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Cyclonus leaned into the corner of the room, his hand tightly wrapped around the party cube of engex as if he was willing it to fuse with his digits. The room was too loud, the mechs too noisy, the lights strobing far too hard for him to see across the room. Suffice it to say, Cyclonus really, really hated parties. Unfortunately, he didn't hate parties nearly enough to hate the friends that dragged him to parties, but now here he was, in a corner contemplating his life decisions while his friends danced and drank the night away.
“Are you having fun?” his partner slid up to him, holding a similar cube of energon, already mostly emptied. “You look like you’re trying to merge into the wall itself.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know you do, trust me.” Paragon leaned against the wall with him, his body tilted so that he was casting a little bit of shadow over the lights, shielding his partner from the seizure of strobelights. “Just another hour or so, till Provoke’s too drunk to notice us leaving. She’s already gotten through three drinks…”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the appeal of such functions. Other than to get intoxicated and make a fool of yourself.”
“And dance, poorly.”
“And dance poorly. It’s too loud to socialize. Too dark to do anything else. What really is there to do?”
“Hook up, maybe.”
“Hook up.” Cyclonus’s face scrunched in confusion and mild disgust. “You’re not saying mechs actually interface in conditions like this, with so many others around.”
“Well, usually you’d find a room for that. Some spare bedroom or office, maybe a storage closet.” Paragon explained sheepishly. “It’s about the rush, the taboo thrill of semi-public interface. Provoke talks about it all the time, I’m surprised you hadn’t picked up on the idea.”
“Well, I thought she was joking about it! That’s just depraved; doing it in someone else’s house?!” Cyclonus ranted, not aware that Paragon had shifted from his place near the wall, slowly sliding to box Cyclonus in, only noticing when the tank was almost pinning him against the wall with his frame. His broad cyan chest almost pressed up against his own, the room seemed to shrink down to just him and the ludicrously attractive mech in front of him, the strobelights and sounds banished as Cyclonus’s attention turned elsewhere. In that moment, Cyclonus… kind of got it. Definitely got it.
“So, you want to try it?” The tank purred.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
–
Cyclonus sighed breathily, pressing kisses against Paragon’s faceplate as the tank pushed him against the back of the closet, and then relented and pulled him in close by the hips, pressing their interface panels together. He never thought he’d think it, but he was grateful for how disorienting the party had been- with all the commotion and flashy lights outside, nobody had noticed when they had slipped into the storage cubbies by the hallway, and nobody would notice them missing for a little while.
Inside this room, though, it was much quieter- the doors shielding them from the brunt of the music, even if it was darker inside. But not dark enough to hide the details from him as Paragon gave him a cheeky look and raised his hand to his faceplate.
The yellow covering dropped away with a klik and another pair of lips met his own, a soft tongue flickering over his lips before being granted entry inside. Paragon rarely took off his faceplate in public- his full face reserved for special occasions and his innermost circle. But his lips and tongue were Cyclonus’s solely. Cyclonus moaned into the kiss, his own tongue dancing with his partner’s, feeling the tank’s fingertips glide down his body and rub circles into his lower paneling. Their breaths and vents intermingling, Paragon pulled back for just the briefest of moments, letting a thin strand of oral lubricant drip from between their lips and snap, before diving down to plant kisses on Cyclonus’s neck.
The jet threw his head back, optics pointed to the roof to give his lover access to the soft white cables lining his neck. Paragon’s mouth explored, licking and kissing softly at sensitive fuel lines, his soft laugh rumbling across Cyclonus’s frame as his vents kicked up and started whirring harder. There was something extremely intimate about the way Paragon ravished him, be it the cramped confines of the closet, tightening the space between the two of them, or the desperate bid to not moan his lover’s name as he suckled at the base of his neck cabling. Maybe it really was the rush of being touched like this in a place that anyone could simply open to the world at any given moment, exposing their indecency for all to see. Either way, it was giving Cyclonus a rush like no other, his spark spinning in his chest more rapidly by the second.
