"Cyclonus?" Tailgate tilted his head up, his visor flickering as they met the deep, dark optics of the mech above. The not-quite 'Con's head was inclined just enough to make optic contact, but he did not answer his smaller companion. "I-I don't-"
"I know." He was cut off before he could fully make the objection. "Make do. I know you can." Cyclonus' voice held a thin warning, and Tailgate refused to be one to disappoint. Turning his gaze, he looked to the fully exposed interface array of the larger mech. He had been ordered to pleasure Cyclonus on his knees, but he lacked a mouth. He understood that what he was being instructed to do usually required one, but Cyclonus seemed confident in the fact that he could manage.
Lifting his hands, the small mech light ran his pale fingertips down the length of the mech's dark cord, shuddering as he started to become firm. Feeling the ridges along the bottom and sides glide under his thumb, Tailgate suddenly got an idea. Leaning forward, he rubbed the edge of his mask against the under side of the mech's cord, letting out a pleased purr when it almost instantly became erect, and Cyclonus made a guttural snarl in reply. His visor dimmed as he felt warm fluid collecting at the tip as his hands slid over it again, and he followed suit with his mask.
Cyclonus watched intently, letting out another deep growl as some of the silvery blue fluid smeared across the small mech's mask. His port became slick just as quickly, and much to his surprise, Tailgate seemed to take notice. "Aah…" The small mech let out a breathy moan from the sight of him, leaning back for a moment to just sit and look, but Cyclonus was not having any of that. He reached forward and hooked his large hand in the back of his helm, dragging him forward with a rough grunt.
"Mnh-" Tailgate mewled, visor flickering for a moment in thought before he began nuzzling the slick port of the mech with his mask. As much as he seemed to enjoy the visual of his cord being teased by his smaller companion, Cyclonus adored the sensation of his port being stimulated. Those claws sank in deeper, holding the small mech there and savoring the soft little mewl that vibrated against him.
Letting out a tense hiss, Cyclonus barred his denta when he felt the small mech bravely circle the rim of his valve with the tip of his finger. The roar from the flier's engine made him jump, but he was firmly held in place by it, a low mutter of praise leaving his mouth in a soft growl. By the way the purple mech was trembling, it was obvious he was fighting very hard to keep control. Tailgate's Spark swelled at the idea of him losing it, completely forgoing all control because of him. In fact, the idea pleased him very much indeed.
Dragging the edge of his mask a little rougher, as he passed over it he felt the hot fluids cling to the metal there. As he slid over it for a second time, once he was clear he pushed both of his thumbs into the edge of the mech's valve, gently pulling the smooth, tense folds apart and earning a thunderous snarl from the mech above.
This time, he didn't turn up to look, but he did let out a strangled cry as sharp claws began sinking into his armor of the back of his helm and the top of his shoulders as Cyclonus threw all semblance of self-control to the wind and bucked into him. "Nnngh," Cyclonus verbalized through clenched denta, his optics halved and darker than usual.
"Don't you dare stop," The mech's voice was even deeper now, a register that Tailgate in all his life had never heard. He stared up at him for a moment, but Cyclonus yanked him back into place again with a deep snarl and a barking grunt from deep within his chest. He hooked both legs over Tailgate's shoulders to lock him into place, letting out a long, shuddering, breathy snarl as he felt the small mech eagerly press close again, shifting his grasp to spread the mech's valve again, this time with two smooth yet strong digits.
"Tailgate," He rumbled, in an almost warning tone, but the small mech had no inclination to hold any fear now. He boldly angled his mask to run the right edge of it along the spread valve, drawing an extended thundering roar from his large lover, pushing back as his hips jerked forward. Cyclonus doubled over him in the next instant, actually scraping his denta over the top of Tailgate's helm, letting out a snarl against him as the small mech utilized his other hand to push two fingers deeply into the nearly painfully spread folds. Tailgate's form jerked and pushed closer as Cyclonus' claws dug into the plating along his shoulders and dragged, leaving a long series of scratches there, and the metal-on-metal scrap nearly muffled the low rumbling moan that left him.
"Nnngh— yes," He breathed, his other hand hooking into a transformation seam on the small mech's flank and holding tightly. Tailgate was shuddering and moaning loudly in reply, the pain somehow being translated to deep pleasure. He began to roughly pump his fingers into the mech, while nuzzling the bright sensor node just above the mech's entrance. "Yes— yes, Tailgate," Cyclonus outright boomed against the mech's helm, his hips rocking forward with a demanding need that the small 'bomb' disposal mech was more than willing to reply.
The vibration of his pleased mewls, moans and whimpers seemed to rip even more from the larger mech above, as his vocalizations were utterly unmuffled by the task he was preforming. Cyclonus was not gentle as he clawed and scraped at any bit of metal on the smaller mech he could reach, leaving littered minor scratches along his back and sides. He let out a half-scream that was mingled with by the much deeper one of Cyclonus when energon was suddenly drawn along his lower back. Cyclonus didn't seem to care about causing injury to his lover, merely dead-set focused on the pleasure that wrought through his port.
