3484 words of Blackspark grooming and otherwise pampering a newer OC of mine, Sharpshot. No real warnings for this, aside from dealing with some old scars. Literal ones. Technically plug’n’play interface, but not the sexual take on it, just as a way to share information. 

All crude jokes aside, Blackspark knew how to handle a
weapon. He had more than one sniper rifle of his own, and, when you came down
to it, a rifle-alt wasn’t terribly different. Heavier around the base, since
there was a living mech inside rather than just the needed components of a
rifle, and with a thicker barrel to make up for the fact that the barrel had to
be made of segments rather than one solid piece. The same general design,
though, with three major differences. First, a rifle-alt could be trusted not
to go off accidentally. Second, you didn’t take a rifle-alt apart for cleaning.
Third, and most pleasantly, regular sniper rifles didn’t sigh quietly in
enjoyment when you were working on cleaning their barrel.

Blackspark had laid a towel over his lap for some padding
and was gently supporting Sharpshot’s alt in one arm, slowly polishing the
barrel with a cloth held in his other servo. Cleaning the interior of the
barrel hadn’t gotten any real response, and from what he’d heard didn’t tend to
be a big deal for most weapon-alts. Made sense, since they were more than used
to standard cleaning after a couple of years and the barrel wasn’t sensitive in
alt mode anyway. But this… well, this wasn’t really necessary, but he’d
promised to pamper Sharpshot.

And from the look of things, nobody had done so in a very
long time. Sharpshot kept his frame clean, of course, but he had more scars on
his alt than were really necessary- mostly in areas that indicated someone had
been none too gentle with the rifle they were hauling. Even a few that looked
like he might have been used as a club.
Grumbling quietly about careless Functionalists, Blackspark shifted the small
mech in his lap to carefully inspect the scars, then switched to a soft brush
to clean the areas over the scars. Rougher metal needed a different scrubber to
get it clean, but Sharpshot didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the plates under
Blackspark’s servos lifted a fraction, allowing him to scrub at the edges.
“Yeah- there we go. Havin’ fun?”

No response, other than a flicker of EM field against his
fingertips. Which was, in itself, a considerable thing, since rifle-alts kept
their fields entirely hidden in alt mode so they wouldn’t distract their
wielder. They also kept their plating firmly down in place for stability. But
this… this was distinctly unusual. Sharpshot was relaxed enough to flicker relaxation/pleasure/appreciation against
Blackspark, to lift his plating and let him under, to start making quiet sounds
of enjoyment at his work. Purring gently, Blackspark shifted the smaller mech
in his lap and tucked the end of the barrel against the side of his neck,
making the encounter just a bit more intimate and fully demonstrating his
trust. Sharpshot could kill him like this, but wasn’t about to- didn’t even
have any energy built up yet. Defenseless, for the moment, and trusting
Blackspark entirely.

It felt excellent.

Letting himself purr, just slightly, Blackspark lingered on
the edges of those slightly raised plates in an effort to reward Sharpshot for
the trust. It worked, too, Sharpshot crooned softly up at him and fluffed the
plating even further.

He’d already gotten all the vital cleaning done, so, once
he’d given everything a good once-over, he set the rifle-alt flat in his lap
and patted approximately where he thought Sharpshot’s chassis was. “A’right,
c’mon out. We aren’t done here,” he purred, watching with a little smile as
Sharpshot had to settle his plating back down to get to the point where he
could transform. Cute- too relaxed to coordinate anything.

And then, well… then he had an attractive little mech in his
lap. Not just in his lap- straddling his legs and blinking up at him with
half-focused optics. Which was tasty, but
now was not the time for suggestiveness, now was the time for gentle affection.
Purring softly, he leaned back and lifted one delicate servo to his lips for a
soft kiss, grinning widely when Sharpshot responded with a rather startled
expression and a hint of flattery/pleasure
in their field. Nice.

Pulling his supplies closer, he dipped Sharpshot’s servo
into a basin of a mild solvent, then selected a small, soft brush and began to
gently scrub around his fingers. Very carefully on the tips, then a bit more
firmly around some of the scars, dislodging the grime that tended to build up
in servo joints without removal. It was worse when scar tissue was involved,
the rough metal clung to grime. Couldn’t be comfortable at all, poor mech. It
wouldn’t interfere with Sharpshot’s ability to do their job, but, Primus- must
be hard for him to move his fingers properly.

Humming softly, Blackspark cleaned away everything he could,
then put the solvent aside started to work a few drops of oil into the tiny
joints. Sharpshot’s optics were mostly closed by that point, so he let his gaze
drift up a bit, taking the opportunity to look Sharpshot over from close up.
Such an interesting frame!

