[FIC] The Purpose of Pain
Title: The Purpose of Pain
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: Ratchet has been neglecting himself and Ironhide, and our kinky weapon specialist decides a little 'discipline' is in order.
Warnings: Graphic holo smut and spanking, the latter semi-consensual at first.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just having fun.
Author's Note: I never thought I would ever write a spanking story, but our kinky mechs got a hold of the idea and wouldn't shut up until I'd written it. A special thank you to my good buddy and RP partner silverwolf06 for helping me work a few kinks out of (or is that into?) the story. ;)
The Purpose of Pain
Ironhide sat in the dark and waited, optics off, for the telltale sound of the door opening. Ratchet was late. Again. Late after promising he wouldn't be. Late despite the fact that with new several new medics from Cybertron, including First Aid, working in the medbay, he did not need to pull the same long, exhaustive shifts he used to while he was still the only medic in the Autobot base. He also wasn't refuelling enough, or recharging enough, and they hadn't interfaced in weeks, and the weapon specialist was, frankly, sick of it.
The black mech heard the door entry sequence being keyed in and he held himself perfectly still. He knew the pattern all too well. Clunk clunk clunk, a twenty foot robot's laughable attempt at stealth as he retrieved a ration of energon from the cupboard, followed by the furtive sounds of the nutritious liquid being sucked back, repeated three times in quick succession. The medic had obviously been close to running on empty, it was a wonder he could even stand. A wave of sympathy washed over him but he quickly quashed it down. His lover had brought this on himself by not taking care of himself properly, and coddling him any further would only encourage him to continue this neglect.
This had to stop, and Ironhide knew just how to do it.
Clunk clunk clunk. Ratchet had finished choking down his illicit rations and was now making his way quietly to the recharge berth, as he had many nights before. Ironhide was lucky sometimes if he even got to see his lover in bed at all. Usually the workoholic CMO came to bed long after the black mech was in recharge, and was up and gone way before the other awoke.
Ironhide waited a few more steps, allowing the green mech to think he was going to escape scot-free once again, and then, "Lights." His optics came online at the same time as brilliant light flooded the room, making the medic startle and squint. "Do you realize what time it is?" the black mech asked his lover.
Ratchet stared at him, bleary-opticed, "H-hide! You're awake. I didn't mean to wake you."
The black mech frowned at his lover. "Of course you didn't. You were just going to stumble in here, flop on the recharge berth and then be gone again before I even have the time to wish you a good morning. And I bet you have another shift scheduled for yourself bright and early tomorrow, am I right?"
The green medic gave a guilty nod. "I'm sorry, Ironhide, but First Aid just isn't ready to take over for me and there have been so many accidents lately."
Ironhide got to his feet, stalking meaningfully towards his lover. "He isn't ready? That's not what Prime seems to think. He also doesn't seem to think you're doing anything critical that needs the constant supervision you've been insisting on these past few orns. Optimus has suggested you take some leave, I've suggested you take some leave, but you're just so slagging stubborn, and I'm worried if you keep going like this something important that does need your full attention is going to come up, and you'll be too run down to handle it properly."
Ratchet gave his lover a pleading look. "I just don't want anything to happen when I can prevent it. I'll be fine. I'm getting enough fuel and recharge to function."
Ironhide snorted. "Barely. I am sure it is hardly enough to allow you to function optimally like you're always nagging your patients to do. No, if a mech in your condition came in you would slap some compulsory medical leave on them so fast they wouldn't know what hit them. But I can see by the look in your optics that you still don't get it. I'm going to have to try a different tactic." With a clatter of parts, the black mech shifted down into truck mode and activated his holo projector. A tall, muscular soldier in black combat fatigues, with salt and pepper hair and fearsomely bright blue eyes now stared up at the much taller being without a single trace of fear. "Holoform. Now."
"But..." Amazingly, the green mech, who could have crushed the smaller human form with ease, took a small step back. "Couldn't we do this tomorrow, I am rather tired..."
The hardened warrior wasn't buying it for a moment. "Oh, so now you're tired, now, when faced with the opportunity to spend some quality time with your lover for the first time in Primus knows how long?" He shook his head in disappointment. "This has definitely got to stop."
"But 'Hide..." the medic wheedled, "it isn't like that, you know I love you..."
"Talk is cheap," the weapon specialist replied, placing his hands on his hips.
Sighing, the green mech folded down into his alternate mode, and a moment later a pale-skinned redhead dressed in a shirt, slacks and a lab coat stood in front of the taller soldier, shifting nervously in spite of himself.
No sooner had his lover materialized in human form than the dark haired man grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him towards the human sized bed nestled in one corner of the room. Situated under a side table, it was kept safe from trampling feet and ready any time they felt like playing in their holographic forms. It was something they did fairly often, their advanced processors able to mimic human physiology and reactions with startling accuracy. In fact, calling their human forms holographic would be a bit of a misnomer, but it was the closest translation in the human language to approximate what they were capable of doing.
Play, however, was the furthest thing from Ironhide's mind as he silently pulled his mate towards the bed. Ratchet, however, did not know that, and so the medic was totally unprepared when his lover seated himself on the bed and pulled him face down across his black-clad lap, pinning his hands neatly behind his back.
The medic yelped in surprise and began to struggle, albeit futilely, against the strong grip. "Ironhide, what...?"
