Title: Too Similar
Warnings: slash, tactile, implied smut of the plug'n'play variety
Continuity: G1 (post war)
Characters/Pairings: Blast Off/Blades (implied past Blast Off/Vortex)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: In which another 'copter is annoying Blast Off…
Beta: ultharkitty

Note: That's kinda for onyx17. No Blast Off/Chromia yet, but I hope you'll like that, too. ;p
And the awesome spacehussy even drew something after reading this! :D

Too Similar

Blast Off wasn't drunk. It was his third cube of high grade, and his processor was just a little clouded, but he was far from being out of it.

It actually felt good. Any gloomy thoughts were far away, and he tried to relax for once, but his expression didn't change.

"You know there's a reason they call you grumpy pants, right?" someone said, the grin audible in the voice. Blast Off looked up.

"Hmpf," he huffed, and shrugged as he saw the broad smirk in the blue face.

What was it with him being annoyed by persistent 'copters? Blast Off mused, and just as he finished the thought, Blades sat down on his lap.

The Protectobot straddled his thigh, and it was by reflex that Blast Off reached for the other's leg to stop him sliding down. He frowned. "What do you want?"

A shrug, which caused the rotor blades to shift a little, then Blades took the cube off Blast Off's hand and sipped.

"Nothing really. Just thought I'd cheer you up?"

"You could do that while sitting next to me."

The smirk grew bigger. "I sure could."

Blast Off vented air deeply. The younger 'copter was so cheeky, sometimes he reminded him too much of Vortex….

It wasn't just the bold move of sitting down on his lap, or the smirk and impudent words that left his vocaliser. It was also the lazy motions of his fingers, tracing casually over Blast Off's chest plate where once the Decepticon insignia had been, the brief flickers of rotor blades and the energy field fluctuating just a little stronger than necessary.

Blast Off just looked, keeping quiet. He didn't know if he tolerated Blades and what he was doing because he was sometimes so similar to Vortex, or because sometimes he was not.

Blades shuffled a little closer. The hand on the chest wandered to Blast Off's shoulder and down his arm, where idle fingers caressed the sensitive leading edge of the heat shield. Blast Off shivered as the tickling travelled and spread as a faint pleasant sensation over his sensor net.

He let it happen.

Even when Blades leant forward and lip plates planted gentle, teasing kisses on his neck cables. For a moment, Blast Off wondered where the energon cube had gone. Then Blades' other hand stroked the winglet of his upper arm, and the shuttle didn't really care.

His optics dimmed, and his own grip of the other became less firm. His finger traced up the thigh, to the waist and white hip where the thumb trailed lazy cycles just under the 'copter's interface panel.

Their plating heated slowly, Blades' as well as Blast Off's as the touches continued, teasingly, slowly, not demanding. And this was something different from his ex-team mate, Blast Off thought.

A foot touched his, the lower leg close to his wing, and Blades let his energy field flare there a little stronger. The 'copter knew that Blast Off liked that, because it wasn't an actual touch. The other legs only really touched each other where Blades pressed his against Blast Off's. There, where once his cannons had been, and even though he hadn't been built with them, he couldn't deny he missed them.

He had traded them for his old Cybertronian frame; after the war, when everything had changed.

Blast Off hindered these memories from coming back, and huffed, the tone blank but with an edge of amusement, "You're trying to seduce me?"

He could feel Blades grinning against his throat, and the energy flare against his wing became a little stronger.

"Maybe," the other said with fake innocence. "Why? Is it working?"

Blast Off's hand found its way to Blades' aft, tugging him closer. He buried his face in the 'copter's neck cables, nibbling at them, then the side of the other's helm. His own field flared when he murmured into Blades' audial, "Hmm… I think it is."