"I-" Sixshot very gently tightens his grip on First Aid to prevent the smaller mech from slipping down his chest as he squirms into position. He belatedly realizes his hand was now holding the medic's tiny waist and the Sixer makes a stifled little noise. He then realizes his hand was still pressed up against Rampage's abdominal plates, the warmth of it against his fingers, and the stifled little noised becomes distinctly more high pitched-

Aaaand now there were two faces pressed against his neck on either side, the smooth slide of a mask, the scrape of sharp teeth and their mingling hot vents sinking under his collar armor. Sixshot finds himself clasping First Aid close, fingers stroking across the small of the mech's back. His free hand finds Rampage's hip, then slides down to cup the back of a red thigh and gives it an urgent squeeze, his own vents quickening and back curving at the sharp stretch of thick fingers pushing into him.

"I want you both too," Sixshot whispers, so quietly that it was nearly lost under the low rumble of his powerplant.