Ironhide smiled. "What is it that you always tell me when I get hurt? Oh yes, pain exists for a reason. It exists to tell you that there is something wrong, and forces you to slow down and tend to the needs of your body rather than running it into the ground as you would if you were incapable of feeling pain. You haven't been tending the needs of your body properly lately, and the only reason I can think of is that your body hasn't been sending you strong enough messages to indicate how slagging stupid you're being." He petted the medic's aft slowly, caressing it through the thin fabric of the olive trousers the other had chosen to cover his lower half. "That's where I come in."
The redhead, panting from his efforts to escape, glared up at his lover in affront. "What are you talking about?"
The former black mech's benignly caressing hand suddenly stopped its gentle movements to instead deliver a hard, stinging smack to the seat of the medic's pants. "Remember what I said about the purpose of pain?" Ironhide asked, trying to keep himself from smiling at his mate's reaction.
Ratchet yelped at the slap, but remained defiant. "Of course I know the purpose of pain!" he all but shouted. "If you let go of me I'll happily show you!"
Ironhide shook his head. "I'm the one who will be doing the demonstrating tonight. Google the term 'spanking', that should answer all your questions..." The black mech waited while his lover's expression went blank as he searched the Internet using his wireless connection.
Ratchet returned to awareness a short time later. "It's a method of punishing human sparklings and also a form of sexual gratification for adults. It involves striking their aft repeatedly with their bare hand or an object such as a paddle," he recited, before frowning and looking aghast. "You're going to hurt me like this to prove your point?"
Ironhide looked faintly apologetic. "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm at a loss of what else to do. You haven't been listening to me in orns. Can you even remember the last time we interfaced? I know you want to work hard and fulfill your responsibilities, but I'm worried if you don't slow down, something a lot worse is going to happen to you than a sore aft. You said yourself this is a punishment humans use on their sparklings, so it can't be that awful... unless the fearsome Doc Hatchet, terror of medbay, is afraid of a few swats on the rear?"
Ratchet growled and sputtered indignantly, rising very predictably to the bait. "I'm not afraid," he said. "It's just, barbaric, that's all..."
"And you've often accused me of being a barbarian," Ironhide answered smugly. "I'm just living up to my reputation. Now it's time to get your pants off, because one way or another I'm going to do this. It's your choice whether you face it with dignity, or like a snivelling human brat."
"'Dignity'," Ratchet repeated. "Without my pants?"
"It isn't supposed to be very dignified, in fact, it gets even less so from here on out, but that's part of the fun... Still, I think there is some dignity to be had in the choice I'm giving you now: either you dematerialize your pants yourself, or I remove them for you. Either way, they are not staying on your aft, I have to be able to see what I am doing to make sure I don't actually cause any damage." That, and the sight of the firm, muscular planes of the medic's aft was pretty enticing, even if it wasn't nearly as attractive as the intricately joined metal of his lover's natural form.
The medic's only answer was some grumbling, and half muttered imprecations about rebuilding Ironhide into a sewage tanker.
Ironhide chuckled, not at all surprised by the lack of compliance, and slid his free hand under the waistband of the medic's pants, trying to pull them down. The pants didn't seem to want to come down on their own, so he slipped his hand underneath the medic's hips to unbutton and unzip his fly, taking a little time, while he was 'in the neighbourhood' so to speak, to caress his lover's projected groin teasingly before taking his hand away and sliding the redhead's trousers downwards, completely baring his lover's aft.
Ratchet shivered at the caress, holoform responding perfectly to the stimulus, his reactions identical to a human's, right down to the blush that burned its way across his face. "Just get on with it," he snapped.
The black mech in human form grinned at his lover's reaction, adjusting his leg slightly beneath the redhead to ensure optimal contact with the now exposed groin of his helpless victim. He petted the medic's aft sensuously. "It's not quite as nice as your metal one," he purred, "but you have a gorgeous aft, whatever form you take."
The medic squirmed and let out a muffled moan. "Are you going to get this over with or are you going to stare at my aft all night?" he asked in a surprisingly even tone.
Ironhide let out a low, rumbling laugh. "That's the beauty of the position I'm in," he said sensuously, surveying the medic's aft. "I can do both." Ratchet had such fair skin in this form that there was already a pink tinge to the lower part of his buttocks from the clothed-bottom smack the weapon specialist had already delivered. His Internet sources had suggested, however, that skin colour was not a good indication of the effectiveness of punishment, and that a change in attitude was much, much more telling. Either way, he had no intention to cause serious harm to his lover, just to teach him a little lesson.
He waited a few moments longer, letting the anticipation build, and then he began, unleashing a barrage of slow, hard smacks onto the medic's unprotected posterior, admiring how the muscled flesh quivered and leapt under his touch, the stinging impact of the blows sounding almost as loud as gunshots in the otherwise silent room.
"Oww, 'Hide..." Totally failing any attempt at stoicism, the medic struggled in vain to free himself from Ironhide's powerful grip and somehow protect his aft from the aching assault. He gasped and wriggled under the vigour of the strikes, a tense, pained expression marring his intellectual features, ivory skin warming under the hard slaps of the weapon specialist's strong hand, quickly turning a bright crimson.
