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Recovery; Open For First Aid
Topic Started: 6 May 2016, 12:59 AM (248 Views)
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The new position offered a little more of everything, more contact, more space to actually see First Aid. He should do more, he felt like he probably should. What with First Aid draped all over him like this the opportunity was more than there. Brainstorm instead settled for working his fingertips in little circles up First Aid's back, his thumb swiping the opposite way every now and then to set an erratic rhythm.

He did think First Aid was more than cute, he'd known First Aid was more than just cute since day one. How to word that part though. He nodded instead of answering verbally. It felt wrong not to voice his thoughts when he had a reply already loaded and ready, he didn't trust his vocalizer to cooperate without hitching, so he left it at that.

It was strange, he supposed, to be on the receiving end of so much affection, of affection in general. It was probably the last four millions years of war that made mechs so reclusive, so unaccustomed to friendly touches. Brainstorm thought, with First Aid slotted comfortably against him, that some mechs would benefit from a healthy dose of friendly contact.

"S'okay." Brainstorm managed a verbal answer this time, as small and static ridden as it was. His servos tracing little numbing circles was a thing- probably not enough of a thing. He could feel his servos, light and airy, shaking the slightest bit. He resolved the shaking with a bit of focus, letting the repetitive actions guide themselves.

It didn't help much, really the only other thing to focus on was First Aid's sweet little kisses, and when he did focus on them his plating felt sensitive, too aware of what First Aid was doing. All in all, it was a great way to get his mind off of the Quantum Enigma and the presence of dangerous mechs on board.

It was too easy to trust First Aid, too easy to let him do as he pleased, too easy to want the comfort First Aid offered. So much so that any move First Aid made wouldn't be particularly surprising- or maybe it would be surprising, but the intent, the meaning of his actions wouldn't go unnoticed.

As soon as First Aid drew back Brainstorm was pressing his own mouth to First Aid's shoulder, it was less direct, and less of a kiss and more of a nuzzle. His servos traced higher, just under First Aid's shoulder blades.

His optics felt tired from how unfocused they'd become, he cycled them off, terminating the program and rebooting it from his hud, deleting a cache of useless sensory information along with it as an afterthought. He didn't need a notification to know his plating was a little warm, or rather, First Aid's plating was warming him, maybe, probably.
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Jumpercablebabe
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Resting stomach down against Brainstorm was clearly one of First Aid's better decisions. Maybe not for his arm, he could see how it would become stiff positioned as it was, but it was no longer pinching or causing strain on his neck.

Starting to get drunk on a cocktail of diluted painkillers and affection, Aid was opening up. It gave him that fuzziness, the little confidence boost he needed to actually go through with what he thought and how he felt. Still. His plating was puffed, heat escaping through the seams.

What he really loved was how gentle brainstorm rubbed his back. Optics dimmed and softened, pulled into a subtle lull. Trying to match, fingers on Aid's good hand curled around the top edge of Brainstorm's wing, abandoning their previous spot, stroking and rubbing gently with his thumb. Sighing full of affection, First Aid found it difficult to make optic contact as Brainstorm was nuzzled against his shoulder. It was fine, he'd waited this long he could wait some more.

Sure enough as soon as the scientists head rose back up, First Aid was quick to press his lips straight to Braimstorm's, even if he did want to continue to pepper over the articulate vents in his cheeks. No. This would be a different kind of nice.

Ever chatty, First Aid soon realized now was no time for talking. It gave time to let actions talk, to just. Bask in a little indulgence. Everyone had been at war for so long, it left Aid feeling weak at times. Weak and hopeless that there was nothing good that could come from any of it. Not when all the others seemed to lose vital parts of themselves along the way. Affection was such a foreign concept to most, and yet Aid was the exception. The trifecta of sympathetic, empathetic and compassionate. Not afraid to imagine or actually feel how others felt, to act on those feelings that came with that sensation.

