Phase Sixer On Doorstep Delivery

[phase6kindofbot]

Who: Sixshot and Tarn!
Where: The Decepticon, uh, 'base'.
When: Some time after Tarn gets fixed up after his fight with Megatron.
What: Sixshot finds some high grade.
Warnings: Weird Decepticon fluff? Also, NSFW as heck.



Sixshot arrives with a box tucked under one arm and about an inch of dust and grime on his frame. It's been a surprisingly productive past few days of digging around the city and finding random, necessary knickknacks. He usually leaves them near the makeshift base's front door before wandering off again.

Today, however, he's found something that seemed a bit more fitting to be delivered in person. As he reaches the warped door frame, however, Sixshot slows to a stop. The hallway leading into the building looks like it'd just been cleaned. He looks down at his decidedly rather filthy feet.

Hmm.

Leaning somewhat awkwardly into the building, careful not to touch the door frame, he peers into the unlit hall.

"Tarn?"

Comments

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn startles at the sudden cut of the warm cleanser. He looks up quizzically; had the tank run out already? Had he really just wasted all of that solvent?

"Did...did the tank run out?" he asks, dragging himself from his lethargy. He looks around the room, noting the tread width dent in the wall, the transfluid and mud now covering both of their frames and smeared onto the floor and walls by proxy, the dents on his thighs, the empty tank of cleanser.

Yes, Tarn is sure that Spinister will be having words with him.

He's not sure why he turned the shower on first. Clearly he didn't foresee this being an issue.

[phase6kindofbot]

There's a second as Sixshot does some mental math. It had been a pretty big tank of cleanser, heavy too, and even with a good amount of use, it shouldn't have been used up quite so quickly.

Looking at shower handle, he notices it wasn't quite in the same position as when they'd, uh, started.

"I think," he says, reaching out and gingerly turning the shower head back on. "That Spinister is a bit more conscious about shortages than we are."

Memo to self; find more cleanser tanks.

This wasn't going to save Tarn from having to explain things to poor Spinister, but at least he could do it clean. Speaking of, Sixshot carefully leans back, careful not to jostle Tarn too much on his lap as he reaches for one of the scrubs in the corner.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn can't help the sigh of relief that escapes his vents as the shower turns back on. The DJD have never had to worry so much about shortages. Yes, he tries not to be wasteful, but he never found himself in dire need of supplies for himself and his team. Inventory schedules kept them well stocked before they got to any sort of hardship.

"Yes, it seems that he is quite used to living with supplies in paucity. To be honest, it makes him a valuable asset; worth turning a blind eye to his various idiosyncrasies."

Despite Sixshot's obviously careful motions, the chord still jerks inside of his port. Tarn gasps softly; not pain, but from the sort of strange feeling when a bit of transfluid begins to leak from his stretched opening as the knot begins to subside ever so slightly.

[phase6kindofbot]

"He's very... particular, certainly."

Sixshot's words skip a little beat at the sensation of warm transfluid sliding down his inner thigh. Turning back to Tarn with scrub in hand, he tilts his helm and presses slow kisses along the other mech's jaw line.

"Where did you pick him up? He doesn't seem the sort you'd keep on your crew," he murmurs as he starts scrubbing the paint transfers and fluids off of purple chest and abdominal armor.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn accepts the bit of pampering, turning his head to meet Sixshot's lips briefly.

"It's kind of a strange story I suppose. He was on The List. He and his scavenger compatriots were found guilty of treason; aiding a coward in leading an attack on my team." Tarn sighs, relaxing back into the Phase Sixer's grip, loosening his armor so that the scrub could better clean into some of his seams.

"Spinister has somewhat of a reputation, however, as a sort of idiot savant. His ability to make something out of nothing is nearly unmatched. So, when I arrived here and saw him lost , and confused, and alone, I technically should have just dispatched him then and there. But instead I offered him a something of a deal."

Tarn pauses to shift his weight a bit, resulting in a sort of wet sound as even more transfulid drips from his stretched port. He bites his lip briefly, before continuing his thought.

"I told him that if he agreed to join me here as a sort of field medic and ally, I would remove him from The List. He was of course skeptical of my sincerity, but ultimately agreed."

[phase6kindofbot]

"Scavengers?" Sixshot questions distractedly, entranced momentarily by the flash of teeth against those scarred lips as Tarn bites down. "What an odd team name."

And coward taking part in attacking Tarn's team seemed oddly contradictory.

He's beginning to think that Spinister is not much of an idiot; if he'd been put on the List and Tarn had come to him with the promise of being pardoned, he wouldn't believe it either. If the fate of a mech on the list was decided by Tarn alone, then, well.

It would be terrible to slight him, wouldn't it now?

"I'm glad you didn't off him," Sixshot continues, trying for a lighter note. "I haven't showered in weeks as is."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn huffs a quiet laugh as he thinks back on the past few weeks. Spinister had really come through for him in the end. "Yeah, me too."

As he begins to attempt to ease himself from Sixshot's lap, transfluid and lubrcant gush from his over sensitized and stuffed port. After a minute of hissing and wiggling Tarn finally manages to free himself, dripping and smearing an almost impressive amount of fluids onto the Phase Sixer's plating in the process. He wobbles a bit as he kneels, reaching around Sixshot to grab a scrub of his own.

"The shower is a nice plus. I do like to keep myself clean." Tarn smiles, wetting the cloth and beginning to clean weeks of accumulated mud from his partner's transformation seams.

[phase6kindofbot]

Tarn's squirming makes Sixshot suppress a grunt as overstimulated sensors send flickers of sensations through his relays again. He reaches out and somewhat gingerly helps the other mech slide himself free, biting his tongue to stop any potentially embarrassing noises. It doesn't really stop him from gasping at the sudden rush of warm fluids over his lap though. Good Primus, that was... he kind of forgot how messy the aftermath tended to be.

"Honestly," the Sixer manages after a moment of gathering his composure again, sliding his palm down Tarn's abdominal plates as the DJD Commanders leans over him him to fetch the cloth. "I really, really don't want to face him covered in transfluid and tell him what happened to the shower."