Perceptor likes to overload in his lab with the door unlocked. Bots like to listen in or watch from a crack. He knows this, and he puts on a show.
He knew who it wasn’t, because Rodimus would’ve just walked in anyway, Ratchet would have started to chew him out, and Magnus would be calling out citations from the hallway. It couldn’t be any of the minibots, the ventilations weren’t high pitched, and it ruled out Nautica, because hers would get very loud. That left whoever stood quietly just outside the door, their shadow the only thing betraying their presence, as either Brainstorm or Drift. A 50/50 chance of getting it right. Perceptor didn’t like those odds.
Perceptor let out a hiss as he pulled his servos out of himself, already missing them even as he grabbed the nearest item (which happened to be a chunk of metal tubing Brainstorm was using to build….whatever he was building. At least this would solve the mystery of who was at the door, right?) and brought it up to his mouth, self-servicing as he drenched it, sucked on it, slid his tongue as deep as it would go, only to start the whole thing over again. He heard the tiniest click of the door moving, just slightly, and was careful not to look straight at whoever was there. Brainstorm, for all his gusto, had issues with pursuing relationships that kept him out of Perceptor’s grip, and Drift was….rather considerate and mindful of personal boundaries whenever Perceptor didn’t want him to have them (and then, of course, he’d be all over the scientist when he did). The last thing he wanted was his little mystery skittering off and ruining his fun little voyeuristic thrill.
Still, the odds remained 50/50 even as he shoved the pipe into himself, and since he wasn’t certain which name to be moaning he bit down on one hand, muffled a groan, and slammed his hips down to force it all in at once. Ah, there was an optic in the doorway-too bright to see the color of yet, but he was gaining confidence already, and instead of just weakly pumping the pipe in and out of himself, he held the base of it against the chair and ground down on it, making sure his legs were spread far enough apart to give whoever it was a good view. He could catch the slightest hint of a gasp as he started riding it like a champ, but it was the sudden flash of gold from the crack in the doorway that evened the odds. 70/30, it was Brainstorm. Those odds, he could play with.
“Unf, Storm,” he grunted, catching a delightful cluster of nodes with the blunt edge of the piping and gasping Brainstorm’s name. He could hear Brainstorm in the hallway fumbling backwards, vents hitching up, and then a sound he wasn’t totally sure he heard quite right, because that sounded like a panel sliding back, and-
That thought was his undoing, and he struggled to stay upright as he slammed into overload, mouth lolling open in a sloppy grin, which remained plastered on his face even as he slumped forward, recovered himself, and sat back to meet Brainstorm’s peeking eye.
“Well, Brainstorm? Was that to your liking?”
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