robothell | FUCK THE TRUCK

Entry tags:

ratchet | asafepairofhands

FUCK THE TRUCK

WHO: Optimus Prime and WHOEVER
WHERE: City and BEYOND
WHEN: SEX POLLEN TIME
WHAT: This is what you wanted guys the chance to fuck Optimus Fucking Prime. Non smut is available too.
WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT TRUCK FUCKIN

[AROUND THE CITY.]

Something felt off, but it's one of those things where you don't really -know- what's off. You wake up one day and suddenly..you're far more energetic and restless than usual. And it's enough for Optimus to go out and about to wander. Not that it's doing much good--the exercise (if you can call it that) and the change of visual stimuli doesn't do a thing to calm his behavior.

What was this feeling?

It's arousal, Optimus. You know, that thing you absolutely NEVER FEEL because you legit forgot what it's like to do the do.

[WILDCARD]

[I legit forgot all my prompts so if you have something you want to do I'm totally okay with this.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

He is needed. He's needed so badly, it's a physical ache. Or maybe that's the pollen in his systems. It doesn't matter either way. He's always needed his partner. Wanted him...

Now he's here and not pulling away and wanting him too.

His frame presses against the smaller one in his arms, the heat of his plating scorching. His mouth is more firm against Pax's neck. Urging him. Come on, take the plate off. This is good, and more than he expected -- but not enough.

"Show me...?"

Because he is five seconds away from picking up his old partner and running off somewhere to let him do whatever he wants.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Well, he's not got a hold of himself, but he sure has a hold of Optimus!

To the ground they go- and somewhat through it for a good measure, because Sixshot didn't just ram into people, after all. The Prime's warm plating against his felt like some kind of goddamn heaven but that also served to make Sixshot even more angry.

He twists in Optimus's hold on him, trying to get a hand free so that he could land a punch on the damned Autobot leader's face.

Phase Sixers weren't meant to be easy opponents, and Sixshot is certaily living up to that reputation. He had no idea what hat overtaken him, not that he should be surprised, honestly. His arms try to keep ahold of Sixshot's, knowing that if he let go...

He was going to be in a world of pain.

Their chests bounce off each others, feeling that...almost intoxicating heat.

NO. No focus Optimus...

"Six...shot. What is wrong?! What did I DO?!"

For the first time in a few weeks, Prowl felt well enough to leave without worrying he'd suddenly start bleeding energon out of his eyes. His thoughts didn't throb with the painful void of the gestalt, the absence of the five other voices that he'd never thought he'd need.

He admittedly was feeling better after accepting whatever help the medics could provide, even if he hated showing an ounce of vulnerability. Still, his head was clearer, even with the yellow dusting sending tingles of charge through his frame.

Compared to the mindfuck he'd gone through for the last year or so, it was a minor nuisance, at worst. He specifically avoids known Autobot outposts, preferring the quiet isolation of the blasted out buildings.

Prowl was not someone he expected to run into (so soon) on a city patrol. While he knew the Autobot liked to keep up to date on things, often personally, he was told that he had been in rehabilitation since his journey out with Verity (don't even get him started on everything wrong with that. He'll be here all day). Still, when he spots him...

He has to check up on him.

Contrary to Prowl's popular belief (popular only to Prowl), he did care about his second in command, despite it all. And that included now. His systems, while somewhat abnormal, were at the very least of his problems.

"Prowl."

Just...casual acknowledgement. Wow you're so great at ice breakers, Prime.

Prowl feels his jaw clench and his hands ball into fists as Optimus' voice rings in his audials. He had to come by, didn't he? Of course he did. Out of all the buildings in the entire damn city, he had to poke his head in this one.

For a long time, Prowl ignores him. He wasn't here to be chummy with someone who despise him. He's here to enjoy the quiet solitude of a demolished building.

With an unusual amount of venom in his voice, he leers at Optimus through the corner of his eye: "What do you want?"

Prowl was never the most personable bot. Rumors often spread about him in that way, and they weren't entirely false, either. That being said, Optimus never expected a reaction out of him when he uttered his name, watching his step into the abandoned home.

Except he got one, and not a positive one.

The venomous tone was surprisingly worrying. Had Verity said something to him? Had...Prowl disapproved of something he did here? Somehow, that hurt to think about. He was trying...

"Are you alright? It's not like you to be off by yourself like this"

It's totally like Prowl, wtf are you on, OP.

