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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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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