Satisfied at the effect he was having, Ironhide continued to spank the redhead at a slow, steady pace, his blows implacable, but not cruel, moving to a new area of the buttocks with each new smack, though he confined himself to the fleshiest portions of his lover's borrowed anatomy where the force would sting badly, but not cause damage to underlying nerves.
Ratchet wriggled again, trying to escape the blows, or perhaps to adjust himself more comfortably over the dark haired man's lap, and Ironhide felt a sudden, telling hardness pressed into his thigh, one that made the arousal in his own projection's groin flare deliciously. His smile broadened at this discovery, that, coupled with the not entirely pained sounds the medic was making, suggested that his lover was finding pleasure, as well as pain, in this unlikely experience.
Having completed one circuit over the rapidly heating flesh, Ironhide allowed the medic a few moments to catch his holographic breath before he began anew, putting a little more force behind each of the blows, his huge, strong hand raising yet more heat in the helplessly quivering flesh.
"'Hide," Ratchet whimpered. "Just how long do you plan on doing this?"
"Are things getting a bit... 'tingly'," the weapon specialist asked, wickedly. "What's the matter, I thought you liked 'tingly'?"
"Ironhide..." the medic whined.
"I don't know," Ironhide mused, even as he continued delivering his deliberate, painful punishment to the already glowing cheeks of his trembling lover. "For human younglings, they recommend typically one blow for each Earth year of life. What do you think of that?" He punctuated his question with an extra hard smack.
"Oww! Please..."
"Yes, I know, we would be here a rather long time, wouldn't we?" Ironhide said, stepping up the intensity of his strikes yet again. The medic's jaw clenched, his lips twisted, forced tightly together to keep from crying out more than he had already. His hips shifted from side to side on Ironhide's lap, trying in vain to escape the iron hard, relentless hand that continued to rain fire upon his stinging seat, and leaving no question that the former green mech was now very aroused indeed. "Why Ratchet..." the weapon specialist murmured, moving his leg just slightly against his lover's groin to gauge his simulated reaction. "Are you enjoying this?"
"Primus... It hurts, but..." The redhead's breath, even though it was synthesized, followed the exact pattern of human respiration, and had begun to hitch as it was held and explosively released as each new, hard smack forced air outwards in strangled yelps of pain and moans of something else entirely...
"Of course it does," Ironhide said. "And it's going to hurt a lot more before I'm finished. It's good to see you're finally listening to what your body has to tell you." The medic's aft was deeply red now, nether cheeks flushed a blazing colour that was echoed in the feverishly embarrassed hue of his face. The weapon specialist's hand was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, which suggested that the anatomy still quivering and cringing under his determined discipline was by now probably very, very sore indeed.
"Please, please...!" If Ratchet's reactions were any indication, then his guess was surely correct as the man still pinioned in his lap struggled harder, but still to no avail.
Smack, smack, smack! It seemed the pain was cresting now, the medic jumping and fighting against Ironhide's powerful hold with each new impact.
"I can't... I can't..." Abruptly the medic's demeanour changed, and, rather than cringing away from the smacks, he began to seek them out, lifting his hips upwards, raw, red cheeks straining wantonly towards the warm hand. "I need something! Anything!"
Ironhide, who should, in fact, have been called 'Ironhand' by rights of the disciplinary prowess he was displaying, slowed his smacks, surveying the medic's aft. It was deeply red now, nether cheeks flushed a blazing colour. His punishing swats turned into caresses once more, sweeping and soothing over the aching flesh, a single finger delving into the cleft between his lover's buttocks, teasing gently at the tiny bud of his entrance. "Anything?" he asks.
In answer, the medic squirmed and spread his legs. "Anything you want," he promised breathlessly. "To make up for neglecting you."
The weapon specialist's simulated breath quickened at the wanton sight before him, and he released his lover, guiding him to his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, crawling up behind him as he dematerialized all his clothing at once. He altered the texture of his huge erection, simulating a coating of lubricant to ease his passage, and rubbed himself against the redhead's hot, throbbing flesh. "Anything?" he asked again.
Ratchet's clothing abruptly vanished, and he clutched the sheets tightly, glowingly punished backside turned enticingly upwards in an unmistakable invitation. "Primus, yes..." he groaned.
Ironhide clenched his jaw tightly, a miasma of feelings swirling through him, among them arousal and a heavy helping of disgust for having so enjoyed the barbaric practice he had just indulged himself in. A practice which, miraculously, had turned the red haired man before him into this delightfully quivering heap of surrender.
Overcome by the powerful needs of his borrowed form, and the raw power of the sight of his lover spread before him, ready to be taken, he gave in with a possessive growl.... His cock pressed slowly forward, spreading the narrow, puckered opening of the medic's anus into an obscenely wide yawn around his massive girth, causing Ratchet to let out a yell of incomprehensible relief. Groaning loudly at the incredible sensations, he continued pushing inward at a slow but relentless pace until the burning heat of the medic's still crimson aft was flush against his hips.
When he was completely inside, Ratchet grabbed at a pillow for support, panting and shaking hard. "Oh, oh, 'Hide, please!"
Immediately he began to thrust, hard and fast, driving the man beneath him downwards into the mattress with the force of his relentless movements. It seemed to be exactly what his lover wanted, because he released a long, drawn out moan, becoming staccato under the endless rhythm.
"Ohhhhh!" Ratchet cried. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Primus!"
