[network post--marked urgent]

[asafepairofhands]

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.

Comments

[asafepairofhands]

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.

[phase6kindofbot]

[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?

[asafepairofhands]

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!

[phase6kindofbot]

That- was the plan. Up until flowers happened.

[Then he lost his goddamned mind and tried to bang Optimus Prime. That little memory makes Sixshot simultaneously heat up and cringe at the same time. He starts rolling his hips with increased urgency, firmly wrapping a hand around Ratchet's cord and pumping in time trying very hard not to think about that.]

[asafepairofhands]

Don't give me that, you had plenty of time between then and now to--oh, oh!

[Whatever he's going to say dissolves on a desperate, crackling moan, his hips jerking as Sixshot strokes him firmly. He clutches at Sixshot and bites at his lip to keep from making more noise, his optics flickering wildly.]

[phase6kindofbot]

[Did he want to deal with Ratchet's oncoming guilt trip or did he want another overload?

Honestly, if Sixshot was in his right mind, he'd definitely have picked the guilt trip. That was way more familiar territory than fucking his friend's mentor. Unfortunately, Sixshot wasn't in his right mind and overloading took precedence over everything else.

Hooking Ratchet's knee over his elbow, he slides his free hand down, index finger rubbing rough circles over the smaller mech's anterior node. His tongue slides into the spaces between warm neck cables, the hand around Ratchet's cord pumping faster as the dense growl of a world destroying power plant sends the nearby debris rattling from the vibrations.]

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet makes a thick sound in his throat that's almost a snarl and writhes as pleasure swamps him, radiating thick tendrils out from his array to drag through his whole body, his thigh shaking hard as Sixshot's hands work between his legs. He curses fiercely, rocking his hips and barely managing to move--all he can really do is hang there and let Sixshot wreck him, the ache of the stretch and the almost painful hypersensitivity of his whole body making him arch desperately for some kind of relief.

[phase6kindofbot]

[Ratchet wasn't about to get any form of relief. Sixshot's teeth follow the hot trail left behind by his tongue, leaving deeper and deeper dents along the side of the medic's neck with each bite.

The Sixer's hands are shaking now as he struggles with control, sparkles of light dancing over his armor, zipping between his fingers as he works them over Ratchet's array. He tries to stave off the heavy coil of pleasure, cycling air through his vents in sharp, short bursts, hitching each time the medic moved-

Sixshot muffles a sharp gasp against Ratchet's shoulder, his entire frame jerking as another overload whites out his systems.]