Title: For Educational Purposes Only
Fandom: Transformers: Bayverse
Pairing(s): Optimus/Ratchet, hinted Sam/Bee/Mikaela
Notes: I actually wrote this for the Transformers Kink meme, but I got it all tweaked up and now I'm posting here, kinda so I can prove I'm actually writing something, albeit the wrong something, but hey. I'm pretty fond of Optimus/Ratchet, so sue me. ;)
My first time attempting to write 'sticky', should I warn for that? Then consider yourself warned. I'm also supposed to suggest not drinking while reading, so there you go. Might write more on this, not sure yet. Enjoy!
Ratchet glared at Bumblebee. "Please tell me you didn't drag them all the way to the base just so they could ask me this."
One would think Bee had nothing better to do than to entertain their little human friends. Normally, Ratchet wouldn't mind. Have a little fun, watch a movie, nothing he was doing right this moment was so important that he couldn't put it off until tomorrow and he probably would even have been flattered that Sam and Mikaela would choose to include him. Inventorying supplies was boring enough to put a mech into recharge.
He had to admit, if nothing else, the conversation was keeping him awake.
Bee only gave him a helpless shrug, played a quick blurb from some sitcom about 'kids these days'. Right, like Ratchet was going to believe that Bumblebee hadn't put them up to this, somehow.
"C'mon Ratchet, why not?" Sam wheedled. He was sorting through a box of various gears, separating them by size, as Ratchet firmly believed that anyone who was in the medbay and not leaking some sort of fluid should be put to work. It did give a certain amount of credibility to his determination on the subject at hand; teenage boys weren't usually known for their work ethic, even ones who had saved the world.
"No," Ratchet said, not looking up from his data pad. "And I cannot begin to fathom why either of you would be interested in seeing how mechs interface."
"We just are," Mikaela put in, tucking a long strand of her dark hair behind one ear as she dug through her own box of parts. They had been here for several hours now, both of them streaked with grease from the elbows down, and a neat stack of cartons full of sorted parts behind them a testament to their determination. Bumblebee had his own pile of equipment that was too heavy for the humans to lift, organizing it with the meticulousness that Ratchet had come to expect from the little scout. If Ratchet put them off long enough it was just possible he'd get the entire med bay sorted out.
"No one is 'just' anything. When your mother birthed you, your first concerns were not in seeing me getting it on," Ratchet said dryly. "So I ask again, why would you want to see this?"
Instead of answering, Sam challenged him with a question of his own, "Why won't you show us? You aren't shy. You've asked us dozens of questions about sex AND made us watch all those porn clips, just so you could get some answers about them."
Hm. That was true. Damned humans and their logic. "The difference between that and your request is that I had a genuine scientific interest about the subject of human sexuality. YOU are asking out of some perverted curiosity that will likely fuel some erotic reaction."
"Same difference," Mikaela shrugged. She wrinkled her nose as she found a particularly greasy and filthy piece of equipment and set it aside to be cleaned before adding it the correct pile.
It was enough to make a mech's processor ache. "Same difference? That doesn't even make sense and I may not be shy but I'm also not sure that I want to be part of some masturbatory fantasy of either of yours afterward."
"It doesn't have to make sense and I seriously doubt I'm going to get the urge to masturbate about you. Look, how about we make you a deal?" Mikaela said, and the crafty gleam in her eye made Ratchet suspicious. Without even considering it, he allotted more RAM to his logic processors because Primus knew he needed it when dealing with these humans. "You give us a demonstration in how mechs interface and we'll give you one on how humans have sex."
"What?" Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Sam all said, each with a different tone and inflection, Sam's certainly being the shrillest, Ratchet's the most intrigued and Bumblebee's ripped from a popular movie.
"Mikaela," Sam started, panicked, his box forgotten as he leapt to his feet, "This is—"
"Totally fair," Mikaela cut in, hands on her hips leaving greasy streaks on her jeans. "He's right, you know, we're asking him to do something weird and he's taking the chance that we'll turn into kinky mech perverts after we see it. It's only fair he get some compensation."