"Ratchet... unhhh..." Ironhide groaned in answer, the redhead's cries and delightful responsiveness arousing him beyond belief. The hard rhythm of his hips was like an extension of the spanking he delivered before, pounding against the painfully punished buttocks. But this was more, so much more than before, each movement a sliding, burning, inescapable friction of a hard erection delivering that same, throbbing heat deep inside. He leaned his strong, muscular form over the man beneath him, huge hands knotting into the sheets next to the medic's own, using them for leverage to increase the impact of his thorough possession.
Ratchet's tremors increased, and he sank down onto his elbows, holding onto the pillow even more tightly, trying to remain stable as he pushed back against his lover, clenching reflexively around the pistoning cock "'Hide, 'hide, oh, Primus..."
"Unnngh, Ratchet...!" the big man howled, dropping his head almost weakly against his lover's shoulder as though all the strength he had was going into the herculean efforts of his plunging hips, and the processing of the resultant sensations, the exquisite feeling of that muscular aft twitching against him, contracting reflexively around him, burning him with its own brand of searing heat. "I love you," he growled, words breathless and staccato, suspended between the rocking motions of his body, "you know that... I love you so much... never wanted to hurt you..."
"I know..." the medic groaned, pushing back in time with every thrust. "But I needed it - I should never have let this go on so long. Nnn!" He cried out and gripped the pillow so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Forgive me."
"Forgive you..." Ironhide agreed, pressing feverish kisses against his lover's neck. "As long as... you come back..." The pace of his thrusts changed slightly, becoming more deliberate, though still sure and hard. His body began to shudder powerfully, and he gasped loudly, sinking his teeth gently but firmly into his lover's neck in a possessive, but surprisingly gentle bite.
Ratchet whimpered and arched into Ironhide. "Slag!" he hissed at the feeling of teeth sinking into his neck, sending a bolt of burning pleasure straight to his groin. His legs fell further apart unconsciously and he gasped. "Oooh, Hide..." One hand left off clutching the pillow and grasped his painful erection, stroking it in time with each thrust.
The black mech noticed his lover's dilemma, and grinned, releasing his hold on the medic's neck. He too shifted position slightly, transferring a little more weight onto the man beneath him as he pulled his lover's hand away from its pleasurable task and replaced it with one of his own his own, continuing to stroke the turgid flesh in time with his thrusts. Each forward push of his hips was accompanied by a backwards pull of his hand, effectively pulling Ratchet into deeper impalement with each stroke. "That's it, Ratchet..." he panted, trying to hold himself back from the precipice for a little bit longer. "Do it... come for me... come hard..."
Like a butterfly on a pin, the medic was trapped, frantic, thrusting backwards onto the invading length inside him and forward into the stroking hand. And that was all it took. Seconds later, the medic was sobbing, physical and emotional release rising up into one huge tidal wave that seemed to overwhelm him, the pillow shredding in his hands as the energy overload pushed his systems past critical, giving his projection a strength that no human could possibly possess. "IRONHIDE!!!"
Ironhide threw back his head in exultation at the fury of his lover's climax, but he didn't have time to savour it long. A few more strokes of the medic's cock to prolong his pleasure as much as possible, and then the weapon specialist clawed into the sheets again with both hands, his hips curving even more tightly into the medic's. He could feel the muscles of his stomach tense impossibly, so much heat, heat everywhere, the aching heat of Ratchet's punished bottom, the deep, velvet heat of the quivering musculature inside. He stopped pounding and just rocked slowly, mouth open in a wordless scream as his penis began to pulse, pleasure tearing from his groin in endless waves that finally left him collapsed against his lover, spent and breathless. "Ratchet," he whispered in a drained voice. "Primus..."
Ratchet, too, went limp, collapsing beneath Ironhide and sending them tumbling to the bed, mewling as his lover's climax filled him with a rush of liquid warmth. "So good..." he moaned. "Love you so much..."
Ironhide sighed in deep satisfaction, pulling himself weakly off and out of his lover and rolling onto his back. "Almost as good as sparking," he rumbled, gathering the medic against him and kissing his forehead tenderly. "Love you too." He sighed again. "I wish we could stay like this to recharge," he murmured regretfully, "but it would expend too much energy." Reluctantly, he dissolved his hologram before rising up out of his truck mode into his bipedal form, waiting for the medic to do so as well.
Ratchet let his hologram fade, and transformed as well, stumbling towards Ironhide who caught him in a tender embrace, guiding him towards the bed and pulling him down into his arms so that they were comfortably nestled together.
They lay together in companionable silence for long moments, until Ironhide moved his hand, letting it wander down to pet the medic's aft, the source of so much excitement these past hours. To his surprise, the green mech squirmed and let out a slightly pained hiss. "What's wrong?"
"Don't stop," Ratchet groaned, pushing his aft against the weapon specialist's broad hand.
Ironhide quirked an optic ridge in surprise. "Still tingly?"
"Primus, yes," the green mech whimpered. "We are definitely doing that again..."
If the black mech's optic ridge rose any higher, he was sure he would strain something. "All of it?"
"Definitely..." his lover purred.
Ironhide grinned. "I guess these alien kinks aren't half bad, are they?"
Ratchet wriggled his backside more tightly against Ironhide's hips. "Not bad at all... but next time, I think I'll be the one on top..." Sighing deeply, the medic slipped into recharge before his lover could argue.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ironhide/Ratchet
Summary: Ratchet has been neglecting himself and Ironhide, and our kinky weapon specialist decides a little 'discipline' is in order.
