When Cyclonus onlined the next morning, he couldn't figure out what the warm little thing cuddled up next to him was. His first instinct was to pull the little ball of warmth closer, and it was only when said source of warmth stirred and mumbled a bit that Cyclonus onlined his optics.
He almost jerked away upon seeing Tailgate with his little white arms wrapped around Cyclonus' narrow waist. He couldn't believe he had allowed Tailgate to recharge in the same berth as him. In HIS berth. He didn't want to give Tailgate the impression that this was going to be a relationship sort of thing.
Tailgate shifted closer in his recharge, humming contentedly as he pressed his frame against Cyclonus'. The purple mech lay stiffly, not daring to move as Tailgate mumbled quietly in his recharge.
Glancing down, Cyclonus couldn't contain a smirk at the sight of his own silvery-blue transfluid dried across Tailgate's pelvis and interface array. So maybe allowing Tailgate to sleep in his berth wouldn't be so bad if it meant he got access to the minibot's valve again.
Tailgate's systems whirred very quietly as he came online. He stretched slightly, before nuzzling gently against Cyclonus' chestplates. "Hey. What time is it?"
Cyclonus didn't bother pointing out that Tailgate had his own internal chronometer. "Ten minutes past eleven."
Tailgate shot up into a sitting position. "What? It can't be! Oh frag, I had monitor duty! Red Alert's gonna kill me!" He wailed, tumbling off Cyclonus' berth.
Cyclonus watched him fumble around with a vague mixture of annoyance and amusement. "I highly doubt you wish to go to duty like that." He said as Tailgate headed for the door.
"What do you mean?" Tailgate's visor flashed in confusion. Cyclonus' optics drifted downwards, and Tailgate squeaked as he caught sight of the state his pelvis and legs were in. "Oh!"
Cyclonus tilted his head and watched with little to no expression as the minibot panicked and ran around the room, looking for a cleaning rag. "Rag won't be enough. It's dried in." The purple mech pointed out, reclining on the berth.
Tailgate whirled around, looking for another way to clean off the evidence of the night before. "Do you- do you have any wipes or anything?"
"No." Cyclonus said unhelpfully. Tailgate looked as though he were about to scream as he looked about the room. Cyclonus tilted his helm again as he watched the bomb disposal mech begin to try and scratch off the dried in transfluid, taking chips of paint with him. "Stop." The ex-lieutenant commanded, standing up off the berth. Tailgate froze and looked up to where Cyclonus towered above him. "You're just going to scratch your paint off. Go to the wash racks."
"B-but those are public." Tailgate cringed at the thought of his fellow crewmates seeing him washing transfluid off his interface array.
"So?"
"I-I don't like public wash racks." Tailgate confessed, twisting his hands together anxiously. "Will you come with me?"
Cyclonus was strongly tempted to say no and leave Tailgate on the floor to scratch off his transfluid, but relented once the image of Tailgate squirming beneath him on the berth resurfaced in his mind. Without a word, Cyclonus lifted Tailgate onto his feet and pushed him towards the door, walking behind him.
Tailgate set off down the corridors, glancing around anxiously in case someone saw him. Cyclonus strode behind him, seeming to be totally unbothered by the lubricant and transfluid that coated his own slender legs and hips.
Tailgate breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that the wash racks weren't very busy. The only mechs in there were down the far side of the room, so Tailgate ducked into a stall, pulling Cyclonus with him.
Cyclonus frowned as Tailgate shut the cubicle door behind him. The cubicle walls were short enough so that Cyclonus' head and shoulders were visible to any mech passing, but tall enough so that Tailgate couldn't be seen.
The little white mech leaned against the wall of the cubicle for a moment, beyond relieved that no mech had seen him covered in the residue of his night with Cyclonus. Just thinking about the night before made Tailgate bounce with excitement, still amazed at the fact that it had actually happened.
Cyclonus turned on the nozzle of the shower and handed it down to Tailgate.
"Thank you." Tailgate took it in his little hands and began to awkwardly rub at his thighs.
Cyclonus rolled his optics again at Tailgate's uncertain approach to cleaning himself. The ex-Decepticon knelt so he was on Tailgate's level before reached out and began scrubbing at the stocky white thighs.
Tailgate didn't move as Cyclonus impatiently removed the remainders of lubricant and transfluid from his legs, but he couldn't stop himself from pressing into the touch when Cyclonus began to clean his interface panel.
Cyclonus ignored him, studiously scrubbing at the transfluid coating the surface of Tailgate's crotch. It was only when Tailgate moaned quietly and bucked into his touch that Cyclonus raised his optics to look at him cuttingly. "I was under the impression that you had somewhere important to be."
Tailgate made a little whining noise before he could stop himself. "Not even quickly?"
