A/N: Here we go my beloved viewers. Hope I've written the characters right. You know I don't own Transformers (pah, I wish!).

Ok, here are some warnings before we start: THIS IS NC-17/18! It is explicit sticky sex, and if you do not like it, do not read it please. There is also some mild bondage and use of medical equipment.

This is also a gift fic for Femme4jack. Here you go, I hope you like it, and I hope it lightens your day a little bit. This is also on LiveJournal under the same mane as here, under Darkeyes_17, so don't freak out if you think I've copied, as it's me.

Medical favours

Wheeljack booted up and groaned slightly, the bright light of the medbay momentarily blinding him, before the frowning faceplates of his lover appeared before him, scowling down. With a slight groan, the inventor mumbled, "Did someone catch the name of that truck?"

Instead of a chuckle like he was expecting, a long, drawn out sigh expelled itself from Ratchet's mouth and a red hand came up to rub at his chevron tiredly.

"What am I going to do with you 'Jack?" Ratchet asked, tone flat.

Wheeljack's attempt at being cheery as per usual immediately dropped off his masked face, and he said, "Well…apart from fixing me up after every catastrophically wrong experiment…I don't know. Love me?"

Ratchet sighed again, but rolled his optics. Wheeljack began to smile again under his mask, and sat up, looking at all the work Ratchet had done. As per usual, Ratchet had done a flawless job, all his welds were buffed out nicely, and the wires that had been melted to pit in the explosion were all separated and fixed, and not to mention his legs had been replaced. With his helm fins flickering blue, the seated mech said, "Thanks Ratch. You did a really great job this time."

Ratchet snorted, "As if I would do nothing less. Especially for you."

"Aw, Ratch, you do care," teased Wheeljack, stretching and popping a few joints securely in place, making his muscle cables relax.

Ratchet smirked.

As he stretched and got his systems to configure correctly, Wheeljack noted that the base was quiet. Canting his helm, he asked, "Decepticons at it again?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. There's going to be half in the Pit by the time they all get back."


"Because the Decepticons thought it a marvellous idea to attack an oil refinery in the Middle East," scowled the medic, absently tossing his wrench up and down.

"Ooh, Skyfire more than most. He's gotta carry all of them. So, is anyone left here?" the Lancia asked, shifting so his legs were hanging off the berth as he sat.

"Yeah, a few, but they're all in their quarters, relaxing. Prime and the others have got it mostly under control," replied Ratchet with a shrug. Wheeljack couldn't help but notice that his medic lover was more tense than usual, and his fins flicked an alarmed yellow – knowing he had caused, in part, Ratchet's worry. With a sudden, devious grin, the inventor formed a plan. He would make Ratchet relax, no matter what! Scanning the medbay, he noted some spare wires on a nearby table, an IV dripline of energon on a pole, and a human defibrillator. Perfect.

"Ratchet…" Wheeljack wheedled plaintively, knowing it would irritate the CMO.

Ratchet turned from where he was fiddling with a spare doorwing (for Praxian emergencies) and glared at Wheeljack for using that tone. "Yes?" he answered tersely.

The masked mech threw his arms out wide, waggling his fingers in a motion of 'come here,' and retracted his mask, revealing his slightly scarred face.

"I wanna kiss!" he exclaimed, giggling as Ratchet gave him a slightly withering look, before he made his way over.

"You are a silly mech," muttered Ratchet, before leaning in and giving a soft kiss onto those slightly scarred lips.

"But I'm your silly mech Ratchet," replied Wheeljack, grinning as the medic smiled at him and moved forward to move into a deeper kiss, their mouths parting in a well known choreography and their glossa's beginning to move against each other's. Wheeljack's helm fins went purple in desire as he swiftly snagged the spare wires and grabbed Ratchet's hands to bind them together in front of him.

Snapping back from the fiery kiss, Ratchet sputtered, "What the-?"

"Ratch, c'mon, let's have some fun. The other's are not going to be back for a while by the sounds of it, you need to relax, and I need to perform some sexual favours on my lover for fixing me up," said Wheeljack, grinning openly and unashamedly as he did so.

