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Elocution Lessons

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The bar was unnaturally busy and noisy when Tailgate wandered in looking for his errant room mate, and at a quick glance he was disappointed to see Cyclonus wasn't lurking around there either. It was kind of annoying; a couple of weeks ago he'd managed to persuade the other mech to teach him Old Cybertronian, a feat he was quietly proud of. It had taken a lot of pestering, almost to the point Cyclonus had threatened to jettison him, but Tailgate had persisted, until he worked out the perfect plan. Instead of annoying Cyclonus drying the day, wait until the larger mech was unnaturally mellow and agreeable, and more likely to indulge the minibot's whims.


In other words, wait until he'd overloaded. 


And so, lying in their shared mess whilst their frames cooled, Tailgate had easily convinced Cyclonus to tutor him twice a week, and so far it had been going pretty well. Except that he'd had to hunt the mech down each and every time, once even having to trek down to the oil reservoir to find him and 'remind' him of their lessons.


Well, it looked like he'd be checking there again, as after scanning the crowd a few times over there was still no sight of him. He huffed a sigh, a trick he'd learnt from Swerve, and turned to leave, casting one final glance around the ro- Oh. Well apparently he wouldn't have to trek anywhere, because poked as far away from the others as possible, Cyclonus lay slumped at a table, half-finished cube of Engex still gripped in his servo, while the table was littered with the empty remains of previous drinks.


He cheerfully waved off some friends who'd just invited him to their table, and quickly walked over to his room mate, hesitating a little when Cyclonus din't even look up, though he took his chances and sat down anyway. When it became obvious Cyclonus wasn't about to stir, he tidied up the table and fidgeted a little, unwilling to rouse a potentially angry, overcharge Cyclonus, but equally unwilling to leave him there, especially when a newly arrived Whirl kept 'subtly' glancing their way.


Tailgate hummed softly to himself, and settled in for a long wait, knowing it could take a while for the other mech to process the refined energon. The klicks passed by, and a few mechs left while others came in, and Tailgate had occupied himself with organising some notes when he heard the crunching lurch of an engine trying to come to life next to him. He saved his progress and tucked the datapad away before turning to the larger mech, discretely pushing empty cubes to the side when Cyclonus nearly knocked them over.


After slowly sitting up, Cyclonus merely reset his optics a few times before peering down at Tailgate, apparently confused at his presence, and the minibot took the opportunity to explain himself while Cyclonus gathered his thoughts back together.


'I came to find you, but figured I'd just wait while you sorted yourself out.' He didn't mention Whirl, afraid Cyclonus would take that as an invitation to hunt him down or something. 'We have another lesson remember? Though if you're not up to it, that's okay…' He trailed off, a little unsure when Cyclonus just stared at him blearily. 


'I'll just uh… Leave you to it then, see you later maybe?' he made to stand and move away, but was stopped by a strong grip on his wrist pulling him back into the seat. he looked to Cyclonus, surpassed to see his optics suddenly bright, even if the mech was still slouching a little. Apparently Cyclonus had worked through that Engex much quicker than Tailgate gave him credit for.


'Sit. Now, recount out last lesson.' the grip fell away as Cyclonus shifted and rested his helm on his servo, seemingly happy just to watch and listen for the moment.


'W-what? Here?' The bar was full and Cyclonus famously insular, so the request was definitely unusual. If Tailgate was honest, the idea of speaking or singing in front of these mechs was nerve-wracking, despite the fact that most were his friends.


'Yes, here.' Cyclonus obviously saw him glance around the room in apprehension. 'Ignore them, and besides none of them will understand anyway.'


Tailgate had made an effort at being noticed these days, trying to escape how overlooked he was in his old life, but as he glanced around the room, he suddenly wished to have that anonymity back. He flustered a little, and was about to try and back out when he was caught in Cyclonus' heavy glare, so, venting harshly a couple of times, he leapt into his learned song.


'O-over the plains the battle was fought, energon spilling to the ground-'




'And with a cry death swooped from above, destroying the grounded ranks!' Oh primus he could feel the room staring, but he kept his gaze locked with Cyclonus, using his intense stare to focus on and help block out the rest of the room.


