Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am making a profit by writing this.

Pairing: G1 Perceptor/Moonracer
Warnings: Sticky

It was quiet within his lab—just how he liked it. No Wheeljack. No Ratchet. No explosions. No bickering. Perceptor certainly enjoyed being alone, slaving over his various projects; no distractions. Of course, his comrades disapproved of how easily he forgot to recharge and refuel. "You poor thing…" The scientist's skilled hands froze, his optics shifting behind the welding helmet as he lifted his head.

Moonracer approached him with a little skip in her step, feeling quite pleased to have the mech all to herself. "My favorite Autobot," she said, staking her claim while encircling his midsection. Perceptor tensed, unfamiliar with the touch. "Moonracer, please, I am dreadfully busy." His words escaped him in a flurry; voice trembling in nervousness. The femme glowered in jest, her small hands scaling the expanse of his chestplate. "You need a break, Perceptor. I brought you some energon."

Perceptor lifted the helmet. "Oh?" Moonracer lifted a cube in front of him. "Oh, thank you. That was very kind of you, Moonracer." He accepted the ration, letting the liquid soothe his hungry tank. At his contentment, the femme smiled and trailed her hands along the crimson armor of his back. "Um, Moonracer, what are you doing?" he inquired, glancing over his shoulder.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"I am not accustomed to such attention; having been a scientist for the entirety of my existence, I do not possess much of a social life outside of my laboratory partners." The female behind him just grinned.

"You mean you've never been with a girl before?"

Perceptor gaped. "We are not having this conversation!" He moved away from her greedy hands and placed the cube on the table—a small distraction, albeit short-lived as the femme approached him once more; forcing him into a seated position so that she may take up her perch within his lap. "Moonracer, please, your pheromone levels are abnormally high!" Moonracer trailed a finger down the center of his chest. "And you just now noticed?" Of course, he noticed before! He is a scientist, for Primus' sake. He just… tried to ignore it.

"It would be logical for me to respond in a sexual manner as a means to procreate, as a duty to my species, but, under these circumstances, I feel it would be inappropriate to return your sentiments." He was such a gentleman, she thought. But, it didn't deter the femme from getting what she wanted. She ran her touch along his shoulders, her optics dim; her spark racing. Perceptor could feel his breeding protocols switching on after many, many years of suppression.

His voice was silenced by her tantalizing lips; his hands instinctively falling to her shapely thighs as he steadied her against his bulk. The femme clearly enjoyed the location of his skilled digits as they unconsciously worked against the seams of her pelvic armor, coaxing the plating to shift and retract, revealing the lubricated mesh of wires beneath. Perceptor inhaled the scent as it greeted his olfactory sensors, igniting his desire; causing his own armor to retreat. The scientist's spike extended fully—such an intimidating symbol of masculinity, it almost worried the femme.

Moonracer palmed his length, feeling it throb within her hand. Perceptor winced, his mind reeling as she leaned against him, carefully guiding him to her sopping valve. "M-Moonracer…?" The femme said nothing as he slid into her slick orifice, his size painfully stretching the thick inner cables. Perceptor's grip tightened, his mind screaming orders; his virility surfacing.

The sharpshooter clawed at the red armor of his shoulders, the mounted scope coming dangerously close to her lips. In order to reach it, Moonracer lifted her body, nearly dislodging his spike, to trail her glossa over the lens. The action resulted in sending tremors of pleasure through the mech's frame, causing him to pull the femme back into his lap, impaling her once more; his hips now moving slightly to appease the desperate need for friction.

Moonracer slipped her arms around his dark helm, armor gently scraping against armor as she worked his spike along the most sensitive of pleasure nodes. Perceptor buried his face against her neck, his strong arms holding her tightly as he stood. The mech placed her at the end of the table, taking control of their coupling; keeping true to his scientific nature as he observed the multitude of expressions contorting her beautiful features.

"Perceptor…" She mewled his name, pulling the scientist closer. He was rough—surprisingly so. Moonracer felt the overload build, looming over her; she craved it, yet never wanted it to end. As the charge released, the sharpshooter tensed, exposing her throat to the mech above her. Perceptor happily delved his glossa between the sensitive neck cables, pulling one between his teeth as her valve spiraled down around his length. "Percy," she murmured, stroking his helm. Perceptor grunted softly, his back arching as he succumbed to his first overload.

Moonracer relaxed on the table's surface, blissfully unaware of the scientist's startled expression. He sat up, looking down at the femme. "Oh… Oh, goodness. Moonracer!" She turned her gaze to him. "What is it?" Perceptor carefully withdrew, armor snapping back in place. "I am dreadfully sorry, Moonracer. I…"

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for."

He took a deep breath. "It is only proper to bind to one's sexual partner, for the sake of morality and hatchling upbringing, lest you are seen as something undesirable or the child becomes misguided; to have intercourse without binding, to begin with, is frowned upon—will you agree to be my companion?"

The femme snickered at the rambling mech. "Yes, Perceptor," she said, moving to place a kiss to his cheek. "I will be your companion."