A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

Saddleback yelps- then laughs when she winds up with a lapfull of mech, shifting so she can keep petting and stroking around the base of his antennae and jaw. “I see I found somebody’s switches.” She chuckles, still stroking and rubbing. “It’s all good…how’s this?” Tweaking antennae lightly.

“So, what is your altmode? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I know it’s a sore subject for some people…You’re kinda big to be a turbofox or a datahound.”

“Mmm… actually something rather like a datahound crossed with a cyberwolf. Not a terribly drastic transformation, a few joints just shift. Also the tail. That is normally used for steering, but sometimes this happens. And, ah- the jaws around my neck. I am made to out-sprint a target over short distances or follow them until they tire… something like you, I imagine. Though, honestly, I believe I could outsprint you.” he rumbles, and it would be rather intimidating if he wasn’t still flopped into Saddleback’s lap, petting her and shoving his face into the touches.

And, as for the antennae, Gravescratch purrs for a moment more and pricks them up, speaking quietly as he does. “That feels very nice, but I feel I should tell you that stroking the entire length of the longer two pairs will have… unintended consequences.” he rumbles, keeping the tone neutral so it’s not clear if he meant that as a warning or a suggestion. Really, it could be either. Or both.

As he talks, his servos stray down from Saddleback’s audial fins to her cheekplates, and the ones on her cheeks slip down to rub her lower jaw and around the back of her helm, still soft, innocent petting. And a hint- he likes being rubbed around the edges of the plating his antennae are mounted in.

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

gravescratch:

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

She looks down at him for a startled moment, before he clarifies- and crouches down, legs folding tightly under her. “…If floors are uncomfortable for that, you’re doing it wrong. Just saying.” Chuckling awkwardly, moving to gently stroke the underside of his helm again. She feels buzzy, detached, too relaxed for the situation and her sensory suite is trying to compensate. “That does feel pretty nice…you should give helm massages for shanix. You’d make a pretty tidy sum.”

Honestly, he is curious enough to be interested. He’s not going to suggest anything because he’d rather not scare Saddleback off and end the petting, but that would probably be fun. Just maybe not in public, people are weird about that for some reason.

“Mm… I probably could, though people tend to be rather intimidated by the excess optics and lack of a ‘proper’ face. I suppose I’d have to find rather tolerant clients.”

Rather than potentially be intimidating, he adds another servo to the helm rubs, stroking both her cheek-fins and moving to the audial fin he hasn’t touched yet. Mm. Very nice texture under his fingertips, and, oh, lovely petting.

Rumbling softly, he tilts his helm up to allow for the petting, optics dimming pleasantly in enjoyment of every bit of sensory input. Ahh, yes. He hasn’t had this sort of attention in far, far too long, and it is very pleasant. Mouth falling open just a fraction, he purrs and lets the tip of his tongue loll out, knowing that it probably looks stupid but really just not caring.

(actually, it’s kind of adorable, even if his tonguetip is more tongue than most people have in their entire mouths)

“They’re paying you to sort out kinked wires in their helms, not to get looked at.” She says, before cutting off and realizing exactly what she’s said, backpedalling verbally. “I mean- you don’t look bad at all, just different, not the weirdest face I’ve…seen…I’ll be quiet.” Sighing, then sighing when he touches over her audials- she’s ready for the sensation this time, and she shivers, instead trying to focus on petting him still, studying the tip of his glosssa.

It is, frankly, adorable.

“You are quite welcome to be blatant. I have seven optics, no other facial features, and no need to open my mouth to speak. What passes for my face is weird.” Gravescratch rumbles, sounding a bit like someone pointing out the weather, and leans a bit further into the petting. Which means his tongue hangs out just a tiny bit more. Which is considerably more adorable than before.

And, more interestingly, what sounds like a brief transformation sequence makes itself known, followed by a thwap-thwap-thwap noise as a long, whippy tail thumps against the ground. It’s normally used only in his alt mode, to help him steer at top speed, but it evidently has a transformation sequence independent of the rest of him.

Which means that the mech petting Saddleback’s cheeks and audial fins now has his optics mostly closed, a long tail whapping against the ground, and a fairly considerable amount of tonguetip hanging out. It’s adorable. Weird, but adorable.

“…nnh. Well. Forgot about that tell. Excuse m- ohhh yes-”

That is a far-too-good spot, and Gravescratch rumbles happily, accidentally kicks both pedes against the floor, and tries (semi-successfully) to push himself into Saddleback’s lap. Not quite intentionally, that’s just a very good spot that evidently causes something of a double-sided leg twitch.

Whoops?

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

She looks down at him for a startled moment, before he clarifies- and crouches down, legs folding tightly under her. “…If floors are uncomfortable for that, you’re doing it wrong. Just saying.” Chuckling awkwardly, moving to gently stroke the underside of his helm again. She feels buzzy, detached, too relaxed for the situation and her sensory suite is trying to compensate. “That does feel pretty nice…you should give helm massages for shanix. You’d make a pretty tidy sum.”