"'Jack," Ratchet growled warningly. As tempting as it was, Wheeljack had just gotten repaired to full functional status, and the battle could turn at any current moment. There was not any time for interfacing games.

"Please Ratchet? We both need it," pleaded the inventor softly, tracing little kisses up and down the medic's grey chevron.

Ratchet melted a little under the slight pleasure stemming from where Wheeljack's lips left a fire-kissed trail on his chevron, and nodded, knowing Wheeljack would just whine until he gave in and relaxed.

Wheeljack beamed and, with surprising strength, lifted Ratchet and switched their positions so that Ratchet was sitting on the berth and he was standing between Ratchet's legs, which had parted for him willingly.

"I'm gonna be so good to you," whispered Wheeljack, shuttering his optics and kissing a trail from the curve of Ratchet's jaw and down his neck cables to his chest, kissing softly at the glass windshield, feeling the pump of the spark underneath the clasped chestplates vibrate through to his lips. Ratchet also shuttered his optics, letting out a soft groan as his lover began to lick at the glass, each lave slow and loving.

"You always are," the medic choked out in response.

Wheeljack gave one last lick and got the IV pole, dragging it over so it was behind Ratchet, as gently pulling his arms up so they were secured to the pole. Ratchet unshuttered his optics and asked sarcastically, "Don't feel like letting me touch you?"

He shook his helm, "Nope! Just lay back and overload is pretty much all I want you to do," he said with a wink, reaching his hands out to traverse Ratchet's red and white frame, finding all the well-known hotspots, knowing exactly how to rev the medic up in the most delightful of ways. A caress to the chevron here, digging into the joints of his hips and twiddling the wires there. It was one calculated chemical equation designed to work Ratchet up to explode delightfully.

"Uh," Ratchet grunted, feeling those skilful, knowing digits stroke along his arms and to his hands, bound at the wrists by wire.

"Hmm, next time, I'll suck on your fingers and just overload you that way, but for now I think I'll just have some fun," said Wheeljack conversationally, as if he was talking about the weather. But Ratchet moaned at the thought, his interface systems suddenly kicking into gear at the mental image of Wheeljack below him, sucking on his each of his fingers like it was a spike.

The white, green and red mech smiled at his lovers reaction, before fetching the defibrillator, switching it on at the lightest setting and beginning to rub the panels together. It wasn't human sized, but it wasn't transformer sized either, so it was challenging for the inventor to grasp properly, but he managed it and applied the panels to Ratchet's lower thighs.

"Ah!" the medic gasped, his helm wrenching to the side in pleasure as the electric jolt zinged past his sensors. Who knew such an innocuous medical object could be used for teasing?

"Hmm, you like that," Wheeljack mused in a light, teasing tone. Ratchet could only nod helplessly, his hands clenching spasmodically as another jolt of electricity was applied, only this time to the plates of his abdomen.

"Frag," Ratchet gasped out.

"Yeah, I know. I was fiddling with it a few weeks ago and I accidently dropped it straight into my lap. Overloaded instantly as it was on high," stated the inventor, moving up to his neck and placing another small jolt there, feeling Ratchet's ex-vents of hot air disturb the current of the air-conditioning and saw the tense muscle cables relax.

Good. His plan was working.

He rubbed the panels together again, only this time he applied them to the top seam of Ratchet's interface panel.

Ratchet let out a rough cry, bucking his hips up as heat rolled through him, sensory nodes buzzing with the charge. He opened his lower panel, displaying to Wheeljack just how wet he had gotten from the slight stimulation from the defibrillator.

"Mmm," hummed Wheeljack, "Want me to top today?"

"Gah…you know I don't ever care about which one of us is on top…please…" he gasped, and shuddered in delight as Wheeljack put the defibrillator down and drew him in for a glossae-tangling, passionate kiss. He moaned deeply into the inventor's mouth, seeing a light show of colours playing in front of his optics. He withdrew from the kiss, only to lightly peck at the scars webbing across the inventor's silver face. It was Wheeljack's turn to moan as Ratchet kissed his scars. They were not hideously disfiguring, but made him feel insecure every now and then just the same. Ratchet made sure to kiss them at least once a day if he could manage it.