Prowl looks away from Optimus as he feels anger immediately seize his spark. His face contorts with an inconsolable hate, all focused onto the city ahead of him. After another moment of silence, he turns around, the emotion gone save for the typical bitter stare characteristic of him.

"Do you really know me, Optimus? Do you even care enough to understand?"

He covers his face with his hand as his posture weakens. Above all, he was so tired, even with the treatment improving his mental state. Tired of this. Fingers slip down his face.

"I want to be alone."

It was small, hidden, subtle...but Optimus notices. The way Prowl's face contorts is unlike anything he's seen, save for his opinion of Decepticons. And the worst part is, it wasn't directed at them. No...he this kind of anger...hate even, was directed right at him. And his spark feels like it could fall out of his chest at any moment and burn a hole through the floor.

The words cut deeper than any blade ever could.

"I have always cared about you, Prowl." That part was true. "What has gotten into you?"

He doesn't hesitate to taking a seat, despite Prowl's want for solitude. Because sometimes, you have to go against what people want for what's better for them.

And right now, Prowl needed someone.

The warmth overtakes him, and where he would tell Roller that this might be a bad idea, he's suddenly falling victim to it. The pollen was affecting him as well, and distorting his judgement as a result.

But really...was it such a far stretch? He'd cared about his partner back then, and regretted losing him ever since that day.

That one day where he never showed up...

A hand slowly lifts up to his face, fingers slipping behind those air vents and unclasping his faceplate. It wasn't hard to do, but it came with a certain weight on it. It always made him feel vulnerable.

This though...was worth it.]

If Optimus could be flustered, his ears would be turning pink. But that's stupid because he's a robot, although the affection still applies. He's led in, almost tugged by Ironhide as he sizes up the room.

Not that he was going to judge. It's not like there's hotel rooms around. It was nice, in his eyes. And it helped with Ironhide in here with him. His eyes turn to the Autobot in question, softening.

"You flatter me, Ironhide." It's humbled, as he walks over, tilting his chin up with his finger.

Prowl's optics dull in a cynical, cold disbelief to Optimus' words. It was hard to stomach what Optimus was proposing when he'd had the energon pounded out of him by the bot back home.

It's been a long time since he felt so wronged by his de facto "Leader", even if Prowl had done many grievous and hideous wrongs himself. He thought Optimus understood his solemn vow to do what was needed, always. The impossible things asked of him came with a cost, after all. He thought Optimus understood that. Apparently he was wrong.

"In dire need of a strategist, are we?" he asks mockingly, expecting Optimus had visited him with some ulterior motive,"I'm sure someone else can fill the role while I'm gone."

The cold reply catches him by surprise, even by Prowl's standards. The bot was cynical, usually, but it was never this bad. It seems personal now, the way he's taking shots at Optimus's spark. His eyes become more hurt withe each passing comment, unsure of how to really respond.

How did Prowl WANT him to respond?

"I came to you as a friend, not as the leader of the Autobots." His voice is softer, almost humbled. "Prowl," he starts, eyes flicking up to him. He won't beat around the bush--it never worked with him anyway.

"If I've done something--"

Ratchet is feeling it too, and is ignoring it as hard as he can. At least he can tell what it is. But there's only so many times he can reorganize the shelves in the medibay and he can't just do nothing without going crazy under completely normal circumstances, so when he's distracted like this there's no chance of him hanging around.

He goes out scouting, instead, and nearly bumps into Optimus rounding a corner. He takes a half-step back on his crutches and steadies himself, blowing out a shaky vent of warm air.

"Optimus," he says, his voice only a little staticky--then pauses, squinting up at him. "...are you all right?"

"Not trying to. Just... telling you the truth."

He doesn't resist when his chin is lifted. Following the indicated motion. His hands hover for a second, before they come to rest on Prime's hips. Easier that way. The closest thing he can reach. Letting his fingers run along the bits of paneling.

His optics never once leaving Prime's. Adoringly.

"I always... y'know. Felt like this."

He barely waits for the mask to come away. No sooner has it moved from his face than Roller is bending his head to cover his old partner's mouth in a firm, urgent kiss. Desperate, really. His arms wrapping around him, drawing him closer. One leg actually shifting to position itself just behind Pax-Prime-his partner's own.

His whole body vibrating slightly in excitement, in eagerness. He can't bear himself to pull his mouth away for more than a moment, happy to not be pushed away. To not be denied.

To finally have what he's been longing for.