Warnings: Graphic holo smut and spanking, the latter semi-consensual at first.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just having fun.
Author's Note: I never thought I would ever write a spanking story, but our kinky mechs got a hold of the idea and wouldn't shut up until I'd written it. A special thank you to my good buddy and RP partner silverwolf06 for helping me work a few kinks out of (or is that into?) the story. ;)
The Purpose of Pain
Ironhide sat in the dark and waited, optics off, for the telltale sound of the door opening. Ratchet was late. Again. Late after promising he wouldn't be. Late despite the fact that with new several new medics from Cybertron, including First Aid, working in the medbay, he did not need to pull the same long, exhaustive shifts he used to while he was still the only medic in the Autobot base. He also wasn't refuelling enough, or recharging enough, and they hadn't interfaced in weeks, and the weapon specialist was, frankly, sick of it.
The black mech heard the door entry sequence being keyed in and he held himself perfectly still. He knew the pattern all too well. Clunk clunk clunk, a twenty foot robot's laughable attempt at stealth as he retrieved a ration of energon from the cupboard, followed by the furtive sounds of the nutritious liquid being sucked back, repeated three times in quick succession. The medic had obviously been close to running on empty, it was a wonder he could even stand. A wave of sympathy washed over him but he quickly quashed it down. His lover had brought this on himself by not taking care of himself properly, and coddling him any further would only encourage him to continue this neglect.
This had to stop, and Ironhide knew just how to do it.
Clunk clunk clunk. Ratchet had finished choking down his illicit rations and was now making his way quietly to the recharge berth, as he had many nights before. Ironhide was lucky sometimes if he even got to see his lover in bed at all. Usually the workoholic CMO came to bed long after the black mech was in recharge, and was up and gone way before the other awoke.
Ironhide waited a few more steps, allowing the green mech to think he was going to escape scot-free once again, and then, "Lights." His optics came online at the same time as brilliant light flooded the room, making the medic startle and squint. "Do you realize what time it is?" the black mech asked his lover.
Ratchet stared at him, bleary-opticed, "H-hide! You're awake. I didn't mean to wake you."
The black mech frowned at his lover. "Of course you didn't. You were just going to stumble in here, flop on the recharge berth and then be gone again before I even have the time to wish you a good morning. And I bet you have another shift scheduled for yourself bright and early tomorrow, am I right?"
The green medic gave a guilty nod. "I'm sorry, Ironhide, but First Aid just isn't ready to take over for me and there have been so many accidents lately."
Ironhide got to his feet, stalking meaningfully towards his lover. "He isn't ready? That's not what Prime seems to think. He also doesn't seem to think you're doing anything critical that needs the constant supervision you've been insisting on these past few orns. Optimus has suggested you take some leave, I've suggested you take some leave, but you're just so slagging stubborn, and I'm worried if you keep going like this something important that does need your full attention is going to come up, and you'll be too run down to handle it properly."
Ratchet gave his lover a pleading look. "I just don't want anything to happen when I can prevent it. I'll be fine. I'm getting enough fuel and recharge to function."
Ironhide snorted. "Barely. I am sure it is hardly enough to allow you to function optimally like you're always nagging your patients to do. No, if a mech in your condition came in you would slap some compulsory medical leave on them so fast they wouldn't know what hit them. But I can see by the look in your optics that you still don't get it. I'm going to have to try a different tactic." With a clatter of parts, the black mech shifted down into truck mode and activated his holo projector. A tall, muscular soldier in black combat fatigues, with salt and pepper hair and fearsomely bright blue eyes now stared up at the much taller being without a single trace of fear. "Holoform. Now."
"But..." Amazingly, the green mech, who could have crushed the smaller human form with ease, took a small step back. "Couldn't we do this tomorrow, I am rather tired..."
The hardened warrior wasn't buying it for a moment. "Oh, so now you're tired, now, when faced with the opportunity to spend some quality time with your lover for the first time in Primus knows how long?" He shook his head in disappointment. "This has definitely got to stop."
"But 'Hide..." the medic wheedled, "it isn't like that, you know I love you..."
"Talk is cheap," the weapon specialist replied, placing his hands on his hips.
Sighing, the green mech folded down into his alternate mode, and a moment later a pale-skinned redhead dressed in a shirt, slacks and a lab coat stood in front of the taller soldier, shifting nervously in spite of himself.
No sooner had his lover materialized in human form than the dark haired man grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him towards the human sized bed nestled in one corner of the room. Situated under a side table, it was kept safe from trampling feet and ready any time they felt like playing in their holographic forms. It was something they did fairly often, their advanced processors able to mimic human physiology and reactions with startling accuracy. In fact, calling their human forms holographic would be a bit of a misnomer, but it was the closest translation in the human language to approximate what they were capable of doing.
Play, however, was the furthest thing from Ironhide's mind as he silently pulled his mate towards the bed. Ratchet, however, did not know that, and so the medic was totally unprepared when his lover seated himself on the bed and pulled him face down across his black-clad lap, pinning his hands neatly behind his back.
The medic yelped in surprise and began to struggle, albeit futilely, against the strong grip. "Ironhide, what...?"
