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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Whatever he brought wasn't enough, not for someone Sixshot's size with his symptoms as bad as they are. Ratchet's bag falls from numb, limp fingers as he feels Sixshot grind in against the back of his hips, his optics widening. Sixshot feels huge and his valve clenches, almost painfully empty behind his cover. He curses, thick and breathless, but his own panel slides open to press wet heat down against Sixshot's thigh, his head tipping back to bare more of his throat and shivering as Sixshot's teeth graze.]

Hell. All right. Yes.

[The smell of lube and the press of wetness against his thigh put a sudden urgency into Sixshot's movements. His teeth and tongue find Ratchet's proffered throat, one hand clamping down on the medic's thigh, the other cradling Ratchet's chest.

Sixshot shifts, drawing back, his length leaving a wet line down Ratchet's back and aft- until the blunt head slides against the slickness of the medic's valve. He bites down harder then, pushing into the hot clench of Ratchet's frame.]

[Ratchet cries out, full-throated and rough with static, his head falling back against Sixshot's chassis as he's dragged down and filled. His whole body jolts when Sixshot bites down again, his valve tightening helplessly before he forces himself to relax into the aching stretch, his mouth falling open and his spike painful against his belly. He ignores it for now, focusing on the intense sensation of being held open, his body rippling in a futile attempt to clench down around Sixshot's spike as he whimpers, his free hand sliding up to cup the side of Sixshot's face.]

[It was like his whole world had suddenly narrowed down to this, to Ratchet, to liquid pleasure pooling like molten lead under his abdominal plates. Sixshot sinks to knees, dragging Ratchet down with him, impaling the smaller Autobot on his cord so deeply that the blunt head was jammed into the very end of his valve by the time their hips met, fluids dripping down his thighs.

He turns his head, tongue against the palm of Ratchet's hand as he starts rolling his hips in slow, grinding thrusts, the hand on the CMO's thigh sliding up to glide over his erect spike.]

Edited 2015-08-20 03:15 (UTC)

[Ratchet jolts helplessly at this new onslaught of sensation, his optics widening and his lips parting softly. Sixshot's tongue against his hand makes him clench down hard around the thick length inside him, which makes him cry out, and his whole body bucks when Sixshot's firm, broad grip closes around his spike. The sound he makes is almost a snarl when Sixshot drags out and then back in, scrabbling at the floor with his free hand, overload already shockingly close.]

Sixshot! Sixshot, I'm--

[Sixshot pushes Ratchet down, holds him down, weight on the arm wrapped around the medic's chest, tongue between red fingers. He doesn't decipher his name when Ratchet cries it, but the urgent writhing and the tight clench of his valve drives the Sixer to move with a low, muffled growl.

The thrusts come faster and harder, the hand on Ratchet's spike quickening in tandem with the rhythm, thumb sliding roughly over the sensitive head.]

[Ratchet bites his lip to muffle a wrenching cry as he overloads so hard his vision shorts for a second, feeling charge flash through him over and over in swamping waves. He's left shivering in Sixshot's grip once he's done, still pressurized and sensitive and aching where he's stretched around Sixshot's thick spike, his valve still squeezing down in helpless, rippling little spasms as Sixshot drives into him. The arch of his back, the way Sixshot has him pinned with his aft in the air and his legs spread wide makes him go limp, the pressure inside him dragging just right over aching sensors, already building charge again as he shivers there, biting at the knuckles of his free hand as he clutches at the nape of Sixshot's neck.]

[Ratchet's overload makes Sixshot falter with a gasp, the excess charge from the other mech's overload rippling over his armor and the squeeze of the medic's valve walls putting a new urgency into his movements. Without fingers to keep his mouth occupied with, the Sixer's tongue and teeth find the back of Ratchet's neck instead, biting hard enough to leave marks-

And oh, it was about the time for Ratchet to discover the knot quickly swelling at the base of Sixshot's cord, wasn't it?]