Cyclonus just stared at him for a long time. Finally, he opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by someone at the bottom of the wash racks saying "Does anyone know where Tailgate is?"
Tailgate stiffened and stared silently up at Cyclonus as another mech answered "No, sorry. I think I saw Cyclonus down there a few minutes ago, though. I think they share a room, right?"
Cyclonus slowly got off his knees, standing to his full height and glancing down the wash racks as Pipes made his way down to him.
The 'bot stopped just in front of Cyclonus and nodded. "Hi there. Don't mean to disturb you or anything, but I don't suppose you've seen Tailgate, have you? I think Ultra Magnus is going to have a freak out if he doesn't turn up for monitor duty. He already gave everyone a lecture about the importance of good attendance."
Cyclonus felt Tailgate flinch against his legs at the mention of Magnus, and had to resist the instinct to look down. "No."
Pipes sighed and nodded. "Okay. Thanks anyway."
Cyclonus waited until the dark blue mech was out of sight, before turning his attention back to Tailgate.
The little bomb disposal mech had his helm buried in his hands. "Ultra Magnus is gonna kill me. Oh my Primus. I'm dead. I have never missed a day of duty in my life! Apart from the years I fell into stasis, but they don't count!"
Cyclonus said nothing, simply watching as Tailgate began to bang his head off the wall of the cubicle. He only intervened when the mechs at the bottom of the wash racks glanced down to see where the noise was coming from. Cyclonus pulled Tailgate away from the wall. "Stop." He growled irritably, keeping his voice low and ducking his head.
Tailgate sighed and tilted his head back to look at Cyclonus, ignoring the solvent that poured onto his face from the shower. "What'll I do?" He whispered.
Cyclonus shrugged unhelpfully and turned back to the nozzle in order to clean himself. He had to struggle to not roll his optics again when Tailgate started to hyperventilate. "You will probably just get extra communications duty."
Tailgate sagged, but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah..."
"Hey, buddy," a mech down at the bottom of the wash racks called, "who're you talking to?"
Cyclonus ignored him, not even glancing around. Tailgate took a calming cycle of air and nodded. "Okay. I'm okay. I can go on duty now."
Cyclonus ignored him, washing under the plates of his arms.
Tailgate reached up and tapped Cyclonus' chestplates. "Cyclonus? I'm ready to go."
Cyclonus rumbled irritably, glancing down at Tailgate. He noted the fact that Tailgate had yet to remove his hand from his chestplates, but said nothing.
"Can we go?" He whispered.
Cyclonus remained silent, but turned off the shower. Tailgate was momentarily mesmerised as he watched the liquid trickle down Cyclonus' frame. He snapped out of it once Cyclonus moved and opened the shower door.
Ducking out, Tailgate made sure he wasn't seen by anyone as Cyclonus followed him. When they were out of the wash racks and into the hallway Tailgate relaxed and turned back to Cyclonus. "Where are you heading to now?"
Cyclonus was silent for a long moment. Just when Tailgate thought he wasn't going to answer, he spoke. "Rodimus does not trust me enough to give me any duty on the ship. I'm going back to my room."
"Our room." Tailgate chipped in automatically. "I'm sure you'll get some light duty once Rodimus gets to know you."
"On the contrary, I believe he would trust me even less if he got to know me."
Tailgate shook his head adamantly. "No, if he got to know you he'd like you, I know it."
Cyclonus glanced irritably at him, but couldn't find any sarcasm in Tailgate's sincere little visor, which was glowing up at him earnestly. He grunted and looked forwards, choosing to ignore the minibot skipping along at his heels. Once or twice, Tailgate tried to take Cyclonus' hand, but the purple mech whipped his arm away each time.
Tailgate seemed disappointed at the rejection, but it didn't seem to discourage him to much as he kept up a steady stream of chat the whole way down the corridor.
By the time they reached their shared quarters, Cyclonus looked as though he was going to murder something. He managed to keep himself from smacking Tailgate as he keyed in the code and stepped inside the room. Cyclonus frowned as Tailgate went to follow him into the room. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
Tailgate's visor brightened in surprise when he realised he had forgotten. "Oh!" He went to run out of the room, before hesitating and glancing back to Cyclonus. "Um... Later on.."
Cyclonus raised an optic ridge as Tailgate shifted slightly.
"Um.. I was wondering if we could.. Like.. repeat last night.. only.. um..." Tailgate glanced at his feet.
Cyclonus held back a smirk as Tailgate fumbled over his words.
"You know what I'm trying to say." Tailgate whined.
This time, Cyclonus' lips pulled up very slightly. "I want you to say it."