His optics were probably the thing that caught people’s
attention at first. One bright red, perfectly round primary optic, often kept
shut indoors, and two smaller, dull orange optics that were set slightly out to
the sides. His antennae were odd, too, seeming unusually short and thick at
first glance. Second glance would reveal that those were actually sheathes, and
that the actual antennae extended from the tips when it was safe. Sheaths like
that were unusual on most frametypes, but relatively common on the audials and
antennae of any mechs with a large gun incorporated into their frame,
especially when their entire frame was a gun.

From there… narrow chassis, lanky stomach, slender hips, a
distinctly delicate-looking frame that made Blackspark want to fit his servos
around Sharpshot’s midsection. His legs were harder to get a look at without
clearly staring somewhere other than his servo, but Blackspark could feel
Sharpshot’s legs around his frame, and he’d seen before in quick once-overs.
Oddly thick plating, but in narrow, vertical pieces, and relatively small pedes
that split into two toes- ooh, with small silicone pads on them. Same pads on
Sharpshot’s fingertips and palms, thin and slightly ridged, meant to help grip
onto surfaces.  Pausing again, Blackspark
lightly brushed the pads against his own cheek, then purred reassuringly when
Sharpshot opened all three optics to look up at him. “Don’t mind me, jus’
gettin’ a feel for these. Neat li’l detail. An’, hey- secret li’l pretty
details right in here.”

Most of Sharpshot’s frame was a soft, matte silver with
varying degrees of purple mixed in, seemingly meaningless patterns that would
assemble into countershading in alt mode. His servos were darker, a shadowy
matte purple, and there were thin white lines tracing around the edges of his
fingers and collecting into white at the very tips of his claws. A lovely
little bit of contrast.

Sharpshot opened his optics just enough to look down at his servos,
seeing only the usual colorless gridwork that his secondary optics read in,
then shut his optics again and sighed quietly. “Can’t see color this close up,
remember? Don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

He was expecting it to end at that. It didn’t, though, and
he opened their secondary optics at a quiet clicking sound. Hm- didn’t need to
see color to see that Blackspark had just opened his wrist panel. That was…
interesting, and he carefully held one of the plugs between his fingertips as
he looked up to try and figure out the intent here.

Completely relaxed and pulsing quiet invitation/reassurance/enjoyment, Blackspark revved his engine in
an encouraging gesture, holding his servo where Sharpshot could easily reach.
“You’re missing out, handsome. Here… plug in, I’ll letcha at my visual feed so
you can get a look at your pretty self. No strings, promise. Just a coupla
cables.”

Sharpshot watched him for a moment, thinking, then opened
his own wrist panel and carefully pressed Blackspark’s plug into place. Sure-
why not? Blackspark definitely wasn’t up to anything with him, and he had good
firewalls in any place. Besides… he was curious. So he settled the bounty hunter’s
plug into one of his ports, then offered up one of his own cables, which
hopefully wouldn’t be too small to fit.

It wasn’t. Blackspark’s port had to cycle down a size or
two, but nothing the calipers couldn’t easily do, and the link flickered to
life between them. An offer of a live feed popped up, and, when Sharpshot
accepted, he was viewing Blackspark’s optical feed. A feed of himself, close
up, in color and detail- interesting! He’d never seen close-up details in
color, and-

Oh. Sharpshot
blinked a couple of times, straightening up, then shut his optics to better
focus on the feed. He’d never actually seen what he looked like. His own build,
of course, from looking down at himself, but only being able to see the shapes
of things up close meant that he couldn’t see his own colors or use a mirror in
any way. So this… this was very interesting.

Turning to one side, then the other, he took the opportunity
to look himself over for the first time. Hm- Blackspark might have a point.
Sharpshot wasn’t quite certain what people generally considered attractive, but
he did look quite nice, and- oh, the white details on his servos were definitely
pretty. Come to think of it… so was the rest of him. Hm.

Sharpshot was aware of the overlapping, scale-like plates on
his back, especially as he moved and lifted the plating up, but he’d never
gotten anything like a look at it before. No wonder people wanted to touch his
back- that did look like an interesting texture. And there was the white again,
on the very edges of the plates, where it wouldn’t show up in his alt mode when
the plating was settled in place. Interesting.

Settling against the wall, he half-opened his optics for a moment
to see the colors as he looked over his shoulder, then shivered just a fraction
at the sight of himself. Optics half-shut, lounging against the wall, plating
lifted and smiling just a fraction. That was… hm. Well.

“Ah. No wonder you wanted me to see this. I am hot. Thank you for this.”

