TF: Why Mechs Should Knock
Rating: PG-13
Series: G1
Pairings: Jazz/Ratchet
Summary: Jazz doesn’t care about little things about duty shifts… not when he wants his lover.
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else… in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Authors Notes: For the tf_rare_pairing prompt - Ratchet/Jazz - caught red handed
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno.
Font used: Marmalade Toast
“Not here!” Ratchet hissed as clever fingers found their way into the seams of his hip joints. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. There was only one mech daring (stupid) enough to grope him in the middle of his own repair bay.
“You know you want it.” Jazz purred, pressing against his back.
“That’s as maybe.” Ratchet snapped, turning around (carefully) to face his lover. “But not it the middle of a duty shift, when anyone could walk in.”
“But isn’t that just part of the thrill?” Jazz stretched up to kiss Ratchet, muffling any retort the medic might make.
“I’m not saying it’s not…” Ratchet murmured after they broke apart.
“Then why not?” Jazz questioned. “The Decepticons have been quiet, you’re here, I’m here…”
“Because…” Ratchet struggled to think of a reason.
“Exactly.” Jazz took hold of Ratchet’s hands and tugged him towards the nearest supply closet. Ratchet didn’t stop him.
“Ratchet?” Ratchet froze as he heard his name called.
//Jus’ gonna have ta keep quiet lover.// Jazz commed, nipping at the point of Ratchet’s chevron. Ratchet barely managed to stifle a moan.
“Ratchet, are you in here? Only I think I strained a door hinge, and it’s getting a little painful.”
“Jazz…” Ratchet hissed, reaching to disconnect the hardline that connected them. Jazz’s hand over his stopped him, as did the thrum of desire that pulsed down the hardline.
//Leave it.// Jazz ordered over the commline and Ratchet shivered at the command.
//But…//
//You know that it’s not a life-threatening injury. He can wait until I’ve overloaded you.// Ratchet bit back a moan, squirming as Jazz’s talented hands moved over his plating.
//But…” Ratchet’s protest was weaker this time, as his knees buckled and he sank slowly to the floor. Jazz followed him down, reaching for one of his hands and caressing the palm. Ratchet whimpered, cutting his engine as it threatened to rumble loudly and reveal them.
//That’s it…// Jazz murmured encouragingly, lifting Ratchet’s hand up so he could kiss the tips of his fingers. He sent a strong pulse of desire and adoration across the hardline, loving the way Ratchet’s optics brightened as he received it.
//Never say it enough, but ya know I love ya.// He whispered over the commline.
//Jazz…//
“Ratchet? Are you here? Are you in your office?” They could hear Bluestreak’s footsteps as he crossed the repair bay, coming perilously close to the supply closet they were in.
//I know…// Jazz murmured, sending a few packets of tightly packed data across the hardline. Ratchet arched as he unpacked them, vocaliser spitting static as he forcibly shut it off.
//That’s it…// Jazz encouraged, taking one of Ratchet’s fingers into his mouth, caressing the joints with his glossa. Ratchet stiffened in overload, optics flickering offline as the pleasure rolled through his systems.
“Or are you doing inventory?” The supply closet door slid open while Jazz was recovering from his own overload. Bluestreak looked at him, then looked at the happy puddle of medic in front of Jazz.
“Hey Blue…”
“Not doing inventory then…” Bluestreak shook his head and let the closet door close again. Ratchet onlined his optics, tilting his head to look at Jazz.
“Nothing ya need ta worry about Ratch’. Just relax for a few more moments, then I’ll let ya get back ta work.” He leant forward and captured Ratchet’s lips with his.