"Will you sit still?"

"This slaggin' thing's in the way! How do you move around without knocking everything off a table?!"

"Practise, I guess..."

"Ouch! Careful!"

"Sorry! Your wings are really cute..."

"Thanks, so's your canon. Even if it is an obstructive demolition device."

"I'm a tank, I'm supposed to be an obstructive demolition device!" Powerglide chuckled and patted the larger mech's chest plate softly, earning a contented purr from Warpath. He sort of liked the kid this way; calm and content, rather than erratic and loud. The Ace of the air believed the tank's extreme and rather cocky personality could get a little annoying at times, but it made moments like this really contrast with the norm.

Warpath shifted around on the reinforced bunk, watching as Powerglide wriggled and tried to get comfortable on top of him. It was entertaining watching him get all wound up about his canon being in the way, when he could actually remove the entire thing from his chassis. But he omitted that piece of information, for the sake of his humour circuits. Besides, Powerglide had repeated, in private, that he thought the tank alt mode was sexy. He wasn't going to mess with those odds, was he?

With a frustrated sigh, the A-10 Thunderbolt slid back onto the younger mech's stomach plating, laying himself over Warpath's front with his canon pressing against his shoulder, one servo resting on it softly.

"Sorry kid, don't think any magic's happenin' until we find a way around this," He muttered. Warpath frowned behind his mask, which he had yet to remove. While he hadn't been outright pestering Powerglide for an interface, the M551 Sheridan had hinted lightly towards the fact that he wouldn't turn down advances of that type. Honestly, Warpath wasn't as hyped up about sex as one might think – not like Cliffjumper or a certain pair of Lambo twins we all know. He didn't see it as a pass time, more as something you did with someone you really cared about, whenever both were in the mood.

So in other words, he wouldn't go out of his way to simply seduce Powerglide into a puddle of lustful mush in the middle of a hallway like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker did to Bluestreak. He'd rather wait until his partner was good and ready, since he was always up for a round or two with Powerglide.

"Well, what if-, ack!" Powerglide sat bolt upright on Warpath's gut, startled by the sudden squeal.

"Sorry! Did I hurt you?!" He spluttered, removing his hand from the kid's canon to cup his cheek. However, Warpath grabbed his hand and replaced it on the protrusion on his chest, closing the confused plane's digits around it.

"D—do that again, please..."

The whimper was so needy and soft, it sounded completely wrong in Warpath's voice. Yet so cute at the same time. Powerglide's ever vigilant mind quickly caught on, and a giggle refused to be repressed in his vocaliser. "You mean this huge, over-bearing, destructive piece of weaponry is sensitive?" He laughed, running his hand up the length of the canon as a means of experiment. The result was rather satisfying, as Warpath let out a low, wanton groan at the motion. "That's just ridiculous!"

"Like your self-proclaimed titles are any better, 'Sultan of the skies'." The crimson A-10 Thunderbolt's cheek plates heated up under his mask at the jab, pride kicked rather unnecessarily.

"Hey! No wise cracks while I'm in control of heavy artillery." He snapped, wringing the end of Warpath's canon pointedly. He was almost tossed onto the floor at the violent buck of crimson hips, a vicious growl making his shoulders go slack.

Warpath was younger than he was, and more inexperienced, but he was also bigger than him. And while Powerglide knew full well the kid wouldn't ever hurt him on purpose, tanks tended to be rather... clumsy.

"Careful there big guy!" Warpath's large hands grasped his hips, holding him in place.

"Sorry... that felt good..." He admitted breathlessly. Powerglide gave a chuckle and winked.

"I'm glad there's no 'WHAM-BLAM-CAPOWEE' in the berth room, even when I'm technically jackin' you off." Another growl sent shivers down his spinal struts, and Warpath's mask snapped back, revealing gritted dentals. The tank's left hand grabbed the back of Powerglide's helm, yanking him down and pressing a hungry kiss against his mouth guard, which quickly retracted to accommodate the younger bot's lips.

The human custom of 'kissing' was new to all the Autobots, but after they'd seen Carly kiss Spike, they began looking into it with mild interest. Then intense interest after they'd tried it for the first time.

"What would happen if I did start screamin' that slag right now?"

"I'd have to kick you out and make you recharge in the hall." Powerglide said with a flustered smirk, cheek plates flushed darkly.

"My room."

"Mm, wonder if Prowl would be willing to let us change that..." Warpath's gulp wasn't lost on Powerglide, but it only made him laugh again. "What, living with lil' ol' me that terrifying?" He teased as the younger mech started shaking.

"Actually... I'm shakin' with... excitement." Typically, nobody could stand the sound of Warpath's voice. For such a burly mech, he sounded quite shrill and maniacal when he spoke. Powerglide wondered if it was because of him or for him that the tank lowered his tone to a deep, sexy purr. It definitely suited him better.

"Well... good! You should be excited. Yes." Powerglide sat up, looking away, embarrassed by his spike in temperature at the slight emphasis in Warpath's voice.

His fingers still lingered on the canon, and he was sorely tempted to get his own back by rubbing it relentlessly until the tank blew a fragging hole in the roof! But to his surprise and dismay, it removed itself in his hold with a click, and a smirk. "You can take this thing off?"

"I can."

"Why didn't you do that before?"

"You're cute when you're wriggling around a pole like implement." That slag-eating, perverted grin on his face made Powerglide torn between slapping him round the helm and storming out of the room, and rolling over and taking it like a little bitch. Oh, decisions, decisions.

"You bastard..."

"Gonna punish me for it?"

"What ever happened to that sweet lil' munchkin that used to beg for piggy-back rides?"

"He got big. He got horny."

"Primus, if I could only gain the strength to lift you, you big lug..."

"The hall ain't too comfortable, y'know? Think I'll stay right here."

.X.

In many ways, Mirage found it disturbing that Jazz took a certain amount of joy in eavesdropping on their comrades' sex lives. What he found even more disturbing was that he was beginning to take an interest in what his friends were getting up to in the bunk. Damn that boss of his, influencing his noble demeanour! But he couldn't deny it was entertaining to stand outside Warpath's berth room door, audials pressed against the panel, listening the the thumps and shameless moans coming from a certain, overly proud jet, and the dirty pillow talk the young tank was spewing out.

"Well," Mirage muttered. "I was not aware the kid was such a party-mouth!"

"Me neither," Jazz nodded. "Didn't know he could sound so damn sexy either."

"Jazz!"

"Aw, quit bein' such a prude, 'Raj!"