TITLE:
Touch
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
JDISCLAIMER: None of the characters
belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money
Author’s Voice of Warning (aka Author’s Note):
English is not my first language; it’s German. This is the best I can
do.
Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize
FEEDBACK: Loved:
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Part
4 of the Imperfection fics. Click on my name to find the other
three prequels
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Physical touch held no real meaning to him. Touch was usually
associated with
an attack, so Barricade didn’t let anyone closer than was truly
necessary. Frenzy had been closest to him, but he had been a trusted
partner
– as far as Barricade trusted anyone. The interface circuits didn’t
go very deep and Frenzy was denied access to the vital systems by
defensive
mechanism of a very sophisticated origin.
The caress running over his hood had him shudder. How his metal skin
could be
so responsive was beyond him. But it had always been this way when it
came to
Jazz touching him.
Barricade transformed and caught the trespassing hand, trapping it on
the hard
desert ground. The grin in the familiar face was almost disarming.
“Still ticklish, ‘Cade?” Jazz
teased.
“I am not ticklish!” he growled.
The very memory of the caress had him want more.
“Oh, grumpy this fine morning. Still a sore
loser about last night’s race?”
He snarled and caught the second hand that had come inching toward him.
“I let you win, Autobot.”
“Huh. Right. So not true. I’m just the
fastest, slickest and cutest thing alive.”
Well, he could hardly argue with that. Especially when blue optics
danced
merrily, the smile still infuriating, and the very closeness of the
other was
influencing his thought processes.
With a hiss of anger he pushed the silver Autobot away.
“Want a rematch?” Jazz asked slyly. “I’ll let you have
a head start this time. Count to ten…”
Barricade reacted like any Decepticon warrior would when the other
reached for
him again in a clear gesture of gentleness. He flipped the Autobot to
the
ground, on his back, and held him immobile.
“Or we could just skip the race and go with the flow,” the
Autobots’ second in command finished. He looked far from afraid or
disturbed.
Barricade was twice as disturbed by his reactions and he couldn’t but
shudder when the touch came again. Before the war they had been this
close and
never engaged in the clearly more human way of showing affection. They
shared
their sparks, which was more intimate than sexual acts by humans, but
never had
there been a touch.
“Jazz…” he hissed a warning.
“That’s my name, ‘Cade.”
“You have spent too much time on this planet,” he said roughly.
“Not as much as you. Haven’t you learned anything? Unwind, have
fun, relax. Life’s short.”
He glowered. “For a human.”
“Time is relative.”
Again the silver hand caressed his side. Barricade had none of the
highly
sensitive receptors that were embedded in Jazz’s skin, but the
sensations
were intense.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Why? Like it?”
Claws wrapped around Jazz’s wrist, pushing it away. “No.”
“Liar.” Jazz smiled widely.
Barricade felt his spark react and it was a warm glow deep in his
chest. It
seemed to envelop him completely.
Jazz leaned closer. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Barricade gave a growl, but he couldn’t fight his mate’s closeness.
Pulling him even closer, he let the connection between them slide open
in an
invitation to share. It was an invitation only gladly taken.