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.]

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Okay, enough was enough. He'd... tried to put all this off. And give them both space for what had to have been weeks now. He'd lost count. Hoping in all that time, some of the awkward embarrassment would fade out. Or he'd just plain forget that he'd really enjoyed kissing the bot who had been his partner.

Clearly, avoidance wasn't working.

Time to... suck it up. Be a big bot. And go find Pax-Prime.

(Okay, so the name needed work, but, for now, it served a halfway decent purpose. At least one of them was correct, right?)

What the big bot does not expect is to find his old partner almost immediately after he sets out, leaving his rooms-slash-cave for the first time in a while. He almost bumps right into him, in fact. And ends up looking down at him, awkwardly remember the feel of holding onto him, the way his plating felt, the way--

Hoo boy. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Hey. Um. We gotta... talk."

It's like a sixth sense. Figuring out when something was wrong with Optimus. Maybe it's a side effect of being so relieved to see him again. Or some old bodyguard instinct. It doesn't really matter. Either way, he's been shadowing Prime for some time now, about as subtle as a brick wall.

But Optimus just... seems too distracted to notice. Maybe something bad happened -- again. Or maybe this is one of those weird "go talk to the planet" things he wasn't allowed to follow on. Too bad, if it was the latter. He was here.

And approaching.

"Hey, Prime. You okay?"

Sixshot had roamed the outsides of the city for hours now, steam ghosting from his armor in long streams, trailing after the massive wolf-former as he lopes through the ruins. As long as he keeps moving...

As long as he keeps moving then...

Then what?

Heat muddles that line of thought. He's not sure why he's so hot, why he's running, why he's avoiding the main parts of the city.

It's not something he ever really gets to figure out either, because he suddenly catches the scent of someone very, very familiar nearby.

Mind Numbing Arousal + Smell of Optimus Prime = Suddenly Unreasonably Ticked Sixshot.

There's a building collapsing on top of the Prime now as Sixshot takes an impromptu shortcut.

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.

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?"

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