lose her limb here, it wasn't exactly as if she'd started courting him without that particular risk in mind; he was a Decepticon and a frontliner on top of that. No Decepticon came without danger and frontliners also happened to be truly adept at maiming people- especially fliers who weren't so good at melee combat.
Even so, now that she has the stryker so very close, Skystrike couldn't help but touch, regardless of the potential threat. Not content with the notion of simply contemplating them she runs her fingers a over one of the golden cheek guards, reverent and a bit possessively at the same time. Decepticon greed could only be tempered with fear for so long and patience simply didn't stand up very well to the sight of Wreckage's tusks hovering just a few centimeters away.
"Should I stop?" she murmurs softly, moving to slip a finger under Wreckage's chin and perhaps gently tug him in for a kiss.
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 10, 2010 15:25:13 GMT -5
Wreckage answers Skystrike with another growl, this one barely sound at all – more a vibration, a resonance through his plating, almost subsonic – as she explores the ridges and crevices of his face with her fingers, even stroking along the underside of his jaw. Maybe he should bite her. Would she learn then? Would she learn to stay away or would it only encourage her? She seems so contrary in other respects; why not this as well?
The sound stops when she coaxes him down and her lips meet his. Just like last time, he freezes up; unlike the last time, he does not shy away.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 11, 2010 9:36:01 GMT -5
If Wreckage bit her fingers, Skystrike will probably think he's kinky.
The way his growl abruptly grinds to a halt draws an amused rumble from the seeker. At least he isn't leaning away this time or in any danger of falling off a seat, but just in case something like it should happen, Skystrike slides her free hand down to secure it around his waist (and if they happen to brush over the wing on his hip, it would be purely accidental). She pauses to playfully nip at the top of one tusk before pressing closer with a low thrum of her engines, deepening the kiss.
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 11, 2010 21:14:37 GMT -5
Skystrike presses him harder and Wreckage responds in kind, muffling a snarl against her lips and grabbing her by her shoulders. Those fingers brushing along the trailing edge of one wing are all the provocation he needs; he hooks a leg behind one of hers to knock that foot from beneath her and breaks the kiss, shoving at the same time, slamming her to the nearest tabletop. He looms over her, leaning down close, brushing her lips with his tusks. He stares for several long, tense moments, optics blinding-bright, wings quivering and canards standing straight out from his back. He very nearly kisses her himself.
Finally, slowly, he reins in the urge. Painfully slowly. It takes phenomenal effort simply to lean back. He almost cannot force his hands to open and every motion comes with a measured cycle of his ventilation.
OOC: Pinning of Skystrike with player permission.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 12, 2010 8:50:40 GMT -5
The moment Skystrike regains her senses from the sudden shift in position she snarls in thorough displeasure, more than half tempted to give Wreckage's tusk a good bite in revenge. Her wings were ringing unpleasantly as it were, and her systems were still winding up with a high-pitched whine in battle-readiness.
The noise dies down to a steady begrudged hum under the stryker's over-bright stare though, his ex-vents sending curls of heat over her plating. She watches him carefully- resisting the powerful urge to hook a leg over his hip and reel him in- and simply makes a quiet, unhappy click when he starts pulling away. Flexing her smarting wings against the table, the seeker props herself up on them and her elbows, giving Wreckage a questioning look.
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 16, 2010 9:01:30 GMT -5
Wreckage simply watches Skystrike a few moments longer, saying nothing, all the while waiting to regain his centre. Skystrike unbalances him in many ways – unnerving ways – even as she is one of the least troublesome Decepticons he has yet met. He returns her curious expression with a consternated frown of his own as he slowly backs away to give her standing room.
|
|
|
Post by Skystrike/Skylar Stringers on Aug 17, 2010 14:30:53 GMT -5
Skystrike doesn't stand just yet, simply watching Wreckage carefully as he moved away and returning his bemused expression with a small, brief smile. The seeker shifts so that she was no longer resting her weight on her arms and abused wings and perches on the edge of the table.
In hindsight, she probably should've waited a bit more before trying to get so close; her wings twinged whenever she shifted them and she was pretty sure there was something damaged in her wrist joint. Try as she might though, she couldn't find it in herself to regret it.
She does find herself at a bit of a loss at the moment however, the earlier desire still warming her armor. What could she say?
|
|
Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
|
Post by Wreckage on Aug 19, 2010 10:59:46 GMT -5
At Skystrike's cautious smile, Wreckage shakes his head. He takes one, then two steps to the side, shifting as he moves so he never turns his back to her. He was wrong about her; she is far more dangerous than even Bonecrusher. Bonecrusher can only kill him. Skystrike makes him feel.
"Not like this," he grinds out, shaking his head again. "Not like this." With a table between them now, he stops long enough to pull up the scan data of his normal secondary mode and engage his re-energised systems. An electric sound, cut through with the snap and clank of metal rearranging itself, fills the air as Wreckage's plating reshapes itself to its Stryker configuration, blues leeching downward as if washed away to bare his original grey and white. He is on his way out before his feet have settled and locked, sounding hollow clatter across the deck with every step.
OOC: Wrap up?
|
|