If he could singlehandedly bring each mech on this ship to a place of comfort, inner peace, somewhere they could feel love; he'd do it with no hesitation. The war was over. It was time to heal. Brainstorm could understand the most out of everyone to why First Aid was how he was.

Lips on lips, both sets of hands with gentle motions, there was a mutual sense of peace. One that Aid had not felt for quite some time. It made him wonder, deeply wonder, that if things were different... If maybe in some other timeline they had become amica endura. It wasn't a thought he was about to share, not while lip locked at the least.
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Brainstorm found himself sinking into the berth, not to pull away from the tweaking and rubbing along his wings, but because he was relaxing with it, strutless and lax.

His optics were shuttered, servos curious and mindless in a blind search for contact. That was, until First Aid was leaning forward to press their mouths together. Before the implications could really sink in Brainstorm thought for a moment over just how rare it was. Both of them without their masks, with mouths, a mouth Brainstorm hadn't even known First Aid had possessed until they'd went for drinks.

He kissed back, of course, slowly, timidly, some part of him admitted with reluctance before he was pulling away. Only for a moment before he was drawing First Aid closer, gathering the medic up in his arms for an embrace of sorts. He was mindful of First Aid's injury, but he held firm.

There was just too much on his mind to not try and offer some solid form of comfort. He knew First Aid was an affectionate mech, he knew he only sought out that comfort when he needed it, and with all of the stress and the emotions he was more concerned than anything.

Brainstorm exvented the tension in his arms and shoulders, easing his grip some. He pressed a kiss to First Aid's cheek, risking another on the medics lips, short and sweet, something he couldn't mess up.

"You okay?" Brainstorm asked, his voice quiet. He resumed the rubbing against First Aid's back for an extra measure of comfort. His wings were angled in just a way that they'd be easily accessible if Aid wanted to play with them again. He didn't like giving in to the stereotypes, especially the flyer ones, but no part of him could deny how pleasant it felt.
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Jumpercablebabe
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Was he okay? The Jury was out on that one. It really wasn't a yes or no question. Was he physically okay? Yeah, I mean, he'd be fine. Healing along rather swiftly as he was decent about staying in bed when he needed to be. But, but was he actually okay mentally? That was a really gray area. He would be okay, that was certain. After all was said and done he would be okay. It was just getting to that point.

"I will be. Not right now, but in time I'll be okay."

It was an honest answer, not the most comforting, but he was growing achey and sore. His professor felt like it was dragging, hiding his state to protect brainstorm's feelings wasn't going to work. Brainstorm was smart, he would see through any lies.

Mouth pulled into a small frown, optics dimmed considerably, he was just short of pouting. Good servo reached up, Palm resting flat and rubbing over one of Brainstorm's offered wings. He watched as his palm made circles, his spark giving a sad pulse.

The whole thing was so bitter sweet.

"You're helping, Brainstorm. You're really doing your best and I'm thankful. It's hard to keep letting myself cry over the same things when I know I shouldn't. It's hard to keep going when things seem so bleak now. Your kindness means the world to me, from over the moons of cybertron and back. You don't mind to hold me a little longer, do you?"

The affection was comforting. Especially when he was down four brothers to coddle him in times like this. Cheek to cheek, first aid nuzzled, hoping that brainstorm just wouldn't let go.
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The sliding motion of his fingers was becoming too repetitive and numbing, Brainstorm changed the motion, dragging his fingertips in short little lines along First Aid's sides. That feeling of- of not doing enough remained, it was irritating and it kept dragging his thoughts back to the front of his mind everytime he tried to focus on Aid or the servo so pleasantly pressing against his wing.

The request was too easy, but Brainstorm himself couldn't do anything to change the course of events that had played out or the emotions gripping First Aid.

First Aid's field was melancholic and appreciative, an odd combination, a concerning one. Brainstorm shifted his palm from Aid's side to his abdomen, rubbing languorous circles against the warm metal.

