#mtmte tarn

• Startling at the ped that comes down a little too close for comfort, you look up at your assigned mech as those red optics glare from behind his mask. And you know it’s not time for his bath. “Hungry, sir?” You ask as you wiggle until the taller caretaker puts you down. While you’re not really sure why they don’t just go get their own energon when they’re thirsty, you’ve seen other aliens hunt down their caretakers just to ask for energon. His optics slide from you to your friend and back. Before he bends and just grabs you, straightening with a rumble as you cling to his servos.

• What is he even doing? Should be encouraging you to flirt and court that other human. If that’s what you’re doing. Has no idea, but he’d hated seeing that other human holding you. Had felt violent, servos flexing with the urge to lash out even though the impulse makes no sense. It’s beneath him. If you fall in love, you’ll leave him alone. Which is what he wants. Right? You annoy him. Ambush him for baths, follow him around, and won’t take no for an answer. “Sir? Is something wrong?” Why won’t you ever say his name? Temper flaring, the lapse in his control is mortifying. Can feel you in his servos, soft and warm. Alien.

• Staring up at him as you wiggle in his grip, his optics have an angry slant to them, the mask making it hard to be certain he’s mad. He’s not talking, though. What exactly he thinks you did is beyond you. Maybe he just hates fun. From what you’ve seen dealing with him, that feels like a valid possibility. As you watch, his face tips up towards the sky. Before he lifts you and vents, that annoyed rumbling getting louder. Know they’re funny about scents, but you’re not wearing anything new that might bother him. And he rounds a corner between two buildings, mass shifting so suddenly that you feel like you’re falling, gasping sharply as you grab at him.

• Venting deeply, he can scent that other human all over you. Isn’t sure why he cares, but he does. Maybe because you’re courting him, because you leave your scent on him after washing him. And now you smell like someone else. Feels like a betrayal. Backing you up against the wall, he pins you there. “Sir?” Growling, his mask brushes your cheek and neck. ‘Tarn,’ he corrects as his body shifts against yours. Hands sliding over your softness as you make a startled, breathy sound that has him heating to his absolute horror. You’re making him do this. Making him rub up against your soft body like some deviant to replace that stranger’s scent with his own. Shuddering when you whisper his name while trying to ask what’s going on, he’s fighting the obscene urge to remove his mask so he can put his mouth on you. Taste you. Horrified that his frame is responding to feel of you against him.