#narcoleptic95

Yet he always fell to pieces in Tarn’s hands.

Ambulon long since stopped trying to repress the noises. He whimpered, groaned, and gasped as he rocked against Tarn’s massive frame, down into his lap. One giant hand was fondling his spark as if it were a mere toy; mostly careful, but every now and then cutting close with tight squeezes and hard pressure.

It hurt, but it hurt so damn good.

"T-Tarn," Ambulon breathed, sagging forward. He kept hands braced against one firm knee. "T… Tarn… a-again, p-please…" He squealed as one thick finger dipped into an abdominal seam.

Tarn chuckled, his masked face hovering above Ambulon’s head. “You’re such a glutton,” he teased. Energy rippled and snapped down the combiner’s back, sending him shuddering. “You’re lucky your last haul was sufficient. Had it been as pitiful as the one before…” He trailed off, and fingers tightened around the pulsating spark.

Ambulon whimpered, teeth grinding. Oh, he knew very well what would have happened. Much like this, minus the pleasure in between.

"Y-Yes," Ambulon croaked hoarsely. He leaned into the fingers probing seams along his hip. "T-Tell me again, p-please!"

Tarn hummed thoughtfully. “How they died?” he whispered huskily. Ambulon whimpered. “Or their suffering?”

Ambulon keened, spikes of energy burning into Tarn’s hand.

Tarn chuckled. “I see.” He pressed his visible lips against the back of Ambulon’s head. Voice lowering, lowering, he mused, “Who’s first…”

Ambulon whined. He wanted to turn around, cling to the mech; ride and thrust and grind against his frame like some desperate, pathetic little thing trying so hard to please its master. He shivered, again, riding up along the leg.

"Well?"

Ambulon squeezed his optics shut, spark twisting. He swallowed, heaved; relaxed, breathed. “C-Cortex… Cortex…” he whispered.