[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]

Shh. It's all right.

[Ratchet hesitates for a long moment, stilling his hand against Cyclonus' abdomen and just pressing gently at too-warm plating, his optics intent.]

Do you want me to stop? [He shifts his grip slightly, his fingertips careful against tender, too-sensitive mesh.] Or should I keep going?

[tsunclonus]

[With his port throbbing around Ratchet's fingers, Cyclonus isn't sure what he wants. But he's struck by the complete contrast between this and his encounter with Galvatron. He lets out a small breathless chuckle.

Parting his fingers slightly, he peers at Ratchet.]

I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet does laugh a little, his hand sliding along Cyclonus' belly in a soothing stroke, almost friendly.]

If I was uncomfortable, Cyclonus, [He punctuates this with a slow curl of his fingers against an undamaged cluster of sensor nodes, fingertips dragging over them gently.] I assure you, you would know it.

[tsunclonus]

If you're cer- [The words catch as Ratchet's fingers curl. The nodes may be damaged but it's not making them any less sensitive, and the paired sting only sparks a deeper pleasure inside him, and he arches minutely.

Primus, what an embarrassment he is right now. Hand flattening back over his optics, he's left to clench his teeth around his other hand.]

[asafepairofhands]

Hey. [Ratchet reaches up and tugs Cyclonus' hands away from his face, his thumb pressing down on Cyclonus' anterior node and stroking in firm little circles.] Nobody else is here. You don't have anything to be embarrassed about.

[tsunclonus]

[If he was alone in this room giving into his base urges, Cyclonus would still feel ashamed right now. But between his disinterest in talking about feelings and the fact that he's having difficulty stringing words together, he doesn't actually say that.

Instead he stares up at Ratchet with hazy optics, mouth slightly open and brow knitted, shivering at the pleasure from his nodes. He looks altogether vulnerable.]

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet considers reaching down to close his free hand on Cyclonus' spike, or stroking his plating, or even just using it to brace himself better. But he catches that look on Cyclonus' face and feels something twist high in his chassis, and he keeps his hand wrapped around Cyclonus' fingers instead, squeezing gently as his other hand works carefully between his legs.]

Just relax. I've got you.

[tsunclonus]

[Cyclonus remains tense for a long moment, body held carefully still. Then his hand shifts in Ratchet's, interlacing theirs fingers and he lets his head fall back, optics dark, letting himself just concentrate on the sensations.

His hips rock gently, appreciating the pressure of Ratchet's fingers against his nodes and mesh, damaged or not.]

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet relaxes as Cyclonus does, letting a shaky gust of hot air from his vents and squeezing lightly at Cyclonus' fingers laced with his as his other hand presses deeper, his fingertips sliding carefully against the terminus of Cyclonus' valve and pressing down, dragging over a line of rarely-stimulated sensors as his own optics dim lazily.]

[tsunclonus]

[Cyclonus is quiet - because with few exceptions when is he not quiet? - but he isn't silent. Lips parted, soft moans escape him when Ratchet touches a node just right, barely audible gasps of sound.

Even so deep in his valve, Cyclonus is sore, having been well and fully filled by Galvatron. He feels raw and sensitive and the careful touched put a tremor into his legs.]

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet's touch is slow and methodical, lighting up every last one of Cyclonus' sensors as he grips Cyclonus' hand more tightly, his own fans laboring audibly now but his whole focus on Cyclonus. He watches every little shift and arch and sigh, and he has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep from moaning when he feels Cyclonus clench down weakly around his fingers.]

Still good? [His voice crackles with static, but he has to give himself something else to focus on besides the slick, squeezing heat around too-sensitive plating, his own optics a little glazed now.] You're all right?

[tsunclonus]

[Cyclonus utters a quiet oath in Primal Vernacular, part prayer and part curse. At the question he tries to focus on Ratchet, optics flickering in time with the movements of Ratchet's fingers.]

I am-- uh! --fine. [His own voice is crackly and oddly hoarse.] Are you?

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet squeezes his hand slowly, shifting on his crutches and sliding his fingers in deeper, stroking Cyclonus open with steady efficiency until he's buried in to the knuckle, his fingertips stroking lightly over and over against the terminus of Cyclonus' valve, against delicate sensors there.]

I'm doing quite well, thanks for asking. [Ratchet only sounds a tiny bit smug, but its friendly, his thumb rubbing absently against the side of Cyclonus'.]

[tsunclonus]

[The soft, steady touch is simultaneously deeply pleasurable and strangely relaxing, leaving him both limp on the medical berth and quaking with charge. His hand tightens rhythmically around Ratchet's in time with his strokes.

His vocalize clicks a few times before he resets it and manages to speak.] Your fans...

[Even with his own fans working hard, he can still pick up the telltale sign of Ratchet's rising charge.]

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet makes a soft, rumbling noise, almost a laugh.]

Have been going practically nonstop for days. I think you have more pressing concerns just at the moment. [His optics flare warm and he twists his wrist, dragging his fingers up along an undamaged line of sensors to curl deep in Cyclonus' valve, pressing to sensitive, rarely stimulated mesh.]

[tsunclonus]

[Cyclonus wants to say something about how he's not a doctor but he's fairly certain medics can overheat too, but that is entirely too many words for him to manage with Ratchet's skilled hands practically wrist deep in his valve.

Instead he arches with a moan--and a bit of a creak. He's getting too old for all this romping--then gives Ratchet a bemused huff when he resettles.]

[asafepairofhands]

[Ratchet smiles a little down at him—actually smiles, worn out and frustrated with charge and tired but warmly fond. He keeps his attention on Cyclonus, though, regardless of his own systems reacting to the soft sounds Cyclonus is making and the slick heat of his valve around Ratchet’s fingers.]

[His free hand stays in Cyclonus’, just letting him hold on as Ratchet works him open with ruthless, gentle efficiency, finding sensitive mesh and lingering against it. His optics are on Cyclonus’ face, though, just watching as he shivers and shifts against the slab, still almost alarmingly self-controlled despite his injuries and the charge swelling through him.]