[Ratchet's cry hitches up into a thin, binary whine as he feels the swelling just inside his valve's entrance, a hard, thick stretch that would have been painful if he wasn't still so charged. He curses, staticky and breathless, writhing in place and tipping his head forward to give Sixshot more room for his teeth, his optics wide and blind. He reaches down between his legs to feel where Sixshot is pushing him open, digging his teeth over his lower lip as his fingers trace the base of Sixshot's spike and the huge knot just above it, feeling where he's pulled taut, almost too much. His fingertips brush his anterior node and he feels his valve try to clench down, hard and helpless, another sound dragged sharply out of his throat as he claws at Sixshot's shoulder and stares blindly where his fingers disappear between his legs, his whole frame heaving with the force of his cooling fans.]

Sixshot... [His voice shakes with nervousness and arousal, but he's too far gone to try to get away, just rocking gingerly in place and actually whimpering a little as he feels the massive shift inside him.]

[He keeps rutting despite the knot, pulling back until they sat just on the knife's edge of pain before grinding back in, hard enough to scrape the red paint off of Ratchet's aft. Black fingers slide down Ratchet's spike stroking briefly at the base of the length before moving lower to join the medic's own, rubbing firm circles over his partner's anterior node.

Charge was beginning to surge over his plating now, snapping pops of light that shimmered over his armor and between their plating at every point of contact. He could taste the static as he runs his tongue over Ratchet's neck, over the marks his teeth had left and the air ripples and mirages as his temp climbs. Sixshot's vents start cycling faster, his breath molten hot against the back of Ratchet's helm and he was so close now, so close so-

The accumulated charge arcs over his armor with a thunderous crack.

For a brief second, his optics blaze overbright and then he bites down, hard enough to taste energon, power plant growling deep enough to send loose debris rattling off the ground around them. Fingers clamping down in an armor denting grip on Ratchet's chest and hip, he brings the medic down for one final, grinding thrust and holds them there as his spike spills searing hot fluid against the walls of Ratchet's valve.]

[Ratchet chokes as Sixshot moves his hips, his optics going wide and round, and he can feel his body clench down helplessly on the ache, letting it rip another shudder from him. He writhes as Sixshot's fingers slip between his legs, his hand sliding up to stroke rough and fast at his own spike, pleasure wracking him even as it hurts, feeing Sixshot go tense against his back.

He cries out thinly as Sixshot's teeth sink into lines and cabling, feeling his plating dent and his windscreen compressed nearly to cracking under Sixshot's forearm. He sobs as Sixshot leans in and jerks into him hard, pain flaring--then a short, staticked scream rips from his vocalizer as he overloads, the sound half-shocked and his body rippling weakly around the thick press of Sixshot holding him open.]

[Slowly, Sixshot eases his grip on the doctor, electricity dancing over his armor in glittering arcs. Now and again, his frame contracts, cord and knot twitching against over stretched mesh.

Eventually, the Sixer manages to unlock his jaws, his armor plates flaring apart and steam hissing free, settling in a thick fog around them.]

... Sorry.

[The dazed words are accompanied by a light, apologetic lick over the marks his teeth had left on Ratchet's nape, trailing after the small rivulet of warm energon.]

Oh.

[Ratchet clenches his teeth on a groan as Sixshot's teeth ease from his neck and shivers helplessly as a warm, slow tongue curls against the punctures. He can feel his body shifting around Sixshot as his engine thrums and he tries not to focus on it too much, fighting to relax in Sixshot's grip.]

Y'know, it's hard enough for me to walk as it is. [Ratchet's tone of voice is an odd mixture of amusement and irritation, still a little strained with static.] You might've warned me.

It's been hard to... communicate.

[Thinking had been even harder. It was like his mind had become a oozing glob of hungry, static laden heat. The overload had cleared a lot of it up, sediment settling on the bottom of a cooling lake, but the waters were still awful murky.]

Running on deep code. Heh.

[Slowly, Sixshot eases off a bit. Leaning back, he runs his hands down Ratchet's back, fitting his palm into the spot just above red hips and stroking over the plating there.]

Beginning to think I really was a beast mech before.

Yeah, I could tell--

[He stops, shivering softly all over as Sixshot pets down his back, the touch almost shockingly gentle compared to his rough desperation before. He bites his lip and tries not to squirm, his cooling fans whirring higher again as he looks over his shoulder.]

