Fic: Adapt and Experiment, Pt.5
Title: Adapt and Experiment, Pt.5 Old dogs, New tricks
Continuity: G1
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ratchet Hoist
Warnings: sticky.
Summary: Hoist has an idea. Ratchet gets to test it.
Notes: This request on the kinkmeme caught my eye.
But in short: Technological adaptations (alt modes), used to imitate a planets mechanical advancement, are not the only way Cybertronians blend in. They also modify coding and protoform to emulate the dominant culture and give themselves a better understanding of how the planetary inhabitants will react to the Cybertronians and to appear more approachable and less alien.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
“Ratchet, if you don't clear out of medbay and stay out until it is officially your next shift I'll tie you to your berth so that you have nothing to do but recharge.”
He seems surprised to see me as dulled optics flash as he resets them to focus on me rather than his screen which I am blocking with a hand. He is silent for a moment and I can see him processing my statement before his optics brighten even more and a small smirk curls the edge of his mouth. “You will, will you?” He props his helm up with one hand, the smirk growing as he waits for my next move.
“I will.” I say before realising the one minor flaw in my plan. There is no way I can get Ratchet to a berth if he doesn't want to go, he has several tons of mass on me. Time for a rethink. “Alternatively, I could just tie you to that chair and tell Teletraan to cut all power in here.”
He blinks as power is diverted away from his optics to other systems, most likely processing power, for a brief moment as he thinks through my ultimatum. “You wouldn't dare.”
I lift one optical ridge, the range of emotions that humans can convey working in my favour as the small movement hosts a wealth of meanings, 'You want to bet?' Being first and foremost among them.
Ratchet apparently comes to that conclusion on his own as he flicks the switch for the screen and stands up, his joints grinding as he stretches. “Lead on then.”
I grin in victory as we leave medbay, a quick comm ping dulling the lights behind us and logging my status as 'on call'. It gets very tedious between battles with so few mechs on board; until the next shipment of metals arrives there is nothing to do except the padwork that Ratchet had been staring blankly at for the past human hour.
“Berth.” I order as soon as we reach his quarters, before he can settle into a chair, especially his desk chair which has access to the same files he was looking at in medbay. His heavy tread lets me know that I am being obeyed as I rummage around in one of his storage cupboards.
“Oh, come on. I got out of medbay.” He says as I turn around and head over to his side where he has sprawled on the berth.
I just chuckle. “You should know better than to try and call my bluff.” He huffs as I deposit several loops of metallic rope onto the berth, but he also doesn't protest as I motion for him to sit up and turn away from me.
“I should forget to refuel and recharge more often.” Ratchet said as I pulled one arm behind his back and looped several strands around his wrists, creating a cuff of coiled metal.
“You say that every time.” I remind him as I repeat the motion with the other arm until his wrists are bound together behind his back. It is loose enough that I won't need to remove it too quickly lest I want to replace crushed energon capillaries, but tight enough that he can't wiggle out of it, even with creative transformations. “Don't move.”
He holds still as I unspool a data cord and plug in to his medical access port and block several lines of data input before logging back out of his processor. “Lie down and turn your interfacing protocols on.” I guide him till he is comfortable, his spinal struts arched gently over his bound wrists.
“What are you doing?” I knew he wouldn't be able to stifle his curiosity for long and I run a hand across a cheek as he turns greyed out optics in my direction.
“Something the dominant species on this world seems to enjoy. It occurred to me it should work quite well with the higher sensor readings from the mods.” Supplies set up I smirk, despite his inability to see it. Yes, this should work quite well.
“What should worzzzzzzzzzzkkkt!” I can't help but smirk as his fans spin up almost immediately as he resets his vocaliser. “What was that?” Silence for a sparkbeat before he speaks up again “Never-mind, do it again.”
“Hot wax.” I let a small stream drip onto his wind-shield, carefully avoiding armour seams for the moment as I get the hang of his reactions. “And just think Ratch, that was on some of your least sensitive armour.” He shudders at my words, and at each drop of heat against his chassis. The initial clamping into his body, a typical reaction to painful stimuli, and almost immediate after the flare of armour panels away from inner circuitry to circulate cooler atmosphere. “Can you imagine what it would feel like on some of the other sensors?”
“You wouldn't.”
“Wouldn't I?” I trail a hand across his chest and he presses up into the contact with a static filled moan. Primus, but I love these mods.
I let it cool a little before purposefully letting some sink into his shoulder joint. His reaction is all I hoped for as he arches off the berth, a whimper escaping his vocaliser before he mutes himself. Possibly a little too hot, but he hasn't stopped me, and he always has enjoyed interfacing just shy of pain.
I move on to another seam, my free hand pressing him down to the berth as he twitches, the heat of his systems stopping it from cooling straight away, instead it is free to drip through wiring and splash onto protoform.
His scream as he overloads is only half suppressed and he shudders, armour rattling as his frame comes down from it's high, his processor rebooting secondary functions which it had shut down to protect from the energy surge.
I run an appreciative hand across his red and white frame, now streaked and splattered with blues and greens as he finally relaxes into the caress. The tightly coiled tension that had been surrounding him bled out with the excess energy and I finally let my own interfacing protocols roar online as I no longer need to monitor his vitals.
A lazy grin appears as I clamber up onto the berth and quickly plug into his processor and unlock his optical array from lock-down. He obligingly spreads his legs as his optics light up again to focus on me and it is all I can do not to laugh. For a mech who professes not to like the cultural modifications, he does seem to be enjoying himself.
“Well.” He finally says as he lifts his hips as best he can, a clear invitation to me to stop dust gathering on my motherboard and frag him already. I trail my hand across his new colours again before doing as he is so subtly asking, whatever he was about to say, going unsaid as it turns into a buzz of happiness that joins my rumbling purr of pleasure.