Sam's mouth worked slowly, a bright flush spreading over his face. Absently, Ratchet tracked his pheromone levels and decided the boy wasn't nearly as appalled by the idea as he pretended. "Compensation does seem like it would be appropriate," Ratchet agreed, evenly.
The boy might not risk glaring at his chosen mate, but Ratchet had no such guarantees. He met it with a calm gaze of his own. Quid pro quo, Samuel. The boy considered it for a long moment, his glare fading.
"We get to stay under a sheet," Sam said firmly. As if that would offer any protection.
"I get to run any scans that I want," Ratchet countered.
"And we use a condom," Mikaela put it. "You can track sperm routes on your own time."
Ratchet turned a deeply offended look to the kid's partner in various crimes. "Of course, I wouldn't ask you to endure a pregnancy for my own curiosity!"
The three of them sustained another long glare that somehow managed to be mutual until finally Sam sighed gustily, flopping back to the floor. "Fine. You can watch us."
"Fine," Ratchet agreed and a trill of anticipation went through his circuits. Finally he would get to run those deep scans, oh, he couldn't wait, he'd need to calibrate his-
"Hold on, I'm not done," Mikaela broke through his thoughts and Ratchet rolled his optics. Of course she wasn't. "You have to go first."
"What?" Ratchet finally slapped down his data pad, hard enough that the screen flickered. "You are the ones who brought this up, why should I go first?"
"Because I said so," Mikaela said, smugly.
It was logic like that that made humans so difficult to deal with.
Ratchet sighed and gave in. "Fine. Let me contact Optimus and see if he has time for a short demonstration."
"Optimus?" Mikaela and Sam echoed, equal parts intrigued and appalled, and Ratchet returned his glare to them.
"Is that a problem?" he asked with deceptive politeness, his tone promising great trouble if it was.
"Nope, not at all," Mikaela said hastily.
"No, no, that would be great," Sam muttered, "Watching the father figure of the group getting it on with Bones McCoy. This is totally a great idea. I probably won't be able to get it up long enough for a demonstration after seeing that."
"If that's true, then we are not going first," Ratchet warned.
"Oh come on!" Mikaela snorted rudely. "He's a teenager. Thinking about Pokémon could probably give him a hard on."
As interesting as that, and Sam's subsequent protests, was for his notes, Ratchet barely paid attention to it, instead sending a polite request to Optimus for a moment of his time.
Might as well get it over with. It wasn't a movie but it was more interesting than inventory.
"All right, you three stay over there," Ratchet ordered. "Occasionally, interfacing can cause a power surge that makes a limb move involuntarily and I don't want any of you to get hurt." The humans in the audience were sitting on a tall metal table, Bumblebee standing behind them and they looked like nothing so much as a group of bobble-head dolls as the three of them nodded in eager unison, two sets of eyes and one of optics watching them with wide interest.
It's for your research, Ratchet reminded himself. No sacrifice is too great for science. None at all. He turned to look at his leader, already sitting on the floor behind him, and prepared to whore himself for science.
Optimus hadn't said a word since he'd arrived and Ratchet had informed him curtly of the situation, and to his credit, he had only nodded once and sat where Ratchet had indicated. Although with his battle mask up, who knew what that pervert was thinking.
Sam and Mikaela had seemed just this side of horrified that the great and dignified leader of the Autobots was going to give them a private show but Ratchet had no such illusions. Seeing him shrieking in overload just once usually squashed those delusions like a spoiled energon treat.
With a groan, Ratchet settled himself on the floor next to him, their arms just brushing. "Cable?" he grunted and Optimus silently pulled one free from his wrist, slapping in briskly into Ratchet's hand to let him plug it in to a data port on his own wrist.
It only took a moment to initiate an interface transfer and Ratchet relaxed into it, knowing exactly what the humans were seeing. Their optics would be flickering, their frames still and silent. A fan kicked on, Ratchet's, then Optimus's and with a slight shudder both finished their transfer.
Ratchet stretched with a sigh, handing Optimus back his cable. "There. Satisfied?"
