warnings: Robots getting up to adult sexytime stuff. botnap, all the good stuff






Tailgate had never really pictured himself here when he'd imagined his life as a grown mech way back when. He's a Waste Disposal mech, specializing in sewer work, and it's probably the lowest rung on the ladder of janitorial work on the entire planet. It's not like he's got the skills for anything else. Tailgate can't do customer-service stuff because he blurts out stupid stuff and insults bots without meaning to, or else he stutters and makes a mess of things. He tried the whole Bootcamp shebang way back when, but after accidentally launching a bucket of oil directly onto his Sergeant's head, when he'd already been put on a punishment cleaning duty, well . . they'd tossed him out so fast he'd had to go back the next sol to pick up his things.

The only thing he's good at is cleaning, and even then, he's not the best. Sometimes he tips buckets over or lands face-first in whatever he's trying to clean up, because . . . well, just because. He's clumsy.

Glancing down at his peds as he climbs up the very slippery steps out of the sewer entrance, Tailgate wonders if he could blame the size of his peds for his clumsiness. He has very small peds, after all.

But so does Glaive, his boss, and Glaive /chose// to work down in the sewers because he /hates// other mechs, even though he's really pretty /and// smart and graceful, so the peds thing probably isn't to blame.

When he gets to the tops of the steps, he instantly goes to the public washrack to clean up. Technically, he's supposed to have a badge to show he's an Autobot or Decepticon to get in, but no one is going to make a bot that smells like the sewers stink up the rest of the place when he's going to get cleaned up. Especially since he knows the washrack is here specifically for sewer mechs.

The cleanser is harsh and sharp smelling, but it cuts through the scent of the sewers, and he's no longer entrenched in stench.

Which is good, since walking out of the washrack has him tripping over nothing, and landing heavily on a mech's legs, sending the large purple bot tumbling, and tangling them up together. He tries to remove his limbs from under the bot, but it isn't helping any that the mech is just... stock still, and staring at him.

It's weird.

"Sorry, sorry," Tailgate mumbles, squirming to try and untangle himself, but a big clawed servo grabs one of his arms to stop him.

"Are you alright?" a deep, rumbling voice asks, and Tailgate feels a little shiver go down his backstrut. The other mech sounds really nice. Definitely the kind of deep-engine rumble that he'd seek out at one of the bars.

"I'm fine," he answers, even though he knows his faceplate must be pink with the hot blush of embarrassment he can feel. "Sorry I ran into you." Tripped and fell into him, really, but it's not like Tailgate needs to humiliate himself anymore.

"It's fine. I'm Cyclonus, and you are?"

"An idiot," he says instantly, not really processing what he's saying.

"... What?"

Mentally catching up to what he's saying, and unable to stop himself, he sputters out, "That's you, for getting in my way. You're too big and tall, and-" he scrambles to his feet, and rushes away, feeling incredibly stupid. If he'd just /shut up// like a normal bot, he wouldn't be in this position in the first place. He'd be a secretary or something.

But no, he has to go running his dumb vocal processor.

Frag, he really hopes the big mech doesn't come after him, because it's not like he can fight and--

Oh. Oh /no//.

Had the other mech said his name was /Cyclonus//? As in, Cyclonus of Team Chaar, one of the best warrior units in the Decepticon-Autobot combined army?

Oh no, if the bot follows him, he's not going to get beaten up, he's going to get /offlined//!

Tailgate vents in and out sharply, ducking into the closest bar as quick as he can. He normally doesn't go to the Leaky OilCan, because the fuel is overpriced, but he can hide in here. Hide and find some mech to cuddle with to con them out of a cube of fuel, while he tries to convince himself that Cyclonus won't care enough to come after a nobody like him.

He manages to find a likely canidate, and sits on the mech's lap the very instant the bot offers him a cube of fuel. He relaxes as he pulls out one of his curly straws, and sips on it, letting the bot talk to him about whatever sport it is that's being played right now. Something about hitting it with a stick. What is it? He doesn't care. Especially since the bot clearly just wants someone to ramble about how amazing some players are. Well, he's here to pretend to listen, as long as he's able to fuel.

--

Cyclonus is... frustrated. The cute little mini that ran into him just the other sol is likely in a relationship, and that means his initial plans for botnap the moment he saw the bot are so many ashes.

But he can't give up. Not when he's found a bot that seems... amazing. Like something in him is telling him he /cannot// let the bot go.

He followed the sweet mini into the bar, hoping he'd get a chance to talk to him a little longer, before deciding if he should give in to the strange impulse he'd almost been overwhelmed with.

But by the time he reached the bar, he'd found the minibot /on another mech's lap//, cuddling and sipping from a cube, chatting about some sport. Something dark had twisted inside him then, wondering if their relationship was new enough that the minibot wouldn't mind losing his partner to a mysterious /accident//.

He's a better mech than that, though, so he'd seethed and turned on his heel, leaving the bar behind.

But he's not /much// of a better mech, because now he's here, the next sol, lurking in the shadows near the place he'd run into the little minibot, ready to follow him again.

And there he is!

He's about to give into instinct and grab the bot, but the mini goes straight into the public washrack. He frowns, looking at where the mini emerged from, and mentally shrugging. He supposes the bot works in the sewers, then. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but someone has to do it.

Soon, the mini is out of the washrack, and he restrains himself by reminding himself that he can't take a bot that is in a relationship. It feels deeply unfair that this is a rule, since he remembers a time when that /wasn't// required, but he knows a more peaceful life for the majority of bots is better than his ability to botnap anyone he wants.

Especially since this is the first time he's ever felt the urge.

The minibot doesn't notice him following behind, so Cyclonus feels confident enough to tail after him a bit closer. Close enough to admire the sweet curve of his pert little aft. Cyclonus had managed a very quick feel of it when the bot had run into him last sol, even though it had been accidental, grabbing at it when he'd toppled over.

If the minibot is in a relationship, perhaps Cyclonus can intimidate the other mech into letting go of his claim? After all, any mech who would let such a pretty mini go without a fight isn't worth that bot's time.

He does know what the mech looks like, and he can wait for the mini to duck somewhere to shine up before seeing if he can push the bot away. In fact, that's what he's going to do.

He lets the mini go to the bar, and walks in a short bit after, only to blink in deep confusion. The minibot is in another bot's lap. A bot he knows is one of Oil Slick's little minions, and who has no interest in any sort of relationship outside of one night stands.

The bot has a cube of fuel again, sipping through a fancy curly straw while he's held in the bigger bot's arms.

Well, it seems as though his mini is a bit of a berth-hopper, which doesn't bother Cyclonus too much. If the mech needs more satisfaction than he can provide--which is unlikely--then he can find bots that won't press for more than a single night later on. Bots that won't threaten his relationship.

Cyclonus takes a seat at a booth in the corner, out of the line of sight of the minibot, but /in// the line of sight of . .. what's the mech's name again? Starbright, Starcrush, something like that. He can never keep track of Oil Slick's minions.

The minon eventually looks over at him, jerks a little, then glances from the mini to him. Something in Cyclonus's expression must be properly motivating, since the spaceship mech moves the servo that was groping the mini's chest to lay flat on the table. Then the bot's other servo soon joins it.

Which is good, since Cyclonus is going to cut them off if they keep touching /his// mini.

Obviously the mini doesn't like this, because he squirms and rubs his frame sensually against Star-whatever, trying to get the mech to grope him. To the mech's credit, he keeps his servos clenched on the tabletop, probably out of fear of what Cyclonus's gaze promises.

After a breem of mostly-silence and no touching, the minibot lets out an audible huff and then puts his empty cube on the table, leaving the bar as quickly as he'd come into it.

Cyclonus pushes up and sees Star-something do the same, but he's /much// faster than the spaceship, and has him pinned face-down over the table with a force that rattles the empty cubes on the surface.

"Woah, woah, Cyclonus, sir, I seriously didn't know Tailgate was yours!" the mech splutters, not even trying to fight him off.

Tailgate? A lovely name, indeed.

"Then keep your filthy servos /off// him," he hisses, and lets go, stalking out of the bar in the hope that he can find the bot and scoop him up.

Unfortunately, that isn't the case. The little bot has just disappeared, leaving him unhappy and wanting.

But, it is probably for the best.

He has a name now, and knows where the mech works. He can get the information required for a proper botnap. And this gives him time to outfit his home, anyway.

It can take up to the full decastellar to convince a mech to bond, so he'll need to make sure he knows at least a little of Tailgate's interests, to help move things along faster. He should have some courtship gifts ready as well, should the mech prove interested early on. And he should stockpile a lot of fuel, to keep them well-charged when they make love for decacycles at a time.

He palms his interfacing panel and tries to keep his spike from pressurizing straight out at just the thought of the minibot in his berth.

But he will figure out what he can, and be ready for Tailgate in his home.

--

Tailgate is feeling a little better. Cyclonus stopped following him about five sols ago, so now he feels better about walking slower as he gets out of the sewers. He scratches off something from his side, and sighs as it lands on the sidewalk with a wet sound. Looking at it, he winces a little. That's a lot of slime and gross things.

He's about to walk into the washrack when he's suddenly in large purple arms, and being carried away. He yelps, "What?!?"

"Don't worry," that deep voice stays, and he can't help how his spark pulses excitedly at the sound of it. It isn't his fault! The mech sounds super hot, and wonderful. And look, if he's downloaded some clips of the mech to use when he's in the berth, that's no one's business but his own. The bot takes to the air, moving far faster with jetpeds than Tailgate can go in carmode, and continues, "I'm going to take you home now. I need to know if you're dating anyone."

"Am I... what?"

"Are you dating anyone?" the mech repeats slowly, before touching down in front of a massive, /expensive// apartment complex. Well, in front of is the wrong term, because the mech really landed on a big balcony, before pressing a servo to a pad there to be allowed inside. "A simple yes or no is all that I need, Tailgate."

"No?" he manages, still confused about what's going on. He's only talked to Cyclonus once, but he's /seen// the mech a few times in the bars he's been going to. He knows the mech's been following him sometimes.

"Good." The mech strides inside, and starts to set him on what /has// to be an incredibly expensive piece of furniture.

Not wanting to ruin it, he clings to the mech, "N-no."

Instantly, Cyclonus holds him tighter, sounding pleased, "You want me to keep holding you?"

Since setting him on the floor is the same problem, he nods quickly, "Yes!"

The mech rubs claws along his frame, "I will need to inform bots where you are, but we can stay like this for now."

What is the mech /talking// about?

Cyclonus sits down at an incredibly complex, expensive living room vid console, holding Tailgate on his lap. If he wasn't so confused, this might be really, /really// nice, instead of just really nice and also terrifying. "My research could not find any close family to contact for you, so in accordance with the rules, I would like to ask who you want me to contact. If you can think of no one, I will inform Lord Megatron."