Honestly, he is curious enough to be interested. He’s not going to suggest anything because he’d rather not scare Saddleback off and end the petting, but that would probably be fun. Just maybe not in public, people are weird about that for some reason.

“Mm… I probably could, though people tend to be rather intimidated by the excess optics and lack of a ‘proper’ face. I suppose I’d have to find rather tolerant clients.”

Rather than potentially be intimidating, he adds another servo to the helm rubs, stroking both her cheek-fins and moving to the audial fin he hasn’t touched yet. Mm. Very nice texture under his fingertips, and, oh, lovely petting.

Rumbling softly, he tilts his helm up to allow for the petting, optics dimming pleasantly in enjoyment of every bit of sensory input. Ahh, yes. He hasn’t had this sort of attention in far, far too long, and it is very pleasant. Mouth falling open just a fraction, he purrs and lets the tip of his tongue loll out, knowing that it probably looks stupid but really just not caring.

(actually, it’s kind of adorable, even if his tonguetip is more tongue than most people have in their entire mouths)

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

She jumps a bit- but laughs- it tickles! Her palm is oddly soft- there’s thick padding upon it, something to increase her grip, and she tastes like road salt and sweet silver shavings (someone clearly was having a snack earlier) and a hint of mechanical oil- the kind used in maintaining weaponry. Huh. “That’s unsanitary.” She doesn’t pull her hand away though, still petting his head, her own helm rolling to rest against his servos wherever they go. It’s strange, how peaceful this feels. “I mean, I wash my servos, but you’re gonna get some grit in there.”

Electing to not explain that he’s unbothered by small amounts of grit because most of his meals are made up of small vermin and dead things, Gravescratch licks at her palm again, humming softly and absolutely enjoying the taste and the odd texture. Mm. Probably shouldn’t lick too much, it will most likely be misconstrued and will absolutely be weird, but- okay, once more. And then a mutter of “you taste like snack foods” by way of explanation.

And, hm. Rumbling softly with himself, he sits down and flops down onto his side, propping himself up with one of his secondary arms in order to lounge comfortably around Saddleback’s pedes. While still rubbing the nice spots around her helm with both primary servos. “We are both very relaxed. Come down here so that can continue?” he suggests, then blinks and tilts his helm slightly, realizing how that might sound. “I am not propositioning you. Floors are not comfortable for that.”

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

gravescratch:

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

“Aw.” She shuffles a little when his servos wander to her pedes, still watching him patiently from behind her visor, but she manages to keep her legs mostly still- for such an otherwise sturdily-built mechanism her pedes are meant to be flexible and graceful- and powerful. Launching power rather than outright running. For the most part, she’s distracted by his helm, slowly petting it, looking over his optics and antennae.

“You have…a lot of sensory capability, don’t you? Look at all these. You don’t have any blind spots, do you?” Muttering more to herself than him, observations, rubbing along the base of an antennae, testing.

Gravescratch was made to be solitary, but, oh, being touched is still lovely. Rumbling softly, he pushes his helm further into Saddleback’s servo, raising his antennae to encourage more rubs. As he does, his optics shutter in a wave, starting at the front and ending with the back pair a few seconds later. “Mmn… none. The only place I cannot see is directly behind my own helm, and these” a quick twitch-flick of all six antennae “cover that.”

Both secondary servos flicker over her ankle and pede, fingertips mapping out the intricate joints, careful not to get into any joints that could trap him. Interesting. Digitigrade pedes are unusual, especially on people whose frames do not look like his. And these betray a certain agility… she’s probably faster than she looks.

Now rather curious as to what might happen if he turns an exam into something more like petting, he raises his unoccuied primary servo, continuing to pet at her cheek guard as he ever-so-carefully traces two fingertips on the other servo over her audial fin. These tend to be sensitive on most people.

Saddleback strokes under his helm with one servo, using the other to trace his antennae slowly, carefully- jolting a bit as he touches her audials and stifling a sharp intake of air. Sensitive- but she can relax after a moment, tuning down their sensitivity for now. “Mm, I wish I had that range of vision. I could do with some sensory antennae…but I make do.” Her wheels still lazily spin, rotating back and forth in reponse to the touches, shifting her weight from pede to pede.

It’s nice to have someone larger who isn’t necessarily looming over her.

Okay, so no firm strokes to audial fins. Nice and gentle, still just one servo, willing to pull away if she wants. He likes the texture, so he touches the delicate finlet for a few seconds more, then slides his fingertips down to just lightly caress her lower jaw. Still curious, still innocent, but bordering on affectionate.

