robothell | [network post--marked urgent]

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ratchet | asafepairofhands

[network post--marked urgent]

Hello? Yeah, all right, it looks like this thing is on.

[The vid flickers on and Ratchet's face fills it, somehow more exasperated and peeved than usual.]

Look, public service health announcement, stay away from the damn stupid flowers that are popping up everywhere. They're releasing a pollen that's hyperconductive that causes an allergic reaction in both organics and inorganics. Nobody's going to drop dead, unless you're set on being a medical miracle and being the first to die of overcharge, but if you're affected, for goodness' sake, be careful until it wears itself out. If you don't release the pent-up charge or whatever periodically it's possible you'll overheat.

If you absolutely need medical assistance, I'm going to be at the first medibay trying to figure out more precisely what the fresh smelting hell is going on.

Ratchet out.

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[The return grip makes him grin a little, and he resumes applying little bits of pressure to the hand he's holding.]

Heh. Just... wanted to make sure you wanted it. [The tilt of his head shifts, curling in to lightly press a kiss to his head.] I...

I don't have anythin' more important than you right now.

Well, I have no idea what part of my response was ambiguous or opaque, but-- [Ratchet's voice cascades into static as Ironhide strokes at his hand and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud, burying his face against Ironhide's chest. He rocks his hips, then tries again, muffling a frustrated groan against Ironhide's plating when he can't get any leverage.]

This would be a lot easier with two legs. [His voice rasps in his throat and he resists the urge to squirm, nibbling his lower lip.] Can't get any leverage like this. Doesn't seem fair to make you do all the work.

You know me. Always checkin'.

[Oh. He hadn't expected that reaction from just toying with hands. His grip shifts, enough to where he can press a kiss to the medic's palm. Long and slow. Though it's hard not to do anything else when he feels the other bot shifting atop him.]

Hhh. Could always... use these.

[He presses another few kisses to that hand, all along the palm, to the finger joints.]

Not when you're doing that, I can't. [Ratchet's voice is tight and he can't help himself--he squeezes down around Ironhide and muffles a desperate little noise in his throat at the slow, warm slide of lips against sensitive components. He clenches his free hand into a fist and just shivers there for long moments, venting raggedly.]

Ironhide, that's sensitive. [As though Ironhide could have somehow missed that fact, with Ratchet writhing around in his lap and Ratchet's spike pressurizing against his belly again.]

S'that mean you want me to quit?

[He says it around a grin, though. A grin and another kiss to that palm. To the tip of a finger. He almost nips at it with his teeth, though, feeling the sudden tightening around him. He can't help the little lift of his hips, though, a slow roll instead of the sharp jerk of before.]

Yeah, noticed. You... wanna roll over? Put it to 'use'?

No--yes--!

[Ratchet's voice crackles into static at the soft graze of Ironhide's teeth against his plating, clutching at him with his free hand and arching a little before he manages to scrape together his bearings.]

No, don't stop; yes, roll us over. Please. [The word sounds dragged out of him and he struggles for composure and self-control, a little embarrassed to have lost it even this much, even in front of Ironhide.] I'm going to last a completely pitiful length of time if you don't stop playing with my hands, just as a warning.

At least you're honest, even if it's stupid.

[ First Aid doesn't draw his hand away, but he shakes his head at Ratchet. He rumbles in displeasure, thinking about how Ratchet generally handles any sort of scenario with his own health. ]

I put it in this morning, then I usually take it off whenever I shower.

[ Which that can be several hours, depending whether or not he ends up fragging someone in the time between. It's been several already, at least, today. ]

I know, Ratchet, it's not good, but... [ He makes a vague motion. ]

[He has to chuckle. Just a little. There's a lot of warmth to the sound. Warmth and affection -- so much affection. It shows in his face, too. The dumb smile on his face says that much, looking up at Ratchet like he's the one keeping the universe spinning.]

