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Getaway sighed blissfully as he rolled his hips forward and sank his spike deeply into the petite frame underneath him. He couldn't get enough of that feeling, getting to push all the way in on his first thrust. There was an intoxication that came with the mix of knowing the delicious friction along his spike caused some pain, along with the way he knew he'd trained the little bot to see that pain as validation of desire. He grabbed the waste disposal bot's hands, spreading his arms as he pounded his hips forward with more force than he needed. The way Tailgate's legs around his shoulders tightened made his spark flutter. He loved the way the little autobot winced and whimpered and still moaned for more, having been taught he just had to fight through the rough beginning so he could reach the heights of pleasure. Getaway's fingers curled and shifted with the chirolinguistics he'd taught Tailgate.
He'd told the little bot it meant 'I love you, Darling,' and the response meant 'I love you, too.'
You're such a pathetic little loser. he signed.
Fuck me till I can't walk. came the shaking, staggered response.
His spike twitched. Fucking with the little bot simply felt too good. He always had to take care not to be too overt with him, or he'd give up the game. He wanted to do it eventually, of course. Nothing was sweeter than seeing an innocent, infatuated face scrunched up in misery and betrayal, after all. But it had to be a special event. One he'd planned for maximum impact. And today was nothing special, just another routine fuck in the lesser-used hallways of the ship. Just hidden enough that they wouldn't run into the bots most likely to interfere and just public enough that one of the more unsavoury bots would likely at least hear them and spread some rumours.
"Oh yeah... Nngg... Like that, don't you? I'm gonna knock you up..."
His whispers were less the passionate growls of a lover and checked-out grunts of someone playing with a toy. He could feel the little bot tense up with worry and the even more delicious tightening of Tailgate's valve as he tried his best to relax and stay in the moment. Getaway had told him MTOs were all sterile, after all. And the little bot had actually believed him. His engine roared as he rammed his hips forward again. He knew he was being particularly rough today, and part of him was whispering in the back of his mind to take it down just a notch so Tailgate wouldn't break entirely. But the way his engine overpowered the white and blue little waste's whimpers was simply intoxicating. The heat in his gut coiled around him, spreading through his array and reaching up for his spark as his charge grew. He would breed Tailgate as much and as hard as he could before destroying his life. He'd fill him up good.
The little guy was getting into it, too. His own hips were rolling back hard, rocking into the motion more and more as he got used to the pain and friction, but just when he started to find his voice, enough that he might find the words to ask Getaway to slow down, the escapologist changed their position to keep him off balance. He lifted the smaller bot, holding his weight using the legs on his shoulders, and the valve speared on his spike. He wrapped his arms around the smaller frame, squeezing him, smothering him against himself even as he reached quietly down to his hip for his nudge gun.
He'd gotten practiced at pulling the thing out while they fucked, and had spent a considerable amount of time loading up a real feast of thoughts to implant in Tailgate's head. Each one meticulously crafted to carry along feelings of lust and shame in equal measure. By the time he was done with the minicon he wanted Tailgate to associate doubt and shame with pleasure in a most direct way.
I hope I'm doing well enough for him
The way Tailgate tensed up. the way his valve clenched in discomfort around Getaway's spike. Oh, this really was bliss. He'd planned to pace himself, but maybe he could be a little greedy today and take his feast early.
I wish he'd do that kink we discussed
He's the only one who won't be disgusted
His spike feels so good
Admittedly, that last one was entirely ego. Getaway simply liked knowing his pet project was thinking it.
He groaned heavily as he felt that coiled heat inside of him explode, warm transfluid pouring out of him like a damn had broken. With no protection between them, he could feel every drop fill and stain Tailgate's already stretched valve. He pumped his hips another two times, letting his twitching member spill its final shots deeper than Tailgate would ever be comfortable with anyone reaching, and slid out while revelling in the way the swollen valve clung to him.
He pretended to be so drained from his overload he dropped Tailgate to the floor in an unceremonious heap, immediately crouching to cup his chin with one hand and keep him from seeing the nudge gun aimed at his helm with the other.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Scout. Are you okay?"
His finger pulled the trigger. Click.
I'm so close please treat me like waste I need it I need it
"Hey, I was thinking, since I got to have my fun... maybe it's time we tried out that thing you mentioned?"
Click.
Use me I'm just a rag I'm disgusting
"I mean, it's not really my thing; it's a bit weird, to be honest, but I want to make sure you enjoy these sessions as much as I do. You really have a way with your valve, Scout."
Click
I'm such a freak I'm so lucky Getaway tolerates me
Click
Oh Primus, it's so hot when he acts like I'm dirty
With a small flourish, Getaway put the gun back on his hip, his little partner none the wiser. Not a difficult task in most situations, but even easier now that repeated nudge bullets had stuffed his processor with intrusive thought after invading thought. As he helped the minicon to his knees, he idly wondered if he'd even remember their tryst today. Or if there would be permanent damage. Non-discovery protocol always advocated never using it more than three times on a target within a week, and the more he used it, the more he could tell it was building up a fog around the little guy's real thoughts.
He patted Tailgate's cheek and stood, taking hold of his half-hard member and aiming. The lack of focus in his optics, the way he opened his intake and just sat there on his heels looking up at him, as if thinking anything else than the cocktail of self-degradation and desire he'd been served was totally out of his reach.
Getaway had to control himself, or he'd get too hard to do the task.
He sighed happily as he voided his tank, the stream splashing over the waste disposal expert's visor and cheeks and dribbling down his chest and back. The dark yellow would stain his light blue and white paint if he didn't clean it quickly enough. Note to self, tell the little brat I'm giving him time to gather himself and ditch him here. With any luck, he'll go into recharge; he looks exhausted enough. He'll have to scrub for hours to get my marking off... He aimed at the little hole in his face mask, shuddering as he heard Tailgate slurp and sip and gulp the acrid fluid down.
His eyes couldn't hide their contempt as he said one word, but he knew it didn't matter. He could already tell what was about to happen. The moment Tailgate heard him speak, he'd cry out, both hands on his valve and gushing, dripping out some of Getaway's transfluid along with some voiding of his own. Then he'd collapse, barely conscious, in a puddle of their shared fluids, and go into recharge.
And as usual, Getaway was exactly right.
"Filthy."