As he came to a finish, mechs behind him started clapping and cheering, appreciative of the unexpected show. He sheepishly turned around to mumble a thanks, not that it was heard in the din, but he waved back when Swerve gave him a thumbs-up. He found himself grinning behind his mask, especially when he turned back and Cyclonus nodded at him, seemingly pleased with his progress.


'You still sound soft in places, but overall your progress is good.' He withdrew a datapad, wrote a sentence on it and twisted it around for tailgate to see. 'Read this.'


'Act in the trench?'




'Act in the valley that you need not fear those who stand on the hill.' Tailgate was used to Cyclonus' weird old proverbs, and had long ago stopped asking what each one meant. The larger mech merely nodded in approval, before changing the sentence.


'It is better to die with honour, than live with shame.' A lot of the sayings Cyclonus gave him were about honour, or home or battle, and it was interesting to Tailgate that they so defined his life. They progressed that way for a while, Cyclonus correcting his pronunciation when needed, though as the clicks passed by Tailgate needed less and less help. After reading the tenth in a row without help, the minibot's confidence had grown massively, and he was feeling bold enough to ask a request.


'Cyclonus, could you… Just talk? I mean, it's nice to listen to you and your accent is so strong and sounds so good I just-' He cut himself off when Cyclonus just gave him a calculating look, and assumed he'd been refused, shifting slightly as he waited now for the next sentence.


'What do you want me to talk about?' Tailgate's helm shot up in disbelief, and his optics flashed happily when he realised he was being indulged.


'I don't mind! Old battle stories, or tactics I don't mind! Heh, you could even read out the full Autobot Code, I just really like listening to you.' Cyclonus seemed a little bewildered by Tailgate's enthusiasm, but sat back anyway, not complaining when Tailgate scooted closer, and proceed to tell the minibot of one of his earliest victories in battle.


Cyclonus wasn't speaking for long when Tailgate started to realise he was heating up a little, frame starting to prime itself for interface just from the sound of the other mech's deep voice; just hearing the old language spoken again after so long was making him slightly giddy, and Cyclonus' perfect accent was only helping to increase the fluctuations in his spark.


'-of which led to the the deaths of approximately five hundred Auto- Tailgate, is something wrong?' Cyclonus seemed almost alarmed, at which point Tailgate realised he was practically vibrating at his words, almost whimpering when he said his name in that primus-blessed voice. Oh but wouldn't that be a lovely thing to hear during interfacing…


'I, no it's n-nothing, don't stop…' he tried to calm his frame down a little, but the sudden fantasies running though his processor weren't helping.


'Tailgate…' he tried so hard, but the little moan which escaped was easily heard by Cyclonus, and the narrowing of those red optics prompted him to start babbling.


'It's just, your voice it's-' Quickly, Cyclonus made a show of looking around the room, making Tailgate realise he might not want this to be heard by the rest of the room. 'I, um… Y-your voice is um fine? No, I think I mean amazing? And it just, I dunno I just warm up at the sound of it and when you said my name oh primus, I just-' He cut himself off my throwing his face into his servos, shamefully curling up in a ball on the bench. 'I'm sorry…'


'It is nothing to be ashamed of. Now sit up, you're drawing attention.' Tailgate could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see it. 'Unless you want people to look at you when you're in such a state?' No, no he definitely didn't want that, and he instantly sat up, unintentionally bringing himself closer to Cyclonus with the action. He jumped when a servo lightly touched his knee, and looked over shocked at the other mech until he realised that it wouldn't be seen by anyone else in the room. Cyclonus for his part was simply resting his helm in his servo again, giving no outward indication that his claws were lightly skittering up the minibot's thigh.




'I also enjoy hearing the old language, and whilst your accent is soft, it is still pleasing to listen to.' He drew his claws back down his thigh a little harder, Tailgate barely managing to hold in a shaky moan. 'Would you like to learn some new phrases?'


At Tailgate's enthusiastic nodding, Cyclonus withdrew his servos from his leg and reached for the datapad, inputting a new phrase in and showing it to the other mech. The glyphs look dissimilar, but the word order was a little confusing.


'This is more colloquial, and so the form is slightly looser. Try it.' Once Tailgate had read it a couple of times he looked up hesitantly, and at Cyclonus' encouraging nod tried it out.