Shutting his optics again, Sharpshot turned around and
settled comfortably into Blackspark’s lap, quietly enjoying the feed as he
offered his servos to the larger mech again. “This is… not a level of attention
I am used to, but… I find myself quite enjoying it. Please continue,” he purred,
letting his field wrap softly into Blackspark’s, and practically melted into
the corner and into the hunter’s lap as he obliged.

Genuinely delighted, Blackspark left the plugs in place for
as long as Sharpshot accepted the feed, working the oil gently into his servos
in the meantime. Honestly, the link felt nice- Sharpshot’s port was tight
around his plug, and the rifle-alt’s presence was soft, quiet, and relaxed on
the other end of the link. A pleasant set of sensations, and a wonderful
addition to the enjoyment of feeling Sharpshot relax under his servos. The
rifle couldn’t purr, not quite, but he kept making soft, breathy noises
somewhere between sighs and moans. Not quite suggestive, he was too relaxed for
that, but mm.

Taking his time, Blackspark slowly worked a generous dose of
oil into both of Sharpshot’s servos, especially around the scars, then began to
move up his arms. This was a small and delicate mech, so it took a delicate
touch, but that also meant that there was less space to cover.

Sharpshot stayed relaxed for most of the work, but tensed up
now and then in discomfort when Blackspark got rougher with some of the scars.
Sometimes it took a tougher brush to properly clean them off, to remove the
outer layer of long-dead nanites adhered to the scar tissue, which wasn’t very
pleasant for Sharpshot. Blackspark offered an assortment of distractions,though-
kissing the backs of his servos again, pressing those tiny servo pads to his
cheek or audial fins, or focusing his optics on a detail of Sharpshot’s frame that
he liked in order to give his patient something better to think about. Fortunately,
the only scars on his front large enough to need special attention were on his
servos and arms, his stomach and chassis sported only a few slightly raised
areas that were completely covered in healthy nanites. No joints to oil,
either- just a few transformation seams, everything else was soft muscle
cabling or protoform.

His back was slower, though, and they had to unplug so the
cables didn’t get tangled up while trying to clean this mess. Lots of scars,
lots of transformation seams tucked under plating, lots of work to be done. Not
much of it was comfortable for Sharpshot, unfortunately, and there was very
little that Blackspark could do about it. The scars wouldn’t heal properly like
this, not without cleaning, and removing that outer layer of grime would allow
Blackspark to work in more oil to help loosen the scars up. A necessary- well,
not evil, but unpleasantness. One that had Sharpshot gritting his dentae and
bracing himself against the wall, and had Blackspark feeling distinctly not
okay with the situation. He didn’t like causing people pain, at least not people
he liked, and he liked Sharpshot. So-
time to stop and ask.

Lowering both servos to stroke gently at Sharpshot’s sides,
Blackspark purred softly for a moment, trying to settle the smaller mech down a
bit. “Easy, there… takin’ a li’l break. Sharpshot, you wanna stop? We can stop
for a bit, or for good- don’t really need to strip all these scars now. Really
should at some point, they ain’t gonna get any better ‘till they get some work
done, but we can keep this whole session nice an’ gentle if yer uncomfortable.”

Sharpshot grumbled quietly and shivered, antennae low and
askew, and slowly relaxed into Blackspark’s touches. “No. I want to get this
out of the way, and I suspect this will feel rather nice when you finish.
Continue. I can stand it.”

He could. It wasn’t fun, the scrubbing bordered on pain, but
it was necessary- and he could put up with worse. It required bracing himself,
but it worked. Helped that Blackspark kept-

Well, essentially snuggling him. Nuzzling the back of his
helm, stroking his arms or sides when he got too tense, staying as close to him
as possible while still being able to reach his back. It felt… hm. Completely
opposite of the cleanings he was used to, but it was… mm.

It was amazing.

If a bit confusing when Blackspark proceeded to turn him around. What was he planning to do n-

Ohh-

Blackspark poured a large dose of the oil down Sharpshot’s
back, over all the old marks and scars, and the sensors underneath lit up with fire. Sharpshot tensed and gripped
tightly onto Blackspark’s frame, choking back a hiss of what was definitely pain, then slumped limp and-

Well, moaned. Much louder than expected, because the oil was
soaking into and through the old wounds, soothing the briefly agitated sensors,
and it felt amazing. He felt like he
was melting, and probably looked like it, slumped against Blackspark and
continuing to moan in bliss. It wasn’t intentional, but he was far too relaxed to stop himself.

“Oh, yeah- there we go,” Blackspark purred, holding
Sharpshot gently against his own frame, and slowly stood up in lieu of setting
him down. “You got real relaxed, cutie- tell ya what, how about we take this
back to my berth? Not, uh- not for interface, just- gonna be more comfy. Would
you be a’ight with that, Sharpshot? No pressure.”