[This time, the kiss is for the other bot's mouth. Just as slow as the ones pressed to his palm.]

Don't matter to me how 'long' anythin' is. Jus' wanna see you enjoyin' yourself.

[But he does do as asked, slowly rolling them over so that he's atop the other. And then, only then, does he move to pull himself free, on his hands and knees above Ratchet.]

... wanna use your hands on me? Or your uh. Other hand there.

[He means 'spike'. Good euphemism, Ironhide.]

Nothing about this whole mess is exactly ideal.

[Ratchet looks down at the smaller hand curled loosely in his, resisting the urge to tighten his grip again, to bring it to his lips to suck on First Aid's fingers, to press him back over one of the tables here and push his panels aside, to turn that soft to ragged static. He shakes himself a little, swallowing.]

Still, that's long, especially for as many days as you'll seem likely to need it. I-- [He shifts a little, but he's determined not to be awkward.] ...would you like a hand? I'm not in any immediate danger myself, so don't feel obligated to throw yourself on that particular grenade. [His voice is warm and wry, his fingers curling to smooth gently against First Aid's.] But friend to friend, I'm here for you too.

[Ratchet looks a little stunned at the look on Ironhide's face, pressing back into the kiss almost fiercely for a moment, holding him tight. He has to break off when Ironhide rolls them over to keep from biting his mouth, his head thunking back against the berth as he cries out softly, his whole body arching as Ironhide slips free. He slumps in place, already achingly pressurized again and his valve embarrassingly slick.]

I'm all yours. [His voice is only a little shaky as he stares up at Ironhide, open hunger in his optics.] Whatever you want.

It... is.

[ There's that heated look in Ratchet's optics that makes his voice waver slightly. He wouldn't have extended the offer if he found it awkward; it wasn't the first time he's found relief with another medic, but usually just for fun and stress relief than legitimate health related reasons. ]

Sure, I'm down. You look like you could use a hand too, no matter what you say.

[ He's teasing, though he circles his fingers around Ratchet's, stroking over the sensitive digits. They used to be Pharma's hands, and he's used to the shape of them, his fingers finding the joints and creases easily. ]

[Mouth bites are probably a small price to pay for this. For being wrapped up with Ratchet like this. He makes an awkward sort of noise of apology, offering another kiss to mouth and neck for the trouble. His own body already feels hot again, energy and need tingling through his systems, seeing the way Ratchet looks. Hearing him say those words.]

[So he just nods. He wonders if he's flexible enough to take both of those invitations, laid bare for him. And decides on the one he hasn't attended to yet.]

[Still taking his time, still watching Ratchet's face with nothing short of open adoration, the bigger bot eases himself down onto the other's spike, hissing a bit through his teeth -- wow, it's been a while since he's done it this way.]

[Ratchet opens his mouth to say something--then has to close it again immediately to trap a moan behind his teeth, heat raking through him at the deliberate touch of First Aid's fingers against his. His spike thumps into the thin cowling covering it, trying to pressurize, and he has the good grace to look at least slightly sheepish.]

Can't argue with you there. [His grip on First Aid's fingers tightens briefly before he pulls away to put both hands back on his crutches, nodding towards the door to the room in which he usually recharges, a cluttered half-closet with a slab and extra supplies.] ...somewhere more private, then?

[Ratchet stares up at Ironhide as he shifts, easing himself down, the scorching heat of him closing around Ratchet as he shakes a little against the berth, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out. He can't look away from Ironhide's face, the clear emotion there, and he makes a needy, desperate little sound when their hips touch.]

Oh. [His voice is almost a sob, his hands clenching briefly into fists before they relax again and he just squirms a little, fighting the urge to thrust up as he watches Ironhide shift in his lap, his cooling fans screaming and his optics wide.] You're gorgeous. You look so good like this.