'I-I want your rod?' Cyclonus' engine rumbled slightly in amusement.


'Rod is technically correct, though spike would be more appropriate in this context.'


'So, I want your spike?' Again Cyclonus nodded before giving him a new sentence.


'I don't, I don't understand this.'


'It says, I want to spread you wide and frag you until you scream my name.' The larger mech's optics dimmed slightly as Tailgate's engine gave a small hitch, the already warm arousal firing up suddenly at Cyclonus' words. At the other's light push he tried to say it for himself.


'I-I want to spread you wide and ohprimus f-frag you until you scream my name.' Primus but he could already feel his valve preparing lubricant, suddenly aware that he really, really needed some stimulation down there, and also aware that it might be a while before he got any.


They continued on that way a while, Tailgate learning new words and phrases, and becoming ridiculously near overheating because of it. Eventually, Cyclonus had enough of the datapad though and pushed it away, leaning back and crossing his arms to regard the minibot with a predatory gaze, while he shifted awkwardly in his seat.


'Try holding a conversation with me. How would you reply if I said, once we're done here, I'm going to take you back to our room and pound you into every surface until your vocaliser shorts from wear, and you can't walk for a week.'


'…ah.' He couldn't help it, but as his processor was bombarded with the images he lost control over his frame and his panel clicked open, lubricants dribbling out slightly to pool on the bench below. As soon as he realised he instantly drew his knees together, thankful at least they were out of the way enough no one would notice.


Cyclonus merely hummed and his optic darkened at the all too familiar sound, and then suddenly he was in Tailgate's space, looming next to him and just far enough away that no one would question it. Subtly, he shifted his legs under the table to cross one pede onto his knee, and if that meant he brushed his pede up Tailgate's leg then who was to mind.


'Speechless? I want to hear you scream my name, Tailgate.' He ducked his helm a little to lowly mutter in Tailgate's audio. 'I want you to scream so loud the whole ship knows who's fragging you, and then you'll wear my paint transfers as proof.' It wasn't something Tailgate would normally be up for, definitely modest when it came to his interface life, but the arousal coursing through his body was clouding his boundaries a little, and the little fantasy actually caused him to shudder and moan quietly.


'I-' He glanced up at the other mech and found himself caught in the lustful look directed at him. 'Please, I want-I want to ride your spike. It's so big I just-it feels so good stretching me and filling me a-and I need it so bad-I need you, please Cyclonus!' He wasn't sure what he was saying was grammatically correct, but Cyclonus didn't seem to care as he rumbled, forcefully holding himself back from ravaging the minibot then and there. Confidence boosted, Tailgate continued to spew whatever came to mind.


'Please I want to taste you, and lick and kiss until y- until you fill my mouth with your transfluid? And I w-want- I like it when you take me from behind it and push me into the berth, and that thing with the rope and-oh primus Cyclonus can, can we go now I'm burning!' He continued to wriggle in his seat, trying to ease the ache without drawing too much attention to themselves; luckily the rest of the mech's in the room were occupied with some sort of card game and didn't seem to notice the whimpering minibot in the corner.


'Tell me how much you want me, want my spike.'


'Oh primus I need it Cyclonus! Need you filling me with your transfluid, need you to-oh you're the best, make me feel so good.' He was barely restraining himself from launching into the other's lap, vibrating with the strain.


'Louder.' If Tailgate was in any state to think he'd have been embarrassed, as it was he didn't even think before he was shouting the words out.


'I need you to frag me Cyclonus, fill me and make me yours until I can't walk, can't think about anything but you and-and how you make me feel! Please, please frag me Cyclonus!


To begin with there was a confused hush from the rest of the room, none of the mechs understanding why or what Tailgate had shouted out, though before they could turn and stare, they all jumped back a little when Rung spat his drink across the table and started choking, wheezing to try and remove the burn from the Engex being coughed back up his intake tube.