Inform /Lord Megatron// of /what//? Tailgate's visor fritzes out for a klik and when everything comes back into focus, Cyclonus is typing in . . . the contact information for /Glaive//? How the frag does Cyclonus know Tailgate's boss's private com number?

Glaive answers slowly, finally turning on the com to growl out, "What is it?" But that's Glaive. The mech likes absolutely no one.

Cyclonus keeps rubbing Tailgate's frame, "As is required, I must inform you of how Tailgate will not be returning to work."

Glaive stares at him, then looks at Cyclonus blankly, "You woke me up for /this//?"

"You were already online. I know you were only just done with work and home. There was not enough time for you to have been in your berthroom."

His boss's optic twitches a little. "Look, I don't care how much you wanna frag, you don't just call out like this, and you don't bug me when I'm /at home//."

Tailgate starts to apologize but his vocal processor fritzes offline when Cyclonus interrupts him with, "You misunderstand me, Glaive. Tailgate won't be returning to work for the duration of his botnap with me."

Glaive's jaw snaps shut, and his boss blinks a few times, resetting his optics twice. "You . . . well, huh. Didn't expect that." While Tailgate's processor is reeling, his boss sniffs. "You registered it with the legal department yet?"

"Yes," Cyclonus says, sounding smug. "I only waited for everything to clear, or I would have called you last night."

His boss groans, "Fine." The mech scowls, and mutters, "Who slaggin' botnaps a sewer worker? I got this job to /stop// idiots from trying it on me, but now I have to worry that-"

Cyclonus interrupts, sounding kind, "I only botnapped Tailgate because it felt like a sign from  Primus."

Glaive stares at the jetbot, "... Aren't you an atheist?"

"That's irrelevant," Cyclonus's servos keep petting his armor. "Now, I have one more com to make, so I won't keep you any longer." The console goes dark, and Tailgate can see his stunned reflection in it.

Botnap?

Is this . . is this for real? He's clearly finally tripped and smacked his helm so hard he's hallucinating, because in /no// reality would a mech like Cyclonus bring a minibot as stupid and plain as Tailgate home for a romantic botnap.

For a quickie, maybe.

"You're... botnapping me?" he whispers, unable to really believe it.

"I /have// botnapped you," Cyclonus corrects, and those claws go from mild petting to outright groping. The tips of them go into his valveplate seams, rubbing and fondling with the whole servo when he doesn't open.

He wants to open, yes, but he's /filthy//.

And besides, isn't it . . . bad, to interface right at the beginning of a botnap? He thinks he heard something about that, maybe on Shambles? A bot who gives in right away is basically just a slut, or something.

Tailgate's processor keeps wandering, and he thinks he might be a little bit in shock. Or maybe Cyclonus is, to have botnapped him. Did he knock something loose in the other mech's processor when he ran into him?

He manages to focus when he sees Megatron on the com, his pretty bonded on his lap. "Cyclonus? Why are you contacting me?"

"Tailgate has no family, and gave me no one to com when I asked him, so I must contact you about this."

"What are you-"

The pretty truckbot on the spaceship's lap interrupts, putting a servo on the bigger bot's chest, "This wouldn't just so /happen// to involve that filework that passed by my desk this morning, would it?"

Cyclonus nods once, "It does, Optimus."

The mech smiles, looking pleased, "So, this is Tailgate?"

Cyclonus smirks, "He is."

Optimus looks at him, "Well, I hope Cyclonus isn't too rough on you, Tailgate. Larger Decepticons can be /pushy// when they botnap you."

He flushes, looking down, since he knows the mech must be talking from experience. It was a bit of a scandal, since Megatron did something unprecedented, and took his bonded straight from Bootcamp, only three sols after being renamed.

There had been such an uproar over it, newsbots all over had reported on nothing but it for decacycles. Not only had no one botnapped a mech still in bootcamp before, but /Megatron// had shown no interest in any long-term relationships prior. The story that Megatron eventually shared was that he'd seen Optimus on his second sol in bootcamp during an inspection and something in his spark had just /known// that the mech was meant for him, and had arranged his botnap the very next sol.

Of course, now there's all kinds of legislation preventing a bot from being botnapped /while// they're in bootcamp. They have to either graduate, get kicked out, or resign with a witness before they're eligible for it.

"Pushy?" Megatron chuckles, and one of his servos rubs possessively over Optimus's chest. The two of them have had a /lot// of sparklings together so far, because they're a blessed couple. Primus prefers them. "Hardly, sweetspark. I'll thank you to remember who it was who felt the need to 'test' every mechano-inch of my frame before determining if I was worthy of a bond."

"And test I did," Optimus says, sounding amused. The mech returns focus to the com, "But if you want something from him, Tailgate, you're going to need to say it. Just like if he's trying for something you /don't// want, you need to say it. He's responsible for your wellbeing, and he knows it. Isn't that right, Cyclonus?"

"Yes. I want nothing but the best for you, Tailgate."

He's not really sure how to respond to that information. Not really. He goes with the standard, "... Okay."

Optimus gives him a kind smile, and Tailgate would be lying if he claimed it didn't make his spark pulse a little harder. That's just what a bot like that does to mechs though--Optimus has been voted in the top ten most beautiful bots on Cybertron more times than Tailgate can count, and it's well-earned. "It may seem a little overwhelming at first. I was just as confused when my love botnapped me, but you'll have time to decide how you feel about Cyclonus, and whether or not you want to stay with him. Remember, you have a decastellar to figure it out."

A decastellar as Cyclonus's captive, if the other mech doesn't come to his senses first and ditch Tailgate like a rust-rotted Stinging Crystal plant.

He taps his fingers together, and wonders if he should ask that. It seems rude to do, especially since the mech said it felt like a sign from Primus. But... really, that's just silly. Tailgate is no Primus blessed bot. He knows that very well. He knows about the /stellar// he spent, praying at the end of every sol in the hope of Primus answering his prayers.

And what he got from all that time and effort?

Nothing.

Still, he can see the truckbot staring at him, so he says, "What if he changes his mind and figures out he doesn't want me?"

Cyclonus's claws clench a little against his plating then, but before the mech can say anything, Lord Megatron answers for him. "If, for some reason, Cyclonus proves false in his courtship of you, he will pay a penalty of three vorns of his pay and will have a restraining order keeping him a minimum of twenty mechanomiles away from you at all times for twenty decavorns." The leader of the Decepticon faction waves a servo dismissively, "But he will not prove false. A mech does not choose to botnap lightly--his spark will have led him to this choice, Tailgate."

The mech in question rumbles softly against the metal of his cowl. "I will use every megacycle of our time together to prove myself worthy of you, Tailgate."

That's... a lot of pressure.

He isn't ... he's pretty dizzy all of a sudden. He feels himself kind of sway, and he mumbles, "I ... um... I don't know what..."

"You must be hungry," Cyclonus says. "Bots who work in the sewers don't get paid nearly enough, unless they are Autobot or Decepticon."

Tailgate slumps back against the other mech, and dimly hears Optimus on the screen. "Remember, Tailgate, you always have access to emergency com numbers, as well as the legal department here, if you feel you need help or are being mistreated."

The next thing he knows, he's sitting on the softest couch he's ever touched in his entire life, and his entire frame stiffens at how he's getting filth all over it!

"Here, precious, please drink some fuel for me," Cyclonus rumbles, holding a tray of fuel for him, each minibot-sized cube decorated with a different curly straw.

He stares at it in confusion, ".... That's a lot of fuel."

"Just drink a little of each, and tell me your favorite."

He shakes his head, "I'll drink the cheapest one. I can't taste the difference anyway."

Cyclonus frowns, looking dangerous, but not at him, the mech is not looking at him, but off to the side, "Did you have to drink drone energon?"

"Uh... no?" He's heard of bots doing that, though. But he's small and cute enough he can sit on a lap and get fuel for free. Which means he can afford a shared apartment with- "Oh frag. I uh, I should call my landlord and tell him that I'm botnapped now." Just so the rotating bots who recharge in the place can have someone fill in. He never really got to know most of them, if only because it is easier not to when he's a sewer bot.

The jetbot strokes a servo along his side, up to cup his faceplates. "Your landlord has been informed and I have paid your rent for the next decastellar. You are not responsible for any of your expenses while I have you, precious."

Cyclonus . . . is paying for a shared apartment that isn't even gonna get used?

Well, Tailgate supposes that means he needs to worry a little less. If Cyclonus does kick him out from boredom or disgust later on, he'll have a place to go to. The whole 'three vorns of pay' thing is probably fake. He's never even heard of that before.

Of course, he's never heard of a botnap where the mech who did the botnapping tosses their botnap-ee out, but . .. well, if there's anything Tailgate's good at, it's being a complete, abysmal failure at everything, so he'll definitely be the first.

However, that /Megatron// says it, likely means Megatron will do that to Cyclonus, if only to make Optimus happy. He knows Optimus is on a lot of legal administration for botnapping. It's a very important thing, and kinda makes him wonder if he could do that some sol.

Doubtful, but there's that curiosity on if he could try.

He absolutely can't without being an Autobot or Decepticon, though. That's kind of a requirement. Neutrals should probably get that, too, but they aren't allowed on Cybertron. Unlike on Neutral planets.

And it's not like Tailgate could manage as a Decepticon. He couldn't even manage as an Autobot. Not even in the civilian guilds, because he failed the entrance tests after he was kicked out of bootcamp.

He'll just end up back in the sewers when Cyclonus comes to his senses.

"I've scheduled the medic to come next sol in the morning, for our exams," Cyclonus informs him, and then tries to offer the energon again. Tailgate takes a cube to keep from asking why they need a medic. Maybe to check Cyclonus's processor and make sure the bump from sols back didn't make him go crazy?

He finishes up the cube before long, and he looks at the tray thoughtfully. Is he hungry enough for a second cube? He could be, but also he's just fine right now. He wouldn't say no to /finally// having a proper energon ration in his subspace.

But that's rude to just take one for that. Theses aren't his cubes, and he can't just keep any for later.

Cyclonus, unfortunately, notices where he's looking. "Would you like another?"

"No," he lies easily. "I need to get clean."

"Of course," Cyclonus offers the tray towards him. "Please, put a few cubes in your subspace. I will feel more comfortable knowing you have spare fuel for when I am away." He pauses, "Of course, you have access to any of my dispensers as well as my fuel storage, but I would like to make sure you do not have to use those if you prefer not to for the sol."

Having been given permission for exactly what he wanted to do, Tailgate tucks two cubes away, feeling a sense of calm settle over him.

