Mating Dance

"Get back here, you slag-headed idiot!"

Ironhide scrambles across the field as Chromia screeches and sprints after him. He tears up clods of sod as he runs, but his frantic efforts are in vain as he's tackled to the ground by his bonded.

Chromia's optics are narrowed as she straddles Ironhide's hips, pressing her fingers into the black metal of his shoulder as she hisses.

"What did you think you were doing, Ironhide?"

Ironhide grins up at her nervously.

"Ah... tuning up your rifle?"

Chromia leans in close, snarling.

"Damnit, Hide, no one touches my weapons but me."

Something about her posture softens, though, and her engine purrs, causing Ironhide's to rev in response.

"But if you give me back my gun, maybe I'll let you help me with a different kind of ... tune up."

Ironhide grins and pulls his mate's rifle from his subspace. She accepts it, sensually running her hands down the long barrel before cradling it to her chest. Ironhide's hands then move in a similar way, running down Chromia's sides to rest on her waist before pulling her down to him. She smiles, subspacing her rifle as she leans down to kiss him aggressively.

The rest of the bright spring morning is filled with the sound of creaking metal and moaning until Ratchet snaps and screams at them to get off the training grounds and get a room.