Upon being drawn closer, the only reaction was Cliffjumper tucking his helm down slightly and briefly rubbing, still unaware... and probably a lot more unselfconscious about what he was doing like this.
When the slightly longer than usual recharge cycle ended hours later, Cliffjumper, at first, registered nothing wrong; he was warm, comfortable, and there was a - somehow dimly familiar - slight vibration on his plating from the humming of another's engine close by, conducted through both of their frames.
Then that thought actually registered a second later, and blue optics ignited with a start to stare at... well. Red plating. Glacing down the most obvious bit to see were grill-slats. So Mirage had probably told his bodyguard to recharge with him.
Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he should feel offended or just embarrassed, especially as he realized he had his legs tangled between and over Optimus' thighs. The realization that the mech really was huge compared to himself struck again - even if this wasn't a spectacular realization considering many were taller than him - and Cliffjumper barely managed to keep still.
He knew he shouldn't stare (no matter what being an escort completely entailed, the mech was recharging for Primus' sake!), but he'd been up close, hanging off of and been carried enough that the closeness, in itself, wasn't pinging him... only his current reaction to it, as slight as it was.
And that was just embarrassing, really. But it was hard not to remember those large hands - doing entirely necessary things, yes - or the shoulder he'd spent some time being tossed over. It wasn't as if Optimus was displeasing to the optic, and considering his caste, he shouldn't - couldn't - be, but Cliffjumper was, nonetheless, biting his lip and considering how to slide away and off the berth.
Before Optimus came out of recharge and caught the tiny change in pitch of Cliffjumper's engine, or caught him staring.
8) Cuddlessss
When the slightly longer than usual recharge cycle ended hours later, Cliffjumper, at first, registered nothing wrong; he was warm, comfortable, and there was a - somehow dimly familiar - slight vibration on his plating from the humming of another's engine close by, conducted through both of their frames.
Then that thought actually registered a second later, and blue optics ignited with a start to stare at... well. Red plating. Glacing down the most obvious bit to see were grill-slats. So Mirage had probably told his bodyguard to recharge with him.
Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he should feel offended or just embarrassed, especially as he realized he had his legs tangled between and over Optimus' thighs. The realization that the mech really was huge compared to himself struck again - even if this wasn't a spectacular realization considering many were taller than him - and Cliffjumper barely managed to keep still.
He knew he shouldn't stare (no matter what being an escort completely entailed, the mech was recharging for Primus' sake!), but he'd been up close, hanging off of and been carried enough that the closeness, in itself, wasn't pinging him... only his current reaction to it, as slight as it was.
And that was just embarrassing, really. But it was hard not to remember those large hands - doing entirely necessary things, yes - or the shoulder he'd spent some time being tossed over. It wasn't as if Optimus was displeasing to the optic, and considering his caste, he shouldn't - couldn't - be, but Cliffjumper was, nonetheless, biting his lip and considering how to slide away and off the berth.
Before Optimus came out of recharge and caught the tiny change in pitch of Cliffjumper's engine, or caught him staring.