As Sixshot's spike begins sliding into his port, Tarn lets out a low moan. Primus, it's so much thicker than just a few fingers and he can feel himself stretching even further to accommodate it.

Tarn rests his face against his partner's neck, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as the chord slides even deeper, stroking against his deepest nodes.

His hands clench on the Phase Sixer's shoulder armor, warping it slightly.