He pulled away from the loving treatment of Ratchet's lips, and stood back, admiring – as he always did – his medic's slightly energon flushed face, the parted white thighs, the trembling, needy frame and the slightly slicked valve, rippling under his gaze. He absently licked his lips. Ratchet was a truly wonderful sight like this.

"Want you," said Ratchet, parting his thighs further, baring himself in all vulnerability.

A small, cheeky smile re-appeared on the inventors face.

"Not just yet."

He then laughed at Ratchet's groan of frustration, but quickly went around the medbay, checking the draws for what he had in store. He made a noise of satisfaction when he found it, and he pulled it out, and showed it off proudly to the bound mech on the medbay berth.

"A speculum? What are-…oh…oh!" gasped Ratchet as he realised what his devious lover had in store. Who knew the inventor could be so kinky?

"Yup!" Wheeljack crowed jubilantly, walking slowly towards the berth, swinging his hips with every step.

"Fraggin' tease," growled Ratchet playfully, leaning back in preparation.

"But you love me," Wheeljack teased back, placing a quick peck on the tip of Ratchet's nasal ridge, before reaching into subspace for some lubricant and lathering the speculum liberally with the clear fluid.

"That I do, my crazy inventor," mumbled Ratchet in response, in somewhat of a daze as he watched Wheeljack slide his hand up and down the speculum smoothly.

Once Wheeljack felt that it was ready and lubricated enough, he clenched the handles together to form a smooth, dildo like shape with the speculum, and moved forward, tracing the cool metal around the entrance of the now freely leaking valve. In his desire, Ratchet jerked his hips up, causing Wheeljack to make a 'tsk tsk' noise at him.

"Patience, sweetspark," crooned the inventor, his helm fins betraying his own need and flashing a deep purple – the colour of lust.

"Tease," hissed Ratchet as the speculum tip stroked along the wires outside of his interface array, slowly setting off each node with a bolt of pleasure data to his systems.

Wheeljack chuckled, tracing the tip of the speculum up and down in the lubricant of the opening, before slowly pushing it through, enthralled at the sight of Ratchet's valve stretching open to accommodate for the smooth medical equipment that was now being used as a toy.

"UUuhh," moaned Ratchet, feeling the cool, slicked metal penetrate him, vastly different from his lover's spike in that it was not as wide or as long, and was not hot and throbbing either. But it felt wonderful to be filled, to feel it stroke along his nodes that loved this pleasure so much.

"Now, let's see what's wrong, hmm? As the doctor, I should know everything that is wrong," Wheeljack purred teasingly, trying to mimic Ratchet's 'professional medic' tone.

Another gasp escaped Ratchet's parted lips as the inventor slowly let go of the speculum handle, making the two curved metal plates separate and stretch open the walls deep within. His muscle cables clenched down, and he shuddered, hands beginning to clench uncontrollably.

"Now, let's see what we have here," mumbled Wheeljack lowly, inhaling the faint perfume of Ratchet's lubricant as he bent down to 'examine' the warm, wet valve.

Ratchet promptly yelped as Wheeljack slowly swirled a finger in, the valve held open by the speculum, meaning that Wheeljack got a full, unhindered view of the flexible walls clenching down hard in spasmodic ripples around both speculum and teasingly probing finger.

"Full responsiveness is good, but I think you are producing a little too much lubricant," Wheeljack grinned, rubbing little circles around the walls, before lovingly stroking in and out, adding another finger to maximise the pleasure. Ratchet mewled slightly as he felt those fingers curl in and scrape lightly over his sweetspot.

"Jaaack!" he moaned, as the fingers were abruptly removed.

He tilted his helm forward, only to see Wheeljack spinning his favourite wrench in his hand, a devious expression covering his scarred face. His processor almost crashed when Wheeljack suddenly reached forward and ran the thinner end around the edges of his valve, before sliding it in alongside the speculum and beginning to rapidly thrust the tool in and out. He let out a yell as it stroked over the very spot the inventor had curled and stroked over not even thirty seconds earlier, sensitizing it so much that he came unexpectedly, lubricant flowing around the speculum and wrench to spatter against Wheeljack's hand, He yelled again, tilting his helm to the ceiling as he did so.