Sharpshot didn’t seem coherent, kneading claws quickly
against his arms, but nodded against his throat in response to the question.
Therefore, Blackspark gently carried his bundle of relaxed little mech to his
berthroom across the hall, humming softly as he set the sniper down. “You just
stay riiight there. Gonna be back.”

Blackspark’s berth was large, soft, and lightly shredded.
Not at all surprising, and very comfortable as Sharpshot nuzzled into it. Warm,
soft… mmh.

Now that he was in a quiet place, Sharpshot let his antennae
extend out of the sheaths, feeling the vibrations in the air as Blackspark approached.
Giving a quiet “mrrp” noise, he fluffed his plating into the approaching
servos, then moaned again –albeit quieter- as Blackspark’s servos landed on his
back.

“Aw. Thought you’d relax,” Blackspark purred, stroking
Sharpshot’s back plating, and gradually began to work his fingertips down the
small mech’s spine in firm, careful rubbing motions. Sharpshot didn’t say
anything in response, but pushed up into his servos, groaning softly against
the blankets in clear (if muffled) pleasure.

As Blackspark continued to work, Sharpshot gradually relaxed
again and made a noise almost like a purr, optics shut and face pushed into the
blankets. He felt good, clearly, and
it made Blackspark purr in return at the show. Oh- so pretty, so sweet, so relaxed. Had no one ever done something
like this for him? It certainly seemed like they hadn’t. At the very least, it
had been a very long time, because there was a lot of tension to work out.

More than willing to work out all of said tension,
Blackspark moved down Sharpshot’s back, not shying from the complicated
mechanisms just above his aft, occasionally applying the vibes in his
fingertips ever-so-softly to particularly stubborn cables. From there, he slid
both servos to Sharpshot’s leg, tilting the smaller mech to the side slightly
to put his leg at a good angle, then propped the padded little pede against his
own chassis and went to work. Each section got a thorough cleaning to remove
any grit that had been missed earlier, then a careful massage, easing muscle
cables and lengths of plating back to where they belonged.

And, when Blackspark got to Sharpshot’s pedes, he did
something self-indulgent and lingered there. Sharpshot had thick, dense,
silicone-like pads on the bottoms of his pedes, and massaging the pads was more
than enjoyable. Plus, it made Sharpshot rumble quiet noises of happiness and
push gently into him- apparently it was comfortable.

It was delightful, and
Sharpshot voiced his approval in wordless sounds, lifting his plating against
the touches with every soft noise. So gentle, so meticulous… this was far, far
beyond any cleaning that he actually needed, but he loved it. Didn’t bother to hide it, either, it earned him more attention
and lingering strokes to especially nice areas whenever he purred.

Primus… he’d never had
anyone focus this much attention on him. Not even people who’d been trying to
kill him- they gave up much faster than this. Blackspark was, mm…

A thought occurred to him, and Sharpshot propped himself up
enough to look back over his shoulder at Blackspark, helm tilted slightly. “Are
you trying to get me calm enough to proposition me?”

Blackspark paused, mildly surprised, then purred and
continued working his way back up Sharpshot’s legs. “Nah. Don’ get me wrong, I’m
sure we’d have fun, but no. When I wanna frag, I say so right off. Maybe later.
You ignore tha’ right now, just enjoy this, this’s for you to get all melty.”

Humming softly, he worked his way further up the minibot’s
frame, up to rub at his back again. “Mm- here, you flip over. Let’s keep goin’.
Don’ get me wrong, Sharpshot, I’m enjoyin’ myself. Just keep makin’ those pretty
noises for me.”

A satisfying enough answer. If this was an extended attempt
at a proposition, it would still have been pleasant, but- without any sort of
intent? Even better. Sharpshot turned over, as requested, and watched
Blackspark’s servos travel up to his chassis. There was an overlay of smaller
plates around the center of his chassis, ones that would fold into an extremely
short barrel if needed, and Sharpshot obligingly flared them to allow
Blackspark to work oil into the intricate sliding mechanisms.

Seeing no further reason to stay awake, Sharpshot let his
optics slide shut, relaxing into the berth under surprisingly careful clawed
servos. Blackspark wasn’t going to hurt him, clearly, and he was confident that
he would wake up thoroughly oiled and relaxed.

Which he did.

When he woke up, Sharpshot found himself curled against
Blackspark’s front, with Blackspark wrapped around him but not quite containing
him. A series of slow, deliberate stretches revealed that Blackspark had
loosened and oiled, mm… seemed like literally every joint in his frame,
including the delicate ones around his antennae. Remarkably thorough.

Mm. He should do the same for Blackspark at some point.

Or proposition him.

Or both. Both sounded good.