Feeling a bit better then, are we?

Saner.

[Which was kind of like feeling better? He's not entirely sure if 'better' was really a good description of his current state of mind.

Sixshot watches Ratchet shiver, startlingly youthful face set in a somewhat off-puttingly emotionless stare. There was interest in his eyes though, moreso in his touch, large fingers following seams in the Autobot's armor with idle curiosity.]

You?

Huh. I'll have a time patching this mess and popping these dents later.

[He stretches out a little under Sixshot, though, his body warm and relaxed and his mouth tilting up just slightly.]

But yeah. M'all right. [He arches slightly, optics flickering at Sixshot's slow, soft touch.] That feels good.

[Sixshot shutters his optics, Ratchet's movements causing his knot to shift. Ex-venting slowly, he slides a hand under Ratchet's chest and gently tugs the older mech up until he was resting comfortably atop the Sixer's lap.]

It's been a very strange day.

[Ratchet bites his lips on a stifled little cry, shuddering as he's impaled on Sixshot's spike, his own weight pressing Sixshot slightly deeper. He just vents raggedly against Sixshot's chest for a moment before forcing himself to relax, still feeling the knot stretching him achingly wide.]

Tell me about it. [His voice is thin with static, resisting the urge to reach down and touch again. He's trying to keep his systems cool in the wake of his overload, even with something still pressed inside him and holding him open like this. His success is varying.] This going to go down any time soon, d'you think? It's... distracting.

[That makes Sixshot laugh, a low and breathless sound against the back of Ratchet's helm.]

It's usually five minutes.

[His hands are wandering over the medic's midriff, stroking over the inside of a pale thigh, touches growing more and more urgent by the second. The Sixer's temp was starting to hike again and Primus but that hadn't been a long break at all.]

It's been edging on fifteen ever since the flowers.

[Ratchet laughs, thin and staticky as he squirms, arching as much as he can into Sixshot's hands and tipping his head back, body clenching weakly.]

Yeah, not gonna be able to keep charge down for that long. [He does reach down, then, his fingers slipping past his spike and in, rubbing gently at taut mesh, against his anterior node. He arches a little and bites his lip on a desperate little sound, a hard shudder wracking him.] This is going to ache like hell later, but it feels good now.

[Sixshot's optics hungrily track Ratchet's hand as it slides down between his thighs. He traces his tongue over the marks he'd left in Ratchet's neck, sliding his own hands under the medic's knees.]

I'll. Mmm. I'll try to be gentler.

[It's hard to resist biting down. Had he always been this bitey while having sex? It was hard to remember and he was quickly beginning to find it harder to care. He's too busy lifting Ratchet's knees up, putting all of the medic's weight on his hips as he grinds up and into him.]

S'fine. It's--

[Ratchet's optics go huge and round as Sixshot lifts his thighs, spreading him obscenely wide and pressing him down onto the thick weight of Sixshot's spike. His vocalizer spits static, cuts out again, then flares back on mid-curse as he shudders and struggles to pull in cooler air.]

Oh. Hell. It's--s'all right. M'all right. [His head lolls forward and he shudders at the gentle scrape of Sixshot's teeth, clenching down around him helplessly.] Wasn't complaining.

[The way Ratchet's whole damn body clenches down around him has Sixshot moaning, a low and hot little noise that he tries to muffle against the back of the smaller mech's neck.

He rocks again, pulling Ratchet down into it just a little harder, his tongue finding the edges of the medic's audio receptors. Slowly, he starts building up speed again, knot throbbing against the stretch of Ratchet's valve.]

I know- I know it's an, hha, awkward time to ask, but... [Sixshot bites down for a moment, rhythm faltering briefly with the flare of energy.]

Mmmm, have you seen... First Aid?

If you know it's an awkward time to ask, then why the hell are you asking?

[Ratchet groans when he feels Sixshot's teeth against his plating, shuddering weakly as Sixshot drives into him in short, rough little thrusts, the stretch starting to ache even through the charge now.]

I told you to talk to him!

[network post--marked urgent]

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