Wheeljack took full advantage and pressed his hot mouth to the neck cables and licked vigorously, trying to prolong the climax. Ratchet's hips jerked and finally settled, and he slumped, lax, into his bonds.

"Wow," he muttered dazedly.

Wheeljack did not reply, his slag-eating grin saying it all to his lover, who was coming down to coherency once more. With the utmost care, Wheeljack first slid Ratchet's favourite wrench out, before following with the speculum, closing it and taking it out, wiping it on a towel he had procured from the many subspace pockets he held.

Ratchet turned his helm lazily, seeing the lubricant on the wrench that he used on a regular basis to throw at other mech's helms.

Sensing what Ratchet was looking at, Wheeljack mused, "You're never going to lose that wrench now are you?"

"No way in pit," confirmed the medic, shifting as he saw Wheeljack's hungry look, deciding to tease back and spread his legs even more, giving Wheeljack another good view of his dripping valve.

"Mmm," moaned Wheeljack, releasing his panel - which had gotten rather hot and tight - and allowing his spike to extend, rigid and straining with a bead of pre-fluid at the tip, against his abdomen. He reached down and roughly palmed his length a few times for Ratchet's viewing pleasure, a few more bead's of the silver fluid leaking out to streak the inventor's hand.

Ratchet licked his lips as he stared at Wheeljack's spike. Slightly above average in both length and size (like his own), every time Wheeljack connected with him, it was a perfect fit for his valve.

"Wheeljack," breathed the medic, chassis heaving with desire.

"Ratch," the inventor breathed back, before stepping forward, cupping Ratchet's face in his hands, and entering in one calculated, slow thrust.

"Yes..." hissed Ratchet, "more, 'Jack, please!"

Wheeljack kissed him soundly, starting slow with short thrusts, just to test to make sure Ratchet was prepared, before starting a firm, fast pace, pounding Ratchet's hips into the berth.

Ratchet's scream of pleasure was drowned by Wheeljack's needy lips, melded to his own in a passionate liplock as the spike slid in and out into his slick heat, sending pleasure nodes spinning out across his frame as they rocked furiously together. It felt so good. Every fraggin time!The length with the flared tip knew how to hit every node, to reach deep within him and bring him to the soaring heights of ecstasy. The wet sounds of Wheeljack's spike slapping against his walls caused him to mewl, a stream of sounds spewing forth from his mouth.

"Oh Ratchet, you feel so tight," panted Wheeljack, breaking off from Ratchet's lips to bury his helm in the warm neck, helm fins flashing crazily in lust and passion and love.

He was also gratified and felt a surge of mechly pride with each sound the medic made as each thrust brought him nothing but pure pleasure.

"AAaahhh," gasped Ratchet, feeling his lover quicken his pace even more, trying to get him to overload simultaneously. His legs wrapped around Wheeljack's hips, tightening the squeeze and bringing them into more bodily contact.

Wheeljack's helm fins and optics flashed a blinding white as he overloaded, the stimulation too much for his systems to take. The clench of the valve, the valve of his most treasured lover was too good, too right, and he climaxed deep within, hot transfluid spurting out and slipping out of Ratchet's opening with the force that he overloaded with. Ratchet followed not even a second later, crying Wheeljack's name to the ceiling, valve rippling uncontrollably to milk the spike within him and arching with his overload. His legs were wrapped tightly around Wheeljack, keeping him close and within as he came down from his high again, trembling with the intensity of the overload.

Wheeljack laughed lightly, pressing a soft kiss to Ratchet's lips, which was lovingly reciprocated, and reaching up to disentangle the wires binding the medic's hands.

Once undone, Ratchet drew his arms around the white shoulders, leaning in so they were pressed together from hip to chest.

"You were right. I needed to relax," Ratchet mumbled, gently nuzzling at the inventor's neck cables.

"See? I was right," replied Wheeljack, cheery demeanour firmly established once again.

Ratchet chuckled and whispered, "I love you, 'Jack."

"I love you too...my awesome kick-ass medic."

A/N: I hope you all liked it! I know femme4jack did XD