Tailgate himself didn't really know what was happening, just aware that Cyclonus was looking suddenly shocked, though eventually it clicked in his lust-addled processor. Rung was older than the lot of them, and more than likely spoke every dialect of Cybertronian going who meant-oh primus which meant-


He didn't have time to have a breakdown before Cyclonus was pulling him up, discreetly wiping his inner thighs and the bench before he dragged him out of the room, taking the opportunity whilst everyone was still flustering over Rung. The trip back to their quarters was fuzzy in Tailgate's mind, the shock and embarrassment consuming his thoughts until he was nudged back to the present with a servo on his shoulder. Dazedly, he looked up to Cyclonus, staring in silence a moment before his feelings all tumbled out at once, and he was clicking and hunched over himself on the floor.


'-I'll n-never be able to face him again and oh primus what if he tells everyone or-or someone else could understand and and-' He whined lowly, rocking back and forth before uncurling slightly, peeking up at Cyclonus, who was standing there seemingly at a loss. 'P-please, did you know he'd, that he'd understand?' He was hiccuping little unhappy clicks, unable to control his vocaliser.


Thankfully, Cyclonus shook his head slightly before bending and scooping the minibot into his arms, moving to the berth to settle down with Tailgate in his lap.


'I did not realise he was there, and it didn't occur to me to check.'  He rubbed Tailgate's back hesitantly, and then more confidently when it made the minibot calm down a little. 'I should have used more foresight.' The apology was unspoken, but Tailgate could tell by the way Cyclonus held him a little tighter that it was there.


'I-it's okay, it wasn't your fault.' He hummed and looked up. 'Except that it kinda was, but I got carried away and… Yeah…' He adjusted slightly in Cyclonus' hold, and offlined his optics, the constant low purring of the larger mech's engines helping to calm him down.


They lay like that for a while, Tailgate hiding in the other's chest while Cyclonus stroked his back and helm, and the minibot was almost ready to drop into recharge when the soft rumbling under his helm changed. He was about to ask what was wrong when the dark, low tones of an old cybertronian battle song began to fill the room, and it took him a moment to realise it was coming from Cyclonus.


'Charge into the fray, and though death may take you we will meet again in the well…' The song was low and melancholy, unlike the boisterous songs of war and home Cyclonus usually preferred to sing, but the tune was almost gentle and Tailgate found himself enjoying it, despite the gloomy theme. Eventually Cyclonus finished, and Tailgate was slightly amused when he shifted almost awkwardly, obviously unsure if his singing had the desired effect. Smiling to himself, the minbot pulled out of the other's arms, to lean up and press a chaste kiss to the other's lips.


'That was beautiful, thank you.' He was about to settle back down, when a stray, curious thought crossed his mind, and he hesitated a little before asking. 'Cyclonus, are there any songs about… Like sparkmates or lovers?' The large mech looked down at him, appearing slightly bemused.


'Yes, more than you can imagine, though I only know a few in their entirety.'


'Can you uh, sing one? If you want to I mean…' Cyclonus merely shifted the two of them slightly, and then launched into a song, vocals whispering and purring as opposed to the usual forceful bellows, and Tailgate instantly knew he'd be a moaning mess by the time the other mech was finished.


'You lay before me and I know that you are mine, and as I worship your body I realise that I am yours…' Cyclonus continued singing, and Tailgate found himself heating up, spark twisting in his chest at the song. Whilst the words themselves weren't particularly 'dirty', the subtle emphasis and the glyphs themselves were nothing short of vulgar, implying and hinting at positions or feelings, and the contrast between the literal word and the implications was unexpectedly exciting.


'I pleasure you with my body, and your bliss is also mine.' Tailgate barely managed to with hold a whimper.


'We become one and it is the greatest bliss I have ever known.' A wriggle, and a small moan escaped the smaller mech, causing Cyclonus to pause and look down at the heating minibot in his lap. Tailgate almost moaned again at the suddenly lustful gaze directed at him.


'Is this exciting you?' A shaky nod, and Tailgate gasped as the servo on his back suddenly stroked a particularly sensitive seam, and Cyclonus huffed an amused ex-vent. 'This isn't even considered an overly erotic song. But I know one of those, if you like?' Tailgate didn't neglect to notice Cyclonus hadn't switched back to Neocybex.


'Yes, uh please?' He received a rumble in reply, as well as another servo on his leg which began to fondle and scrape.


