Title: You Know What I Want?

Universe: Transformers Prime

Rating: MA+

Pairings: RatchetxWheeljack

Warnings: Smut. Yaoi. Robot sex. (don't like? Don't read!)

Description: Wheeljack comes back for a certain Medic's Creation Day and what Ratchet wants will shock everyone...well, except Wheeljack.


Wheeljack's sudden arrival wasn't surprising, not in the least.

I expected him to come today. Of all days, he would show up today. When he landed on our doorstep for the second time since we landed on Earth, I wasn't shocked at all to see him. He always seemed to find me on this one day beyond all others. I had hoped he would be discrete but he wasn't known for his subtlety.

"Happy Creation Day, Ratchet!" he shouts as he sees me when he walks through the bridge.

And of course, the children had to be there.

"It's your birthday?" Miko squeals, jumping up and down like the obnoxious creature that she is. "Why didn't you tell us?"

I press my servo against my face in frustration. "Because, we don't have time for something as silly as a Creation Day party," I snap as Wheeljack walks over and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"Come on, crabby-bot! Enjoy your Creation Day, just this once?" he asks, that obnoxious smirk on his face that makes me want to lash out at him. How could an individual be so smug all the time? It was annoying and…somehow alluring. "I brought high-grade!" He pats his subspace suggestively and I roll my optics even as the children start to ask questions about high-grade.

I checked my internal clock. "Oh look at the time, seems like you kids need to be getting home!" I bring up even as they groaned in disappointment. "No groaning, you three have a curfew!"

Their guardians took the hint and carted the children off. I sighed as Optimus, Wheeljack and I were left in the base with complete silence. Well…until Wheeljack's subspace hissed open and he pulled out a rather large container of high-grade. I rolled my optics but as soon as my cube was filled, I couldn't help but partake in the toxic beverage. "My special blend," Wheeljack leans over to whisper into my audio receptor suggestively. His voice was like smooth silk and I pushed him away as he laughed.

As soon as the other three came back, they joined in on the high-grade and it was officially a party. Optimus and Arcee didn't drink too much and I know I should have done the same but the heat that the high-grade sent through my system was too much. I just kept drinking until I lost count of the cubes and my world was spinning. It was good high-grade. Filtered well and aged perfectly so that it would go down as smooth as possible without losing its taste.

"Ratchet, what would you like for your Creation Day gift?" Optimus asks far too late into the party. Had I been of clear processor, I would have seen through the trick. He knew that I would tell the truth no matter what was asked.

I lulled my helm around to get the brightly colored semi in my vision. "You know what I need?" I ask, my words slurred ever so slightly. "I need a good frag and twelve hours of recharge." The filter between my processor and vocalizer was officially busted.

Bulkhead spews his high-grade out of his mouth in surprise and Bumblebee was on the ground, laughing with his new vocalizer. Arcee hid her smile behind her cube but Wheeljack didn't bother to hold in his amusement as he laughs with Bumblebee. Optimus didn't look surprised by my outburst and sipped at his high-grade slowly. "I can definitely take care of your second request though the first is beyond my powers," he chuckles brightly, his faceplate glowing with heat from the brew. "Wheeljack, why don't you escort our Commanding Medical Officer to his room so that he can get started on that recharge?"

Had I been sober, I would have heard the suggestive tone in Optimus' vocals. As it were, I was completely oblivious as Wheeljack set his empty cube to the side and looped his arm up under mine to haul me up. I noticed his strength as he dragged my bulky form through the base to the back part where my berthroom was stationed. He had no problem getting me into my room and lying me on my berth before his heat was gone.

I vaguely heard the door close but I was already starting to drift off when a large weight straddled my form. My optics fluttered online to see Wheeljack looming over me with a dark smirk on his faceplate. "Wha're ya doin'?" I slur as I stretch out on my berth, enjoying the clicks as struts realigned.

His optics devour my form just before his servo runs down my spark-chamber lightly. "Fulfilling your Creation Day wish," he whispers in a voice that is husky and so sexual that it sends a shudder down my spinal struts. Heat sears where his servo touches and I push into it without realizing it. "You always were more receptive when high-grade was involved."

"Frag you," I mutter without any real bite.

He leans down to brush his lips across my audio receptor. "That's the plan," he rasps sensually as his servo starts to dig into seams along my spark-chamber. I exhale as pleasure starts to warm my sensors, soft at first and then building in intensity as he starts to find all of my most sensitive spots.

He had had lots of practice since the war started. We hadn't known each other until we shared some battles. We had started off as drinking buddies and somewhere along the way we had ended up in a berth together. The rest, as they say, was history. Every time we were able to meet up in the war, we would spend some time in the berth together. Was it love? Who could tell in times like these? Instead, we focused on giving each other a well-deserved release.