Brainstorm took a moment to breathe, shuttering his optics with an exvent. First Aid was warm, and Brainstorm could feel the sure weight of him in his lap, Aid's em field displaying his emotions unabashedly. If Brainstorm concentrated on the chest to chest contact he could feel the life there. First Aid was healthy, healing. As emotionally compromised as he might be, Aid was okay. He was hurting, physically and mentally, but he would be okay.

"I'll hold you." Brainstorm answered, not completely satisfied with all he could do. But it was enough. He pressed his own cheek into the nuzzle, his wing twitching absently against Aid's palm.
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Jumpercablebabe
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The introduction of short lines to his sides was fantastic. New, mind numbing, distracting. His face pressed to Brainstorm's slightly, lips to his cheek as he simply enjoyed the affection. He was always hungry for affection, even willing to open his spark and give it back. Just short from literally on that. Either way. He felt like he was fluttering.

After awhile he forgot his hand was even moving. Circles became numbing, calculated, thumb knowing just where to swipe and where to avoid. All those joints, that was a place to avoid. As were the seams he could easily push his pinky into.

Field dipping loser, a deeper sense of melancholy, mouthing softly at Brainstorm's cheek. It hurt to love someone and lose them. Nights, mornings, days, the feeling never truly left. Even after he healed, he supposably moved on, his spark longed for the other. It just wasn't something easy to get over.

Brainstorms palm was cold against his plating, which hardly surprised him, but it was a little startling against his abdominal plating. Even the scientist could feel how it was slightly puffed, accommodating for heat to exit. It was only slightly uncomfortable, easy to distract from. Which was easy to do when one stared deeply into those golden optics. Vastly deeper than his plain blue optics. Or so he would say. It was easy to get lost in a sea of gold.

"I... Thank you..."

Shifting to be flat against Brainstorn's chest, against his palm, to be completely pressed as close as possible, Aid decided to press his lips in a trail of kisses over grooved cheeks to golden lips. This time he didn't stop at being shy, while he wasn't forceful, it was clear his intentions were to go deeper. If brainstorm would accept.

Something to feel alive. To feel loved. That he was more than a tool, a husk, that there was value to him. His fatal flaw was the value he saw in himself was what he received from others. Without the necessary feedback, he otherwise felt like radio silence. Silence spoke louder than any words, it also sliced deeper than any knife. Happiness was relative. Comfort was also relative, only now it was relevant as well.
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Brainstorm inhaled, squishing Aid closer with a deep exvent and two arms around him. He encouraged the kisses by supplying an equal enthusiasm. He felt for a moment he should probably stop, but he knew it wasn't the meaning but the affection behind them that First Aid was after.

He was realizing now that the thing Aid needed the most wasn't kisses or energon candies, but a friend, a comfortable presence too he supposed, and some recharge. Some recharge that didn't end with Aid waking up in the odd hours of the night or the restless tossing and readjustment of his injured arm. He could feel the strain of First Aid's systems against his own plating, it wasn't that noticeable, but this wasn't the first time he'd held Aid close either.

"Am I gonna be able to convince you to get some sleep while I'm here?" First Aid was probably growing weary of being asked to rest, what with the way Ambulon had almost assuredly been badgering and doting on him throughout the lengthy process of his recovery. Some friend Brainstorm was to come here for a visit and do the same exact thing Aid had probably been trying to escape.

He returned the kiss, and he could admit to being a little sloppy with it, but only because of the drowsy nature their snuggling. He hadn't done much kissing recently, but he was pretty slagging great at winging it, so really, how bad could he be? Not that it'd hurt his pride any to ask for some feeback over a drink when Aid does get out of recovery.

There wasn't much point in trying to smother his smile at Aid's insistence to deepen the kiss, not when Aid would notice it, so he didn't. He felt a little bad for splitting a grin while Aid was taking the kiss seriously, or, as serious as you can with a coworker working just a room away in the medibay.
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