'I will take you, until you scream in bliss so that all who hear it are jealous.' The words were similar to those Cyclonus had said in the bar, only more lyrical and poetic, and with many more subtle glyphs. The servo on his leg dipped behind his knee-joint, and Tailgate moaned and clutched at the other's chest, trying to reciprocate a little.


'I-oh primus Cyclonus!'


'And as I taste you, I know that nothing will ever taste as sweet.' Cyclonus shifted him in his lap, so that the minibot was instead straddling one of his large thighs, and a quick buck of his leg had the minibot's panel grinding down, all thoughts gone as he clutched at the other's chest in an effort to stabilise himself.


Cyclonus continued, whispering and purring suggestive lyrics into the other's audio, and it was all Tailgate could do to try and listen and touch back. The arousal from earlier, which had dwindled to nothing with his embarrassment, was suddenly back in full force, if not stronger, and Tailgate couldn't even try to stop himself when a particularly deep caress in his hip caused his interface panels to snap open.


Tailgate whined and rubbed down harder on the other mech's thigh, valve aching for stimulation, and he blindly reached up to grab at Cyclonus' collar plate, pulling him down and retracting his mask so that he could crash their lips together. Strong servos on his back and under his aft lifted him, allowing them to deepen the kiss, and also allowing Tailgate to reach up and stroke along the other's remain horn, the deep moan from the other vibrating through the minibot's smaller chassis. When they pulled away, Tailgate reached back up to brush a kiss along the other's jaw until he reached his audio.


'Please, Cyclonus, please frag me.' He whispered, nuzzling his face into the other's neck cables. 'I meant it, earlier when I said that-that I wanted you to make me yours. I'll scream for you, please!' He emphasised it with a couple of newly learnt glyphs, suggesting strongly that Cyclonus should take him hard, trying to portray his need for the larger mech as much as he could. 


A growl was his only warning before he was pushed back into the berth, Cyclonus suddenly looming over him with darkened optics and loud, rumbling revs from his engine. Tailgate gave a rev in response, loud as he could manage, which brought a small smirk to the other's lips, before he was leaning down to bite and lick at the minibot's neck cables. Only able to whimper, Tailgate brought his servo back up to the horn near his helm, working his servo up it to the tip before skittering back down. His other servo reached for a seldom accessible flight-sensor, and the stimulation had Cyclonus pausing to collect himself before he resumed his nibbling.


Tailgate was starting to feel like he almost had the upper hand, his touches to the other mech causing Cyclonus to shudder and moan almost inaudibly, but before he could feel too smug all thoughts disintegrated when Cyclonus shoved his knee between the minibot's legs, roughly rubbing against his open valve. The sudden jarring pleasure left Tailgate reeling, servos clutching hard at whatever plating they'd been fondling, as his vision whited out for a moment when Cyclonus slipped a servo down to start tugging and stroking his spike.


'P-please, keep talking? Nng!' Tailgate could barely get the words out before he was moaning again, twitching his hips up against every grind of Cyclonus' knee.


'What would you like me to say, hm?' He ground his knee, spreading the excess lubricants everywhere while skittering his claws along the length of the all spike. 


'P-please! Anything! Love your voice, what it does to me, anything please!' Tailgate was clutching and mindlessly grinding, all thoughts of reciprocating fading completely to just try and get as much pleasure as he could from the other mech.


'Heh, what I do to you…' He moved up from his neck, running a long lick up the the minibot's audial. 'I like what I do too. I like when I lick you here, you squirm and whimper.' True to Cyclonus' words, Tailgate was writhing and whimpering quietly, the whispering and light licking on his delicate sensor sending frizzing pleasure through his helm.


'Cyclonus-' He was cut off with a dominating kiss, glossa instinctively moving to tangle itself with the one invading his mouth. When they pulled away, a string of oral lubricant linked them, until Cyclonus bent back down to lick at the others lips. To Tailgate's frustration, Cyclonus moved his hand way from his aching spike, reaching up to pry his small servo away and entangle their digits, pressing the minibot's servo into the berth next to his helm.


'If I scrape a single claw along here…' He demonstrated, running a sharp claw tip down the centre seam of Tailgate's chest, causing the minibot to moan loudly and press into the touch. 'You can barely control yourself, aching for my touch.' He dipped to run a long lick up the seam, teasingly moving out of Tailgate's reach when he tried to clutch at his helm, capturing the grasping servo. Without missing a beat, he drew three of the tiny digits into his mouth, licking and nibbling in replacement for his inability to suck, while Tailgate's helm thudded back against the berth, optics overbright and mouth slack.