With that, he feels better, and is about to slip off the couch when Cyclonus scoops him up, and carries him along. "Do you want me to help wash you off?"

He glances at the bot's claws, unsure if he should accept or not. Likely not, since he is really gross, and wants to scrub under his armor, something /can't// do in a public washrack. But if he does that, it is always advised that another helps.

Hard to choose.

"Um," Tailgate knows he's not good with words. "You can watch if you want?" That way if he ends up tripping, maybe Cyclonus can catch him before he hits the floor, or the washrack shelves, or spills an entire bottle of cleanser down the drain.

"It would be my /pleasure//," Cyclonus practically purrs, and that expression on his faceplates is /definitely// a smirk.

He probably worded that stupidly, and the mech is laughing at him. Well, he's used to that, and is just glad the bot isn't actually laughing in his face. He'll take what he can get, and not complain.

The washrack is comfortable and pretty large. Way bigger than any public one, but he just assumes that's due to the large solvent soak on one side. He wants to sit in it, but to do that, he needs to clean up entirely first.

"I know my washrack is rather simple," Cyclonus murmurs, as if this isn't the fanciest washrack that Tailgate has ever set ped in. "This apartment suits my needs well, but I am prepared to move into a larger place after we have sparklings to care for."

Tailgate's ped slips out from under him and he's saved from landing on his aft only by Cyclonus's swift lunge, the other mech catching him under his arms.

Sparklings?

"Are you okay?" Cyclonus asks, inspecting him closely, making sure he's not damaged.

"You want sparklings?"

Cyclonus looks sad, "I know I was very public about not wanting them in the past, but that was a great deal of Decavorns ago. It is a statement that has haunted me, and one I regret. I would like them, now that I know how to act around them, and how I've cared for them."

It's really, really not that. Tailgate hadn't even known that Cyclonus had made any statement like that. It's more that . . . the mech is imagining a /family// with him? Tailgate had been so sure that this was just a 'facing thing. A way to frag Tailgate a bit maybe, and then move on.

But if he's thinking about sparklings?

Tailgate shakes his helm and stands on equally shaky peds. "I just . . I should rinse off. And then maybe soak for a while."

"Do you not want sparklings?"

"I never said that," he says, managing to get to the solvent spray.

Cyclonus is silent as Tailgate rinses off, and then walks over, pressing a small bottle of cleanser into his servo, "I got this for you to use. Since you clearly like being clean, I knew you'd like it."

He blinks, "Oh... thank you." He does like being clean, but he'd happily clean up on his own if getting fuel for free didn't require being shiny.

"May I help?" Cyclonus's claws twitch a little, hovering just a bit away from his plating. Tailgate wouldn't say no to such a handsome mech groping him a little under normal circumstances, but these are . . . odd?

"Maybe next time?" he shouldn't make it a question, but he can't help how it comes out. Will there even be a next time?

That gets a sad sort of sigh, and the mech takes a step away, "If that's what you want."

It isn't, but he thinks this is the smarter way of doing it. Maybe.

He scrubs clean, and Cyclonus asks, "Would you like me to leave you be?" He can almost hear the words choking the mech as they're said.

He glances back at the bot, who clearly wants him to refuse.

"You can soak with me," Tailgate offers, trying to sound at least a little confident in his own charms. What charms he has. Mostly, being able to trick bigger bots into cuddling him and giving him some fuel.

And on a couple really rare occasions, he'd end up going home with the mech after for a quick frag. Those bots /never// asked for a second round with him though, so Tailgate knows he's not very good in the berth.

He blinks when that response has Cyclonus instantly walk to the solvent soak, and set it to fill up. Which it does, significantly faster than it has any right to. He has to ask, "How is it doing that?"

"Seeker designed," Cyclonus says easily. "It overfills most Autobot sized solvent soaks much too fast to be used by the general public, but in Decepticon buildings, they're fairly standard."

Now he feels like an idiot for asking. Tailgate watches as Cyclonus pours some kind of oil in the soak and then gestures at him to get in.

At least the tub has some steps and a shelf for him to sit on, since it's /really// deep at the other end.

It's warm and comfortable, but he's hoping it works out okay for his protoform. He does let it crack open every time he cleans off, but he's heard that isn't usually enough. He just may get lucky, but he doesn't actually know.

Cyclonus sits next to him, and reaches for him cautiously, "Would you like to sit on my lap?"

He debates a bit, then scoots closer, "Okay."

There's something so comfortable about being held on a bigger mech's lap. Tailgate knows that some minis /hate// being held like this, but he's never been one of them. He loves being held and carried, or clinging to a mech's shoulders to ride on their back.

And Cyclonus has a really nice lap. It's not too big or too small, and he can just lean back against his chest. There's no unpleasantly sharp armor or decorations to worry about.

The mech instantly starts to stroke his frame, and he relaxes further, Yeah, this is how he /should// be held. It feels very nice, and he just sort of.. curls against the mech, yawning a little.

Cyclonus pauses, then resumes rubbing his frame, "Tired?"

"A little." No more than he usually is, but it isn't like he's used to downtime.

"You can recharge as late as you like here," Cyclonus promises him. "I have been given a decacycle off to spend with you, but when I go back to working, you do not need to online in the morning when I leave. I want you comfortable and happy here."

Tailgate hasn't recharged late since . . . well, bootcamp. That was one of the many things that had gotten him in trouble, but it wasn't his fault his internal alarm hadn't gone off. Or that the rest of his troop had somehow forgotten about him.

He tries his best, but it is rarely, if ever, enough. He knows he's just... bad at things.

Cyclonus rubs his side, "If you want to recharge now, you can, too. I have a datapad I can read."

He blinks, "No, it's okay." He can recharge later.. If he takes a nap, he may not recharge at all tonight. That isn't a smart idea at all.

Speaking of recharge. . . is he going to share Cyclonus's berth?

Or is he supposed to recharge on the couch until he's ready to interface?

There's no way he'll be up to Cyclonus's standards in the berth, if he can't even fully satisfy the random mechs who invited him home for one-night stands.

He shifts a little, feeling uncomfortable, but not sure how to bring it up. But Cyclonus helps, asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Where do I recharge tonight?"

"My berth." Cyclonus pauses, then adds, clearly reluctant, "But you can recharge somewhere else if you prefer."

"Like where?"

"I have a fold out berth."

That's better than a couch or a floor. But a normal berth is best. "Are you going to interface with me?"

Cyclonus lets out a groan and grips his thighs firmly. "I would love nothing more than to /have// you any way you would allow me, precious, but this goes at your pace. We interface when and how you desire. Until you ask me for something, I cannot give it to you."

That sounds fake, but okay.

He's never had anyone actually want him, since really. Him? Absurd. They want him since he's a mini.

From what he understands about botnapping, it is entirely about falling in love. Nobody wants to fall in love with him. That's not happening, and will never happen.

The best he can hope for--the absolute best--is for Cyclonus to not publically toss him aside when he gets bored of him. If he does it real quiet, maybe no one will make a fuss, and Tailgate won't have reporters after him, wanting to know how it feels to be the biggest loser ever, the only mech to have been tossed out by their botnapper.

Tailgate sighs a little, offlining his visor. Better not to think about it now. There's nothing he can do.

Cyclonus's servos rub his frame, then move up his neck, and slightly tip his head back, "May I kiss you?"

"No," his reply is instinctive and instant. Absolutley not happening. He knows what his intake looks like. He's not opening up and showing it at all. That's not happening. He's not going to endure comments on how it is to be exclusively on the spike.

No.

It's different when a mech just sees him use it to fuel--plenty of poor mechs have intakes for fuel rather than proper mouths, but in the context of interfacing? Tailgate doesn't want Cyclonus to jeer and stuff his claws in and declare how his only purpose is sucking spike. He's had to hear that too many times in his life already. And Cyclonus seems like a nice mech, and he doesn't want to ruin the illusion so fast.

The only /kisses// he'll get are ones to his facemask, before his helm is dragged right down to the mech's crotch, and he's not interested in that. Not yet.

Cyclonus nods, rubbing his helm, and no longer tilting it back. "Understandable. You only truly started talking to me this sol. I'm being much too forward."

Yeah, exactly. And be even more forward once he lowers his facemask. No thanks.

"Would you like to read, or maybe talk about something?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I have this datapad on knitting. I've been considering learning."

Knitting doesn't really seem like something a fierce warriormech would be into, but what does he know. Tailgate knows that if /he// attempted to knit something, he'd end up probably catching the apartment on fire somehow. "That sounds . . . nice?" he really hopes that this isn't all some roundabout way of Cyclonus trying to tell him that he wants /Tailgate// to learn how to knit, because . . . yeah, no way. Tailgate managed to fail the knot-tying lessons at bootcamp so badly that he'd not only tangled /himself// up in the ropes, but he'd managed to entangle three of his fellow cadets too.

They'd had to resort to a laser-scalpel to free them all.

It is not at all his finest megacycle, and is, in fact, deeply embarassing.

"Would you like something else? I have this datapad with stories on it."

"What kind of stories?" he asks.

In answer, Cyclonus gives it to him. He glances at it, and feels more confused. Looking at the Cyclonus prompts the bot to explain, "It is likely you don't know much about romantic botnapping." Which is an understatement, for certain. "So here are stories I've collected that all are along the general guidelines a botnapping beloved should expect."

Tailgate isn't sure he should get invested in all of this, because he's going to end up back in his own slagged up apartment within a few decacycles. As soon as Cyclonus learns a little more about him, and gets to realize that he's basically a walking disaster, he'll get dumped on the curb with a sharp 'keep this a secret' as a farewell. Or worse, since he's informed bots about this whole botnap thing, maybe he'll get dumped /offplanet// until the decastellar is over. That would suck slag, if he doesn't get access to his credits or anything.

"Um," Tailgate really hopes Cyclonus doesn't get /too// offended by him asking, but he needs to know, "if a bot offlines during a botnap, um, what happens?"

"The living one is investigated on if they murdered the other. if they are found innocent, the result is different. The botnapper must pay reprerations to the beloved's family, pay for the funeral, and take care of anything that could come up. They are /supposed// to be keeping the beloved safe, and I assure you, I will not allow you to be hurt, and absolutley not to offline. If it is the botnapper who offlines, and the beloved is found innocent, then the beloved gets treated as the widowed of the botnapper. That means inheritance and so on, but again, you have nothing to worry about. I am perfectly healthy."

He blinks, tilting his head, "Why is the vi- ah, beloved treated like a widowed bot?" He can't see why that is.

"The point of a botnap is bonding, so the beloved must be cared for afterwards."

