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.

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[ 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.

I'm here, isn't that enough?

[ Leaving him to make a difficult decision here when he's a hot mess, Ratchet. First Aid was a fan of having his valve filled, though he didn't want to assume Ratchet liked spiking best.

Now if they were in his room, he might have something that would benefit both of them-- ]

I have an idea.

[ With some reluctance he pushes himself up onto his hands and draws away from Ratchet's lips, though he fits in a parting kiss before he slides back. Gently, he takes Ratchet's bad leg and lifts it over his hip, then leans back so the slick mesh of his valve slides up, up Ratchet's thigh and then meets the older medic's wet opening. It's a little awkward, and he has to shift a few more times to find a position that's comfortable for his spike, but once they fit into place his venting hitches. ]

Yeah, I think this will-- [ First Aid hums as if untangling some wires, then rocks his hips in a circular motion, his valve sliding against Ratchet's exterior nodes. ] This good?

[Ratchet draws in a sharp vent of air as First Aid's hips press in against his, the slow, liquid slide making him arch helplessly with what little leverage he has.]

Yeah. Very. [That's about as eloquent as he's getting just now, when he's finally stopped ignoring the charge racing through him, but he does reach down to curl slow fingers around First Aid's spike, stroking in time with the movements of his hips as best he can as he squirms against the berth.]

Nnh-- [ First Aid gasps, his visor flickering as Ratchet's hand curls around his spike. His rhythm falters, his hips jerking harder against Ratchet's. He has to pause for a moment to vent, sucking cool air into his frame, and he presses his hand heavy on the elder medic's side. ]

Cheating.

[ He squeezes his thighs tighter, pressing it against Ratchet's anterior node. He leans back, putting more pressure against Ratchet's valve as he grinds his lips against his, smearing lubricant against their thighs. He moans loudly, a fresh bead of fluid squeezes from the tip of his cord and rolls over Ratchet's hand. ]

Let me take care of you.

[Ratchet laughs, warm and staticky, squeezing teasingly at First Aid's length and stroking a little faster.]

Not used to being taken care of. [His voice is rough as First Aid pushes in harder, a shiver working down his spinal strut.] And you sound so good.

[ First Aid's venting is ragged as Ratchet pumps his spike faster, just barely hanging together by some shreds of willpower. His visor was glowing almost white, the charge coursing through his frame over powering his systems, and coolant beads on his frame as it strains to control his temperature. ]

Fragging stubborn, Ratchet.

[ He reaches between their frames and circles his thumb over the older medic's swollen node, rubbing it in quick, firm patterns with the rocking of his hips. Just a bit of revenge. The grinding is a little more frantic now, pressing the mouth of his valve in a harder grind against Ratchet's, crushing their lips together. ]

Can I-- can I try something?

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[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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