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31_days2005-10-24 03:40 pm
seiberwing.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-10-24 03:40 pm
[October 24] Relaxation Tactics
Title: Relaxation Tactics
Date/Theme: October 24: The pavilions of love and the tents of war
Series: Transformers: Armada
Pairing: Thrust/Jetfire
AU: Thrust did not follow through completely on his plan to help Sideways ressurect Unicron, and thus is neither a traitor nor dead
Rating: PG-13 and references to robot "sex".
Relaxation Tactics
Jetfire poked his head in the door and knocked on the wall to indicate his presence. “Are you done yet?”
The tactician turned around and fixed him with one of those patented stares that said ‘I am far more intelligent and refined then you are, and you should leave me to my works of genius.’
“As a matter of fact, no. Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”
“Thrust, c’mon. You’ve been up half the night.”
Thrust turned back around and resumed staring at the computer screen, his circular hands flitting over the keys as he added words, subtracted unnecessary truths, and multiplied the possibility of success. “And I’ll probably be up the rest of it. Go back to your own quarters and leave me in peace.”
Jetfire slipped into the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft wooshing noise. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you burn yourself out,” he said in a chastising tone.
“And I’ll be no good to anyone anyway if I don’t finish writing this and get it to Prime by tomorrow morning. “
“Why’s that all so important anyway?”
“Do you want the Earth Federation to walk all over us? These negotiations are vital and I’d rather have my wing broken than see Prime lose our advantage over the humans because of his sentimental foolishness.”
“See? You’re all worked up and overstressed. That’s not healthy.”
“I don’t have time for this, Jetfiyaah!”
The shuttle swept Thrust out of the chair, carried him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto his recharge berth. “You need to relax, get your mind focused on something else. Lemme help.”
“If I need to relax, I’ll go find Red Alert and ask him to play ma’hil with me.”
“That doesn’t count. Give your CPU a break for once,” Jetfire said, patting Thrust’s nosecone and nudging him over as he climbed on the berth next to him.
Thrust wasn’t surprised that Jetfire had chosen such a method to get his attention; the shuttle had never been subtle about his advances. It would have been more interesting if Jetfire had been anywhere close to him in intellect, or at least provided some sort of stimulation besides the physical kind, but this worked too. At least he had definitive blackmail material just in case he ever wanted to put pressure on the Autobot second-in-command--Jetfire had no idea about the camera hidden under Thrust’s ornamental dagger display.
Thrust sighed and settled back, yielding to his fate with grace and dignity. “Ten minutes. That’s it, Jetfire.”
“Forty-five,” said Jetfire as he straddled the tactician, holding him down with his superior size and weight and fixing him with a determined stare.
“Fifteen.”
“Thirty, and I won’t bother you for the rest of the night.”
“Done.” Thrust reached up to remove Jetfire’s mask, but the shuttle pushed his arm down again. “Nuh uh. I’ll do all the work. You’re just going to lay there and relax.”
During one of his brief periods of lucidity, Thrust mused on the fact that Jetfire’s idea of relaxing seemed to involve racing systems, overworked air intakes and passionate gasps and moans. Then Jetfire’s lips descended upon his wings and coherent thought went out the airlock. Half an hour minutes came and went like dream-time before Thrust put a shaky hand up and said “Stop.”
Jetfire paused, ready to take the tactician again as soon as he got rid of the interruption. “Why?”
“It’s been over twenty minutes.” He slid himself out from under Jetfire and headed back toward his computer. Jetfire reached out a hand to bring him back but Thrust scorned it.
“I’m the best strategist in both our armies. You think a ploy as simple as trying to tire me out so much that I’d forget the entire assignment would work on me? Go back to the War Academy.” Thrust managed to convey a disdainful smirk without even having to turn around. He went back to typing as if nothing had ever happened. Jetfire looked skyward and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Primus. Tacticians.”
Date/Theme: October 24: The pavilions of love and the tents of war
Series: Transformers: Armada
Pairing: Thrust/Jetfire
AU: Thrust did not follow through completely on his plan to help Sideways ressurect Unicron, and thus is neither a traitor nor dead
Rating: PG-13 and references to robot "sex".
Relaxation Tactics
Jetfire poked his head in the door and knocked on the wall to indicate his presence. “Are you done yet?”
The tactician turned around and fixed him with one of those patented stares that said ‘I am far more intelligent and refined then you are, and you should leave me to my works of genius.’
“As a matter of fact, no. Don’t you have something you need to be doing?”
“Thrust, c’mon. You’ve been up half the night.”
Thrust turned back around and resumed staring at the computer screen, his circular hands flitting over the keys as he added words, subtracted unnecessary truths, and multiplied the possibility of success. “And I’ll probably be up the rest of it. Go back to your own quarters and leave me in peace.”
Jetfire slipped into the room, the door shutting behind him with a soft wooshing noise. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you burn yourself out,” he said in a chastising tone.
“And I’ll be no good to anyone anyway if I don’t finish writing this and get it to Prime by tomorrow morning. “
“Why’s that all so important anyway?”
“Do you want the Earth Federation to walk all over us? These negotiations are vital and I’d rather have my wing broken than see Prime lose our advantage over the humans because of his sentimental foolishness.”
“See? You’re all worked up and overstressed. That’s not healthy.”
“I don’t have time for this, Jetfiyaah!”
The shuttle swept Thrust out of the chair, carried him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto his recharge berth. “You need to relax, get your mind focused on something else. Lemme help.”
“If I need to relax, I’ll go find Red Alert and ask him to play ma’hil with me.”
“That doesn’t count. Give your CPU a break for once,” Jetfire said, patting Thrust’s nosecone and nudging him over as he climbed on the berth next to him.
Thrust wasn’t surprised that Jetfire had chosen such a method to get his attention; the shuttle had never been subtle about his advances. It would have been more interesting if Jetfire had been anywhere close to him in intellect, or at least provided some sort of stimulation besides the physical kind, but this worked too. At least he had definitive blackmail material just in case he ever wanted to put pressure on the Autobot second-in-command--Jetfire had no idea about the camera hidden under Thrust’s ornamental dagger display.
Thrust sighed and settled back, yielding to his fate with grace and dignity. “Ten minutes. That’s it, Jetfire.”
“Forty-five,” said Jetfire as he straddled the tactician, holding him down with his superior size and weight and fixing him with a determined stare.
“Fifteen.”
“Thirty, and I won’t bother you for the rest of the night.”
“Done.” Thrust reached up to remove Jetfire’s mask, but the shuttle pushed his arm down again. “Nuh uh. I’ll do all the work. You’re just going to lay there and relax.”
During one of his brief periods of lucidity, Thrust mused on the fact that Jetfire’s idea of relaxing seemed to involve racing systems, overworked air intakes and passionate gasps and moans. Then Jetfire’s lips descended upon his wings and coherent thought went out the airlock. Half an hour minutes came and went like dream-time before Thrust put a shaky hand up and said “Stop.”
Jetfire paused, ready to take the tactician again as soon as he got rid of the interruption. “Why?”
“It’s been over twenty minutes.” He slid himself out from under Jetfire and headed back toward his computer. Jetfire reached out a hand to bring him back but Thrust scorned it.
“I’m the best strategist in both our armies. You think a ploy as simple as trying to tire me out so much that I’d forget the entire assignment would work on me? Go back to the War Academy.” Thrust managed to convey a disdainful smirk without even having to turn around. He went back to typing as if nothing had ever happened. Jetfire looked skyward and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Primus. Tacticians.”