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“Oh! Oh… yes, yes that’s go~od.” Knockout purred, fingers digging into his desk. “That’s it, right there! OOoOOooh!” He leaned forward, fairly crumpling onto the surface before him.
“Mmmmhhoooooahhh… You are so /good/ with your—ah—hands, Breakdown.” He mewled, spinal strut arching and offering more of his aft to his partner. He was bent in a rather alluring position, engine purring.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Did I say talk!? Don’t stop. Faster. /Lower/.” Knockout’s barked order was interrupted by the clang of his partner making contact once more. The medic’s arms slid forward to hang off the other end of the desk. He was effectively tamed for the time being.
“Ah-ah-ah! Yes. Oooh good. Primus, oh! You don’t need any of my instru-uuuhh-ction, do you? You know… ju-uh!-st what to do!” Knockout’s next noise was a squeak that he would have considered embarrassing in any other situation. He gasped and his spinal strut arched off the desk. His engine roared.
“AHhhhh Breakdown!” He cawed before heaving a sigh which shuddered his chassis and collapsing back down onto the desk.
Breakdown stood up from his stooped position behind Knockout. His optics were dim, ridges low, expression rather unamused. He looked at the rag in his hand and rolled his optics.
“Are you serious?” He groaned as Knockout regained himself, standing and stretching. The large mech’s optics barely met his partner’s as Knockout turned and strutted across the room.
“All that and we’re not even gonna interface?” Breakdown growled.
“Interface? My dear Breakdown… I have work to do.” Knockout cooed, placing a hand on his hip as he glanced over his shoulder at Breakdown.
“What do you take me for?”