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Post by Perceptor on May 9, 2011 18:09:51 GMT -5
Perceptor gasps as he feels that EM field flickering over him, the hands that scrape over his plating, the demanding press of Drift against him. Oh, but it feels so... so good. He eagerly swallows that growl of Drift's, answering with a hungry sound of his own, trying to follow when he feels those lips tearing away from his.
It takes him a moment to understand, to grasp that Drift is pushing him away now, and he whimpers as his hands tighten upon Drift's frame to keep him close. "Wha--"
Perceptor frowns, taking in the dazed look of passion in Drift's optics, no doubt, a match for the look in his own. "C-can't? Why not?" And if Perceptor sounds a little desperate and disappointed? (okay, a lot) That's because he is.
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Post by Drift on May 9, 2011 20:05:09 GMT -5
Everything in Drift's system is...raging. His sensor drive pushing him to take Perceptor, throw him to the ground, his hands harder, more demanding, tearing his way to what he wanted; while another part fought with that, not wanting to see Perceptor damaged, the gentle smile shattered, bent or broken.
His ventilation heaved from his ducts, as he let his optics devour, a moment longer, Perceptor's look of open wanting.
"Don't...don't want to break you," he whispered, turning on his heel, heading toward the door, optics blue-white with agony.
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Post by Perceptor on May 9, 2011 20:18:40 GMT -5
"Break..." Confusion and hurt and want all war their way across Perceptor's expression, his lower lip starting to quiver as Drift turns away.
"I'm not that fragile, Drift! Please!" he begs, stumbling forward to try and grasp Drift's hand again, try to hold him, pull him back, keep him from running away. "Please don't go!"
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Post by Drift on May 9, 2011 20:37:24 GMT -5
Drift is in agony. Can't the nerd tell he's trying to protect him? He hits the door code and jolts to a stop--almost crashing into the unmoving door just before the code blats out a refusal.
He stares at the door, not trusting himself to turn around, wincing at Perceptor's grip on his injured hand.
"Please. Let me out." Please. I don't want to hurt you. I won't be able to stop myself....
He's unaware that he's murmuring the last two sentences aloud.
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Post by Perceptor on May 9, 2011 20:47:23 GMT -5
Perceptor stumbles to a halt just behind Drift, cupping both hands around Drift's as the swordsmech is stymied by the unmoving door. He is tempted to refuse, to force Drift to remain long enough to actually speak to him again...
But he'd secured the door to keep anyone else out, not trap Drift within.
"You're hurting me already," Perceptor replies in a low whisper. "Please don't leave? I don't believe you, that... that you would hurt me. Please?"
But he radio-bursts the code to unlock the door, his hands trembling where they cup gently around Drift's. A choice is not a choice if there is no second option, and... and he would refuse Drift nothing.
Even if it means breaking his own heart.
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Post by Drift on May 10, 2011 6:36:54 GMT -5
Drift turns, optics blazing, dangerous. He hates that he's hurting Perceptor but...it would only get worse. Physically, emotionally, everything. And he...can't do that.
"You don't know me," he says, halfway between a snarl and a helpless moan.
I do.
"Trust me. Better this way."
He pushes through the door as it opens, so fast, so heedless that his shoulder bumps against the still-sliding panel, leaving a dent and a streak of white. But he deserves this pain, he thinks. And it's not cowardice to run away.
...when you're running away from yourself.
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Post by Perceptor on May 10, 2011 8:16:25 GMT -5
Drift's hand slips out of his own as the swordsmech flees as quickly as his feet will carry him, leaving Perceptor to stare at the corridor wall. He could give chase, could throw himself down the hallway in Drift's wake, begging him to stay...
But Drift has made it clear enough. The door slides shut.
"...you do not know me, either..." he whispers brokenly, his knees giving out as the ache inside seems to sap all his energy. One trembling hand lifts, resting upon the door, though it resolutely remains closed.
He doesn't know how long he remains there, bent over his knees, dull optics staring at the floor, one hand pressed to the door; he doesn't care. Eventually, however, crimped lines begin to ache enough to intrude upon his fugue.
He... hadn't thought that it would hurt like this. Such a short time, he's known Drift; it shouldn't hurt like this. But he'd dared to hope. For the first time since the attack on Autobot City, he'd dared to hope for... for something for himself.
He's tempted not to move. It takes more effort to bother with than he has to give, and so, he's tempted to simply stay there. The only thing that finally drives him, shaking, to his feet isn't the pain of his cramped legs, but the thought that if anyone were to come to the lab, they would be witness to how pathetic he's become. That's one indignity too many to bear this week, and so, he lurches upright, fingers rising to brush the thin scrape of white paint clinging to the edge of the door, before he turns away.
A shadow upon his workstation seizes his attention. The plate from the back of Drift's hand. He'd forgotten it in his rush to escape. To get away from Perceptor. With a low sob, Perceptor stumbles over to pick it up, clutch it to his chest for a moment. He should... should take it back to Drift, drop it at Medical, something. But Drift doesn't want him, doesn't want to see him again, and Perceptor... can't stir up the energy to go that far, even the short distance to Medical. He barely has the energy to shuffle to a corner out of line of sight of Kup's security cameras, where he transforms, Drift's hand plate held to his specimen tray by a slide-clip.
Eventually, sensing no further movement in the room for too long, the lights cycle down, casting to lab into darkness.
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Post by Perceptor on May 13, 2011 21:29:02 GMT -5
Perceptor isn't sure how long he sulks in that low power state, but, eventually, even his systems need more than energy conservation, and he is forced to power back up. He needs a cube. And he'd probably better go track down Mirage and get that confrontation out of the way, too, before Mirage comes looking for him and finds him in this state.
He'd hoped... but Drift had never returned.
Without warning, Perceptor find himself getting incredibly angry. Partly at Drift, but mostly at... himself. Allowing himself to become so enamored so quickly. Madness. And yet... He already knows that he is not going to simply back down and allow Drift to run without making an attempt to follow. Perhaps it is nothing more than silly infatuation, but... Perceptor wants to find out.
And Drift had wanted him, too.
"Very well then. If that is the game you wish to play, then I shall reposition my counter upon the board and see what you make of it."
Game on.
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