It was times like this that Shockwave was sure he was spoiling himself. But, he always reasoned, he could be allowed a little indulgence on a vorns-long and ultimately tedious mission - and oh what he indulged in: Blurr. Blurr, writhing in sheer ecstatsy against his chassis - or Longarm Prime's, at least.
The speedster was nothing short of gorgeous this way, fingers pulling, grasping desperately at his superior's frame, near begging in an only half-silent way way to connect them and bring them roiling through each other's systems; it was a sight that, despite himself, Shockwave was quickly beginning to crave. The entire experience was an easy addiction.
But Shockwave had patience enough to wait for what he wanted to hear. Blurr's little cries and needy whimpers were lovely enough, but...
"Ah! P-please, sir-!"
And there it was. Longarm's lips curved, the smile full of nothing but the warmth attributed to his character, and betraying nothing of the dark satisfaction settling over the Decepticon spy.