Work Text:
“You trust me?”
“ Yes— what does that me— mmh—” He’s interrupted by Drift suddenly shifting forward, situating his thighs over his shoulders and holding him up against the wall like he doesn’t weigh a thing. He decides now is a good time to slap his hand over his mouth. It doesn’t actually do a whole lot to muffle his voice, but hopefully it’ll be enough that Magnus doesn’t hear them, because he can’t remember the manual shutdown command for his vocalizer right now, let alone enter it.
His free hand slips down to cradle the back of Drift’s helm, one shaky thumb brushing over one of his finials. That earns him a hum of approval pressed directly against his array and Primus, he feels the vibration run through every circuit and wire in his system. It feels like he’s going to shake apart, right here in Drift’s hands.
Doesn’t really sound so bad.
Drift’s tongue flicks up against him and then he does remember his vocalizer override—if he doesn’t shut the hell up then Drift will have to stop the wonderful things he’s doing with his mouth and he cannot have that, not at all. It frees his hand to drag across Drift’s finials more, his mouth hanging soundlessly open as he watches his lover twitch with the stimulation.
::Having fun up there?::
::You are such an asshole.::
Drift grins, he can feel his mouth curl up against him and his head drops against the wall with a thunk. They both wince at the same time, and Drift holds still for a moment, but there’s no concerned call from outside.
::I told you being clumsy would work in my favor eventually. He probably just thinks I dropped something.::
He’s actually pretty sure Magnus just has a sense for when they’re up to something they shouldn’t be and decided to make himself busy somewhere else, but he doesn’t really care. After all, in this new universe, there’s significantly less for them to worry about, and significantly more time for him to dedicate to making up for the things he didn’t do earlier.
Like letting Drift eat him out in every single closet aboard the Lost Light.
Or he would be, if Drift would start moving again. He bucks his hips forward, trying to catch his attention, but he just flashes him a playful glare through the gap between his thighs.
::Do you not hear it?::
::Huh?:: He strains to cycle down his cooling fans so he can hear over them, and…there’s some sort of…whining coming from outside. He’s confused and maybe a bit worried for all of two kliks before he realizes one of those whines sounds an awful lot like Megatron’s name.
It’s a good thing his vocalizer is off, because he immediately bursts out laughing. He can feel Drift’s shoulders shaking beneath him, readjusting his grip on Rodimus’s hips so he doesn’t topple over.
::Guess we’re not in trouble.::
::Guess that means you should get back to it—:: Drift chooses that particular moment to slide a hand off one of his hips and sink two fingers into his dripping wet valve, and his voice over the commlink sputters into static. A few thrusts, and it shorts out completely as he overloads.
Once he’s mostly recovered, Drift gingerly slides his legs off his shoulders, and he leans heavily on the wall while he waits for his frame to catch up. Drift stands and drags him into a kiss in one fluid motion, and it really shouldn’t be that hot to taste his own transfluid on Drift’s tongue, but the way his engine revs says otherwise.
“Round two in the medbay supply closet?” Rodimus says, his voice a near-whisper. Whatever is going on outside has only gotten louder, and he is not about to interrupt his co-captains fragging. Hopefully this time it’s on one of their desks instead of his.
“No. Round three in the medbay supply closet. Ratty can wait,” Drift replies, settling his hand gently over Rodimus’s throat. “But you owe me and I don’t want to wait for them to finish.”
“Mmm, sounds good to me, babe,” he replies hazily. He’s already sinking to his knees by the time Drift calls him a good boy.