~ Lying awake in his berth, Ratchet stared up into the darkness, waiting. His internal clock had woken him as always. The pattern was so exact, he didn't wait for him to rouse him from recharge. He would wait now, awake for the bot to come. It was maddening, the same pattern every night. There was no light, no words exchanged. Anything asked was met with silence, or if he was to insistant, he would leave as suddenly as he came, but always leaving the doctor on the verge of completion. A creak, the door was opened. Ratchet didn't bother turn his head to look. There was only darkness. The bot approached, painfully slowly, his footsteps light, yet so full of power. So familiar... Yet so strange. He was sure he worked closely with the other mech, but he never left any hints. "Who are you?" he whispered as the mech climbed onto the berth, straddling the medic as easily as if his waist was constructed to fit his. He asked the same question every night. The response was always the same. The mystery mech slide his hands, agonizingly slow up his frame, tracing over edges, caressing his chest plating, brushing up his arms. The mech captured Ratchet's wrists and pinned them strongly, but gently above his head. That was a rule, no touching back. Only the mystery mech could give pleasure... Perhaps he was insane. Perhaps the mech was only a dream... It didn't matter. The nightly occurance, wheather dream or reality meant more to him then anything. It kept him going through this Primus forsaken war...
~
Lying awake in his berth, Ratchet stared up into the darkness, waiting. His internal clock had woken him as always. The pattern was so exact, he didn't wait for him to rouse him from recharge. He would wait now, awake for the bot to come.
It was maddening, the same pattern every night. There was no light, no words exchanged. Anything asked was met with silence, or if he was to insistant, he would leave as suddenly as he came, but always leaving the doctor on the verge of completion.
A creak, the door was opened. Ratchet didn't bother turn his head to look. There was only darkness.
The bot approached, painfully slowly, his footsteps light, yet so full of power. So familiar... Yet so strange. He was sure he worked closely with the other mech, but he never left any hints.
"Who are you?" he whispered as the mech climbed onto the berth, straddling the medic as easily as if his waist was constructed to fit his. He asked the same question every night. The response was always the same.
The mystery mech slide his hands, agonizingly slow up his frame, tracing over edges, caressing his chest plating, brushing up his arms. The mech captured Ratchet's wrists and pinned them strongly, but gently above his head.
That was a rule, no touching back. Only the mystery mech could give pleasure...
Perhaps he was insane. Perhaps the mech was only a dream... It didn't matter. The nightly occurance, wheather dream or reality meant more to him then anything. It kept him going through this Primus forsaken war...
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Thank you, tho. It's slightly creepy, bittersweet and perfect! \o/
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Glad ya like it. 8D
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