[ First Aid's still shivering as Ratchet gathers him against his chest, still too wrung out to even comment about the lecture. He leans his head against the windscreen, grunting in affirmation, and squeezes his legs together. When his plating stops rattling enough to lift his hand, pressing it into the seams of his mask to disengage the clasps. ]
...I'll make a schedule.
[ He places the mask aside and tips his head up, smiling at Ratchet, then touches his fingers to the medic's cheek tugging to tip his head down so he can get his lower lip between his teeth and taste himself on his mouth. ]
no subject
...I'll make a schedule.
[ He places the mask aside and tips his head up, smiling at Ratchet, then touches his fingers to the medic's cheek tugging to tip his head down so he can get his lower lip between his teeth and taste himself on his mouth. ]