capeandcowllogs | Closed/In Progress: Better Things

WHO: Thundercracker and She-Hulk
WHERE: Her place.
WHEN: Backdated to right after the Mytho plot.
WARNINGS: They done do'ed it, so there'll be some of that.
SUMMARY: Thundercracker, aka Theo Racker (haw haw) has had occasional flings with Jen, and is back for another one after he freaked himself out running around trying to save Blackarachnia's spark from Mytho, only to have her flip out and get snarly and weird at him once she learned Optimus had been ported out, and they parted on weird terms. And Jen's bed is where TC ran. Which eventually leads to ramblings about morality.
FORMAT: Whatever works.

This is much better. This was what he'd expected, after spending so much time being... something close to selfless (although that's debatable, if he's honest, which he isn't always) in pursuit of Blackarachnia's stolen spark. But no, she had to get... strange. Even stranger than usual, and he wasn't buying that it was the spark chaos - she wanted nothing to do with him, and Thundercracker was startled by how much that... stung him. He has no idea what to make of that.

So this lovely green woman, who was kind enough to teach him how to socialize with humans and moreso, who didn't mind that he was an alien stuck in a human body, and who isn't as hung up on human views on coitus like most others are, was the natural person for him to visit. It didn't hurt that he didn't have to hold back his super strength, and apparently she didn't either if she got his adrenaline pumping enough - which is something she knew exactly how to do.

In the aftermath, there's a lazy relaxation on her giant bed, as the dazed look in his eye starts to fade. The smile isn't leaving his face, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His brow furrows a little as he runs that through his mind... but her quiet apology distracts him from it.

A silly smirk slips across his face. "If you ever babble too much, I will do this."

His hand reaches over and squeezes her breast three times.

"That will be the sign that I've glazed over. Otherwise, you can assume that I'm interested in what you're saying."

With another little giggle, she arches her back slightly, pressing her chest into his hand.

"If you make amusing honking noises, I'll thump you. And when I thump somebody, they stay thumped, so watch it."

She's teasing him, naturally.

An eyebrow lifts, and his grin remains.

"That hadn't ever occurred to me. Are they supposed to make noise?"

She bursts out laughing, loudly, and then buries her face in a pillow to muffle it.

"No! Boobs aren't like rubber duckies, with a built in squeaker."

Lightly, she reaches over and baps his shoulder with the back of her hand. Lightly. Very carefully, at any rate. She's learned her lesson over the years about how to control her movements.

Lightly is good. He's only invulnerable when he's adrenalized, and although a few minutes ago she didn't have to worry about it, right now, in this lazy state, the concern is appreciated.

Still, he pokes softly at one of those boobs again.

"What is the appropriate punishment if you were to accidentally kill someone with these?"

"One thousand years in prison," she answers, still laughing. "And an overwhelming sense of guilt."

Smothering somebody with her boobs. Pffffft. That's so wrong, and yet so funny.

"Huh," he says, eyebrow lifting in thought, although he doesn't lose his grin.

"If methodology is such a big deal in determining sentencing, I would have figured a much lighter sentence based on the... kindness of the weapons used."

"Oh, I dunnow, they can be pretty cruel sometimes. God knows I'm feeling it after a fourteen hour day and my bra starts to dig in at the sides."

She scoots closer to him, and gives him a little nudge with her shoulder.

"Of course, it would also depend on the judge. I could throw myself on his mercy, I suppose."

He rolls onto his side and props his head up on one hand after that nudge.

"You're telling me you can shrug off a blast from a tank, but your bras can bother you? Do you make them out of steel?"

"That was a joke, silly."

She playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

"Besides, tank rounds are one thing. Underwire bras are another. And no, not steel. ...My bras are titanium."

He blinks a little. Then smiles.

"That's also a joke, isn't it?"

"You catch on quick. This is why I like teaching you new things."

She rolls her head onto his shoulder, and sighs again.

"I'm gonna go get a glass of water. You want some?"

He licks his lips, just now realizing he's parched.

"Yes, actually. Although I'm now torn between getting some with you or watching you go get it yourself."

Oh, there was a joke he heard... how did it go?

"I... hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."

That sounds right...

She chuckles at that, and pats his thigh fondly.

"Which is as it should be, handsome. Hold that thought."

With a feline-like movement, she slips out of bed and heads for the little study-office that adjoins her bedroom, where she keeps a mini fridge stocked with beverages. Handy.

He takes full advantage of watching her leave, and while she's gone, his hands reach behind his head, and he just marvels for a moment on how vastly different his mindset has become in these months of being human. How quickly he got over the initial revulsion at fleshling bodies to learn how to enjoy them.

How quickly he's embraced the opportunity to forget the past and live in the present.

This closeness, these kinds of relationships - they are nothing he's ever had before, and he finds himself thriving on them.

Closed/In Progress: Better Things

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