Edited 2015-08-17 07:07 (UTC)

[ The dampener was probably more frustrating than dealing with uncontrolled arousal. He feels aroused, but the charge doesn't build, redirected out of his array and throughout his sparklines. First Aid makes a small, needy sound at the sound of Ratchet's spike thumping against the cover. He always really liked that sound. ]

Really, Ratchet? We really need to get you out of the closet. I'd take you to my suite but I think you'd beat me over the head with that crutch before I could get you off your feet.

[ Small size didn't mean lack of strength and all. Ambulances were built to carry. First Aid will take what's available though, and the complaint is in jest. He's perfectly fine taking Ratchet's helm between his hands and leaning in to press their heads together briefly before backing off, towards the sad little room Ratchet's set up. ]

H-hah. You're kiddin'...

[But it comes out breathless, ragged, around the stupid, admiring grin on his face. No sooner does he feel the pressure of the other bot against his valve, he shudders, his own body arching as his weight pulls him down to his knees, hip-to-hip. All but burying Ratchet in him.]

-- sorry. It. I'm. Little rusty. This way.

[Sure, he's a big, sturdy bot -- and sure, the proportions are what they should be. But damn if he hasn't used these parts in a while. He's a little surprised they remember how they're supposed to work. Makes Ratchet feel huge, like there's no room left to work.]

Should be tellin' you those kinds of things.

It's convenient. [Ratchet has the aggrieved tone of someone who has heard this particular complaint several times in the past few days. This doesn't keep him from leaning into First Aid's touch to his helm, however.] A fact for which I think we are both grateful just now. Come on.

[He shoulders the door open and let's First Aid in before shutting and locking it then sitting down on the bed and setting his crutches aside. Both hands freed, he reaches up to cup First Aid's hips and draw him closer, not quite hesitant but oddly careful as he watches First Aid's face, his mouth finding the sensitive plating of First Aid's belly and pressing a slow kiss there as his fingertips slide down and in.]

Now let's get you out of this thing, shall we?

[ First Aid had to admit, this was weird. Not a bad weird, just a... unexpected weird. Some mechs were really into the mentor figure fantasy, but he was plenty happy to forget that the moment Ratchet's lips press against his belly. He groans, charge going straight to his array and then was immediately redirected with the dampener in place, leaving First Aid shivering. ]

I, I might pressurize quick.

[ The last thing he wanted was to put out Ratchet's eye with his cock.

He lets his covers push aside and the problem was immediately apparent. Generally, charge dampeners were designed to allow lubricant to flow and the spike to pressurize, but First Aid's hastily cobbled model kept everything in. His cord was still pressing against the barrier, visible as a lump against the device, but it was pressed into the seams of his array well enough that it couldn't push free.

First Aid holds up a finger to stifle the incoming lecture before it starts, then pinches his fingers over one of Ratchet's chevron and strokes up to the point. ]

Edited 2015-08-17 18:25 (UTC)

[Ratchet rumbles a low half-laugh, but the sound dies when he sees the device clamped over First Aid's array. He sighs, but does not launch into a lecture, leaning into First Aid's fingers a little instead as his hands find the catches and ease the damper free.]

[Heat flares in his optics as First Aid pressurizes, steadying First Aid with firm hands on his hips after he sets the device aside, his touch light as he leans in, the only warning First Aid gets before he closes his mouth around First Aid's spike. He sucks gently as his fingers press to the wet heat between First Aid's legs, his free hand bracing the small of First Aid's back as he leans in to swallow him whole. He can practically taste the charge built up and he has to muffle a moan around First Aid's length, his lips touching First Aid's baseplate and a moan vibrating in his throat as two fingers slide in, opening slick, clutching heat around sensitive plating.]

[ First Aid is pretty sure he'll get the lecture later.

Right now, he was concentrating hard on keeping his legs from giving out from under him. Taking off the dampener was always somewhat painful-- the rush of charge hitting him at once, the over sensitive nodes, the strain. It was like the sensation of post-overload times seven.