Continuity: G1
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Ratchet Hoist
Warnings: sticky.
Summary: Hoist has an idea. Ratchet gets to test it.
Notes: This request on the kinkmeme caught my eye.
But in short: Technological adaptations (alt modes), used to imitate a planets mechanical advancement, are not the only way Cybertronians blend in. They also modify coding and protoform to emulate the dominant culture and give themselves a better understanding of how the planetary inhabitants will react to the Cybertronians and to appear more approachable and less alien.
Disclaimer: Transformers and all related stuff still doesn't belong to me :(
“Ratchet, if you don't clear out of medbay and stay out until it is officially your next shift I'll tie you to your berth so that you have nothing to do but recharge.”
He seems surprised to see me as dulled optics flash as he resets them to focus on me rather than his screen which I am blocking with a hand. He is silent for a moment and I can see him processing my statement before his optics brighten even more and a small smirk curls the edge of his mouth. “You will, will you?” He props his helm up with one hand, the smirk growing as he waits for my next move.
“I will.” I say before realising the one minor flaw in my plan. There is no way I can get Ratchet to a berth if he doesn't want to go, he has several tons of mass on me. Time for a rethink. “Alternatively, I could just tie you to that chair and tell Teletraan to cut all power in here.”
He blinks as power is diverted away from his optics to other systems, most likely processing power, for a brief moment as he thinks through my ultimatum. “You wouldn't dare.”
I lift one optical ridge, the range of emotions that humans can convey working in my favour as the small movement hosts a wealth of meanings, 'You want to bet?' Being first and foremost among them.
Ratchet apparently comes to that conclusion on his own as he flicks the switch for the screen and stands up, his joints grinding as he stretches. “Lead on then.”
I grin in victory as we leave medbay, a quick comm ping dulling the lights behind us and logging my status as 'on call'. It gets very tedious between battles with so few mechs on board; until the next shipment of metals arrives there is nothing to do except the padwork that Ratchet had been staring blankly at for the past human hour.
“Berth.” I order as soon as we reach his quarters, before he can settle into a chair, especially his desk chair which has access to the same files he was looking at in medbay. His heavy tread lets me know that I am being obeyed as I rummage around in one of his storage cupboards.
“Oh, come on. I got out of medbay.” He says as I turn around and head over to his side where he has sprawled on the berth.
I just chuckle. “You should know better than to try and call my bluff.” He huffs as I deposit several loops of metallic rope onto the berth, but he also doesn't protest as I motion for him to sit up and turn away from me.
“I should forget to refuel and recharge more often.” Ratchet said as I pulled one arm behind his back and looped several strands around his wrists, creating a cuff of coiled metal.
“You say that every time.” I remind him as I repeat the motion with the other arm until his wrists are bound together behind his back. It is loose enough that I won't need to remove it too quickly lest I want to replace crushed energon capillaries, but tight enough that he can't wiggle out of it, even with creative transformations. “Don't move.”
He holds still as I unspool a data cord and plug in to his medical access port and block several lines of data input before logging back out of his processor. “Lie down and turn your interfacing protocols on.” I guide him till he is comfortable, his spinal struts arched gently over his bound wrists.
“What are you doing?” I knew he wouldn't be able to stifle his curiosity for long and I run a hand across a cheek as he turns greyed out optics in my direction.
“Something the dominant species on this world seems to enjoy. It occurred to me it should work quite well with the higher sensor readings from the mods.” Supplies set up I smirk, despite his inability to see it. Yes, this should work quite well.
“What should worzzzzzzzzzzkkkt!” I can't help but smirk as his fans spin up almost immediately as he resets his vocaliser. “What was that?” Silence for a sparkbeat before he speaks up again “Never-mind, do it again.”
“Hot wax.” I let a small stream drip onto his wind-shield, carefully avoiding armour seams for the moment as I get the hang of his reactions. “And just think Ratch, that was on some of your least sensitive armour.” He shudders at my words, and at each drop of heat against his chassis. The initial clamping into his body, a typical reaction to painful stimuli, and almost immediate after the flare of armour panels away from inner circuitry to circulate cooler atmosphere. “Can you imagine what it would feel like on some of the other sensors?”
“You wouldn't.”
“Wouldn't I?” I trail a hand across his chest and he presses up into the contact with a static filled moan. Primus, but I love these mods.
I let it cool a little before purposefully letting some sink into his shoulder joint. His reaction is all I hoped for as he arches off the berth, a whimper escaping his vocaliser before he mutes himself. Possibly a little too hot, but he hasn't stopped me, and he always has enjoyed interfacing just shy of pain.
I move on to another seam, my free hand pressing him down to the berth as he twitches, the heat of his systems stopping it from cooling straight away, instead it is free to drip through wiring and splash onto protoform.
His scream as he overloads is only half suppressed and he shudders, armour rattling as his frame comes down from it's high, his processor rebooting secondary functions which it had shut down to protect from the energy surge.
I run an appreciative hand across his red and white frame, now streaked and splattered with blues and greens as he finally relaxes into the caress. The tightly coiled tension that had been surrounding him bled out with the excess energy and I finally let my own interfacing protocols roar online as I no longer need to monitor his vitals.
A lazy grin appears as I clamber up onto the berth and quickly plug into his processor and unlock his optical array from lock-down. He obligingly spreads his legs as his optics light up again to focus on me and it is all I can do not to laugh. For a mech who professes not to like the cultural modifications, he does seem to be enjoying himself.
“Well.” He finally says as he lifts his hips as best he can, a clear invitation to me to stop dust gathering on my motherboard and frag him already. I trail my hand across his new colours again before doing as he is so subtly asking, whatever he was about to say, going unsaid as it turns into a buzz of happiness that joins my rumbling purr of pleasure.