Ironhide smiled. "What is it that you always tell me when I get hurt? Oh yes, pain exists for a reason. It exists to tell you that there is something wrong, and forces you to slow down and tend to the needs of your body rather than running it into the ground as you would if you were incapable of feeling pain. You haven't been tending the needs of your body properly lately, and the only reason I can think of is that your body hasn't been sending you strong enough messages to indicate how slagging stupid you're being." He petted the medic's aft slowly, caressing it through the thin fabric of the olive trousers the other had chosen to cover his lower half. "That's where I come in."
The redhead, panting from his efforts to escape, glared up at his lover in affront. "What are you talking about?"
The former black mech's benignly caressing hand suddenly stopped its gentle movements to instead deliver a hard, stinging smack to the seat of the medic's pants. "Remember what I said about the purpose of pain?" Ironhide asked, trying to keep himself from smiling at his mate's reaction.
Ratchet yelped at the slap, but remained defiant. "Of course I know the purpose of pain!" he all but shouted. "If you let go of me I'll happily show you!"
Ironhide shook his head. "I'm the one who will be doing the demonstrating tonight. Google the term 'spanking', that should answer all your questions..." The black mech waited while his lover's expression went blank as he searched the Internet using his wireless connection.
Ratchet returned to awareness a short time later. "It's a method of punishing human sparklings and also a form of sexual gratification for adults. It involves striking their aft repeatedly with their bare hand or an object such as a paddle," he recited, before frowning and looking aghast. "You're going to hurt me like this to prove your point?"
Ironhide looked faintly apologetic. "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm at a loss of what else to do. You haven't been listening to me in orns. Can you even remember the last time we interfaced? I know you want to work hard and fulfill your responsibilities, but I'm worried if you don't slow down, something a lot worse is going to happen to you than a sore aft. You said yourself this is a punishment humans use on their sparklings, so it can't be that awful... unless the fearsome Doc Hatchet, terror of medbay, is afraid of a few swats on the rear?"
Ratchet growled and sputtered indignantly, rising very predictably to the bait. "I'm not afraid," he said. "It's just, barbaric, that's all..."
"And you've often accused me of being a barbarian," Ironhide answered smugly. "I'm just living up to my reputation. Now it's time to get your pants off, because one way or another I'm going to do this. It's your choice whether you face it with dignity, or like a snivelling human brat."
"'Dignity'," Ratchet repeated. "Without my pants?"
"It isn't supposed to be very dignified, in fact, it gets even less so from here on out, but that's part of the fun... Still, I think there is some dignity to be had in the choice I'm giving you now: either you dematerialize your pants yourself, or I remove them for you. Either way, they are not staying on your aft, I have to be able to see what I am doing to make sure I don't actually cause any damage." That, and the sight of the firm, muscular planes of the medic's aft was pretty enticing, even if it wasn't nearly as attractive as the intricately joined metal of his lover's natural form.
The medic's only answer was some grumbling, and half muttered imprecations about rebuilding Ironhide into a sewage tanker.
Ironhide chuckled, not at all surprised by the lack of compliance, and slid his free hand under the waistband of the medic's pants, trying to pull them down. The pants didn't seem to want to come down on their own, so he slipped his hand underneath the medic's hips to unbutton and unzip his fly, taking a little time, while he was 'in the neighbourhood' so to speak, to caress his lover's projected groin teasingly before taking his hand away and sliding the redhead's trousers downwards, completely baring his lover's aft.
Ratchet shivered at the caress, holoform responding perfectly to the stimulus, his reactions identical to a human's, right down to the blush that burned its way across his face. "Just get on with it," he snapped.
The black mech in human form grinned at his lover's reaction, adjusting his leg slightly beneath the redhead to ensure optimal contact with the now exposed groin of his helpless victim. He petted the medic's aft sensuously. "It's not quite as nice as your metal one," he purred, "but you have a gorgeous aft, whatever form you take."
The medic squirmed and let out a muffled moan. "Are you going to get this over with or are you going to stare at my aft all night?" he asked in a surprisingly even tone.
Ironhide let out a low, rumbling laugh. "That's the beauty of the position I'm in," he said sensuously, surveying the medic's aft. "I can do both." Ratchet had such fair skin in this form that there was already a pink tinge to the lower part of his buttocks from the clothed-bottom smack the weapon specialist had already delivered. His Internet sources had suggested, however, that skin colour was not a good indication of the effectiveness of punishment, and that a change in attitude was much, much more telling. Either way, he had no intention to cause serious harm to his lover, just to teach him a little lesson.
He waited a few moments longer, letting the anticipation build, and then he began, unleashing a barrage of slow, hard smacks onto the medic's unprotected posterior, admiring how the muscled flesh quivered and leapt under his touch, the stinging impact of the blows sounding almost as loud as gunshots in the otherwise silent room.
"Oww, 'Hide..." Totally failing any attempt at stoicism, the medic struggled in vain to free himself from Ironhide's powerful grip and somehow protect his aft from the aching assault. He gasped and wriggled under the vigour of the strikes, a tense, pained expression marring his intellectual features, ivory skin warming under the hard slaps of the weapon specialist's strong hand, quickly turning a bright crimson.