I reached up to try and return the favor but he took my servos and placed them above my helm gently. "Ah-ah," he chuckles, running his glossa over my lips teasingly. "This is your Creation Day. This is all about you."

He presses against me, covering my mouth with his and smothering me in his heat. One servo keeps my wrists bound above my head and the other is searching for all of my spots, building my pleasure until I'm panting into his mouth. His glossa ran along mine before he pulled away and started to run his mouth down my neck. Denta nipped at exposed wires that made me arch up off of the berth in wanton need that burned all the way down to my interface panel. His glossa dipped into wires and dragged out a moan that sounded desperate even to my receptors.

Releasing my wrists, he drags his servos down my sensitive sides, catching every sensor on the way down until he is gripping my hips. He eases down to sit in-between my legs, jerking me down until our interface panels grind erotically. I throw my helm back and gasp as his heated panel causes mine to ping that it was ready.

He leaned forward to kiss me deeply. "Open up for me, Ratch," he growls, sounding heady and wanton. I can only do as he says and allow the panel to open. My moan is soft as my spike pressurizes and I can feel the lubrication starting to drip from my ready valve. His optics, bright and smug, travel down until he is looking at my equipment. "Primus, you're beautiful."

His words sink into my processor and settle. I feel myself grinding up into him, wanting, needing him more than anything. I was pretty sure that he could penetrate me right then and I'd be more than ready for the intrusion. "Wheeljack," I plead desperately, bucking into him.

I hear his panel snick open and groan when the head of his spike is running across my soaked valve. "This what you want, doctor?" he teases as his servo runs across my spike lightly.

"Primus, yes!" I beg without shame. I would never be this loud or brazen without high-grade and I was pretty sure that was why Wheeljack always had some on him when he wanted to get laid. I might grumble the next morning but, in all truth, I enjoyed our interfacing. He was a passionate and attentive lover; this was the only time where his smug, confident personality was attractive to me.

He palms my spike as his head presses forward. I gasp as my valve stretches to accommodate the girth without any preparation. Honestly, it was like heaven as he stroked my spike and rolled his hips against my valve. It was agonizing for him, I was sure, but every inch that he rocked into me was making me tremble with pleasure. How long had it been since our last coupling? I would swear it had been too long.

"So slaggin' tight," he grits out through clenched denta as he looms over me. He has one arm pressed against the berth right next to my helm and I couldn't help but admire how his colors matched him so well. His optics shifted and caught mine as he rocked half-way inside of me. "Ready, Ratch?"

I was incoherent and leaned up to kiss him as an answer. He understood my language perfectly and groped to find purchase on my side before jerking his hips forward. In one motion, he was buried deep within my valve, his head striking nodes that I would never be able to reach on my own. My servos clench at his back, desperate for grip as he kisses me senseless and doesn't pause to let me adjust. He pulls out and slams back into me without mercy.

My sounds were lost in his kiss until I had to break away to take in air. My fans kicked on as I suddenly needed to cool my systems. I cried out as he changed his angle and hit a very sensitive pack of nodes, pushing me closer to my overload. Servos grabbed a hold of me and before I could protest, I was sitting in his lap. My valve clenched in pleasure as he was driven deeper.

My hips rocked against his spike as he laid back. He didn't stop working though and thrust up into my hips as I gasped in pleasure. I shifted to find that bundle of nodes and nearly screamed when I felt the heated pleasure rush through my systems. His servos held onto my hips and pulled me down into his thrusts to create a rhythm that slowly sped up. I felt myself growing hotter and I could hear the sound of our fans running under our panting moans.

"Ratch," he groans as his servos clench into my hips. "Primus, overload for me."

Hearing his voice made my spark clench in pleasure just as his thrusts start to grow shallow and jerked. I push harder until that buildup of energy reaches the peak and for a moment I am suspended in the air. I can feel that surge of energy as he thrusts into me one last, deep time, sending me over the edge. My vocals crackle with static as I am shocked with wave after wave of energy that rocks me to my core.

My valve clenches around his spike and I hear my name as his transfluid spills into my insides. I continue pressing into him for a few seconds before I am trembling with my overload, enjoying the energy that popped across my armor. His servos slowly guide me down to the berth beside him and I close my interface panel as recharge starts to creep up on me.

His body curves around my back in a fit that was made of the same mold. His heat was comforting as I shuttered my optics and started to shut down for recharge.

The last thing I heard was Wheeljack's voice whispering, "Happy Creation Day, Ratchet."