Rating: NC-17 (HELL YEAH, BABY!)
Warnings: virgin!Optimus, virgin fetish, hand fetish, transfluid fetish... etc Sticky+pnp+fieldplay+sparkplay, dub-con if you squint, first time, purposefully OOC Optimus.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Summary: A long time ago, Ratchet had been more than just a medic. He looked at Optimus and his circuits sang with the memory of the young mech that had been presented to him soon after ascending to Prime.
Authors Notes: I AM ALIVE! Well not really, still have problems writing but thanks to ultharkitty who betaed this for me I have this to give you. Enjoy
Part 1 on LJ
Ratchet established a link with Optimus’ systems, and made his interface cover pop open. Prime’s optics opened and he stared at Ratchet in shock.
“It’s your interface panel, little Prime.” Ratchet smiled back when Optimus grinned at the endearment. “I need to install software to make it work, and overload you so that you reboot.”
He continued stroking all the armor he could reach, his fingers tingling pleasurably with the charge that was gathering on Optimus’ body.
The Prime moaned when the data transfer began, every file gliding over his naked systems and making them burn. His field grew dense with desire, heat and pleasure flaring in unpredictable bursts, and Ratchet had to fight his own arousal.
If only he’d known that this mech was so innocently erotic...
He let his data-stream wander as the programs copied into Optimus memory. Then he sent a highly compressed package and let it burst open with sensation data. Optimus cried out and arched up in his arms as his processor overloaded; body stiffening, his systems rebooted as his form slumped down on the berth.
Ratchet fell down beside Optimus, only then realizing how highly revved he was. His systems cycled fast, but he ignored them for that moment, hugging Optimus close instead as the young mech slowly booted up, unconsciously snuggling into the warm embrace.
When Ratchet felt Optimus stirring he let out subsonic purr, nuzzling and cuddling the young mech.
"Let the software unpack and integrate," he murmured. He supervised the implementation of interface programming; firewalls being laid down, only those with highest priority brushing against his medical presence.
"It was... powerful," Optimus mumbled, embarrassed.
"Wait until you feel it in your interface grid," Ratchet, joked but Optimus stilled in his arms. "What's wrong?"
"Is it... Is it going to hurt?" The young Prime was so adorable with his innocence.
"Had no one ever talked to you about it?"
Optimus shook his head "I... Only read some old scripts..." the young mech admitted shyly.
"Optimus, your spark matured orns ago, systems settled only recently, but surely you explored... You have some idea?" At the sheepish look he got in answer Ratchet had to fight serious urge to facepalm.
"I was told that my spark is off limits and never..." Optimus was getting nervous again, his field clamping on him protectively, and this time Ratchet berated himself for making him feel like this.
He cycled air few times to get rid of his irritation and let his field become gentle and relax.
"I'm sorry, little Prime..." All of sudden Optimus' field relaxed completely and he giggled. "What did I say?" He stared dumbfounded at the mech in his arms.
"You called me ‘little Prime’ again. No one ever did that before that's... nice." He smiled a positively blinding smile that Ratchet promptly kissed away; Optimus melted into his embrace.
Ratchet couldn't help the smile. ”You are nice... and cute; especially when smiling like that, I'll remember to call you ‘little Prime’ more often.”
Ratchet cradled Optimus in his arms, the mech clinging to him in relaxed trust, enjoying the closeness. Now he had to move carefully, one step at the time.
“I need to check if my upgrades integrated.” He touched fingers to the still sealed off spike and Optimus arched into the touch. Optimus was fearful, but the pleasure that washed over his body silenced all the fears, his flaring field alive with arousal.
Ratchet recoiled from the backlash of intense sensation. He had not yet encountered a mech so sensitive, but it was all the more fun for that.
“Touch yourself.” He suggested. “Or would you rather I touched you, see what feels good?” Ratchet brushed their fields more purposefully together, solidifying his own and sweeping it against the armor in a promise of a caress that was about to come.
Optimus seemed to consider the question. “Would you... Would you touch me?” He asked, his field flickering in embarrassment.
He was so adorably easy to read. Irresistible. Ratchet wanted to lean on him, and his spike urged him to bury in that tight, virginal valve, but instead he released the young Prime from his hold and leant forward to brush their lip-plates together. Optimus pushed against him, hungry lips trying to catch the medic’s, glossa darting out
“Mmm, you are so eager.” Ratchet licked along the beautiful cheek flange, and slid his glossa all the way to the shapely audio.
Optimus whimpered and tried to hold still as Ratchet let his fingers brush over the elegant throat feeling the air trapped there. He skimmed them over exposed collar struts delving his fingers between them; Optimus let out a short, surprised exclamation.
“Do what feels right,” Ratchet whispered.
Optimus whimpered again in response.
“If you want to move, just do it.” Ratchet followed the statement by dipping his glossa into an air-vent, making Optimus arch with a soundless cry.
“My... My interface...” Optimus moaned when Ratchet's fingers skimmed over the glass of his windshield. “... it's tight.”
Sweet Primus, already? Ratchet let out only a whimper, muffling it against the slim, delicious throat, fighting over the control over his panel.
“It's good, your spike is pressurizing.” He managed when he got control back. “Wait a bit more, and I'll help you out of the protective seal.”