Satisfied at the effect he was having, Ironhide continued to spank the redhead at a slow, steady pace, his blows implacable, but not cruel, moving to a new area of the buttocks with each new smack, though he confined himself to the fleshiest portions of his lover's borrowed anatomy where the force would sting badly, but not cause damage to underlying nerves.
Ratchet wriggled again, trying to escape the blows, or perhaps to adjust himself more comfortably over the dark haired man's lap, and Ironhide felt a sudden, telling hardness pressed into his thigh, one that made the arousal in his own projection's groin flare deliciously. His smile broadened at this discovery, that, coupled with the not entirely pained sounds the medic was making, suggested that his lover was finding pleasure, as well as pain, in this unlikely experience.
Having completed one circuit over the rapidly heating flesh, Ironhide allowed the medic a few moments to catch his holographic breath before he began anew, putting a little more force behind each of the blows, his huge, strong hand raising yet more heat in the helplessly quivering flesh.
"'Hide," Ratchet whimpered. "Just how long do you plan on doing this?"
"Are things getting a bit... 'tingly'," the weapon specialist asked, wickedly. "What's the matter, I thought you liked 'tingly'?"
"Ironhide..." the medic whined.
"I don't know," Ironhide mused, even as he continued delivering his deliberate, painful punishment to the already glowing cheeks of his trembling lover. "For human younglings, they recommend typically one blow for each Earth year of life. What do you think of that?" He punctuated his question with an extra hard smack.
"Oww! Please..."
"Yes, I know, we would be here a rather long time, wouldn't we?" Ironhide said, stepping up the intensity of his strikes yet again. The medic's jaw clenched, his lips twisted, forced tightly together to keep from crying out more than he had already. His hips shifted from side to side on Ironhide's lap, trying in vain to escape the iron hard, relentless hand that continued to rain fire upon his stinging seat, and leaving no question that the former green mech was now very aroused indeed. "Why Ratchet..." the weapon specialist murmured, moving his leg just slightly against his lover's groin to gauge his simulated reaction. "Are you enjoying this?"
"Primus... It hurts, but..." The redhead's breath, even though it was synthesized, followed the exact pattern of human respiration, and had begun to hitch as it was held and explosively released as each new, hard smack forced air outwards in strangled yelps of pain and moans of something else entirely...
"Of course it does," Ironhide said. "And it's going to hurt a lot more before I'm finished. It's good to see you're finally listening to what your body has to tell you." The medic's aft was deeply red now, nether cheeks flushed a blazing colour that was echoed in the feverishly embarrassed hue of his face. The weapon specialist's hand was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable, which suggested that the anatomy still quivering and cringing under his determined discipline was by now probably very, very sore indeed.
"Please, please...!" If Ratchet's reactions were any indication, then his guess was surely correct as the man still pinioned in his lap struggled harder, but still to no avail.
Smack, smack, smack! It seemed the pain was cresting now, the medic jumping and fighting against Ironhide's powerful hold with each new impact.
"I can't... I can't..." Abruptly the medic's demeanour changed, and, rather than cringing away from the smacks, he began to seek them out, lifting his hips upwards, raw, red cheeks straining wantonly towards the warm hand. "I need something! Anything!"
Ironhide, who should, in fact, have been called 'Ironhand' by rights of the disciplinary prowess he was displaying, slowed his smacks, surveying the medic's aft. It was deeply red now, nether cheeks flushed a blazing colour. His punishing swats turned into caresses once more, sweeping and soothing over the aching flesh, a single finger delving into the cleft between his lover's buttocks, teasing gently at the tiny bud of his entrance. "Anything?" he asks.
In answer, the medic squirmed and spread his legs. "Anything you want," he promised breathlessly. "To make up for neglecting you."
The weapon specialist's simulated breath quickened at the wanton sight before him, and he released his lover, guiding him to his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, crawling up behind him as he dematerialized all his clothing at once. He altered the texture of his huge erection, simulating a coating of lubricant to ease his passage, and rubbed himself against the redhead's hot, throbbing flesh. "Anything?" he asked again.
Ratchet's clothing abruptly vanished, and he clutched the sheets tightly, glowingly punished backside turned enticingly upwards in an unmistakable invitation. "Primus, yes..." he groaned.
Ironhide clenched his jaw tightly, a miasma of feelings swirling through him, among them arousal and a heavy helping of disgust for having so enjoyed the barbaric practice he had just indulged himself in. A practice which, miraculously, had turned the red haired man before him into this delightfully quivering heap of surrender.
Overcome by the powerful needs of his borrowed form, and the raw power of the sight of his lover spread before him, ready to be taken, he gave in with a possessive growl.... His cock pressed slowly forward, spreading the narrow, puckered opening of the medic's anus into an obscenely wide yawn around his massive girth, causing Ratchet to let out a yell of incomprehensible relief. Groaning loudly at the incredible sensations, he continued pushing inward at a slow but relentless pace until the burning heat of the medic's still crimson aft was flush against his hips.
When he was completely inside, Ratchet grabbed at a pillow for support, panting and shaking hard. "Oh, oh, 'Hide, please!"
Immediately he began to thrust, hard and fast, driving the man beneath him downwards into the mattress with the force of his relentless movements. It seemed to be exactly what his lover wanted, because he released a long, drawn out moan, becoming staccato under the endless rhythm.
"Ohhhhh!" Ratchet cried. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Primus!"