Slowly, the baffled expressions of the humans changed to understanding, then dismay. Sam looked at Bee, then back at Ratchet, "That's it?"
"What were you expecting?" Ratchet sniffed. "We're ROBOTIC beings. When we share packets of data, we don't even require a hardline. Just makes it faster. Did you want us jabbing parts into each other and leaking lubricants everywhere like humans do?"
"Yeah, actually," Sam said. Mikaela elbowed him roughly but Sam was clearly disappointed in the rewards from Ratchet's end of the deal. "And now you expect us to put on a show for you with all the jabbing and junk, and that's all we got?"
"We gave you what you asked for," Ratchet said, smugly. "If it wasn't to your tastes, then next time you should work harder on negotiations."
"He's right, we should have made him throw in a show with Ironhide," Mikaela said, with a sad shake of her head. "Come on, we got what we wanted, let's go."
Sam muttered, "I at least wanted to see some robo-vag or something."
It didn't seem worth dignifying that with an answer. "I'll contact you about your demonstration sometime next week, after I prepare my equipment. I trust you'll have your equipment ready?"
Muttered agreement and two humans, one grumbling and the other merely disappointed, climbed down from the work table and walked dejectedly away. The glare that Bumblebee extended to him as he followed his humans did not escape Ratchet's notice. The moment the humans were out the door he met that glare with a smirk and a single upraised finger of his own.
Optimus at least had the grace to wait until the door closed before finally breaking his silence, "And that doesn't seem like cheating to you?"
"Should it?" Ratchet smirked. "We did interface, did we not?"
"Technically, we did," Optimus agreed, his optics deep blue and amused, "But you are well aware that was not what the humans, nor Bumblebee, wanted to see."
"I kept my end of the bargain. I showed them what we look like when we are interfaced and that's what we agreed on. If Bumblebee wants to play games with the little humans that's his problem to figure out." He tilted a look at his Prime, "Why, Optimus, you almost seem disappointed. Don't tell me you were hoping for something else."
A much larger hand grabbed his own and dragged it against a heated panel and Ratchet yelped aloud in surprise, automatically cupping his hand around it as Optimus groaned. Beneath his startled fingers the panel slid open and a hard, hot spike extended, pressing slickly into his grip.
"Optimus Prime," Ratchet said, with mocking primness, "Did that idea heat you up?"
"Yes," Optimus rasped, with that perfect honesty. Just like Optimus, and that was probably why he'd kept silent while the humans were here. Primus knew it wouldn't have been the first time that innate honesty had ruined one of Ratchet's schemes, the fragger.
"You would have really shown them," Ratchet accused lightly. He tightened his grip, let Optimus's hard spike glide through his fingers, slicking them with lubricant.
"I would have," Optimus agreed, almost a moan. He let his mask slide away, finally, let Ratchet see the pleasure in his expression, his half-open mouth venting air hotly. "I would have spread your legs and taken you in front of them until you screamed for mercy from Primus himself."
"Then perhaps they should be grateful I spared them that," Ratchet said dryly, then yelped as Optimus's grip shifted, yanking him to sprawl in his Prime's lap. He barely had time for his equilibrium to settle before he was lifted, Optimus moving him as easily as a human might move a rag doll, to straddle his lap. His own interface panel was still closed, Optimus's spike jutting hard into it as though it was trying to penetrate his valve through the thin metal.
"Open," Optimus breathed it against his auditory sensor, drawing an answering shiver from Ratchet. "Open for me, let me…"
"I have…things to do…" Ratchet squirmed against his grip, deliberately writhing against the hot spike smearing lubricant into his plating. "I didn't promise you anything."
"I don't need to bargain. You want me," Optimus gripped his hips tightly, forcing him to stay on his lap.
"Not me," Ratchet denied, smirking, adding a touch of real struggle. Not that he could get away from Optimus if he wanted to hold him and not that Optimus would hold him if Ratchet didn't want him to. Instantly, Optimus's grip tightened, edging into painful and the low growl that rose from his vocalizer made heat tingle through Ratchet like the first crackle of a lit energon line.
