If Tarn thinks he'll shame First Aid over his sexuality, then he had a surprise coming to him. He was quite comfortable with his sex life and his desire; even if he hated the mech in front of him, Tarn still fit into the pattern of what he usually found sexually attractive. That aside? It's the power wielded over him that really intensely gets him off.

"I've dreamed about having you beg me," he purrs, one hand dipping down to wrap around the huge, slick spike jutting between them. "Different circumstances, but this will do for now."

First Aid's own armor felt stifling, his array aching with need. Lubricant drips out of his closed panels down his leg, sticky and thick, while more gathers at the mouth of his covered valve. His plating flares, expelling heat, and he lets his own paneling fold away. The relief is almost instant as his cord extends, thick and heavy for his size, but still dwarfed by the huge frame in front of him.

"You've got my leg all dirty," he hums, glancing down at the lubricant streaking his thigh as he wraps his other hand around the spike. He drags both hands down it, fingers firmly pressing into the plates, following the groove of the transfluid piping. "Are you always this shameless in the berth or just with Autobots?"