Truthfully, Brainstorm has imagined that fragging would be much more romantic than being face down on the wet floor of his lab with his aft getting filled by a mech who enjoyed describing the scenario in detail. He now knows he was a complete fragging idiot, because he felt amazing.

The stretch of his port burned a little, the lining slowly easing open, but it was a dull burn that ebbed away the longer Spinister stayed inside. His calipers cycle and adjust, finding the right squeeze around the spike inside him, and then they twitch with almost each pulse of the scientist's spark.

"Haaah," he grunts, keeping his head down, and he cycles a few times to keep his frame relaxed. If he tensed up, it might feel fine for Spinister, but it wouldn't be a great time for him.

"Are you... Are you all the way in?" Spinister had stopped. He can feel the head rubbing against his ceiling node, making little zaps of electricity course through his pelvic span. He couldn't feel the mech's baseplate against his aft though. There's... no possible way he could be that big, could he?

Brainstorm gives an experimental rock, pushing back, and it immediately draws out a staticy moan from his vocalizer as the head of the spike pushes up against the terminus of his valve harder. The opening of his port gives a weak squeeze around the girth, stretched wide open.