Again, that's not something he really understands, but that's probably because he's not the brightest star in the sky. "And uh, what if a bot gets sparked, but they don't end up bonding?" He knows from his past medical exams that he has a pretty good spark fertility rating. Not the highest, but pretty good. If he lets his protocols down, he'll probably spark really fast, and there's always the chance of accidental sparking too, if he interfaces too much with a single mech.

Not that that is gonna be a problem here.

Cyclonus doesn't answer for almost three kliks, and it makes Tailgate want to change the subject, but just as he goes to ask something else, Cyclonus manages, sounding really gruff, "If . . . you were to spark and still chose to reject me, then I would respect your choice, but I would insist on visiting rights and shared custody for our sparkling."

Reject /Cyclonus//? He can't help his snort at that. He doesn't notice Cyclonus's unhappy and a little despondant look at the snort, just saying easily, "I assure you, that will not happen. Do not worry."

When he looks at the mech again, Cyclonus is as stonefaced as usual, "... Good. I would not like to have a sparkling with you, and you to reject me."

"Really," he says, patting Cyclonus on the chest, if only because doing this doesn't /seem// like he's doing it to do a tiny bit of groping, even if he is, since he's gonna get it in while he still can, "don't worry about that at all."

Cyclonus nods, "I prefer the idea of sparklings in a successful bond. If I am to have any, I want them with you at my side, Tailgate." The mech takes his servo and kisses it, sending a warm pulse through his frame.

How is he supposed to take a statement like that, other than assume that the mech is suffering some kind of delusion? No one wants sparklings with a plain, clumsy minibot like Tailgate.

Maybe.... the mech sees him and thinks because he's bright white with a blue visor, he's fitting with his aesthetic?

He thinks about the way the apartment is decorated, and has to reject that. For all that how nice the place looks, it is very much decorated for a sensible mech. There's white, but only on things that normally are white. Like walls, or counters.

So.... he's back at square one, and not knowing why the mech likes him.

Well, maybe he does find Tailgate attractive, at least a little bit. Lots of bots like minis, regardless of whether or not that mini is actually very good looking. Just as long as they're the right frame-type.

Tailgate glances over to a rack of datapads, trying to see if he can make out any titles--there's a lot of really famous datapad collections for minibot-fanciers.

But nothing is really stading out. Granted, that's likely due to them being in a washrack, and sitting in a soaking pool. He hums softly, and tucks the botnapping stories away, and says, "So..."

"Yes?"

He looks up at the mech, "You should show me the entire apartment." Including the berthroom, so he can see what filthy datapads there are. Since he's gonna be honest. If Cyclonus only wants him since he's a minibot... he... he...

Okay, yeah, he's gonna accept it. At least he'll be with a bot who likes how he looks, and will likely want to overload him over and over. He can make it work.

At least that way he'd have a little fun before he gets tossed out on his aft.

So long as Cyclonus isn't /too// selfish in the berth, he'll enjoy himself and get a couple good memories from it.

"As you wish," Cyclonus murmurs, rising up from the solvent pool to dry them under a really nice, warm airvent. "My home is adequate for my needs, but I want you comfortable here. Please make any suggestions for things you'd like added or changed, and I will consider them."

'Consider them' is code for, 'they will be placed in, and then tossed shortly afterwards.' Or ignored completely, but he understands how this sort of thing goes.

But he also knows saying that will just make Cyclonus upset, so he says, "Okay."

He's carried out, and he absently grabs Cyclonus's servo when it presses to his torso, and instead moves it to his chest. Instantly, Cyclonus starts to rub and pet him, which is good, and he approves of it, but he also doesn't pay much attention to it. He looks around as Cyclonus takes him to a room that is filled with counters, drawers, and contaners, with a dispenser to the side. Cyclonus saying, "this is the kitchen. Are you still hungry?"

"No." He's had plenty of fuel, and he hasn't done anything to burn it off yet. The dispenser is high up enough that he's going to have to climb on a chair to actually use it, which is a little irritating, but just /having// a dispenser in the place he's staying is novel enough to make it not that bad. "Am I gonna have to /climb// everything here?" he mutters, and then goes pink because he can't believe he just said that out loud, complaining about Cyclonus's really nice apartment! Which probably costs a million times more in rent than his.

Cyclonus just chuckles and gestures down at a small divot in the side of the counter. "Of course not, precious. I had my home modified a long time ago to suit smaller mechs as well." He presses a claw in the little spot and a set of steps swings out from the counter. "Any place you need access to should have something like this nearby."

The size of those steps show it for a certainty.

Cyclonus is a minibot fancier.

Well, that solves exactly why the mech wants him. It does make it easier. But the true test will be him dropping his facemask. Which is not gonna happen yet, since.. really. He isn't going to deal with the nasty comments about it. Or the glossa fragging his intake.

He is not doing that.

Tailgate doesn't object when Cyclonus carries him out of the kitchen and into the living room again. There are two sofas, a big decorative fireplace, a vid console, and a lot of open space for Tailgate to eventually trip himself over. Maybe if he's lucky he'll land on one of the soft-looking rugs.

"I ask that you do not venture into my training room without me present," Cyclonus hums, walking into a room that gives Tailgate flashbacks to bootcamp. Ugh. Training rooms. "I only have a few blunted weapons--most of my equipment here is deadly."

"I'm not likely to go in here."

"I know you were removed from bootcamp, but if you wish to learn, I am willing to teach you."

".... No." He's not going to do that.

"Very well." Cyclonus carries him out, walking to another room, "This is the dining area."

"A what." A room just to fuel? Seems wateful.

"Sometimes, I must prepare fuel for my team, and we fuel here. I will, of course, have fuel you can use instead of the usual crystal cake and suchlike."

His . . . team. Team Chaar. Oh, slag no. There's a below-zero chance of Tailgate willingly sitting in the same room as the rest of Team Chaar, who would definitely take one look at him, laugh, and then stomp him before throwing him out the window for wasting Cyclonus's time. "Ah-ha-ha, yeah," he drawls out, trying not to sound as utterly horrified as he actually is.

But Cyclonus just strokes his frame gently, "They won't visit while you are still under my care, precious. That's against the rules."

Something tells him he needs to read the stories on the datapad to understand what those rules are. "... okay."

Cyclonus carries him around the table, "Would you like your own chair for here? I will show you various ones to choose from."

He doubts it will be worth it, since he'll be out on his aft before too long. "I don't know."

That gets a small smile, "We'll figure it out as time goes on." The mech heads out and into another room, this one filled with shelves that are full of datapads. "The library. You are welcome to come here all you want, of course. I would advise you to take the ones you like, and then read them in the common room's entertainment area. The fire is warm and comforting, perfect for reading." After a bit of a pause, he adds, "If there is anything you'd like me to get for you, just let me know the title and I'll add it to our collection. I admit most of the pads here are in Ancient, since I enjoy reading that more than the modern, common language."

Well, that means most of them are useless to Tailgate. Tailgate likes the /sound// of Ancient, but he can't decipher a single glyph of it, no matter how hard he's tried in the past. "Um, thanks."

Cyclonus looks down at him, "Now, I imagine this is the room you were expecting me to take you to at the very begining." With that, the mech instantly goes to another room, one through the library, "Here is the guest room."

It looks... generic. Like a room meant for someone just showing up to crash. But ... weird. He points at the meshblankets on the berth, "Why is that all cut up?"

Cyclonus moves closer, looking at them, then scowling, "Looks like Oil Slick cut them with his claws last time he was here hiding from Blitzwing. Don't worry, I'll get you ones that are undamaged, should you choose to recharge here."

"My other choice is what?" Tailgate asks, though he already knows the answer. 'Recharge in my berth after I frag you,' right? That's how this kind of thing goes.

"Well," Cyclonus carries him to another room, this one clearly his own berthroom. It's a little darker, with some decorative swords up on the wall, and a massive berth with tons of meshes and pillows. "Of course I would like to ask that you recharge here with me. I relish the idea of having you in my arms at night, though I will not make any attempts at your frame without your permission."

So... only frag him if he makes the first move. Supposedly.

"I'll use the guest room," he says, if only because that is what he /should// say. Right? What little he knows means he should take the guest room. He wonders how warm it is compared to here. It already feels like he's chosen wrong, but he'll survive.

Cyclonus nods, expression giving away nothing. "If that's what you prefer. Would you like to go there now, or-"

"What are the datapads here?" He can choose out the various datapads, and see what /exactly// Cyclonus likes in minibots.

The mech freezes for a klik, a sure sign that at least some of the pads are porn. "Just some of my personal pads. A few are mission logs. Why?"

Tailgate hums, "No reason. Just, you know." He waggles his optic ridge at Cyclonus, "Which are your favorite for, /you know//?"

That makes the other mech pause again, and then select two pads from the rack. "These are my favorite to read before I recharge."

He takes them easily, and turns the more worn one on. it instantly shows an image of a minibot who is /much prettier// than Tailgate, but a scroll down has a a jetbot as the main viewpoint character. "Do you like larger ped minis?"

Cyclonus moves his servo to Tailgate's dangling legs, and rubs one of his peds, "As nice as they are, there is a reason I botnapped you."

"Because you got processor damage," Tailgate says bluntly, and then feels his faceplates burn again. "I should probably um, get some recharge."

The other mech chuckles and presses a kiss to his hip, and having his helm so close to his interfacing panel makes it really, really tempting to see if the mech would be willing to suck his spike or eat him out. But he won't ask.

Cyclonus looks up at him, optics flashing a little, "Are you sure you want to recharge?"

He looks away, unsure how to answer that. He doesn't want to recharge, but he doesn't want Cyclonus to realize how bad of a fragup he is. "I... I want to read, but, um..."

"We can read together," the bot offers. "How about we both do that in the entertainment area?"

"Uh.... okay?"

And that's how he ends up sitting on one of the big chairs, Cyclonus on the other one, all while a fire burns merrily in the fireplace. Cyclonus looks over at him, "Are you certain you don't want to sit on my lap?"

"Y-yes." He takes out the datapad with the botnapping stories in them, "I'm fine here." He can see the porn once he's in the guest room.

Truth be told, he does prefer to cuddle on a bot's lap, but he knows if he does, he's going to end up trying to seduce Cyclonus into his berth, and there's probably something against someone in his position agreeing to interface the very first night. Like, he'll have Cyclonus bragging about how easy he is if he does it, and then everyone will be laughing at him behind his back.

Tailgate buries his face in his datapad.

He's already a laughingstock. He doesn't need to add decepticons doing that to him. Mockery isn't something he does well with. There's no filter on his vocal processor and it gets him into trouble. he doesn't need more trouble.

The story he starts with is...

A sparkling story?

It essentially talks about how a sparkling's papas got together through a botnap, and how they love each other very much now. It feels, well, trite.

He's not all that impressed.