Tailgate cycled air and straightened. "Okay.. Um.. I was wondering if maybe you might want to interface later. If you don't that's fine, you can forget it, y'know.. It's fine." Tailgate shifted his weight to his other leg and tactfully avoided Cyclonus' optics.
Cyclonus tilted his head as his gaze bore into the little bomb disposal expert. "Hmm.."
Tailgate's face heated up and he nodded. "Okay. Okay, that's okay. That's fine. I was just.. Yeah, that's fine. I'd better go then."
Cyclonus couldn't stop the smirk that curved his mouth upwards as Tailgate ducked out the door.
He hummed thoughtfully as he fell on his berth.
/I/
By the time Tailgate's shift was over, he was exhausted.
Ultra Magnus had been pissed that he had been late. Tailgate had been treated to a long Magnus-monologue on the importance of punctuality and how it was against the Autobot code to disrespect a higher officer by being tardy. The monologue had continued almost 'till the end of the shift, and Tailgate felt like his processor was about to burst.
On top of that, he had to return to his quarters, where Cyclonus was. Not that he wasn't looking forward to seeing Cyclonus - quite the opposite. He always looked forward to seeing the purple mech, regardless of what mood he was in. It was just that Tailgate was still embarrassed about the earlier interfacing question. He hadn't thought about it before, but maybe he was just bad in the berth. Maybe that was why Cyclonus had remained silent.
Tailgate's processor swam with these thoughts as he trudged reluctantly back to his room. He took a deep cycle of air before keying in the code and stepping inside.
Cyclonus was lying on his berth, facing the wall, and didn't look around when Tailgate walked in.
Feeling awkward, Tailgate made his way over to his own berth and sat down. He had just lain back and was beginning to relax when Cyclonus broke the silence. "Well?"
Tailgate raised his helm to look over at the purple mech. "What?"
Cyclonus huffed impatiently. "Do you want to interface or not?"
Tailgate stared, bemused. "I thought you didn't want to."
Cyclonus scowled. "When did I say that?"
"Well.. When you didn't answer, I thought.. I thought you didn't want to."
Cyclonus frowned slightly - he had forgotten how sensitive non-Decepticon's could be. "Just come here."
Tailgate hesitated.
Cyclonus rolled his optics and stood up, making his way towards Tailgate's berth. The white mech's blue visor brightened in surprise as he watched Cyclonus come closer to him. Cyclonus sat down on the berth and swung his legs up, almost kicking Tailgate off. "Now it's you who doesn't want to interface?"
Tailgate's faceplates got even hotter under his facemask. "I-I do, but I don't want to if you don't-" his sentence ended in a surprised little squeak as Cyclonus grabbed him closer. Cyclonus wasted absolutely no time in sliding down so that his face was level with Tailgate's interface panel, before tapping it in a silent command to open.
Tailgate obeyed almost immediately, his previous hesitations forgotten. He trembled slightly in anticipation as Cyclonus placed his hand on his leg and bent his head to his valve. A long, gasping moan escaped Tailgate's lips as Cyclonus dragged his glossa around the rim of his valve, which was already beginning to lubricate.
Cyclonus couldn't help but feel smug as he continued to draw little gasps and moans out of Tailgate. It had been quite a while since a 'bot had actually come to him and wanted to interface, and he was very pleased that he hadn't forgotten how to pleasure a mech.
"P-please.. Cyclonus.." Tailgate whispered, moaning as Cyclonus' glossa plunged inside his valve, raking over sensors that were still tender from the night before. "F-faster.."
Cyclonus paid no mind to Tailgate's begging, going at his own leisurely pace. He swirled his glossa around, making Tailgate gasp and unconsciously buck up. Cyclonus' spike was fully pressurised now, and it was pressing uncomfortably, almost painfully, against his codpiece. He sent the commands to retract his interface panel, and groaned quietly in relief as his spike extended to its full length. He took one of his hands off Tailgate's thighs and reached between his own legs, stroking his length jerkily.
Tailgate craned his neck to try to see what Cyclonus was doing, his processor hazy with pleasure. His visor brightened again when he saw Cyclonus pumping his hand up and down his spike. "C-can I?"
Cyclonus stared up at him, honestly surprised. No one had ever wanted to willingly pleasure him in return... It just wasn't how Decepticon's interfaced. He grunted in affirmation, and Tailgate sat up, trying hard not to whine at the loss of friction in his valve as Cyclonus slid away.
At Cyclonus' motion, Tailgate climbed off the berth and stood in front of Cyclonus. Their height difference meant that Tailgate was level with Cyclonus' spike, and he used this to his advantage by wrapping his small hands around Cyclonus' length and beginning to jerk him off.
A primal snarl escaped Cyclonus' vocaliser at the sensations Tailgate's tiny hands were causing to him. He wanted to be in that tight valve so badly, it almost hurt.
