Fic - Choices (Prompt 35)
Title: Choices (Prompt 35)
Characters: Ratchet, Wheeljack
Rating: NC-17
Summary: From the TF kink meme: Dear anon authors: Please to be looking at the second panel of this meme: http://deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2y489j
And please to be writing some lovely cross-faction Ratchet/Wheeljack, with Wheeljack as a Decepticon.
Prompt 35 on the 100 Sexual Themes Challenge
I wrote this a really long time ago, just archiving this here! ^^
"Oh doc-bot, you know what that face does to me."
"F-frag you," Ratchet managed to muster as much vehemence as he could into those two words. Which, honestly, wasn't a lot.
"You know that I know that you want this as much as I do, so why bother fighting?"
"Because it isn't right. You're a Decepticon, you're the enemy." The words sounded hollow even as Ratchet said them.
"So when has that stopped you? I'm pretty sure the past meetings weren't just dreamt up by me."
"They were dreams, alright." Ratchet mumbled. Louder, he said, "This can't go on anymore."
"Funny, you said the same thing when I was fragging you last cycle. And the cycle before that. You didn't seem to care much when you were moaning my name."
"Shut up," Ratchet muttered, but at the same time he spread his legs just a wider more to give wandering fingers better access.
Wheeljack just smirked, feeling the medic's interface panel click open. He wasted no time in reaching down to the extending spike, stroking it to full hardness. Lowering himself to hover just above it, he started rubbing the entrance of his valve against the medic - he was dripping wet already and the friction was processor-blowing.
"You slagging tease," Ratchet arched his hips upwards, trying to get more of that delicious heat.
"Beg me."
Ratchet rolled his optics, opting to say nothing but reaching up and pulling the slightly smaller 'Con down on his spike. The heat that enveloped him was exquisite - Wheeljack rarely let him use his valve, and it was the oh-so-snug fit that almost had Ratchet overloading there and then. It was a challenge not to.
"Oh, you cheater." Wheeljack grumbled, pausing for a moment to adjust to the medic's full length in him.
Ratchet grinned up at him, taking the opportunity to tweak the wires around the engineer's hip joints. He couldn't help but appreciate the way Wheeljack /moved/.
A devious glint suddenly appeared in Wheeljack's optics, making Ratchet shiver.
"Guess I just have to do this." With that, Wheeljack leaned over the boxy medic's chassis and pinched a relay wire buried in the side of Ratchet's neck.
Ratchet's optic's widened, as he realised what the 'Con was doing, but his motor relays had offlined by the time his processor, hazy from the pleasure, caught up. The last thing he saw was Wheeljack's face right above his.
"Mmm, much better like this," 'Jack said, before bending down to nuzzle the medic.
"Primus, Wheeljack, I'm getting back at you for this." Ratchet moaned, as Wheeljack's inner walls clamped down on him, sending him into his own overload, transfluid spurting into the engineer.
"Is that a promise, medic?" Wheeljack leered at the white mech below him, before helping Ratchet to online the relays for his limbs again.
"You bet. What happened to your spike, anyway?" Ratchet knew Wheeljack preferred spiking him, the mech had said that most 'Cons, like him, were uncomfortable about letting others use their valve. Something about the loss in social standing if word got out they were the ones bottoming, or the like. Personally, Ratchet couldn't comprehend how the 'Cons even found berth partners if everyone disliked being spiked.
"Let's just say I had an accident testing a certain device Skywarp commissioned me to create for him."
"A device that involved your spike?"
"Don't ask."
"You know, you could join us," Ratchet broke the peaceful silence that settled over them, as he worked on repairing Wheeljack's damaged spike.
Wheeljack threw his head back, head fins flashing blue as he laughed, before darkening as their owner grew serious.
"You were there when I was court marshalled, were you not?"
Ratchet nodded, hesitantly, not pausing in his work.
"Then you should slagging well know that I'm not welcome there. Primus, do you know when those damned Autobots see me, the only words I've heard from them are 'eat slag and die' or 'I hope your next explosion kills you so I don't have to'?" Wheeljack spat out, "And you expect them to welcome me with open arms just because I'm fragging their chief medic?"
"The explosion was not your fault, 'Jack, the manufacturers were found to have screwed up in the isotope composition of the chemical"
"Doesn't change a single thing now. Even if I'm not responsible for the death of Moonracer, I've killed enough Autobots after that to rightfully earn their hatred."
"I'm sure they'll…"
Wheeljack cut him off, reciting dully, "Plasma guns? Nesflix virus? Thermal grenades?"
Ratchet stiffened, optics flaring as his memory bank pulled up the scenes of his medbay after Wheeljack unleashed a new invention on them.
"You guys think I'm some kind of disease. With the 'Cons, my nickname there is definitely not the 'walking explosion'. They actually appreciate me for who I am, well, more like what I can do, as cheesy as that sounds."
"I appreciate you," Ratchet offered quietly, still reattaching sensory wires. Sometimes, even Ratchet had to wonder why he was willing to continue with the illegal meetings with the Head of the 'Cons Science Department. Wheeljack was certainly responsible for many dangerous weapons that caused heavy casualties, yet he couldn't stop himself from meeting with the mech who grew up with him in one of Iacon's poorer districts.
"Of course you do. I'm the only one who gets your engine revving like this."
Ratchet batted wandering hands away, and sighed, "Please 'Jack, I wish I could just spend more time with you instead of meeting in the middle of a desert when everyone else is recuperating."
"Ratchet…" A hint of warning crept into Wheeljack's voice.
"Just think about-"
"Ratchet, drop it," The engineer said sharply. Then, feeling a little guilty, he added in a lighter tone, "If you really want this, then why don't you defect, huh? The 'Cons could certainly use a talented medic like you." He trailed his hands down the medic's sides, making even a word like talented sound lewd.
"You know I can't. And the patient files are confidential…"
"So erase them," He answered easily, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
"They are my friends, I can't abandon them."
"Then what makes you think I'm willing to give my friends up? Although we could run away… but my duty calls."
"The patients need me," Ratchet agreed. "Then I suppose this is the only option, isn't it?"
"Took you long enough to realise that. Besides, with the way things are now, we've got all our bases covered. If the Autobots win, you can vouch for me and we'll live happily ever after. If the 'Con's win, I have first dibs on you as my pet," Wheeljack observed, arching one optic ridge suggestively.
'You slagger," Ratchet said, amusement colouring his voice.
"Hey!" Wheeljack pretended to be affronted. "I had to poison Hook's energon for two whole megacycles before he gave up on challenging me."
"There, all done." Ratchet patted the newly repaired spike, inadvertently drawing a hiss from the engineer as sensors onlined and recalibrated.
Wheeljack had, somewhere along the four million or so years the Cybertronian civil war had been ongoing, turned into a mech with a totally different set of values, living in a different culture with different mechs. However the 'Con, Ratchet mused, had still the spark for innovation and creativity - the delicious sensations from sensors in his elbow joint that Ratchet didn't even know were capable of producing (and he was a good medic) was testament to that.
Maybe he wanted something more, but he knew the two of them had too many vested interests in both sides of the war to proceed any further. Maybe, if the Primus-damned war ever ended, they could have a future together, but for now, Ratchet understood this was all they could get.
And for him, it was enough.
That was the reason why both Wheeljack and Ratchet tolerated the status quo, the reason why Wheeljack offered a hand to the medic, pulling the white mech up, "That was fun, doc-bot. See you after the next battle. We have to see if your repairs work."
The reason why, although Ratchet snorted at that, he was already looking forward to the next skirmish.