"Cyclonus," Tailgate gasped, adding a third digit and shuddering at the roar he got in return, thrusting his fingers fast and hard while still giving loving attention to the sensor node. "Primus— h-hurt me more," He could hardly believe what demands were leaving him, but the hot blood trickling down his spinal strut made his neural net explode with pleasure, not pain.
"Then give me a reason," Cyclonus moaned back, a grunt leaving him that swiftly faded into a hiss as Tailgate slammed his fingers even harder into him. He nearly lost it, nearly caused serious damage when he felt the small mech push in deeply, then curl his fingertips against the sensor-stuffed walls and drag them slowly back out. Somewhere in the back of his processor it made him far more excited that he could claw and draw blood from his lover without worry. For now, though, he sank his claws into a seam along the mech's middle-back and pulled.
Ratchet was going to kill them, as a large section of the small mech's armor was twisted out of place soon after as Tailgate repeated his motion, and Cyclonus reacted with a jerk and a deafening bellow. Tailgate shuddered and mewled, feeling Cyclonus' breath heaving hotly against his audio, the faint mutters of praise and demands for rougher treatment that slipped out, driving him wild. He'd never seen Cyclonus let go like this, and it made his processor become incredibly hazy. His own plating's click as it slid out of the way was unheard by him, but Cyclonus reacted to it as if it were a blaster shot.
Jolting sharply, he twisted himself over his smaller lover and grasped the terribly firm and thick cord that revealed itself from Tailgate's eager form. His own cord was dribbling freely, savoring the lack of attention as some sort of sadistic abuse. His vents began heaving, his breath coming out laced with passionate and lustful moans and grunts. He pumped Tailgate's girth smoothly with one hand, while the other painfully clawed along his side, back and shoulders.
Tailgate's form was trembling now, not expecting to overload during this but it was rapidly coming. He began pushing his mask against his own hand to make the illusion of a glossa, and Cyclonus seemed enjoy it, as his lover's noises became vehement. Deciding to be daring, he pushed in another digit, which earned him a resounding roar against his helm, and a sharp squeeze on his cord which was agonizing in the most incredible way. Never before had he expected pain to get him so hyped, but for some reason Cyclonus hurting him in the throes of lust made his Spark ache with need.
With his overload approaching even faster than Cyclonus', his neural net began flaring to encourage his lover to come in tandem with him, and the larger mech's much stronger field meshed with his to form a literal haze of sexual desire, need and lust that drove them both nearer and nearer. Cyclonus' pumping on the smaller mech's cord became faster and rougher, the swiftly oozing pre-overload fluid making delicious friction. Meanwhile, fluid from both cord and valve was making Tailgate's stark white face a complete mess, dribbling down his jaw, slithering down his neck and even down his chest as he shoved closer and deeper into Cyclonus' needy and desperate valve.
Orgasm struck them both and they shrieked out each other' names, though Cyclonus was far more vocal with cacophonous snarles, roars, hisses and groans in between a darkly muttered mantra of his small white companion's name. Tailgate's fluid splattered the mech's hand as well as his own thighs and the floor below, while Cyclonus painted the small mech's mask with that form his valve.
Much of the silver ejaculate from his cord ended up on his helm and visor, as he leaned back to rub his mask along the under side of the cord to savor their unified orgasm, his fingers pumping in hard, spreading his valve even wider as he did to elicit more pleasure and deep turbulent growls and rumbles. Slumping, Cyclonus' vents were whirring and Tailgate's weren't much quieter, as they sat in silence and a heated afterglow. A small pool of energon had gathered behind Tailgate where Cyclonus had injured him, but touching it only made him moan and arch against it.
Cupping the back of his helm, Cyclonus forced him to face upwards, staring down at his pained faceplate for a moment before pressing closer. Lacking a mouth stopped the intimate act of kissing, but it didn't stop the sentiment behind it. He pushed back to reply the kiss as Cyclonus pressed his lips to the dead center of his mask, reaching up to hold his face close to keep him near as long as possible. Still holding him, the purple mech pulled back only slightly to trail his tongue long Tailgate's cheek, gathering up the fluid and shuddering. They 'kissed' again, a little rougher this time, letting out opposing mewls and moans. Cyclonus' a deep, passionate rumble, while Tailgate's were a set of weak, loving coos.
When they broke apart, Cyclonus went about licking up the filthy face of his smaller lover, who didn't object. The soreness was slowly starting to set in now, and he became very placed as the large mech slipped to the floor with him to lick and nuzzle his face, helm and eventually his neck. Tailgate surprised him by looping both arms around his neck and leaned backwards, drawing them both to the floor. Cyclonus rubbed his thumbs along the slowly oozing scratches on the mech's flanks, occasionally leaning lower to lap at them to at least stop the bleeding. Tailgate was all but limp, though he knotted his fingers behind the mech's neck and watched him with a dimmed visor. Eventually, Cyclonus was pleased with Tailgate's condition and joined him in a lazy stasis, sleeping off the rough orgasm that had ravaged their systems.