The next one is better, clearly not just a sparkling story. It is more stable, and less insulting. It is from the perspective of the botnapping victim, even if the mech refers to himself as the beloved. And Tailgate thinks he's making the right choice, since the bot is in the guest room, and not letting the botnapper kiss or touch him, even if the mech clearly wants the botnapper to do so.

Their botnapper is a fierce tankbot who has just recently come back from fighting the Quintessons, but he's a gentlemech at home. He brings gifts and spends time with the botnap victim and they slowly fall in love.

It's a sweet story, even if he finds it a little irritating that the mech just 'fades to black' everytime he's about to have an interfacing scene in the pad.

Cyclonus must see him scowling, since the mech asks, "Is something wrong?"

"No," he grumbles, flipping through and more skimming the rest of the story than anything. It ends with sparklings, and a bond, but he already realized it is happening.

"... Are you certain, Tailgate? I can get you something else to read, or-"

"It's fine," he mutters, getting into the next story. Maybe this one won't just skip the fun parts.

But this one skips all the fun bits too, in favor of seven-page long descriptions of the botnapping victim's optics. Honestly, if anybot spent that much time gazing into Tailgate's visor as this botnapper did, he'd worry that they wanted to /put his optical equipment in a jar//. He sets the pad down and picks up another, which /starts// with an interfacing scene.

Now this is more like it.

He's fairly into it, pleased it's actually good, when Cyclonus asks, "Would you like to sit on my lap?"

He shakes his head, "I already /said// no."

"... very well."

He knows he'll wiggle around a lot if he does, and then he'll want more, since the mech will be all warm under him. Better not to. Since the other stories don't start with fragging in a botnap, so he probably shouldn't do that now.

This is clearly a porn pad, anyway.

It reads a lot like one of the special edition stories from Playbot, the ones that have images that go along with it, but there are no images in the pad. He already checked the files just in case.

Hey, any bot would go looking, when faced with such hot descriptions! Tailgate is a naturally curious mech too, so it's not his fault that he's essentially reading porn right next to the mech who botnapped him, who probably wants to bang him /really bad//, even if he still has no idea why. Even for minibot fanciers, Tailgate isn't exactly the ideal. With his broad shoulders and cowl, big thighs, and small lower legs and peds, he's not in the right proportion for the average minibot. Most fanciers would go after him as a last resort, if there were no other minis around.

It makes him wonder why Cyclonus even wants him.

He's not ugly, but he's not that great looking.

He tilts his head, setting the datapad down, tring to think about why he's the one Cyclonus wants. Maybe since he's a sewer worker, and no one else will want him? That seems possible, but it also seems... wrong.

He taps his facemask absently with his fingertip, processor flipping through reasons, only to jump in the air from shock when Cyclonus touches his side. When he's back on the cushion, staring at the mech, Cyclonus says, very cautiously, "I was.... going to ask you what you're thinking about so hard. Instead, I'd like to know if you're okay. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Nothing, it's nothing," he babbles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.  Way to go, he grumbles at himself in his processor, his frame jittery. It takes all of a megacycle to prove what a fragging glitch he is. "So uh," he digs rapidly through his processor trying to think of something, /anything// to distract the mech, "what happens if you end up on some long-term mission away?"

Cyclonus studies him for a klik in silence before letting out a soft sigh and the answer. "Such a mission would never be assigned to me during a botnap, but if an emergency struck, and we were in a full-out war with Quintessa again, you would be placed with my superior officer until the decastellar passed, or I returned. Considering that any mission that required me away that long would also require General Strika's presense, I believe you would end up under Lord Megatron's care."

He's not really sure how to feel about that. Not really.

He knows Lord Megatron is a good mech, but he'd honestly prefer just to work and return to what he was doing before. Not... hang out with a leader of the planet and his bonded. Likely told how amazing it is to be botnapped and bonded by Optimus.

He'd be way too tempted to flirt with Optimus, anyway. Bot's really pretty.

"Oh," he says, looking down. "What happens if lord Megatron needs to go, too?"

"If /that// happens, by that point we're in too much danger to keep you here as it is, and no one is safe. I'd ask that Lord Megatron arrange for you to go with his bonded and sparklings to where the saftest place is, and he'd accept."

Hopefully Cybertron would never be in that much danger.

Tailgate is too wound up now to read his datapads any longer, so he pulls out the little metal puzzle from his subspace that he's been trying to figure out for two stellars now in his free time. It's one of those processor-tickler things that are supposed to take a normal bot all of a megacycle or so to figure out, but for the life of him, Tailgate can't fathom how to get the three twisted bits of metal apart. He's been tempted more than once to just get some wire-cutters and snip it apart and call it done, but he doesn't want to have to admit that a 'sparkling level one' puzzle has defeated him.

Cyclonus looks at him quietly, "Are you feeling a little safer now?"

He blinks, 'Am I what?"

"You are clearly nervous and worried. Would it be best if... I'm not in the same room as you, or-"

"No," he tugs on the stupid puzzle, "It's fine. You're fine."

"Okay." The mech stares at him for a long moment, "Would you like me to leave you alone? Just return to reading, and let you fidget with the metal?"

Tailgate ducks his helm. It's so obvious to Cyclonus that he sucks at this puzzle that the mech assumes he can't finish it. The puzzle box it had come in had claimed it was supposed to take about a breem or so to solve, and he's probably spent fourty or fifty megacycles of time trying to work it out so far. "It's fine. I like you." His faceplates burn and he rapidly adds, "I like you /being// here, I mean. You're um, you're nice, I guess."

"Well, I'll take 'nice' over 'frightening'," Cyclonus murmurs, one clawed servo drifting down to rest gently on Tailgate's leg near his knee joint. "I never want you to feel afraid of me, beloved."

He blinks, shifting a bit, but not moving away from the mech's touch. "Okay?" He's not exactly afraid. Not really? Mostly sure the mech will toss him out the instant he realizes just how garbage he is.

The mech's claws slowly slide up his thigh, but don't move more than to the middle of it, "If I'm scaring you, I need you to tell me to stop. nothing I do should make you want to hide from me or scream. I am here to keep you safe."

Cyclonus is such a /handsome//, noble mech. What in Primus's name is he doing going after a bot like Tailgate? Tailgate struggles not to spread his legs and invite the mech to slide his servo all the way up to his interfacing panel where it belongs, because he doesn't want to show off what an easy lay he is so quick into this.

If he plays hard to get, Cyclonus's interest won't wane as quickly, right? Right.

"Screaming's not always a bad thing," Tailgate mutters, and then feels his faceplates get hot again.

Cyclonus pauses, "Tailgate, I need you to be honest about something."

"What?" He can't help wiggling a little, the mech's servo hot on his frame.

"What you just said. Is that an invitation, or do I need to leave you be?"

Oh, he really, really wants to tell Cyclonus that it's open-season on his frame, but he /can't//! His legs spread apart against his will, welcoming the other mech's touch--any bot at a bar would be trying to finger-frag him right now, obscenity laws or not. "I um . . . neither?"

Cyclonus's servo slides up just a little, claws brushing against his interfacing panel. "Neither wasn't an option, beloved. Do you want to play a little with me, or would you like me to stop?" Cyclonus pauses then, studying him, "If you don't want to do certain things with me right away, you can tell me what you'll allow, and I won't go beyond without your permission." The mech's optics darken a bit with obvious lust, "I could happily spend a megacycle kissing every mechano-inch of your frame and then return to my solitary berth, if that made you happy."

Part of him, the stupid part, wants to say no, and run away. But that is always there, just because his processor is messed up.

Instead, he says, before he can stop himself, "Yes. I want that."

Cyclonus's instant response is to press his mouth right on Tailgate's tank, above his crotch. 'Do you want me to kiss you-"

Not really thinking about it, Tailgate pushes Cyclonus between his legs, hips jutting up demandingly.

Cyclonus's engine revs a little, and he looks up with dim optics. "I could spend the rest of my life here, I think, and I would be happy."

Tailgate flushes and his thighs press against the mech's helm gently. Cyclonus rests his servos on his thighs to push his legs apart again, turning his helm to kiss his thigh plating.

"You're so beautiful," Cyclonus murmurs, between kisses to each of his thighs, the mech coming close but never kissing his interfacing panel. "I am honored that you allow me this, beloved."

He blushes even brighter, unable to really control it. It almost feels like his facemask is going to melt off. "I... I just..."

Cyclonus kisses the inner bend of his knee, "You make me want to kiss you all over, until you allow me more."

"M-more?"

That gets him a heated look as the mech presses kisses along his legs, "You've only allowed me kisses, beloved. If you want more, you need to tell and show me what you want. Do not have me guess, since guessing will mean I could hurt you. i never want to hurt you in any way."

Tailgate lets out a pathetic little half-whine noise that makes Cyclonus chuckle and then duck his helm down again, kissing all the way down to the top of his peds and then back up again. The bigger mechs gives his interfacing panel /one// single kiss before shifting up along his abdomen and chest, pausing over his sparkchamber. Tailgate knows his spark is /hot// under that panel, and Cyclonus can probably /feel// the erratic hot pulse of it when he presses a half-dozen kisses around the seams of his sparkplates.

"So beautiful," he murmurs again, venting hot against Tailgate's neck cabling, laying a trail of nipping kisses there.

He doesn't stop himself from clinging to thebot as he's kissed and nibbled. He writhes a little as the kisses continue, finally whimpering out, "Berth?"

That has Cyclonus pause, then say softly, "You have given me permission to kiss you. If we go to the berth, I would like to do more. What will you allow me to do? But, even if all you want is kisses like this, I can take you to-"

"/Berth//," he insists, wanting more.

Cyclonus picks him up like he weighs nothing, which he probably does to the warriormech. The next thing he knows, he's sprawled out on the mech's big, soft berth, with a mesh pillow under his helm that feels like a cloud. Cyclonus sits over him, servos on either side of his shoulders. The bigger mech ducks down and kisses his helm, and his audios, and then his facemask. Cyclonus keeps kissing his faceplates, all over his mask, like he's asking to be allowed more, and Tailgate is too weak to stop himself from opening up, even though he knows it'll probably disgust the bot, or excite him for the wrong reasons.

"Thank you," Cyclonus hums quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to his intake, glossa dipping in for just a moment before the bot moves to the rest of his faceplates that opening his mask has bared.

He's expecting the mech's spike to come next, but what happens is Cyclonus just keeps kissing him. Which is very shocking, but also very nice. He has to snag the mech's horn to tug him back to his intake for more kisses, even. The moment he lets go, Cyclonus kisses him a little longer, and returns to kissing his frame.

