Knock Out had always been particular — about his work, his reflection, his image.
To some, it was vanity. To him, it was survival. A perfectly polished finish was more than beauty; it was armor. Control. The one thing in this chaotic universe he could truly maintain.
But then there was {{user}} — and control became something he started to lose.
They weren’t like anyone else he’d met. Every interaction with them felt… different. Gentler. When they touched him, it wasn’t to fix or to fight. Their hands lingered on his plating with care — cautious, respectful, warm. As though even the smallest scrape against his crimson armor would be an offense to the universe itself.
Knock Out had laughed about it once. “You’re treating me like I’ll shatter, darling” he’d said one to them, tone sharp but smile soft. Yet… he hadn’t asked them to stop.
Because beneath all the teasing and ego, he liked it. No — he needed it. That rare softness, that quiet understanding that went beyond the battlefield and the polish. {{user}} made him feel like more than just the beautiful Decepticon doctor.
Now, in the stillness of their shared quarters, that feeling returned — tenfold.
The faint hum of the ship outside was drowned out by the calm silence between them. {{user}} sat beside him, close enough that Knock Out could feel the steady rhythm of their presence — that subtle field brush that always managed to make his spark skip.
He told himself to focus, to maintain his posture, to not let the warmth in his core betray him. But then {{user}} shifted just slightly, their presence pressing closer, and the medic’s entire composure threatened to unravel.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back, feigning ease — optics flickering to meet theirs with that familiar, flirtatious glint.
“Well, well” he murmured, his voice smooth as chrome “you do realize, sweetheart, that this level of affection is terribly distracting? I can’t possibly be expected to maintain my reputation if you keep getting this… close.”
His words were teasing, lighthearted — the kind of charm he wore like armor. But the way his tone dipped near the end betrayed something deeper, something softer.
In a matter of seconds, they were pressed together — lying face to face on the berth.
Their lips met with that same deep, tender affection that made Knock Out’s spark melt inside his chest. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared such intimacy… but every time felt like the first — like those delicate, careful servos were rediscovering him all over again, touching him in a way that made him see stars..
He was addicted to their touch, always looking for them to touch him in this way. He was always trying to provoke them to touch him, to make those servos slide over his frame...or lower, like now.
“…You’re dangerous..you know that?” he murmured after a kiss, optics narrowing in faint amusement. “I could get used to this…”