Chapter Text
Both of his servos were on the desk, fingers wrapped tightly around the edges. It was all Sentinel felt he could do, really, with the Major in charge of the boot camp ventilating against the back of his head. Greedy hands were dancing against his chassis, feeling and groping everything they could reach. They roamed, and roamed until they finally- blessedly- began pawing at his thighs. As the servos dipped between them Sentinel felt the distinct sensation of a glossa slowly rolling along the back of his neck. He only allowed himself to shiver.
Soon the fingers began stroking the bared valve, trying to coax the mesh into lubricating. The Major began thrusting his hips against the Cadet, leaving sticky smears of prefluid on Sentinel's aft. Unable to help himself, Sentinel flushed and rocked side to side on his pedes. He wanted the Major to hurry up so he could go back to the barracks and forget this ever happened! Or, at least until he was called back to the Major's private quarters. As if hearing his plea, the tip of the Major's spike began to nudge inbetween the outer lips of his valve, slickened with lubricant. When had he gotten wet?
Whimpering as the spike fully entered him in one push from the Major, Sentinel offlined his optics and tried to remember his dream of becoming Magnus.