Cyclonus merely hummed in amusement around the digits in his mouth, moving his other servo down to trace around the other's hip joint. He slowly drew off the digits, then licked up the length of the palm, purposefully ex-venting colder air to make the sensors tingle and cause Tailgate to shiver.


'You have a particularly sensitive wire in this hip, and I enjoy the squeak you make whenever I tease it.'


'I don't-eek!' The amused rumble from Cyclonus' only made Tailgate heat up a little more in mild embarrassment, and he squirmed more, trying to dislodge the servo from it's teasing. 'N-no fair! I can't re- ohprimus! Can't reach your good spots like this-' He cut off with another squeak, when Cyclonus dipped deeper and tweaked a similarly sensitive wire. Tailgate tried to glare, but only ended up gasping again when Cyclonus licked and ex-vented on his palm again.


'Who said anything about fair? I quite enjoy having you at my mercy like this, practically begging for me.' He lay the minibot's servo back down on the berth, leaving it clutching at the air so he could use both his larger servos to play with the hips and thighs in front of him.


'I-I'm not begging-nng!' He might not be at that exact moment in time, but he had been and he was pretty damn close to doing so again, and he wasn't sure how much more teasing he could take until he was going to be begging for the other mech's spike.


'You will be.' Cyclonus ran both his servos down the minibus legs, grabbing at the ankle joint where he started playing with the complex mechanisms, and then running his claws to drag along the underside of the pede. Tailgate twitched and practically shouted at the gesture, the rarely touched plating sensitive and the touches sending a ridiculous amount of pleasure through his frame; after the initial shock of the touch, he started writhing, choking back giggles at the almost playful touches. Thankfully, Cyclonus stopped after a few moments, ghosting his claws back up his legs before starting to skitter and tease around the base of the minibot's spike, and around his valve rim.


'C-Cylonus-! He tried to thrust up and get more pressure from the ghosting claws, but Cyclonus only pulled back, much to the minibot's dismay.


'You get so desperate for me, so hot and needy.' He finally sank a single digit in his dripping valve, scraping along sensors and stretching the lining slightly. 'That you want me so much, that you /need/ me so much… It makes me burn, Tailgate.' He emphasised it with a strong crook of his digit. 'It makes me want to ravish you, claim you as mine.' He trust another two digits into the wailing mess of a minibot below him, and Tailgate barely caught the lustful grin before his head was crashing back into the berth again, optics whiting out.


Through the fuzzy static of his processors, Tailgate was barely aware of something rubbing against the inside of his thigh, and it took him a moment to realise that it was Cyclonus' spike, hot and twitching against his plating; apparently he'd been too caught up to hear it being released, but now that it was he tried to jerk his hips even more in an effort to get the larger mech to sink it into him.


'Cylonus! I- oh Cyclonusss…'


'What's wrong Tailgate?' The smaller mech whined when the digits in his valve were removed, Cyclonus instead rubbing his spike against the twitching rim. 'Do you want something?' Instead off being out of reach, Cyclonus was leaning over the small mech, encompassing him with his heat, though Tailgate was unable to reciprocate now even if he wanted to, frame completely out of his control.


'I n-need, please!' He was vaguely aware of Cyclonus entwining their servos together, pressing them into the berth next to his helm.


'Tell me what you need Tailgate.' And with the low growl of his name, tailgate came completely undone.


'Oh primus Cyclonus! P-Please, please I need you, need your spike, n-need you inside me oh please! Oh please Cyclonus!' He was babbling, trying to hook his pedes around the other's legs to draw their frames together, and Cyclonus was everywhere, above and around him, his red optics blazing though him.


'You beg so nicely…' A small quirk of a smile. 'How could I refuse.'


And then finally that spike was pressing against him, the size difference with their frames requiring they slowly ease themselves together, and as the head stretched and slipped past the sensitive rim Tailgate could swear he saw stars.