With no warning, he picked Tailgate up and practically threw him on the bed. Before Tailgate could sit up, Cyclonus had moved forwards and was already sliding inside the slick heat.
Tailgate groaned and threw his helm back as he was stretched. "C-Cyclonus..."
Cyclonus gritted his dental plates at the tightness of the valve and pushed in deeper, ignoring Tailgate's whine of discomfort. The memory of Tailgate saying he usually kissed during interface arose in his processor, and he awkwardly kissed Tailgate's neck in an effort to keep the little bot's attention away from the uncomfortable/painful sensation of Cyclonus sliding deep inside him.
Tailgate's facemask slid back automatically when he felt Cyclonus' lips on his neck cables. He leaned forwards and captured Cyclonus' mouth with his own.
Cyclonus frowned slightly against the unfamiliar feeling of kissing whilst fragging. It wasn't unpleasant, and he leaned into him after a moment, tangling his glossa with Tailgate's. The kiss threw him off, and his thrusts slowed down until they almost stopped altogether.
Tailgate wriggled slightly, trying to get Cyclonus' spike to go deeper into him. Cyclonus noticed, and began to pump back into him.
Tailgate moaned as his lips broke away from Cyclonus', and he threw his head back to rest on the berth. "Yes... There.. Right there.."
Cyclonus pumped his hips harder, hitting a particular cluster of nodes at the back of Tailgate's valve. He grunted as Tailgates valve tightened, and began to thrust harder. His thrusts became increasingly uneven as his overload approached, but he didn't slow down.
Tailgate's vents hitched as his valve spasmed, torn between pleasure and pain as he was stretched and filled. The coil of warmth that had been building in his abdomen reached its peak. Tailgate threw back his helm and wailed as the charge raced through him. His valve clenched down on Cyclonus' spike, pulling Cyclonus into the haze of overload too. The purple mech roared as Tailgate's already tight valve tightened further, milking his spike as transfluid shot up into Tailgate's valve.
Cyclonus' arms almost gave out, and he sank down next to Tailgate, feeling strutless. Tailgate whimpered as Cyclonus pulled his now-limp spike out of his valve. Curling up to the larger mech, Tailgate smiled up at him. "Thank you." He whispered.
Cyclonus said nothing, but didn't object when Tailgate wormed his way into his arms. Eventually, he said "For what?"
Tailgate, who was almost in recharge, onlined his optics sleepily and glanced up at the purple mech. "Hmmm?"
"Thank you for what?"
"For.. Well, for interfacing with me." He shrugged shyly and snuggled back into him. "It's been kind of hard being on this ship and not knowing anyone. I mean, everyone is great, and they're nice, but... All my friends are probably dead, y'know? And.. You're the only person I really know - the only mech I recognise from before I fell into stasis. So it means a lot to me that you're willing to do this with me."
Cyclonus frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could there was a knock on the door. Both their heads swivelled around to stare at the door, before glancing down at their own bodies, which were stained with transfluid and lubricant all over again.
The knock cam again. "Hey, Tailgate! You in there?" Swerve's voice called through the door.
Tailgate stiffened, before sitting up and climbing off the berth, giving a mumbled apology to Cyclonus as he ran to the door. He slid it open halfways, so Swerve couldn't see his body. "Uh.. Hey." He said sheepishly.
"Hi! Uh.. So, you never showed up to movie night and you were late for your shift today, so I thought I'd see if you were okay."
"Yeah, I'm fine." Tailgate said quickly. "I just.. Um.. I forgot. About the movie night thing. I was busy and stuff.. Um.. Next time! I will definitely come next time!"
From the berth, Cyclonus eyed Tailgate up intently. He probably didn't even realise it, but Tailgate was being incredibly seductive. He stood with his hips and aft jutted out in an effort to keep Swerve from seeing his bared interface array, but it just gave Cyclonus a better view. A drop of iridescent blue lubricant dripped enticingly down his shapely white leg, and suddenly Cyclonus found himself wanting all over again. Pushing himself up abruptly, Cyclonus made his way purposefully over to the door. When Swerve saw him, he took an unconscious step back. Cyclonus looked at him with no expression. "Are you finished talking now? I want to recharge."
The bar-owner nodded swiftly. "Yeah, totally. I get that. Yeah, you rest, buddy! See you tomorrow Tailgate."
Tailgate waved. "See you."
"Oh, before I go I was just wondering if-"
Cyclonus shut the door in his face, before picking Tailgate up and carrying him to the berth. He dropped the little bot to the berth, although he was careful, and grinded his hips against Tailgate's.
Tailgate arched into the friction as a small moan escaped him. "We're not recharging tonight, are we?"
Cyclonus leant down and nipped at his neck. "Not a chance."
