Tarn hardly cares how real it is, as long as it's what he's getting right now with the effects of the drugs. He's not so blind as to think that it would be that simple.
A shudder runs down his spinal strut as Megatron's hands push at his thighs, levering them apart. The thrust that follows earns a grunt of pleasure from Tarn. Spread open, he releases his claws from Megatron's abdomen, instead chosing to lean back and brace himself on the other tank's knees, giving Megatron a clear view of his spike buried deep in Tarn's heat. It's a tantalizing view. He allows his thighs to quiver under his mentor's firm grip.
It's a wee bit of a shame that Megatron isn't really coherent enough to take in the sight before him. The drug is definitely effecting his perceptions, his visual input hazy and and breaking up at some points. The intensity of his lust is unbearable, really.
His chassis heaves, engine giving a hard rev. One of his hands move inward, though it's shaky. Feeling his way rather than seeing it, the tank seeks out Tarn's anterior node. It's still throbbing and slick, but Megatron presses hard against it as he growls.
Tarm’s optics flash and he barks out a cry of pleasure as Megatron’s thumb presses hard on his node. He bucks his hips, clenching hard around the thick spike. His fingers tighen on Megatron’s knees as he rides out the near painful pleasure, head thrown back and mouth open as his vents pour heat from his frame.
“More…” He begs, bucking and grinding on Megatron’s spike, desperate for an overload.
If more is what Tarn wants, then he's likely going to get it. The sounds out of Megatron's throat are strangled. Mixed growls with moans and wanton groans. His heels dig into the floor, trying to find purchase. This, of course, is so that he get better leverage to drive his spike further into Tarn. All the while he pinches and squeezes the other tank's node.
Tarn makes a strange squealing noise as Megatron pinches at his nub. He twists, trying to lessen the overwhelming pleasure bombarding his sensor net. Panting, he holds on for dear life, at the mercy of Megatron's thick spike slamming against his ceiling node.
His mouth drops open, as he lets his helm fall back, optics flaring and flickering as his entire body quivers as overload makes it's steady approach.
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A shudder runs down his spinal strut as Megatron's hands push at his thighs, levering them apart. The thrust that follows earns a grunt of pleasure from Tarn. Spread open, he releases his claws from Megatron's abdomen, instead chosing to lean back and brace himself on the other tank's knees, giving Megatron a clear view of his spike buried deep in Tarn's heat. It's a tantalizing view. He allows his thighs to quiver under his mentor's firm grip.
no subject
His chassis heaves, engine giving a hard rev. One of his hands move inward, though it's shaky. Feeling his way rather than seeing it, the tank seeks out Tarn's anterior node. It's still throbbing and slick, but Megatron presses hard against it as he growls.
no subject
“More…” He begs, bucking and grinding on Megatron’s spike, desperate for an overload.
no subject
no subject
His mouth drops open, as he lets his helm fall back, optics flaring and flickering as his entire body quivers as overload makes it's steady approach.