"Open," Optimus repeated, demanding, and finally, Ratchet obeyed, gasping as cool air caressed his heated valve, oh, so briefly as Optimus shifted beneath him, the wet, hard press of the tip of his spike chasing away any chill.
Always, always that first stretch bordered on pain, Optimus's spike almost too large for Ratchet to accept and always, he had to force himself to remain still, to relax, He was a medic, for Primus's sake, he knew his valve would stretch. It did, it always did, but that first push drew a soft cry from him, muffled into Optimus's soothing mouth.
"Relax," Optimus murmured, hot ventilations gusting against Ratchet's damp lips, begged him and Ratchet could only helplessly obey.
Primus, it felt good. The first long withdrawal almost a relief only to have sharp pain-pleasure stutter through his sensors as a hard thrust returned it to him. And again, Optimus driving into him with a slow, firm rhythm, his grip on Ratchet's hips keeping him still for each slow thrust even as Ratchet demanded more, harder, his words getting ragged and desperate, until finally, finally.
"Please!" Ratchet begged, nearly a sob, struggling so hard against Optimus's grip that he drove dents into his own hips.
Instantly, the concrete floor was hard against his shoulders, his stabilizers roiling as Optimus was abruptly above him, optics blazing as he finally thrust in hard, the clang of his hips against Ratchet as they rocked together echoing through the med bay.
Dimly, Ratchet was aware that he'd lapsed into pleading Cybertronian, his fingers scrabbling over Optimus, scratching paint as he struggled to hang on, pleading for more, Primus, more.
Overload struck with the force of a comet, his optics blazing white as he choked out a last shriek. He felt more than heard Optimus's roar, the vibration trembling through him even as hot transfluid spurted into his valve, the liquid wash spinning him back into pleasure and his keening cries fade into silence, his strained voice echoing nothing as Ratchet collapsed, quivering, against the floor.
Ratchet had to reset his vocalizer twice, before he could rasp out, "Why do organics always want to see that?"
Optimus propped himself up on his elbows, relieving Ratchet of some of his considerable weight, before pressing a soft kiss against his mouth, murmuring against Ratchet's parted lips. "Sexual curiosity is a universal constant."
"Hang on, guys, I forgot my keys," Mikaela said, searching through her purse. "Go on ahead, I'll meet you outside."
Both Sam and Bumblebee murmured agreement, their mutual disappointment drooping them both like sad little Charlie Brown trees. Even Bee's doorwings hung low, a testament to their failure.
"Okay, so it sucked, and we didn't get any ideas out of it," Mikaela mumbled to herself, jogging back to the infirmary, "Doesn't mean we can't have some fun together. Just because Sam and I can't plug anything in—"
A crashing sound gave her pause and Mikaela froze. What the hell? All her training to flee and find cover in case of a possible Decepticon attack fizzled completely away and with a sense of mingled dread and curiosity she pushed open the medbay door.
Oh, dear god.
At first, the noise alone was enough to stun her senses. It sounded like the din of a thousand cats fighting inside an enormous aluminum garbage can. Squeals and shrieks of metal against metal and holy shit, Optimus and Ratchet were fucking like this was some bizarre robo-Discovery channel special.
For just a second, she watched, greedily fascinated. Watched as Optimus shoved his huge metal cock into Ratchet's robo-vag, the very one that Sam had so wanted to see. Now this was a fucking show. It only took a second for reality to reassert itself and she hastily snatched up her phone and took several nice, clear pictures, silently thanking Bumblebee for the Cybertronian upgrade.
With a last heated look, she let the medbay door swing shut and trotted back down the hall to her friends.
"Work harder on negotiations, my ass," Mikaela whispered, triumphantly. Who needed to negotiate when they could just use a little blackmail?
"Let's go, guys," she called sweetly, to Sam and Bee, tucking her phone into her purse. Her keys would have to wait but that was okay, she suspected once she showed off her prize to them, they'd be back very soon. And the show was going to be a hell of a lot better, this time.