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[wheeljackofalltrades]

 [Wheeljack wasn't one to question things, really. But when something goes wrong in his world, there's -usually- repurcussions for said thing that went wrong.  So...you can see the confusion when he opens up the feed. He's SOMEWHERE in Solus's temple--the lack of indents and scorch marks are a key sign that it's not his room--eyebrow perked.]

So uh...can you guys do me a favour and just watch this for me?

[Before you can even give an answer, he sets the Link back slightly, giving a full shot of him. Grabbing a grenade.

And pulling the pin--PLEASE NO WHEELJACK. 

He sets it a few feet away, folding his arms. And...well, like it should, it detonates. Smoke billows through the whole room, the walls once untouched by scorch are now charred black, and the Link may have bounced a little from the impact.



But...Wheeljack walks out of it, and aside from scorch to match the walls, looks relatively unharmed.]

That's not normal. I'm good but I'm not -that- good.


[Well no shit, Wheeljack.]

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[wheeljackofalltrades]

[He allows the kiss to deepen, just letting go of any moment of doubt he may have had. He wanted nothing left to chance, no more wondering what could have been. Because this could be the only time it'd happen, and Primus if he wouldn't want to experience this.

Rough hands pull them closer, his scarred lips rubbing against those teeth, unable to stop smiling. It felt so...comforting.

But with comfort comes reality, and after a few seconds more, he has to lift up, for a second.


Collecting all of this in his mind.]

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[sciencetank]

[He pauses, when he feels Wheeljack move. He draws back, even though everything in him screams to keep going. To press in further and run his hands over that armor. To probe those scars. To keep drowning himself in this feeling, this need.]

[But he holds himself back.]

[He pulls his head away, only enough to break the kiss. His arms never uncoil. His engine never quiets. In fact, there's hot, harsh air panting from his vents now, as he peers at the Wrecker.]

[This... really is real. Isn't it? He'd really given in.]

I... think that went... a bit further than I'd intended...

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[wheeljackofalltrades]

[It's sad how much of a hair trigger it is for him to keep going too. And it's shown in that fierce grip he's got on Perceptor's plate armor. He rubs his lips together in thought, as the scientist speaks, letting it all sink in--just what exactly happened in those few seconds.]

Tell me about it.

[It sounded so...relaxed.]


...So. Where do we go from here, Sarge?

[Although he's already starting to answer his own question, leaning in slightly closer.]

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[sciencetank]

[He doesn't know how to answer that question. For all his intelligence, all his skills, his work and his experience, this is an area he is utterly lost in. He doesn't pull away. His head leans against the Wrecker's, feeling the contact, relishing the grip on his plating, the sensation of another presence, something to reasonably rely on. It's right here.]

[Now that he's crossed that line, he's at a loss for what to do with himself.]

[Air cycles, slowly cooling. Though his running lights stay brilliantly, painfully, bright. Big shoulders roll in a shrug. He can't help but draw Wheeljack closer with the other's movement.]

I don't say this terribly often but...

[His voice lowers, something breathy, private, and a little wild.]

I have utterly no idea.