[Subject is sufficiently repaired to continue interrogation. Remains suspicious of interrogator's motives, and fully cognizant of faction loyalties. Alternative methods will be required to obtain any information.]

Vortex subspaced the datapad as he entered the cell, deactivating the bars and squatting down next to the captive.

"How're we feeling today?" he asked cheerfully.

"A bit hungry," Springer answered, tone light, even though his vocalizer was still scratchy from a harsh blow from Motormaster. One leg was drawn up in front of him, the other twisted off to the side, non-functional, and not important enough for Vortex to bother repairing. His hands were cuffed tightly behind his back. "Did you bring the high-grade I asked for?"

"It's funny," Vortex said, as if he hadn't spoken, "If I hadn't saw it myself, I never woulda thought you'd spent the last few days screamin' in agony and passin' out, only to get woke up and do it again."

"Amazing, isn't it?" But there was a sharp edge to his grin.

Vortex cocked his head, watching him carefully. "That bothers you, don't it? Not being able to soldier through it?"

Springer leaned forward, defiance written in every line. "Still haven't broken."

"You will," Vortex told him cheerfully.

Springer snorted, slumping back.

"Motormaster ain't comin' back, in case you're curious," Vortex said, sadistic glee rising in his voice. "It's just you and me, now." He was watching Springer close enough to see the flicker in his optics. He giggled. "That's right, Springer. Things just got a lot worse."

"Oh, creepy," Springer deadpanned. "He giggled at me. Time to give up." But there was real apprehension in his optics.

Vortex reached out to grab Springer's chin. The triplechanger flinched back instinctively, movement hampered by the bindings.

"I've been waitin' for this," Vortex murmured. He stroked his thumb across Springer's cheek, coming to rest on his lips. He could feel the tension in Springer's frame, anticipating a turn from the unexpected gentleness to pain and agony. "Cooperate, and I won't hurt you," he purred. "At least, not much."

Springer's expression was plainly disbelieving. "That's what you say now," he said, lips whispering against Vortex's thumb.

"Relax, you'll enjoy this," Vortex said, his free hand wandering down Springer's chestplates to trace the scuffs and dents on his leg. "Even if you don't want to." The hand slipped down the inside of Springer's thigh.

Something shifted in Springer's gaze. He smirked. "Who said I don't want to?" He twisted his head under Vortex's hand, quickly catching the interrogator's thumb in his mouth.

Vortex's engine stuttered in surprise as Springer ran his glossa down his thumb, curling around the joint. He shuddered, rotors fanning and optics flickering off.

Springer released him, and Vortex could feel him smirking against his palm even before he turned his optics back on.

"Sensitive hands?" Springer drawled. "Be a shame if I was the only one who got to enjoy this."

"Oh, I'm goin' to," Vortex said, voice thickening. He seized Springer by the arm, heaving him up.

Springer staggered, his damaged leg unable to support his weight. Vortex shoved him roughly against the wall, pressing against him to hold him in place as his hands roamed.

The position left Springer's arms twisted painfully behind his back, pinned between his body and the unyielding cell wall. Springer hissed in pain, then groaned as Vortex took advantage of a deep dent along a seam to dig his fingers under the armor, rubbing against the sensor nodes there.

Springer leaned as much forward as he could, tilting his head to nuzzle against the bottom edge of Vortex's battlemask, his glossa flicking out to tease the exposed cables of the interrogator's neck.

"Slag," Vortex hissed, fingers tightening and scraping against the sensor nodes until Springer cried out in mingled pleasure and pain. The sound was like a surge of electricity through his systems, so utterly perfect and yet not enough. He wanted more. He wanted to push until Springer's vocalizer glitched as he screamed and begged for just a little more...

[Alternative methodology shows promise, and it is this interrogator's opinion that continued use will prove to be beneficial to the end goal-]