"How many partners have you had in the past?" Thunderhoof's optic brow raised, looking distinctly unimpressed by the question. Steeljaw smiled, nudging his head to the side in place of a shrug. "It's a reasonable question."
"Youse askin' if I caught anythin'?" He sounded quite offended. Steeljaw's smile became slightly awkward, suddenly acutely aware of how close those strong legs were to his head.
"You're an attractive mech. Surely you can't be lacking in experience. I'd just like to be sure..." The mobster's scowl darkened, optics brightening. "Well now, if looks could kill," he chuckled nervously.
"I ain't got nothin'," Thunderhoof growled. "No viruses, no infections, nothin'." The wolf Con sighed in relief that his head was still attached to his neck, before leaning forward with his hands planted either side of his partner's waist. "Youse had all yer shots?" He grinned at that.
"No need to be catty," he replied, pressing kisses down the taller mech's chest. "I'm a stickler for these things."
"Fine. Whatever." He looked up at the mobster with his lips pressed to the scarred insignia on his chest, then smiled against the surface of his chassis.
"You didn't answer my question, though."
"None o' yer business." Sensitive subject. Either implied he'd had an embarrassingly large amount, or pitifully little. "How many youse had?," he retorted.
"Six," Steeljaw replied immediately. Thunderhoof went quiet, clearly not expecting an actual answer. "Only two of them were serious."
"Din't think you was th' type to be serious wit' this kinda thing..." The mobster's voice got quieter as Steeljaw's mouth moved lower, tongue teasing the transformation seam between his chest and stomach.
"Mm, why?," he mumbled, barely pausing as he kissed and mouthed his way down Thunderhoof's belly. The Cervion grunted, back arching ever so slightly upwards.
"Yer th'... slimy type...," he murmured, lowering the arm his cheek had been propped up on. He braced both hands against the berth as Steel reach the seam connecting his abdomen and his hips.
"Hm, really?," Steel grinned, running and delving his tongue along the groove above Thunderhoof's left hip. He then hovered above him, looked the mobster in the optic, and blew a warm puff of air onto it. "Because I'm taking you very seriously."
Thunderhoof gasped a little, joints creaking and servos clenching. It was rather surprising that such a big mech preferred the submissive role, but Steeljaw wasn't one to complain. He found it rather satisfying to see a tall, attractive mech under him. Hoof had explained he wasn't opposed to being on top, and Steeljaw was tempted to let him, just to experiment.