And, hm. “Pardon me, but taste is a primary sense for me when I am investigating something, so… “ Gravescratch rumbles, trailing off, and just demonstrates rather than explaining. Parting his jaws just a fraction, not enough to show teeth, he flicks the very tip of his tongue out and licks Saddleback’s palm, curious what he might pick up on. Sometimes he can tell a lot about people by what their servos taste like. The only difficulty is that this can be rather… stimulating. Hopefully he’s gotten this right and not accidentally scared her off. Or gotten himself punched, that happens now and then when he miscalculates things.

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

“Aw.” She shuffles a little when his servos wander to her pedes, still watching him patiently from behind her visor, but she manages to keep her legs mostly still- for such an otherwise sturdily-built mechanism her pedes are meant to be flexible and graceful- and powerful. Launching power rather than outright running. For the most part, she’s distracted by his helm, slowly petting it, looking over his optics and antennae.

“You have…a lot of sensory capability, don’t you? Look at all these. You don’t have any blind spots, do you?” Muttering more to herself than him, observations, rubbing along the base of an antennae, testing.

Gravescratch was made to be solitary, but, oh, being touched is still lovely. Rumbling softly, he pushes his helm further into Saddleback’s servo, raising his antennae to encourage more rubs. As he does, his optics shutter in a wave, starting at the front and ending with the back pair a few seconds later. “Mmn… none. The only place I cannot see is directly behind my own helm, and these” a quick twitch-flick of all six antennae “cover that.”

Both secondary servos flicker over her ankle and pede, fingertips mapping out the intricate joints, careful not to get into any joints that could trap him. Interesting. Digitigrade pedes are unusual, especially on people whose frames do not look like his. And these betray a certain agility… she’s probably faster than she looks.

Now rather curious as to what might happen if he turns an exam into something more like petting, he raises his unoccuied primary servo, continuing to pet at her cheek guard as he ever-so-carefully traces two fingertips on the other servo over her audial fin. These tend to be sensitive on most people.

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

gravescratch:

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

A distinct flicker of intrigue pulses through Gravescratch’s otherwise reserved field, then long legs fold to bring him down to her level, his other primary servo raising slightly to rub clawtips carefully over one of those shoulder tires. Tires are seldom all that sensitive, but they intrigue him, so… probably another safe area. And he’s going to keep lightly caressing the spot on her cheekguard that she seems to like, just soft, gentle rubs to see if it keeps her calm and open to contact.

At the same time, secondary arms unfold from their usual spot tucked up against his frame, reaching just slightly towards her to see if she either has no objections or is a bit too distracted to notice.

She makes no move to get away or stop him, instead simple waiting, frame creaking slightly as she relaxes bit by tentative bit, wheels slowly starting to rotate on reflex as they’re touched. Nothing being touched is terrible sensitive, no, but the simple touches are simple…accepted. Nice. She thinks. It’s nice to be touched.

“…yeah, you can go on.” She mumbles, eyeing his secondary arms, sounding quite distracted and faint. “Jus’…watch the middle. M’ ticklish.”

Honestly, he is rather tempted to just gently capture her and start tickling, but he’ll probably be punched for that. Or bitten. And it would be just a little bit cruel, wouldn’t it? Grabbing minibots for nefarious purposes is not kind.

Instead of giving in to impulse, Gravescratch gently strokes Saddleback’s cheek with one servo, moving slightly to the side in order to easily reach her back. He’s going to take this opportunity and try to get a good look at this durable little minibot, while doing his very best not to loom over her. Which, considering his height, is not a simple task.

After a minute or two, still petting Saddleback’s cheekfin but from an entirely different angle thanks to now having two other servos on her back and one on her shoulder, it occurs to Gravescratch that she might also be curious. So, curious, he pushes his helm gently against her palm, both secondary servos sliding down (carefully bypassing her hips) to inspect one of those unusual pedes.

A slight helm-tilt, too many optics flickering independently of each other to size up her frame in just an instant, then a narrow servo reaches out and lightly caresses one pointed cheek-fin, albeit cautiously in case it earns him an attempt at a bite. They’re too tempting to resist, not when he has something like permission.

specialopssaddleback:

@gravescratch

“…What are- oh.” She stiffens up, stocky little body tense and wheels preemptively starting to spin before they stop, and…the caress is apparently accepted. The cheekguards are nothing special, just designed to protect her faceplates during an impact, to frame her jaw to look interesting, but they’re seldom touched. It feels a little weird. Okay, that’s kind of nice. Leaning her helm into the touch.

A distinct flicker of intrigue pulses through Gravescratch’s otherwise reserved field, then long legs fold to bring him down to her level, his other primary servo raising slightly to rub clawtips carefully over one of those shoulder tires. Tires are seldom all that sensitive, but they intrigue him, so… probably another safe area. And he’s going to keep lightly caressing the spot on her cheekguard that she seems to like, just soft, gentle rubs to see if it keeps her calm and open to contact.

At the same time, secondary arms unfold from their usual spot tucked up against his frame, reaching just slightly towards her to see if she either has no objections or is a bit too distracted to notice.