@gravescratch
Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.
Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.
A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.
::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::
《I know the game, quit worrying》
Still projecting calm curiosity with a growing hint of interest, Gravescratch watches the new arrivals, servos drifting down Bruin’s side- and tenses, just a bit, at the touches. Not a spot he was expecting to have touched, especially not like that, and-
Ahh, he flirted accidentally. Again. Visibly relaxing and leaning into the touches a bit to make it clear that he isn’t rejecting them, he turns to look the wolves over, clearly sizing them up, then chuckles and leans up to nuzzle that pretty spiked crest. It’s very soft, and it’s not curiosity-based- it’s closer to affection, maybe a bit of reassurance.
Not quite a suggestion, but he’s trying to hint that he’s open. He’s not actually going to say anything, just in case he’s misinterpreted the situation and will scare them off or end the contact if he mentions it, but… open body language, staying much closer than is really needed for an inspection, fluffed plating around those exploring servos… he’s making it clear that he’d welcome more attention.
At this point, he’s worked his way down to Bruin’s stomach, and he lightly strokes the plating under his narrow servos as he tries to decide what to do next. The logical progression would be the big mech’s thighs, but… hm. What will the reaction to that be?
And is he going to get any sort of reaction by deliberately licking the other side of his helm, but much more slowly and obviously? Because, short of describing his distinctly unusual interface equipment, this is the best way to get people into berth with him.
…hm. If this is going how he thinks, they’ll need a berth.
A deep deep, rumble was building quietly in Bruin’s chest, but goes silent when the other mech tenses. Was that uncomfortable, did he hurt him? His own claws were safely tucked away with a short transformation sequence in his servos, but his fingers were large and clumsy sometimes.
Oh- nuzzling the crest caused an immeadiate reaction, Bruin’s armor rippling in a wave from helm to pede and a loud Whuff as air shot out of his vents. By the time his sensors re-stabilize, those hands are stroking the platelets of his stomach and well-Primus now that has to be flirting.
Bruin takes a moment trying to focus, because they’re all still faffing about in a rubble field on a potentially hostile planet, the symbionts are all projecting various amounts of amusement/protectiveness/interest through the bond, and there is a perfectly good meal that they all need laying out in the open. If Gravescratch was will to follow through, it might be best to head back to their ship.
But first- he’s gonna raise a servo up slowly and gently to fondle those twitchy antennas, the other hand still fiddling with his chest armor seams. The other mech had touched his crest so it was only fair.
“Would you ah, mind joining us on our ship? That is- if you’d like to continue this. The others are getting a bit antsy. I swear if you want to leave all you’ll have to do is ask, and we bear you no ill will.”
Gravescratch’s antennae twitch faster at the contact, then settle, and he leans his helm gently into Bruin’s touches. Mm. That’s nice, and Bruin stopped touching him when he tensed up, which is an excellent sign. Large and powerful as he may be, this mech seems friendly enough, and Gravescratch considers himself to be a good judge of character, so… does he want to go?
More specifically, does he want to go back to a ship that probably doesn’t have anything on it that will eat him, but does have people who are gentle and calm and want to pet and interface with him?
Pit yes.
Rumbling softly, he steps closer and lowers all four servos to pet seams in Bruin’s stomach and sides, leaning in to nuzzle that tempting crest again. “Absolutely. I would love for this to continue.” he purrs, then leans back a fraction, meeting Bruin’s optics. “But, and forgive my bluntness, you will not be spiking me. I am open to discussion, particularly as to whether they” a quick glance over at the cyber-wolves, “would be interested, but you spiking me is off the table because I rather like being able to walk.” he comments, one servo straying down to rub a spot on Bruin’s stomach riight above his codpiece.
He’s a bit reluctant to back off. The contact is nice, he’s still curious, and, quite frankly, he’s rather hoping to be picked up and wrapped around Bruin’s shoulders. It would probably be comfortable, and he quite likes the idea of being picked up and carried to someone’s berth. So he stays right up close, prurring softly and petting seams, and debates whether or not he wants to mention that particular desire.
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