Delta V

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG
IDW
Perceptor, Verity, Ironfist
refs to xeno, kinda fluffy which is weird considering the characters
for flesh_and_steel 's grabbag challenge "threesome"

 

“So,” Verity said, jumping onto the lab table Perceptor and Ironfist were bent over, repairing the latest batch of damage from a run-in with a Decepticon strafer. “You two ever do it?”

The spanner clattered from Perceptor’s hand. “Verity!” he barked, his spark suddenly blaring alarms.

“Do what?” Ironfist looked up, optics tilted, curious.

“It!” Verity said, kicking one foot over the table’s edge, the other heel tucked into her groin.  The usual, graceless sprawl that was Verity, the delicate swell of her thigh tapering to her small bare feet.

“Busy right now,” Perceptor murmured, scrambling for the spanner as it teetered on the edge of the table.  He snatched it just before it fell into space. He wished those reflexes were any good here. Like…deflecting Verity.

“What’s ‘it’?” Ironfist looked up from the circuit board he’d been welding, optics blinking, wide and clueless.

“Not important,” Perceptor blurted. 

“IT!” Verity bounced, her breasts jiggling, emphasizing the movement, all soft and liquid while they were hard and unmoving. Her grin grew barbed hooks on the end. Palpably, Perceptor thought, enjoying herself.

“We…collaborated together a few times on Kimia?” Ironfist offered.

“Oh, collaborated.” She snickered. “That what they’re calling it now?”

Perceptor glowered, his reticle whirring warningly.

Verity tilted her head, her glossy black ponytail flirting over her shoulders. “You’re not a virgin, are you, Ironfist?”

“Virgin?” The optics widened in comprehension over the mask. “OHHHHH. That ‘it’.” He engrossed himself in the box of parts on the workbench.  “I, uh, I’ve had some experience.”

“Experience?” Her dark eyebrows quirked, coyly. “…with Perceptor?”

“I—I mean,” Ironfist turned helpless optics at Perceptor. It was hard to throw a line to Ironfist when Perceptor felt that he was drowning himself.

Verity burst out laughing. “Ironfist and Percy sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Perceptor’s engines gave a sputtering cough. “Not the time for this.”

“What? You’re both like super brainy, right?” Verity leaned forward, chin landing on her hands, elbows on the table. The very picture of innocent curiosity. Perceptor knew better: had learned the hard way. “So you can like…multitask and stuff.”

“That’s a common misperception about multitasking, I think,” Ironfist said. “Memory retrieval is one thing, and creative thinking another and both draw a lot on virtual memory and—“

“SNORE,” Verity cut him off. “Just tell me. You and Perc, ever get it on?”

An exchange of glances, telling and awkward. “Yes,” Perceptor said. “Long time ago.”

Verity’s jaw dropped. “Haawwwfrag that’s stupidly hot.”  She giggled. “You should do it again.”

“What?”

“You know. Bump uglies, knock roboboots. Do the cyberlambada. Whatever you call it.” Her face brightened. “What do you guys call it, anyway?”

“Verity, ah…,” Ironfist stammered, “th-that’s really a bit, uh, some of the expressions are r-rather vulgar.”

“Are they?” Verity wriggled with glee. “I’m gonna have to ask Kup, aren’t I?”

“No.” Perceptor’s voice, sharp. “No talking to Kup.” Ever, if he had his way.  And not about this. Verity might forget she was fragile and innocent: he wouldn’t.

“You suck, Percy. Never want me to have any fun.” Her lower lip jutted into an exaggerated pout.

“Other kinds of fun.” Than the kind that made him writhe with discomfort. 

“I know,” she winked coyly at him.  “Hey, Ironfist. Perceptor do that thing when he overloads? You know, where his whole body like…vibrates?” She licked her lips, giving a throaty growl.

“He used to—hey! How did you know about--?” The optics widened, turning to Perceptor. “Perceptor!" His voice was startled, shrill. "You and Verity?”

Perceptor’s optics flew between the two.  “It—it was instructional.”

“Instructional?” Ironfist’s voice raised to a squeak.

“Very hands on,” Verity purred.

Perceptor winced, taking a step back from the table, a multimeter clutched in his hands halfway between a shield and a weapon.  “It’s not what you think.”  Or maybe it was what Ironfist was thinking. Maybe Perceptor had been deluding himself.   Maybe there had been a certain strange, well, possessiveness. Ownership. 

“What I think?” Ironfist tilted his head.  Perceptor scoured it, almost nervously, for signs of anger, jealousy, hurt, betrayal.  Ironfist shrugged, bending down over the circuit board again. “I’m a little disappointed, Perceptor.”

“…I’m sorry,” he managed.  “It was…so she’d know. For you.” Maybe a tactical retreat was in order.  It was only the truth. Well, at least one of the truths.  Ironfist deserved some happiness.  Verity was—energy incarnate.  And maybe, yes, he’d wanted to have a small portion—a handful—of that for himself.

“Yes,” Ironfist said, reaching for a small forceps to stabilize a wire into position, “You always did think linearly.”  Perceptor twitched, stung, even though there wasn’t an arch or nettling circuit in Ironfist’s entire system.

Verity sat up, wriggling. “Oooh, catfight. Over me!” Her brown eyes were wide, rapt.  

“No,” Ironfist said.  “Just that,” he looked over at Verity, shrugging nervously, then away. “No reason it has to be an either/or, does it? Him or me?” He buried his attention suddenly in the circuit board.  

Verity’s jaw dropped, in slow motion. “Oh. My. God.”  She flopped onto her back, kicking her legs, squealing. “Is it too soon to say I love you? Because right now? TOTALLY.”  She flipped onto her belly. “What do you say, Percy? You, me, Fisitron? EPIC SEX?” She kicked her feet again. “My place? Tonight?”

Perceptor shook his head. What had just happened?  Epic what? But they both were looking at him, expectantly. Hungrily. “…your berth isn’t rated for the weight,” he blurted, the first thing that came to his processor. 

“Linear,” Ironfist said, shaking his head. He looked up. “That’s what the floor is for.”   As if that should have been blazingly obvious.

Verity squeaked.  “Good one, Fizzy!”

Ironfist ducked his head, glowing, pleased.

Perceptor’s mouth flattened, stung.  This was how they were going to be, was it?  He’d show them some non-linear thinking.  He stepped forward, sweeping the pile of parts to one side with a forearm. “Worktable,” he said, in open challenge. “Now.”

 

Comments

[femme4jack.livejournal.com]

ZOMG love this SO much!!! And so needed it. Made me laugh and giggle and just love these three even more. So much yay. Linear thinking indeed ;)

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

Oh. My God.... okay, I thought the whole, "It was hard to throw a line to Ironfist when Perceptor felt that he was drowning himself," line was just epic and awesome...

But THEN you had to have Ironfist actually twitting Perceptor about his thought process?!?! The nerd just out-nerded the nerd???

Way to seize the initiative/situation right back there, Percy! OMG antepathy, I love you so hard right now, I can't even... yeah!

[silaphet.livejournal.com]

my jaw just dropped due to unexpected effusive happiness. Verity's such a sparkling playful personality it's enchanting & bypassed squickiness (normally xeno is cock blockingly illogical to me), i so want Verity to talk to Kup!!! **interface session to be continued...?**

[cloud-sama.livejournal.com]

Now is the part where you should actually write out the dirty details.