#musclehyde

• Watching his optics widen slightly, you almost laugh when he pushes away like you’re going to burn him and flops down beside you in the grass on his back, arms crossing over his chassis. Making you aware of the space between your bodies as you exhale. Pushing up on an arm, you study his face as his optics flick like he’s trying very hard to not look at you. A few of the bots, they don’t seem to realize their own strength. Just grabbing you and leaving bruises without meaning to. But Musclehyde? He acts like you’re made of glass. Like you might break if he even looks at you wrong.

• Can feel you staring at him and he nervously taps a servo against his arm, trying to not squirm. Feels your hands on his arm right before you pull yourself up, climbing and sitting on his chassis right above his crossed arms. “What are you doing?” He asks warily, aware of the heat of your tiny body, of your thighs against his chassis. ‘You’re not going to break me, you know.’ Optics shuttering, he vents raggedly. Embarrassed and unsure how to respond when you’re wrong about that. Tries so hard to not hurt anyone or anything. To not lose his temper. But around you? He feels like he’s always on the verge of out of control. And you’re just so small. ‘And I’m not afraid of you.’

• “I don’t want you to be,” he says and his voice hums through you where you’re sitting on him. One of his big hands lifts, servos curling around you. But not touching you. Stopping short. Leaning back, you close the distance and his optics look up at you. Worried even as his servos flex and lightly curl around you, his grip loose. “Sometimes I forget my own strength. I lose control.” You’ve seen what happens when he flips those horns of his up. When he goes from awkward puppy to furious, brute strength. The change in him has startled you, sure, but never really scared you.