He whimpers needily as the bot's glossa flicks against his sparkplates, and he starts to open up, only for the bot to press a servo down, stopping him. "Tailgate, if you want me to lick your spark, you need to tell me. Say it aloud. What you want me to do, it has to be aloud."

Tailgate snaps his plates shut, immediately embarrassed beyond measure that he'd almost given up his spark so easily. He doesn't share his spark like that, and now Cyclonus probably thinks he gives up his spark like some kind of slut to every mech he's ever fragged. Tailgate covers his faceplates with his servos and whines, "/Sorry//!"

"There's no need for that, beloved," Cyclonus reaches up to tug his servos down. "I would be happy to pleasure your spark if you want me to, but you /must// ask. I could never forgive myself if I did something to you that you regretted later."

He's mostly embarassed and feeling bad. He doesn't let anyone touch his spark but himself, and usually he doesn't even do that. It feels very nice, but he also feels very vulnerable. He mumbles a little, 'Not... I don't want..."

Cyclonus kisses his servo, "I won't. It's clear you'd regret it if i did, and I want the first time I touch your spark to be with you happy about it afterwards." The mech kisses up his arm, "Do you want me to continue, or should I stop?"

Under his panel, his valve is soaking wet and aching, and he wants to be /filled// with spike, but he can't /say// that or he'll combust with embarrassment. So he tugs Cyclonus up and pulls his faceplate down, tipping his helm up for another kiss. Cyclonus indulges him, and the way his glossa dips into his intake, slow and gentle, not a forceful shove like most bots, makes him want to have this every single sol. Why has no other bot ever kissed him like this before?

"Beautiful," Cyclonus says again, gazing at his faceplates, proving that he definitely has some sort of processor damage.

He wiggles a bit, and reaches between them to grope at Cyclonus's interfacing panel blindly. Unfortunately, want he ends up doing instead is just squeezing the mech's frame randomly. Once he realizes, he mumbles, "Keep going?"

the mech kisses him again, "Tell me what you want, beloved. Anything you ask, and I will do it."

Tailgate really wants Cyclonus to kiss his valve and eat him out, but . . . well, no one's ever really been interested in doing that to Tailgate before, so it's probably not something Cyclonus will want to do. "Um . . sp-spike me?" he stutters out, embarrassed again.

"Will you consent to recharge with me after if I do?" Cyclonus kisses his neck cabling, little nips that make Tailgate moan and arch up. "I dislike my partners recharging away from me."

"I'll stay," he says, feeling confused as to why he'd /leave// after. He only goes since no one else he's interfaced wants him after, and it is better to go before they online. But he can't leave Cyclonus anyway, and unless he's tossed out like Cyclonus will eventually do, he would very much like to stay in the berth.

At the very least, he'll online on something super comfortable.

"Good," Cyclonus rumbles, his servo sliding down to tease at the edge of Tailgate's interfacing panel. "Then I would be honored to spike you, beloved." Tailgate opens his panel, hoping that Cyclonus has a big, but not /too big// spike. Too big spikes mean that he has to be stretched and relaxed before he can take it, but a big spike means he can take it right away and enjoy the way it fills him up.

But for some reason, Cyclonus's claws rub around the edge of his spike panel--most bots don't want a mini's spike out, since it just 'gets in the way' for this.

But since Cyclonus seems to want him to, he opens up slowly. the moment he's out, Cyclonus starts to stroke and rub him, making him mewl and whimper. Cyclonus kisses him slowly, "you're just the right size."

He isn't sure about that. not really.

He thinks he has the average size of a spike for a minibot, but he isn't sure if the minis in porn have larger than usual spikes or smaller ones. "Right size for what?" he has to ask.

"You'll sit in my valve just fine later on." Cyclonus smirks down at him, "I love short, thick spikes, so you'll be /perfect// inside me."

Tailgate resets his audios twice, because there's no way the mech just said that. Bigger bots don't take minibot spike. If it happens, it's just a kinky porn thing, not a real thing that bots do. His spike would be way too short to please the other mech.

"Perfect,' Cyclonus repeats, bending down to flick his glossa teasingly over the tip of his spike.

He squeaks as it goes from teasing to the larger bot actually sucking on his spike. He's never really had a mech do this to him before. None of his previous lovers want his spike out at all, and now there's this?

He doesn't know how to react, other than to whimper needily, hips held down to keep him from trying to shove into the bot's mouth. He snags the mech's horn, and starts rubbing it and mewling in pleasure.

It's so . . . it's so /good//. Tailgate whines a little and stares down, faceplates flushing with more heat when he realizes he can see his spike and Cyclonus's glossa through the gaps in his upper and lower faceplates each time the mech bobs his helm down. The mech smirks up at him and /sucks// hard and Tailgate jerks and overloads just like that, spilling right into the mech's mouth.

Cyclonus hums appreciatively and pulls back just enough to let his spike slip out of his mouth. "Sweet, just as I expected." There's a little streak of transfluid that had leaked out of the side of his faceplate near his mouth and Tailgate really wishes he had a glossa so he could lean down and lap it up.

The mech kisses his faceplate, but he opens up to allow the mech at his intake. The invitation is accepted with happiness, if how Cyclonus kisses him is any indication. He wiggles a bit when the bot pulls away, and askes, "Um... are you going to frag me now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes!"

"I would /love// to frag you then, beloved," Cyclonus rumbles, his servos sliding over Tailgate's plating. And maybe he should be a better, stronger mech and stop this right here and now, but Tailgate has never wanted a mech's spike in him as bad as he wants Cyclonus's right now. If he gets thrown out next sol, at least he'll have had a shot at interfacing a mech as handsome as Cyclonus once. "If you offline from overloads, may I continue taking you, or should I stop and wait for you to online again?"

That's . . . well, silly. "Uh, you can keep going, I guess." Bots don't actually offline from having that many overloads. That's just a porn thing.

"You guess?"

"Yes, you can." Even if it's a silly thing. But if it makes Cyclonus happy, he's okay with it, not that it matters since it won't happen.

"Okay," Cyclonus looks pleased, and lines up his spike. "I'm going to overload you a great deal, precious."

It's really amazing and unfair how /good// Cyclonus's spike feels as it pushes inside him. It's a stretch, but not too much of one, and all of his nodes light up inside. Tailgate arches up, trying to get the mech deeper, "More," he demands, hooking one leg around the mech's hips. Tailgate may not be the best in the berth, seeing as no bots ever want a repeat, but he's also never been tossed out partway through either. So he knows Cyclonus will at least like this a little.

"Mm," Cyclonus rocks slowly, nudging his spike in deeper a little at a time. "I have no . . desire to deny you, sweetspark, but you are /very// tight."

"I'm fine," he insists, since he has never had any spike too large for him. Sure, Cyclonus is about the largest lover he's had, but he can see the spike isn't the /biggest// he's had. And the biggest felt on the edge of too much, even if it wans't too big. Cyclonus is about right, though.

"If you're certain?" Cyclonus waits a moment, and then slides in entirely, going  fairly slowly, but managing with little trouble. The mech grunts a bit, "You're /very// tight, precious."

"Am I?" he'd grin if he had a mouth capable of it, and then adjusts his calipers inside of him, moving them to squeeze Cyclonus's spike.

"Ah!" Cyclonus grunts, gripping Tailgate's hips tight with his claws, grinding his spike deep inside.

Yeah, Tailgate likes getting reactions like that from the mechs that frag him. It feels really good for him too, so he rolls his callipers again just a little, and Cyclonus rewards him with a hard thrust that pushes his frame down into the meshes and sends all his sensors alight with pleasure.

A hot glossa presses into his intake again, more aggressive this time, but only for a klik before Cyclonus pulls back, his hips pumping steadily. "You must tell me if I am too rough for you, beloved."

He laughs a little, "You won't be."

Cyclonus slams into him just a tad harder, but returns to the steady pace that drives Tailgate hotter, "There is no shame in knowing your limit, beloved."

"I'm tough," he says sternly. And he is! He's not some soft minibot. He's just clumsy and awkward. He has to be tough if he wants to survive his many and varied accidents, anyway. That helps in the berth like this.

The bigger mech bites his neck cabling, and Tailgate is more than a little impressed by Cyclonus's flexibility, and the way he can keep his spike moving /just right// while doing that. Since this is probably the only time he's ever going to get to interface with the purple bot, he should take advantage, right? So Tailgate rocks his hips up and then pushes against Cyclonus's chestplates. "Roll us over. I wanna ride your spike."

That makes Cyclonus's engine /roar//, but the mech is quick to obey, and Tailgate is on top of the bigger mech right where he wants to be.

So he grinds a little, moving his calipers, and then starts to bounce on Cyclonus's spike. The bot gasps in shock under him, making him pleased. It's clear Cyclonus likes it, and Tailgate is enjoying it, too. Maybe, if he's llucky, Cyclonus will keep him for more than a night. Maybe even a decacycle.

But he knows that's a delusion. Cyclonus will online in the morning, and realize just how useless Tailgate is.

Which is all the more reason to enjoy it as much as possible now.

Tailgate is used to riding a mech for a /long// time, which all the porn vids say bots love, but none of his previous partners have really seemed to enjoy much. He hopes Cyclonus doesn't mind if he uses his callipers to keep the bot's spike stiff after he overloads a couple times. Tailgate /really// likes being full of transfluid--it feels really good the next sol.

"Beloved," Cyclonus moans, claws dipping into his seams as deep as he can get them.

He shivers in pleasure at that. Claws in his seams always feels so good, especially during interfacing. Cyclonus uses his other servo to rub Tailgate's tank, optics dim with lust. It's a good look on the mech, and he's happy that it is because of him.

Makes him hope that it means more, even if-

No, he won't think on that. He needs to just focus on making the both of them feel good.

Tailgate grinds down, offlining his visor to focus on the way the spike feels inside him. It's so big and thick, filling him up just right. He arches his back a little, his visor snapping online when he feels Cyclonus overload for the first time inside him, pumping hot transfluid right where he wants it. Tailgate slows his rocking a little, cycling his callipers to keep the spike charged and stiff without losing too much of the fluid he likes so much.

Cyclonus's optics are bright with lust still.

"We're gonna keep going?" he asks, hopeful.

"Of course, beloved. For as much and as long as you like. Even if I offline and you want to keep going, you can." Cyclonus rubs Tailgate's sparklplates, "Any part of me is for you to use as you wish."

That's clearly an invitation he's misreading.

No one offers their spark on the first interface.

So, instead, he keeps riding on the spike, planning on taking all night. Just how he wants it.

--

Cyclonus onlines to a sore spike, and Tailgate recharging in his arms, still firmly holding said spike in his valve. He pulls out slowly, and his spike retracts entirely the moment the suction is no longer forcing it out. He winces slightly, and sits up, still holding his lover.