He had to change his approach or Optimus would be subjected to the decidedly uncomfortable feeling of his spike ripping the seal open. He left Optimus’ abdomen for later and only skimmed his hips. Instead, Ratchet slid down the lithe body noting black hands clenched in the berth mesh.
“Touch yourself, me, do whatever you want, just... relax.” He inspected the seal. The spike was already pressing into it, deforming the silicone film, but still not enough. Ratchet looked up into blue, hazy optics careful not to brush his own over-sensitized panel against anything.
“Tell me Optimus... What do you want me to touch? Is there anything...”
“My hands.” Optimus blurted out, instantly embarrassed and he looked away from Ratchet.
The medic didn't let his surprise show. Hands didn't tend to be sensitive in such frames, but if Optimus wanted it, he would most definitely not decline.
He skimmed his fingers over one of black hands, making Optimus bite his lip and close his optics.
“Look at me,” Ratchet asked extending his field and solidifying it in places their bodies almost touched.
Optimus, reluctantly, turned his head and looked at Ratchet. The medic took one of his hands and placed a kiss in the middle of the palm. Optimus' optics shuttered.
“Don't stop looking at me,” Ratchet begged and kissed every finger-pad before sucking the digit in, Optimus opening his mouth in an oval shape, his vents blowing heated air. The medic licked the fingers before pressing his glossa between them, Optimus writhing under him, his hand quivering.
Then he looked down with a bit of fear. “Please, Ratchet. My..”.
The medic looked down. Optimus' spike was ready to pressurize. He licked around it, making the young mech cry out.
Ratchet pressed his hand to the blue hips and ex-vented on the seal. He picked the edge and ripped it off. Optimus arched and cryied out. Ratchet promptly put his mouth on the spike and sucked, glossa coaxing it out as it extended right into his mouth.
The Prime’s hands went to his helm and held him as the mech bucked up.
“Ratchet it's oh... Ah!” Optimus scrambled his processor as the transfluid exploded on Ratchet's glossa, a thin, charged fluid with a taste that Ratchet prized above any other.
Optimus pulled his head up and kissed him, hungrily tasting himself.
Ratchet was surprised that the young mech didn't offline. He didn't have the mind to shield his codpiece from Optimus’ touch, the panel flicking open in a rush of overwhelming, overheating pleasure.
He kissed back, claiming the pliant lips, the young Prime encircling him with his arms grinding into him and whimpering.
Ratchet was lost in the haze, the mech under him ripe and ready for the taking, begging him, trusting..
Ratchet broke through the fog with his cooling systems working hard. He’d allowed himself to get too revved up, to lose control. He had to get rid of the charge.
He snuggled the quivering, moaning Optimus and calmed down his field. Optimus' own still pulsing wildly, the spikes of his first overload slowly calming down.
Optimus snuggled close and ground their bodies together, only then noticing Ratchet's own spike. He looked at it with a sheepish expression, then at Ratchet.
“Touch if you want.” Ratchet’s processor stalled as Optimus skimmed his fingers over his spike.
“It's so big.”
Ratchet bit his lip when Optimus encircled his spike with his fingers and stroked.
“Nnngh.” Unsure touch, barely there; “Harder.” It drove him insane.
Optimus squeezed, and Ratchet arched into the touch. He had to overload before he could continue, the young Prime was irresistible.
He placed his own hand over Optimus' and squeezed the way he liked.
The young Prime looked up into his optics; startled and hopeful at Ratchet’s nod, he smiled.
Ratchet moaned and leaned forward, kissing his lips, quivering and responsive.
He had always enjoyed his role, but Optimus, the young Prime, he reminded himself, captured his spark in a way that no other had ever managed.
Ratchet gave up any pretense of formality and arched up into unsure hands, letting his charge build. His field flowed with desire, brushing against Optimus, resonating and heating up the young mech himself.
“Just like that,” he encouraged, and left the young Prime to stroke his spike alone. The mech followed the medic’s lead before Ratchet felt the first wave of deep pleasure rolling through his body. He gasped, “Faster!”
Optimus sped up, his lips parted and glossa peaking out in concentration.
Ratchet moaned. He was so beautiful.
“‘m going to overload, pretty.” He managed, feeling his body on the edge, his chassis trembling. His spike throbbed in Optimus’ hand before the young Prime suddenly bowed his head and kissed the tip of his spike.
Ratchet groaned and tried to hold the overload, shocked with the bold move, but Optimus sucked and with a helpless groan, Ratchet climaxed.
He watched Optimus try his best to swallow, his optics shuttering with effort, but a trickle escaped his mouth and when he looked at Ratchet the older ‘bot almost whimpered at how positively debauched the young Prime looked.
“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” Ratchet moaned . He pulled the mech up and ravished his mouth, tasting himself, his glossa licking off all traces of transfluid.
Optimus’ field tightened in insecurity.
“I just wanted...” Prime looked at him with a stricken expression. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Primus, no!” Ratchet huffed, exasperated. Gently, he swept all trace of transfluid from his face and traced the thumb over Optimus' lips. “You are so impossibly beautiful, so desirable.” Ratchet kissed trembling lips. “What you did... was only unexpected.”
Optimus smiled shyly, his field fluctuating with embarrassment. “I just... It felt good when you did it... Wanted to make you feel good...”
“Primus, Optimus you made me feel so very, very good.” Ratchet stroked Optimus' cheek. “Now I believe it is time I make you feel good again, little Prime.”