"We should -- " He barely manages to get the words out. "I want you -- just -- " And even with the pollen flooding his system, he knows how cheesy and awful this line sounds.

" -- take me."

"If you've done something-" he snarls, a new spark of fury erupting through his entire body. A scathing line of venom curls on his tongue, words meant to do far more than hurt ready to be shouted down to the soft-speaking Prime in front of him.

But his self control reigns him in, the calculating part of his mind reminding him that Optimus might not know what he's to do in the future. The anger seeps from his body, and a heavy fatigue enters his frame.

With a disgusted curl of the lip, he looks away,"I doubt you'd understand."

"YOU!"

All the frustration and deep set resentment comes flooding out at once, unrestrained and channeled into something he couldn't and didn't want to think about. He'll tear the Prime apart before he has to think about it.

It was too hot to think about anything.

The Sixer frees a hand and it darts up, fingers digging into the cables that made up Optimus's throat. He wrenches his nemesis's helmet up- and smashes their face plates together with a shower of sparks in a desperate, hungry faux kiss.

If Optimus had been oblivious to Prowl's anger before, it's clear as day now. His eyes spread wide, almost reflecting Prowl himself in them as he watches, spark aching in both morbid curiosity and fear. Was this all about Bumblebee? The trial?

Maybe further back. Maybe how he left Cybertron in their hands, respecting the wishes of the NAILs. Optimus wasn't perfect, and he'd be the first one to admit that. But this...this felt so personal. It wasn't like Prowl to have this tone with him--he'd been snappy, even a bit chastising towards him, but there was never so much hatred put into those words. Despite it all, Prowl looked out for him, and he'd always done the same.

What...happened?

Before he can even address it, escalate it even, Prowl slumps in his makeshift chair.

"Try me."

And he means it. If Prowl's willing to lash this out at him, he had to have done something. And it'd be something he'd probably do again. Which...honestly...scares him a little underneath all that plating.

While he knew Ratchet had been out and about plenty of times, it worried him always to see him hobbling around on his crutches. Something about it raised all the familiar things that Ratchet would tell him when he did such a thing. Funny, how that rubs off on you.

"Ratchet--" A pause. "I'm...I'm fine."

An understatement. And one he knew Ratchet would probably see through. He was anything but--although he's not sure exactly how to describe it. He wasn't in pain, he wasn't feeling bad, per say. But he was...off.

"I'm sorry. I should have been paying more attention. My mind feels a bit cloudy."

"Yeah, you and everybody else this week. You aren't fine, Optimus, you're affected too. This pollen scrap that's floating around."

Ratchet narrows his optics, squinting up at Optimus, and huffs a warm gust of air from his vents.

"You're overcharged. Are you taking care of it? Haven't you noticed?"

"Pollen." Perhaps he'd been off by himself one too many times in this place, perhaps he figured he was just restless from his last visit to talk to Cybertron. Whatever it was...it certainly didn't feel like a medical condition.

Not until dust--no, pollen--is vented from his wiring when Ratchet puffs air.

"I...I've noticed some changes, certainly. I'm..."

What's the word he's looking for.

"Excited."

"Uh-huh." A hard shudder pulls through Ratchet's frame, which he completely ignores. "Well, it's a side-effect, it's not dangerous, and we haven't found a way to cure it except for burning off the charge, er. Manually."

He swallows, shifting on his crutches, his optics flickering slightly.

"You all right, otherwise?"

Optimus is oblivious to a lot of things, most of them when it comes to something like this. So when he says 'manual', there's a slight eyebrow perk. He's not completely in the dark about the subject, he has an idea... it's just not something he'd expect out of a doctor's mouth.

Well then.

"I'm fine, old friend." His tone's more than softened at that. Even now, with Ratchet in crutches, despite his injuries that were more or less still recovering...he still found time to make sure he was functioning.

There's a soft vent of air through his faceplate, eyes searching the other as a hand reaches out, brushing along Ratchet's shoulder. It was delicate, trailing along the seams of the armour there...

Noticing every detail. It trails all the way to his neck, remembering just what Ratchet had said, about burning it off manually...just for a moment. "I shouldn't be in your vicinity if this pollen is affecting people. They need a medic." And not the HELLOOOO NURSE kind.

Ratchet shivers when Optimus touches him, his plating rattling together and his grip clenching hard on his crutches. His optics dim briefly then flare bright, intent on Optimus' face, his cooling fans clicking on softly.

"Oh, I'm already contaminated," he says wearily. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 4

«

1
2
3
4

»