"Ratchet... unhhh..." Ironhide groaned in answer, the redhead's cries and delightful responsiveness arousing him beyond belief. The hard rhythm of his hips was like an extension of the spanking he delivered before, pounding against the painfully punished buttocks. But this was more, so much more than before, each movement a sliding, burning, inescapable friction of a hard erection delivering that same, throbbing heat deep inside. He leaned his strong, muscular form over the man beneath him, huge hands knotting into the sheets next to the medic's own, using them for leverage to increase the impact of his thorough possession.
Ratchet's tremors increased, and he sank down onto his elbows, holding onto the pillow even more tightly, trying to remain stable as he pushed back against his lover, clenching reflexively around the pistoning cock "'Hide, 'hide, oh, Primus..."
"Unnngh, Ratchet...!" the big man howled, dropping his head almost weakly against his lover's shoulder as though all the strength he had was going into the herculean efforts of his plunging hips, and the processing of the resultant sensations, the exquisite feeling of that muscular aft twitching against him, contracting reflexively around him, burning him with its own brand of searing heat. "I love you," he growled, words breathless and staccato, suspended between the rocking motions of his body, "you know that... I love you so much... never wanted to hurt you..."
"I know..." the medic groaned, pushing back in time with every thrust. "But I needed it - I should never have let this go on so long. Nnn!" He cried out and gripped the pillow so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Forgive me."
"Forgive you..." Ironhide agreed, pressing feverish kisses against his lover's neck. "As long as... you come back..." The pace of his thrusts changed slightly, becoming more deliberate, though still sure and hard. His body began to shudder powerfully, and he gasped loudly, sinking his teeth gently but firmly into his lover's neck in a possessive, but surprisingly gentle bite.
Ratchet whimpered and arched into Ironhide. "Slag!" he hissed at the feeling of teeth sinking into his neck, sending a bolt of burning pleasure straight to his groin. His legs fell further apart unconsciously and he gasped. "Oooh, Hide..." One hand left off clutching the pillow and grasped his painful erection, stroking it in time with each thrust.
The black mech noticed his lover's dilemma, and grinned, releasing his hold on the medic's neck. He too shifted position slightly, transferring a little more weight onto the man beneath him as he pulled his lover's hand away from its pleasurable task and replaced it with one of his own his own, continuing to stroke the turgid flesh in time with his thrusts. Each forward push of his hips was accompanied by a backwards pull of his hand, effectively pulling Ratchet into deeper impalement with each stroke. "That's it, Ratchet..." he panted, trying to hold himself back from the precipice for a little bit longer. "Do it... come for me... come hard..."
Like a butterfly on a pin, the medic was trapped, frantic, thrusting backwards onto the invading length inside him and forward into the stroking hand. And that was all it took. Seconds later, the medic was sobbing, physical and emotional release rising up into one huge tidal wave that seemed to overwhelm him, the pillow shredding in his hands as the energy overload pushed his systems past critical, giving his projection a strength that no human could possibly possess. "IRONHIDE!!!"
Ironhide threw back his head in exultation at the fury of his lover's climax, but he didn't have time to savour it long. A few more strokes of the medic's cock to prolong his pleasure as much as possible, and then the weapon specialist clawed into the sheets again with both hands, his hips curving even more tightly into the medic's. He could feel the muscles of his stomach tense impossibly, so much heat, heat everywhere, the aching heat of Ratchet's punished bottom, the deep, velvet heat of the quivering musculature inside. He stopped pounding and just rocked slowly, mouth open in a wordless scream as his penis began to pulse, pleasure tearing from his groin in endless waves that finally left him collapsed against his lover, spent and breathless. "Ratchet," he whispered in a drained voice. "Primus..."
Ratchet, too, went limp, collapsing beneath Ironhide and sending them tumbling to the bed, mewling as his lover's climax filled him with a rush of liquid warmth. "So good..." he moaned. "Love you so much..."
Ironhide sighed in deep satisfaction, pulling himself weakly off and out of his lover and rolling onto his back. "Almost as good as sparking," he rumbled, gathering the medic against him and kissing his forehead tenderly. "Love you too." He sighed again. "I wish we could stay like this to recharge," he murmured regretfully, "but it would expend too much energy." Reluctantly, he dissolved his hologram before rising up out of his truck mode into his bipedal form, waiting for the medic to do so as well.
Ratchet let his hologram fade, and transformed as well, stumbling towards Ironhide who caught him in a tender embrace, guiding him towards the bed and pulling him down into his arms so that they were comfortably nestled together.
They lay together in companionable silence for long moments, until Ironhide moved his hand, letting it wander down to pet the medic's aft, the source of so much excitement these past hours. To his surprise, the green mech squirmed and let out a slightly pained hiss. "What's wrong?"
"Don't stop," Ratchet groaned, pushing his aft against the weapon specialist's broad hand.
Ironhide quirked an optic ridge in surprise. "Still tingly?"
"Primus, yes," the green mech whimpered. "We are definitely doing that again..."
If the black mech's optic ridge rose any higher, he was sure he would strain something. "All of it?"
"Definitely..." his lover purred.
Ironhide grinned. "I guess these alien kinks aren't half bad, are they?"
Ratchet wriggled his backside more tightly against Ironhide's hips. "Not bad at all... but next time, I think I'll be the one on top..." Sighing deeply, the medic slipped into recharge before his lover could argue.