His moan was loud and broken, even before Ratchet swallows him down to the base, and that's when he really doesn't trust his legs and has to slam his hands down on the older medic's shoulders to keep from crumpling. ]

Ratchet!

[ First Aid can't even form other words, his vocalizer spitting static as his frame thrums with charge. His spike was pulsing with it, twitching from pent up neediness, already leaking prefluid down the back of Ratchet's intake just from overfull tanks. His valve cycles down around the fingers, clutching them tight as they slide in deep, and First Aid rocks his hips involuntarily, as desperate as a virgin chasing his first overload. ]

Please!

[Ratchet hums agreeably, letting the sound vibrate around First Aid's length as he keeps him close, wrapping his arm around the backs of First Aid's thighs and letting First Aid rest his much slighter weight against Ratchet's shoulders as he shakes. His optics dim and flicker out as he focuses, sucking harder at First Aid's spike, pressing a third finger into his valve as his thumb finds First Aid's anterior node and rubs in firm, steady circles as he rocks deep, fingertips sliding against the terminus of First Aid's valve to stroke.]

Mmmhmmmm. [He hums in answer, the sound almost a half-moan as he firmly shuts down the command for his own panel to open--they can deal with that in a minute. He can feel First Aid shake against him, feel how desperately he's trying to keep his feet, how badly he needs to overload after so long with the damper on. He doesn't tease, just works First Aid slowly and patiently, pushing him steadily towards the edge and swallowing around him when his hips jerk, just letting him slide deeper.]

[ First Aid waited too long to take the damper off; he has almost no strength to hold himself upright, his plating flaring out, his vocalizing cracking with static as he keens. Normally, he even liked charge denial play and the extra desperation and sensitivity that followed, but this was too much.

He grips Ratchet's shoulders tight and curls slightly over him, his thumbs rubbing the back of the elder medic's neck cabling blindly and fumbling. It just-- it just felt so good. His body couldn't figure out if he was in pain or ecstasy; First Aid's noises almost sound like sobs and his visor streaks light. He rocks his hips forward against Ratchet's lips, shuddering all over at the feeling of his mouth squeezing around his spike and the fullness in his valve. ]

Don't stop, gonna-- You can pull-- Are you gonna swallow?

[ Hopefully Ratchet can decipher that muddle of words. Even when he's half crazy with charge First Aid still tries to be polite in the berth. ]

[Ratchet lets First Aid muffle a kind laugh around him and tightens his grip on First Aid's thighs, keeping him close.]

Mmmmhmmm. [He hums agreeably, not letting up, just bracing First Aid as best he can and pressing his fingers in deep to curl against sensitive inner nodes, his thumb still rubbing steadily and his mouth tightening hard as he swallows around the very tip of First Aid's spike.]

[Ratchet's lips part soundlessly as Ironhide's hips press down against his, pinning him against the berth as the rest of his body arches and his optics flicker out. He trembles under Ironhide for a long moment before his hands find Ironhide's thighs, stroking shakily before one hand slides in to curl gently around Ironhide's length and stroke. He manages to online his optics again, his vents heaving as he shivers all over.]

All right?

[ Where did Ratchet learn to suck spike like this? No, he couldn't even hold onto that thought. Even the clumsiest attempts at interfacing could probably get him off right now anyway.

Ratchet only has a few seconds after that warning before First Aid's joints lock and a shudder rolls over his frame. Charge ripples over his plating, wringing him out as his spike pulses against the elder medic's tongue, spurting against the back of his throat. His valve squeezes around the fingers pressed into him, rippling around them, and lubricant gushes so hard from him it's almost comparable to squirting.

First Aid curls over him, his voice flanging, and he grips hard at Ratchet's shoulders as ripple after ripple of charge racks his frame. ]

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[network post--marked urgent]

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oops i got sappy

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UGHHH MY HEART

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u welcome

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LMAO WRONG JOURNAL

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IT'S OKAY

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