Tailgate blinks online slowly, "Oh..."

"Yes, beloved?"

"I was, um, gonna...."

"Yes?"

His mech looks away, mumbling almost too low to hear, "... gonna go back to my room, since you won't want me now."

That prompts him to hold the mech a little tighter, because he's not about to let such a beautiful mech slip away after an amazing interface like they just had. "Now, why would I allow such perfection to recharge apart from me now?" he teases, brushing kisses across the mech's helm. He'll have to opt for using his glossa and claws to please Tailgate, or his valve, because his spike won't be ready for anything more until the next night at earliest. He's never had a bot /milk// his spike like that, refusing to let him soften the entire time.

To be perfectly honest, Cyclonus hadn't even realized his frame /could// overload that much transfluid in a single sol, but the soft curve of Tailgate's abdomen is proof that he could and he /had//.

Tailate stares up at him, "You... want me?"

He taps his mech softly on hsi faceplate, "Of course I do. I botnapped you, didn't I? I'm keeping you forever, if you let me."

"Forever?" Tailgate sounds doubtful, so Cyclonus knows he needs to show he means it.

"Yes." He pulls out his bonding brush, the one he has prepared, and the etching paint. "I will paint you right now, if you let me."

His little mech jerks against the hold of his arms at that, so he tucks the brush and paint away. It's too soon. Cyclonus should have known better--he still has to prove himself to Tailgate, after all. He hopes he wasn't too disappointing in the berth. This is the first time he's ended up offlining during a frag because he was so overworked. He'll have to work on his stamina to prevent that from happening again.

"I uh . . . um," Tailgate shifts and his adorable faceplates scrunch up in irritation as something wet trickles onto Cyclonus's thigh plating. He glances down just in time to see Tailgate stuff his own fingers into his valve to stop his transfluid from leaking out of him.

"Do you-"

"I just-" Tailgate whines, looking away.

"What is wrong, beloved?"

"I.... I don't have any of my valve plugs," comes a soft mutter.

'... oh." He stands up, and carries Tailgate to where he keeps his 'facing toys. "Choose what you think will work best. I'll get you something more suited if you don't mind me going out to go buy it."

"Wow, you must self-service a /lot//," Tailgate mutters, looking over his /modest// collection of interfacing aids. Really, it's not that much, just a single closet full. Most mechs his age have significantly more built up. "I uh, I mean, that one?" the minibot points to a /very// thick plug that Cyclonus would find a little uncomfortable to wear.

"Are you sure?" he picks the purple plug up and holds it against Tailgate's abdominal plating. "This would go quite deep and stretch you a lot."

His little minibot ducks his helm almost bashfully, "It's a little smaller than what I usually use."

Not really sure how to respond to that, he lets Tailgate take it, and press it into his valve. He rubs the mech's bulging abdominal plating, asking, "Are you hungry?"

Tailgate nods slowly, "Yeah. I could fuel."

He nods, carrying his mech to his kitchen, "Do you have anything specific you'd like?"

"I, uh... I don't have taste sensors? Not really."

"Would you like me to have those upgraded for you?" Cyclonus asks as neutral as he can manage. He wants his beloved to have the best of everything, but some things mechs aren't interested in, and he shouldn't assume that a bot like his sweetspark will /want// upgraded taste sensors in his intake.

"That's a really expensive upgrade," Tailgate mutters, looking away. "I can't afford an upgrade like that."

"It isn't that expensive," he lies. It's one of the more expensive mouth mods, short of changing a mouth completely. However, he can absolutley afford that, and far more, so it isn't a big deal. Even if he could only just barely afford it, it would be worth it to make Tailgate happy. "Besides, I am the one buying it. I'm to take care of all your needs."

Tailgate doesn't look at him, "You shouldn't spend your credits on me."

"I choose to spend my credits on you," he corrects the mech, because it is not a matter of should and should not. Tailgate will be his bondmate if he has any say in fate, and his bondmate deserves to be treated well and have the things he desires. "They will become /our// credits when you agree to bond to me."

The mech turns such a pretty shade of pink at that that Cyclonus can't help but lean down and kiss all over his faceplates until the mask retracts and he can slide his glossa into that sweet little intake again.

He is already smitten, and he knew it, but how Tailgate acts only turns it into love. Even so soon, he knows the mech should be with him forever.

He sets Tailgate on the counter, letting his mech look round. He pulls down some of the more interesting feeling fuels, if not the most delicious tasting ones, since he knows an intake like Tailgate's loves carbonation and other things of the like, espcially if his mech can't taste it.

He notes what will be good when Tailgate can taste, and sets them aside for later.

It is to his great sorrow that he has to admit that his own skills in the kitchen are subpar at best. He has to rely mostly on what the dispenser is capable of making, and what he has stocked up. Were he a better mech, he could show his beloved what fine fuels he'd be getting regularly with him. Instead, he can only show off his wealth again, which Tailgate doesn't seem much impressed by. Tailgate had, in fact, said that the three-million credit paiting in the hallway of a lilleth in flight was a 'really weird lumpy turbofish.' Strika had convinced him to buy that painting after he'd kept returning to the gallery it had been displayed in every sol for an orn.

He needs to step up his game over the next few stellars if he wants to win Tailgate's servo, that's for sure.

He pours the fuels into the cube, and puts the bottles away, getting his own cube from the dispenser before giving Tailgate the fuel. "Is it okay?"

Tailgate looks at the cube silently, and he suddenly remembers the need for a straw. Instantly giving the mech one, he awaits the verdict as the mech sips on it.

The mech tilts his head, saying, "It's... weird."

"Do you want a different one? I can-"

"No. It's a good weird." To prove that, Tailgate drinks more. "I like it."

Thankfully he hasn't fragged it up yet, then. Cyclonus takes the opportunity to stroke Tailgate's frame appreciatively, claws rubbing along his seams. He is baffled, yet thankful, that no mech had claimed Tailgate before him. What utter misery his life would be right now if he'd met the sweet mech only to discover the bot had already bonded and had sparklings with some other mech.

Instead, he has the chance to seduce Tailgate into a bonding with him.

Though Tailgate seems only mildly interested in him, which makes this a bit of a challenge.

Tailgate blinks up at him, "Oh? You want to interface?"

As much as he wants the mech to be happy, he can /not// get his spike up. However, he can say, 'I would like you to frag me. If that's what you want to do." SInce he's not against it, and actually looks forward to it.

Tailgate looks skeptical, his optic lights a thin line, "You sure?"

"Yes." Since why wouldn't he?

"Not just saying it?"

Tipping his helm a bit to one side to study the mech, Cyclonus asks, "Why would I not desire your spike? I have been fragged before, and it's always quite pleasurable." A sudden though strikes him, "Unless you don't enjoy it? I would be happy to use my glossa on you instead if you prefer that."

Honestly, he could spend megacycles with his helm between Tailgate's plump thighs, worshipping his array in every way possible.

Tailgate puts his almost empty cube on the counter, scrambling a bit to stand, "No! No! I'm... I want to spike you! Yes."

He smiles, "Are you full, then? I won't change my mind, even if it takes a bit longer."

Tailgate glances at the half full cube in Cyclonus's servos, then nods once, kicking his feet out from under himself to land his aft on the counter, sitting again. Scooping up the cube, Tailgate says, "We can finish fueling first."

Seeing the mech so eager to have him has boosted his confidence in this botnap. Clearly Tailgate does enjoy interfacing with him at least, which is a good sign. That means he has a chance at convincing Tailgate to bond to him by the end of the decastellar. If he's lucky, perhaps within just a few stellars.

And then after a few vorns bonded, they might be lucky enough to spark.

The idea of Tailgate carrying a sparkling in his chamber is just too good for him to imagine.

He does, however, fuel a little faster, so that Tailgate knows that he's excited to interface, too. Show how he is just as wanting as Tailgate. And when he's done, he scoops Tailgate into his arms, taking him to the berthroom happily.

If the mech is as good with his spike as riding spike, he knows this is going to be a frequent occurance.

He's looking forward to it.

--

Tailgate is curled up in front of the fireplace as he's reading about botnaps. Near as he can tell, most bots do get bonded at the end of their stories, so that's good. He's not sure when is a good time for bonding, though. Most of these have a bond happening when the couple spark, but he isn't sure how likely that is.

Since, well, most stories have the happy ending be the pair get bonded with a sparkling on the way. And that certainly doens't happen super often in real life.

Or in the stories where the bot is reluctant to bond, it's always because their family is against the botnapper and they bond when their family finally realises what a good match they are and approves the bond.

Nothing fits his situation. There's no 'famous, wonderful mech picks a total loser for a bond' story to guide him.

He's just not sure what to do.

He sighs softly, setting the datapad down, and picks up another, skimming through it. He's debating putting it down and grabbing another when large arms come from behind, wrapping around him, and there's a kiss pressed to his helm. "Are you enjoying reading, beloved?"

And he's constantly called beloved! It's weird. None of the bots in the stories have this sort of thing happen.

"It's okay," he says, putting the pad down. He looks up, "Hi."

It hasn't been very long yet at all. Cyclonus still has several sols before he has to go back to work, leaving Tailgate alone most of the sol, and he's still waiting for the other ped to drop. He's gonna get kicked out at some point.

Though Cyclonus hasn't acted bored in the berthroom yet. And he hasn't stopped acting like he likes being around Tailgate for some baffling reason.

The mech kisses his faceplate, and he opens it so that the mech can kiss him in the intake. Cyclonus pulls away slowly, looking pleased, "Hello." the bot's arms moves slightly, "Want me to pick you up? I was thinking we could watch something on the vidcom together."

"Like what?"

"I have my favorite movie, but we could watch anything you'd like."

He blinks, "A movie sounds good."

Cyclonus picks him up, "Oh, I'm glad. Just tell me if you're bored during it, so I know to put something else on."

It's not like Tailgate has a lot of preferences, but he really hopes there's not too much gore, and that it's not too scary. He doesn't like scary things, and he doesn't like gross stuff, but anything else is usually fine.

He ends up on Cyclonus's lap, which is just too warm and comfortable to be fair, with a big bowl of puffed energon pieces in his arms. He's pretty sure a full grown Kaonite Hound could hide in a bowl this big.

He /can// fuel on them. It isn't like they're too solid, since they're just a thin layer of energon surrounding a ton of air. It isn't his favorite thing, though. He's half tempted to just fuel on them, and say nothing, but most of the datapads he's been reading have the botnapped bot feel like they shouldn't say anything, but end up saying it anyway, then the botnapper is willing to change or indulge whatever is upsetting the botnapped.

He says, "Could I get liquid fuel instead?"