It was gradual, but the stretch and feeling of being so blissfully full had Tailgate unable to even vocalise properly, only able to spit static or occasionally murmur with enjoyment, and he knew when Cyclonus was as far in as possible when the larger mech paused, letting them both take a moment to adjust and just enjoy the feeling. No matter how wanting and ready Tailgate might have been, there was simply no way that their pelvic plating would be flush on the first thrust, and it usually took an overload for his valve to relax and stretch enough that the huge spike could sink fully inside.


After a moment of just enjoying, Tailgate tentatively twitched his hips up, asking Cyclonus to move when he was ready, which he more than was, and the minibot let out a shuddering gasp when the pressure in his valve redrew, only to slowly make it's way back in.


It started off slow, like they always did, loosening the tight valve a little until Cyclonus felt he could slam in without hurting the smaller mech. Servos still held next to his helm, Tailgate used his legs to wrap around the other's thighs, stroking up the backs with his pedes encouragingly whilst tipping his hips into each thrust.


It didn't take too long before Cyclonus was able to thrust hard and fast, purposefully dragging his spike along sensors to leave Tailgate moaning and writhing under him, though the minibot wanted more.


'Cy-ah! Cyclonusss, p-please-' He gasped loudly on a particularly sharp thrust against his top ceiling node. 'Talk! Please!' He received a deep rumbling moan in reply, before Cyclonus made an effort to indulge him.


'Y-you feel, so good Tailgate. So hot, and so unbelievably tight!' They both moaned in unison, and Tailgate was suddenly aware that he was close. 'So, so good! Nng! Primus!' Tailgate's spark flipped at the thought he was causing Cyclonus to lose his tightly held control, and he could feel himself edging ever closer to overload. Apparently so could Cyclonus, because he angled his hips to trust against a particular node, hitting it over and over again, leaving Tailgate whimpering and jerking to try and force himself over the edge.


'Cyclonus, please! I'm, I'm so close, please!'


'Then, overload! Let yourself go, and come for me Tailgate!' The deep moan of his name was the last bit he need to finally tip, vision whiting out as he overloading, frame twitching and shuddering while Cyclonus continued to drive into him, prolonging the effects. He thought he could hear a static-filled scream, and he wondered what it was before realising it was coming from him, not that the could bring himself to care.


Cyclonus, showing unbelievable restraint in Tailgate's view, slowed to a pause, releasing the minibot's servos to brush over his helm, wordlessly checking if he was okay to go on; Tailgate just answered by grinding down best he could on the spike still filling him, servos coming up to loosely hold onto the other's upper arms.


Taking his cue, Cyclonus hunched over and brought his pace back up, their pelvic plating slamming together now that Tailgate's valve had stretched enough, and it was all that the minibot could do to cling on and ride it, the feelings exaggerated in his now overly-sensitive valve. All too soon he could feel the familiar building of charge, forced back up by the strong, deep thrusts, and he could only clutch at the other's plating as he moaned.


The pace only last for a short while, both too charged up to last much longer, and it was the final deep thrust that finally set Tailgate off again, valve spasming while it was filled with transfluid. Unlike the loud, moaning minibot, Cyclonus only grunted as he overloaded, optics off as he lost himself in the feelings off the tight valve twitching and drawing out the last drops of transfluid; the excess fluid had already forced it's way out and was dripping to the berth, and it was only going to get messier when Cyclonus finally withdrew.


Careful not to crush his companion, Cyclonus shifted and collapsed just to the side, arm dragging Tailgate tightly to his frame as they both struggled to cool their frames and enjoy the aftershocks. Eventually Cyclonus' spike began to depressurise, and Tailgate was able to wriggle off without too much trouble, and though the gush of mixed fluids made him pout in distaste, he lay back down exhausted, fully planning on cleaning up when he could finally feel his legs again. Until then, he was able to lay and enjoy this quiet moment with his room mate.


Well, it was quiet for a moment at least.


'Your accent during interface was appalling.' Tailgate looked up at Cyclonus, pouting when he saw the amused glint in his optics. Huffing, he snuggled back into the larger frame.


'Well we'll just have to practice it more, won't we.' And with the deep rev of the other's engines, Tailgate knew Cyclonus would be more than willing to extend their twice-weekly lessons to, perhaps, daily.