Paragon explored down from there, his tongue rasping at his collar and down his chest, while his fingers finally found the jet’s valve panels, beckoning entry. Cyclonus let him in without any fight, passing the point of no return to any form of decency he might’ve wanted to defend. Oh well , he thought, as his lover’s fingers pressed against his exposed valve, already slick with lubricant, spreading him open with two digits. This, so far, had been the most fun he’d ever had at any party- illicit as it was.
He gasped sharply as Paragon’s lips met his midriff, the tank stooping to his knees and looking up at him with a soft, mischievous look behind his visor, before his tongue began to flicker against his plating in a trail down to his valve. The jet leaned into his touch, tilting his hips forward to grant him access and to brace himself against the wall cubicles when Paragon’s lips wrapped around his node and started to suck lightly. Cyclonus stifled a moan, his fans cycling hard as Paragon began his work, burying his face between his thighs.
He was a little glad that their fooling around hadn’t led to actual interfacing. As loud as the party outside was, he wasn’t sure if it would cover up the sounds of metal against metal, or the embarrassing noises that were bound to be emitted as a result. His hand was already over his mouth to cover up the groans of pure delight he made as his lover’s tongue slid against his entrance, pulling at the underside of his node before punctuating it with a kiss.
He could feel Paragon’s nasal ridge press against him as the tank dove deeper, his tongue probing inside, circling his hole and flicking away lubricant. Cyclonus was in heaven, moaning breathlessly with every flick of the tongue. He started rolling his hips, grinding his valve against Paragon’s face and eliciting a hum of amusement from his partner. The vibration of the sound buzzed pleasantly against his node, and he cried out softly, placing a hand on Paragon’s helm to keep him there.
Paragon grinned in response- he could feel his lips shift against his valve- and then the tank wrapped his hands around Cyclonus’s hips and revved his engines. Hard. Cyclonus moaned- and louder than he’d liked, but the vibrations from his partner’s frame were just so hard to resist. Combined with the way Paragon was lapping at his valve like a starved mech, his overload came quick and crashed over his frame. His legs buckled, which didn’t stop Paragon at all as the tank pulled him close and purred into his valve. A high moan escaped the jet’s lips as his frame spasmed, spitting nothing but charge and steam, lubricant dripping down Paragon’s lips and face as he insistently rumbled against his soft mesh, prolonging his pleasure for as long as he could.
By the time Cyclonus had finished overloading he was a flustered jelly mess and slowly sank to the floor of the closet, catching his breath. Paragon giggled softly, leaning in to kiss him again, and he could taste himself on the tank’s lips. His lubricant was still dripping from his lover’s face- a dead giveaway to the earlier antics within this little space, but Paragon quickly recovered his mask and re-equipped it over the mess. He would clean up when they got home, which hopefully would be relatively soon.
Outside, the party continued to rage on, none the wiser.
–
It did seem like nobody had missed them, when Paragon slipped the door open and quickly pulled him and Cyclonus back into the music and lights. But as they crossed the room, moving away from the storage closet, Paragon’s visor caught someone’s optic- and he turned to make direct optic contact with Grudge, a knowing grin plastered on his face. The tank played it cool, and directed him and Cyclonus to another room.
That didn’t stop the truck from catching up with Paragon when Cyclonus wasn’t by his side, though. When Highfire pulled the jet away, leaving the tank standing alone by the concessions table, Grudge sidled in wearing a proud look, and passed a drink to his friend.
“So, you get some just now?” He asked, his optics rolling to look in the direction of the closet in the other room. Paragon scoffed, putting the drink to the side and crossed his arms coolly, leaning against the wall.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Grudge chuckled, seeing right through his friend’s ploy of innocence- but he didn’t say any more about it. He threw half his drink back and held out his hand for a fist bump.
Paragon glanced around the room, checking to see that no optics were on him, and smugly returned the gesture.