Cyclonus blinks, then smiles at him, "Of course, beloved." He pulls a cube of fuel from his subspace, offering it to Tailgate. Tailgate wonders if Cyclonus just goes around with a subspace full of fuel with curly-straws already inserted now, because the mech hadn't even had to hunt for it a little. "You'll have to let me know if you like this one. I asked around for strong-flavored fuels, since you should be able to sense that a little."

Tailgate hums and takes a sip. There's definitely a flavor of some kind, but his sensors aren't good enough to do more than inform him there's a lot of good nutrients in the energon. "It's fine."

Cyclonus looks at him curiously, "Do you like it?"

He shrugs. He can smell it, and the smell is very strong from what he can tell, but he doesn't have any sensors telling him about the taste. He doesn't know if it should be sweet, sour, astringint, or anything. Just that it is full of nutrients.

So he can only say, "It's fine."

Cyclonus nods, looking thoughtful, "Would you like me to give you this again, or should I give you something else?"

He says, not sure what the right answer is, "If you want to?"

Cyclonus strokes his hip absently, "I see. Well, I'll keep trying to find something you enjoy. I have a medical visit scheduled for you next decacycle. Hook assures me that a sensor install in your intake should be an in-and-out visit."

Doing it that quick is /even more// expensive. Tailgate resets his visor and his audios, giving his head a little shake. "You shouldn't spend credits on me like that."

"Then how /should// I spend credits on you?" Cyclonus sounds genuinely attentive, clearly interested in the answer.

It only makes him feel worse, since his only response can be, and /is//, "You shouldn't spend credits on me at all."

That gets him a confused look that turns concerned, "Tailgate." There's a small pause, as if Cyclonus is trying to find the proper words, "Why do you think you aren't worth me doting on you? I love you a great deal, but you worry about how I spend credits to get you things, or seem to think I won't want you. I can sort of tell that you are always just on the edge of expecting me to get rid of you. I... I will never get rid of you. I want you forever. That's why I botnapped you, so no one else can have you."

Ducking his helm because he can't stand to meet Cyclonus's optics like this, Tailgate stares at his servos on his lap. "I'm a nobody. And you're . . . you. You picked me 'cause," he trails off, not wanting to say 'you have a minibot fetish,' only to have Cyclonus go 'yep, that's right.' "I dunno. But you'll change your mind like everyone does."

"I won't," Cyclonus promises, taking his servos in his claws to lift them up and kiss them. "I would have your spark bound to mine if you allowed it, after you agree to be mine in a bond."

A sparkbond? No, he's misheard. No one wants to sparkbond so soon, and he's honestly disbelieving anyone wants /him// like that. no matter how nice the idea of a sparkbond is. It's proof the mech hes with wants to keep him, and can't actually get bored of him and toss him away.

He keeps looking away, not willing to see the lies in Cyclonus's optics, "Its okay. You don't..." He curls against Cyclonus's chest, optics offling, and just liking how warm and comforting the bot is, "How about we watch the movie?"

Cyclonus moves him slightly, and he onlines his optics to see what is happening, only to look the mech in the optics, "I love you, Tailgate. Do you plan on accepting my bonding proposal? I want to know, so that I can either worry less, or work on convincing you more. I /will// bond to you, but I need to know how you feel."

His shoulders hunch and he says nothing, because no matter what comes out he knows it's going to be the wrong response.

The other mech lets out a long sigh, pulling him close. "I suppose it was too much to hope that you would have fallen for my rather dubious charms so quickly." Cyclonus presses a soft kiss to each of his shoulders and his cowl. "I will prove my love over this decastellar, I promise you that."

Tailgate doubts that, since the moment it is possible, Cyclonus is gonna toss him, no longer having to pretend to like him for anything other than being a tight valve and a minibot. Find another, better mini.

Cyclonus cuddles him a littel more, "I think a romance, instead of my favorite action movie."

Tailgate watches as it gets changed, and curls back into Cyclonus's lap.

It's a nice movie. The plot is about some prince falling in love with a constructionbot working in the palace. They end up running away together from the King and Queen to get bonded, and Primus himself puts paint on their servos in the temple to show he approves, which allows them to be accepted back into the castle.

Not very realistic.

Tailgate is pretty sure Primus doesn't put paint even on his Magnus at bondings.

Cyclonus kisses Tailgate's servos, murmuring, "When we bond, what color do you want it to be?"

He stares at the mech, but images of paint on his fingers /do// show up in his processor. He finds himself saying, without thinking about it, "I want purple, like your paint on my fingers."

Cyclonus smiles, "Purple, then. Would you like me to have another color for mine, or should we match, beloved?"

"Match," he mutters, because Cyclonus has white servos, so the purple would look good on them, even if Tailgate made a sloppy line with nervous, shaky servos of his own.

Not that they're going to get bonded!

Because Cyclonus will change his mind. He'll get bored of Tailgate when he gets tired of interfacing him. A fetish can only keep a mech interested in a boring bot for so long, and then there won't be anything to keep the bot around.

Cyclonus rubs Tailgate's sparkplates, optics dim, "Should we paint our chambers, too? Show how much I want you?"

He tilts his head, feeling confused, "Ah.... no?" Since it isn't happening, and he can't figure out why the sparkchamber would be painted. That's for bots who have to hide their bonding. Or some other tradition.

"You're right," Cyclonus says, kissing his sparkplate, "We'll paint a ring around the edge for when we spark. Like is traditional on my homeplanet."

He squirms, confused. He has to ask, though, "Do you add another for each sparkling, or is it a vorn long one for while the sparkling is carried?" He's never heard of this tradition at all, but that's not too surprising. There are lots of planets, and Cyclonus is very old, besides. It could also be a tradition that isn't used anymore, not unless the bot who grew up with it is doing it.

The bigger mech's engine is getting hot now, revving a little, maybe thinking about sparking him up? He knows that's a kink for a lot of bots for some reason.

"Ah . . well, my modeltype traditionally has difficulty sparking, so I don't expect to paint more than two stripes in your chamber or mine, but a celebration mark for each sparking is traditional, if you allow it."

He taps his fingertips together, a little nervous, "Um... I don't know how easily my modeltype sparks."

Cyclonus's lap is getting hotter under him, and he can feel how the mech is adjusting how he's sitting, leaning further back, and aft closer to the edge of the chair, "Well, well figure it out. We'll have as long as we need to spark." Cyclonus's optics brighten a bit, "How about we work up to sparking now?" Cyclonus takes one of Tailgate's servos,  guides it a bit, and he can feel how Cyclonus has opened his plating, revealing his slick valve.

He easily slides his fingers in, wiggling a little bodily, "O-okay." He wants to spike Cyclonus again, and he is willing to frag him. It isn't like the mech /will// spark, anyway. It is incredibly difficult to spark as it is.

Especially since they aren't sharing spark energy. It takes a /lot// of luck to spark without that, so they'll be fine. Which is good, because it would break his spark to end up carrying a sparkling and then have it taken from him when Cyclonus grows bored of fragging him.

Tailgate pushes the thoughts away and rubs his facemask against Cyclonus's plating, trying to mimic a 'kiss' as much as a mech without a mouth can.

The mech rubs his sides as Tailgate moves into position, claws pressing in his seams. He likes how /easy// it is to just press inside the mech, since the chair means Cyclonus isn't too high up, and he can just frag the mech. It's all the better, since he knows Cyclonus /does// enjoy it, if the fullframe shivers when he presses in entirely are anything to go by.

He 'kisses' the bot's frame, slaming in just right, and is gratified to hear a throaty moan.

It's still a little baffling that a mech as big as Cyclonus really likes his short spike, but Tailgate isn't going to question it too much. "Will you," Cyclonus gasps, rocking up against him, "will you take my spark?"

Tailgate's engine revs helplessly, but he shakes his head. It's too soon to share sparks, and it's not like it's physically even possible for them to rub sparks and interface arrays at the same time anyways.

Cyclonus seems to take that as a negative since they cna't as he's spiked, since the mech asks, "Ah! Maybe afterwards? I'd," Cyclonus shudders, valve claming around him before relaxing a bit to finish saying, "love for you to climb on and, mmm, rub sparks above me."

He can see it in his processor, Cyclonus exausted under him, and he climbs up, pushing demandingly at the mech's sparkplates, and he claims him, rubbing until they're both overloading. He wants it. He wants it so much. Maybe he would initiate a sparkbond, and Cyclonus could never get rid of him or-

"No," he forces himself to say, since he can't do that. It's wrong to want it. Wrong to want Cyclonus to want to keep him when the mech will just want to be rid of him.

And forcing a sparkbond with a mech is a sure way for the bond to end up malformed, with one or both of them going back to Primus or the Unmaker.

Tailgate shakes his head and reaches down to rub a servo over Cyclonus's external node, because the other mech loves it, moaning and clenching down tight around his spike. The first time he'd done that, Tailgate had overloaded immediately and embarrassed himself, but now he can ride it out, even if it's a bit of a struggle.

He wants Cyclonus to overload several times before he does, this time. Show Cyclonus how good he can be. And it isn't just Cyclonus overloading due to him being a mini, but because he's /good// at spiking. He is sure some fetishists get off just to having a mini spike in them, but he doens't want that to be this.

And he hopes Cyclonus is genuinely enjoying it.

It looks and feels like Cyclonus is, and part of him is /very// smug about that.

He gives Cyclonus's node a gentle pinch when he thrusts in deep and the mech shudders in overload, his valve milking at Tailgate's spike. He grunts and digs his peds into the floor to keep from overloading himself. Cyclonus can't keep a spike stiff the way he can, so he has to do it himself, and it's /hard//.

"Mm, more," Cyclonus rumbles, reaching down to cup his faceplates with his claws. "I want more, Tailgate."

He slides back in entirely, "I plan on it. I'm going to overload you so much."

Cyclonus's hipsjerk needily, "I'm looking forward to it, beloved. I want anything and everything you give to me."

"Everything?" he can't stop himself from asking.

Cyclonus looks at him, optics dim, and starts to open his sparkplates, "Everything."

Temptation.

He forces himself to put a servo on the plates, trying to tug them closed, "N-n-no." He hates how his voice trembles with longing. He does want it, so very very much. He just knows he can't.

Cyclonus closes up slowly, "Just tell me, and I'll open up for you at any point. I'll even initia-"

He interrupts before he can demand Cyclonus stay open, "No. No spark to spark."

"As you wish," Cyclonus murmurs, sounding disappointed.

Tailgate ducks his frame a bit and makes sure to grind inside Cyclonus just the way the other mech likes it, and it's not long before Cyclonus is overloading for him again, whining softly as Tailgate finally gives in and spills transfluid deep in his chamber.

He's nowhere near as practiced with his spike, so Tailgate ends up slumped over Cyclonus, venting harshly.