robothell | [network post--marked urgent]

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I was guessing it was something in the pollen itself, the way it gets into our systems, and that it'll subside once the stuff is clear. It would explain the lack of other data, but I don't know. And that doesn't explain why it's affecting organics in a similar fashion, but I sure don't have the tools or equipment or a big enough sample size to get enough data to figure out what's going on there. This is high-priority, but nobody's dying, so I don't know.

Thanks for looking it over anyway--better that everybody have as much data as possible. [He eyes First Aid for a moment, his optics narrowing slowly.] You don't seem as badly affected as most. Anything in particular you're doing to fight it?

I'm probably missing something. It could be a parasite, which would account for the lack of chemical response, or viral, and the the spores are just the most visible-- I need more time to look the data over.

[ First Aid briefly flicks his his attention to Ratchet's face, then back at the data pad and mutters something. That was considerably unhelpful, and he realizes that, but he's a bit embarrassed. ]

I uh, made a dampener to use.

We need more data, really, and nobody's focused enough to be really forthcoming.

[Ratchet's optics widen slightly, but he doesn't look annoyed or embarrassed or judgmental in the slightest.]

Well, that's one way to take care of the problem. [He frowns slightly.] ...though unless you've made considerable bounds in the mechanics, it's hard on your systems to wear for periods of time. Are you holding up all right?

[Not that Ratchet has room to talk--the charge is getting visibly worse even in the time they've been speaking as his fans whir louder and more static crackles in his voice. He seems intent on simply ignoring it as best he can, however, particularly if there's another problem placed in front of him.]

Are you kidding? I'm not Brainstorm. It's just something I managed to rig together from scrap. It's uncomfortable and doesn't keep my equipment from reacting-- [ In other words, his spike is rubbing against his cover as he speaks. ] It's better than nothing.

[ He puts the datapad down and folds his arms. ]

I know the risks, Ratchet. [ He squints his visor back at him, and reaches to brush his fingers against the elder medic's wrist. ] Do you want one?

I know you do, sorry. I just--

[Ratchet shudders at that light touch, his plating rattling together lightly before he turns his hand over to capture First Aid's, giving it a brief squeeze before his grip slackens, not quite letting go, but giving him more than enough room to pull away.]

...no. [A little wryly.] Thanks. But I'll just keep it on the whole damn time and make more work for everybody rooting around down there to replace the blown fuses. It's not a repair I could do myself and I'd feel bad for whoever drew the short straw for the dubious honor. [He swallows, watching First Aid's face and struggling for professionalism even as heat gathers into a tight knot low in his belly.]

How long has it been since you removed it last?

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. ]

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.

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. ]

[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?

[ 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. ]

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.]

[ 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. ]

[Ratchet swallows quickly as First Aid tips over the edge and just shakes against him, feeling spasm after spasm of charge wrench through his smaller frame. He moans as lubricant spills into his palm but doesn't move otherwise, working First Aid gently through his overload before he pulls back and gathers him in to sit on Ratchet's remaining leg, curled in against Ratchet's windscreen. Ratchet's own frame is scorchingly hot, his cooling fans laboring uselessly, but he barely even feels the charge just now, focusing on gathering First Aid in against him, stroking carefully over smooth plating.]

Now you will get a lecture. [His voice is a low rumble, but he doesn't actually sound all that upset, and he doesn't stop petting First Aid's back.] That was much too long to leave the damper on--if you're going to wear it, at least let yourself discharge more often. Please.

[ First Aid's still shivering as Ratchet gathers him against his chest, still too wrung out to even comment about the lecture. He leans his head against the windscreen, grunting in affirmation, and squeezes his legs together. When his plating stops rattling enough to lift his hand, pressing it into the seams of his mask to disengage the clasps. ]

...I'll make a schedule.

[ He places the mask aside and tips his head up, smiling at Ratchet, then touches his fingers to the medic's cheek tugging to tip his head down so he can get his lower lip between his teeth and taste himself on his mouth. ]

Thank you.

[Ratchet looks down at First Aid, slightly stunned--not so much by his mouth as by the sweet little smile curving it up as he draws Ratchet's face down to his. Ratchet gathers him a little closer, shivering at the bite and swallowing a soft moan before he sinks into the kiss, slow and slick and thorough. His mouth covers First Aid's over and over again, lingering, and his ventilations are a little ragged when he finally draws back, his optics overbright and his lips parted.]

How-- [He has to clear the static from his voice--having First Aid's spike down his throat barely flusters him but this, those soft kisses, have him a little dazed.] Mmm. How are you feeling now?

[ First Aid could kiss for hours. It was just something he liked to do, not necessarily just in the confines of sex. The mask only really came off in these scenarios though; his mask felt more like this face than his actual lips usually. He groans softly at the warm press of Ratchet's mouth, his tongue flicking over the other mech's teasingly whenever he started to pull away, and when the kissing stops his field radiates a higher level of content. ]

A little better.

[ His frame was still sensitive from the overload and the built up charge, his field still buzzing with arousal, and he pulls Ratchet back to place more kisses against his lips while his free hand slides down the medic's side, fitting into gaps in his armor. ]

Glad to hear it.

[That's all Ratchet manages before First Aid pulls him in again and he groans, shaky and low, his own hands starting to wander again. They shift almost instinctively to find sensitive seams and exposed sensors, his body shuddering as First Aid does the same with a medic's uncanny ability to find exactly those sorts of vulnerabilities. He shifts carefully, keeping First Aid close as he sprawls out on the berth, First Aid's lighter frame pressed half on top of him and his arm tightening around First Aid's waist to drag him in again, their mouths brushing and Ratchet's spike aching behind his still-closed panel.]

[ There were a few benefits of rolling into the berth with another medic, and this was one of them. First Aid makes soft noises against Ratchet's lips and he doesn't let him move far as they shift back onto the berth. He's careful as he moves into a more comfortable position, shifting his weight so his one leg was draped between Ratchet's thighs, and he breaks the slow, shallow kiss to speak. ]

You're scorching.

[ Ratchet's been patient. Too patient. He can feel the heat and charge rolling off the older mech's frame, rippling against his field and making his own fans spin harder in response. First Aid moves his thigh, pressing it against the closed panel as his fingers curl into the gap of armor and stroke over sensors at his hip. ]

What are you waiting for, Ratchet?

[Ratchet moans, arching into First Aid's touch as his optics flats with heat and surprise.]

An invitation, I supposed. [He gets his covers opens then hesitates, watching First Aid's face. He steals another quick kiss..] ,,,here. All right. [His spike pressurizes immediately, his valve clenching as he rocks against First Aid's.

...what would you like? You were the one with that damper on all day.] You were the one with a damper on all day--your call just now.

[network post--marked urgent]

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ohhh my god i have NO IDEA what happened to that last tag IM SORRY

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