robothell | FUCK THE TRUCK

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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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"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."

He feels that plating underneath him shake, optics widening as he looks directly into Ratchet's eyes. This is...he knows this is the pollen. But he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't slightly glad for it.

Being able to appreciate Ratchet like this was worth being contaminated.

"Ratchet..," he starts, unsure where it goes from here. Honestly, he doesn't know what's going to happen after this.

Ratchet breaks eye contact and bites his lip, cycling his vents roughly.

"Sorry," he says, his voice a little raw with static. "You seem to be handling it better than I am. I do all right, but it's just--it's distracting."

Distracting was an overall kind word for it. There were plenty more...accurate, if rough answers for it.

"I was."

His systems hitch, as if his own words were what were holding the proverbial dog-on-chain back. It's taking everything in his power to not slam Ratchet on the ground right now.

He'll ask first.

"Can...I be that distraction?"

Ratchet's optics jerk up to Optimus' face again, wide and startled, his lips parting--before need slams through him and weakens his knee, his elbows trembling briefly in his crutches as his fans labor to keep his internal temperature down.

"Yes," he says, sounding a little dazed, then pulls himself together a bit. He can see that tension wound through Optimus now, the need there, and he swallows hard. "Yes, if--if you want."

That was all the answer Optimus needed. His eyes seem to flick a shade brighter at the confirmation, his hand moving from that shoulder up to his own faceplate, deft fingers working frantically under it to unclasp it from where it was held.

He doesn’t even catch it--it falls to the floor with a soft thud. Not that they’ll have time to even think about that for the moment. Optimus is already pulling Ratchet closer, crushing their lips together hastily.

As if he’d been holding back this whole time. His mouth is open and inviting, with a little bit of urging of his own as he dims his optics, sinking into the feeling of being wanted. It was definitely the pollen at work here, and he would return to being the stoic leader he’d always been. But who says he couldn’t enjoy this while it was there?

Ratchet wanted it, and so did he.

Ratchet's optics go round as Optimus moves towards him and his crutches clatter to the ground with Optimus' faceplate as he winds his arms around broad shoulders, his whole body arching into the solid heat of Optimus' much larger frame. He kisses back hard, teeth catching, tugging at Optimus insistently--he knows how much of Optimus' time is spent holding back, and that's the last thing Ratchet wants now. Still...

"Not interested in going somewhere more private?" Ratchet gasps into his mouth, barely pulling away enough to speak as his cooling fans kick up into a dull, thrumming roar in his chassis.

It's asking a lot for Optimus to stop now, when he's launched himself into this so suddenly. Trucks are very hard to slow once they get going. But this was Ratchet, after all, and he always held a reserve of clarity for those close to him.

Even if it comes out as a rushed whisper.

"Yes."

Okay, you can say more than that.

"But where..." His eyes flick up, only for a moment, looking for...somewhere a little more private than right in the middle of the fucking street.

Ratchet laughs, a thick, rumbling sound low in his chassis as his hands reach up to pet slowly at Optimus' helm, nuzzling at his cheek.

"Well, we don't have to..." Ratchet kisses him again, making a hungry little sound in his throat before drawing back again. "But the medibay isn't too far. I have a room there."

A room would certainly be better. Dirt and dust wouldn't get in places, and he wouldn't have to awkwardly explain if they were doing it right in the middle of the road. It's hard to hold back that engine, the pollen starting to affect his decision making now.

But thankfully, he can make one good one before he loses himself completely. Lips press against Ratchet's in answer, brushing them off hurriedly. "Let's go, before we end up putting on a show anyway."

Ratchet scoops up his crutches and jerks his chin in the direction of the medibay, shivering all over and watching Optimus with overbright optics for a moment before he starts off, limping as quickly as he can. His movement on the crutches is smooth, now, managing a little faster than a regular walking pace even next to someone as tall as Optimus' longer legs, and he flicks a glance up at Optimus as they near the door.

"How long has this been going on without you doing anything about it?" he asks, only a little impatient and exasperated, knowing the answer is going to be 'longer than he should have' no matter what Optimus says.

Optimus is quiet as he follows, as if speaking was enough to send him over the edge. And to be honest, he's not exactly wrong, either. He was on a fine line of making it to the medical bay to do this properly, and shoving Ratchet back down to the ground.

He shudders, his engine hitching as they reach the door.

"Since the war."

As in...BEFORE IT.

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