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First Glance	By : DSeeker789 Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2920 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-First Glance
- 1
First Glance

It is said that you can fall in love with only once glance. It’s also said that you can find someone in the strangest of places.

Two mech’s meet in the worst place and way.

This story is set on Cybertron in the early days of the war. When someone wasn’t as sure of himself and before a famous visor was first worn.

This is a sticky fic. The use and descriptions are of humanoid sexual equipment and use. Please be warned. There is one scene of (what I consider) extreme sexual torture, again please be warned.

My Characters: Lifeline – CMO of Iacon. Airglide – Aerial Recon/Evac. Blasé – Someone high up in Intell. Windsheer – Random nasty seeker. If these characters belong to others, sorry, just borrowing for a short while.

Transformers belong to Hasbro.

**************************************

The seekers laughter echoed in his audio’s as he was violently introduced to yet another wall in the Decepticon station. He bounced slightly before slumping to his knees, cycling air quickly to counter some of the pain.

“Got anything to say about that? Smartaft!!”

Pant. Pant. “Slag you and the misbegotten pit spawn that created you!!”

A foot hit his back and he was slammed into the floor. The foot landed on his lower back and weight was applied. His armour creaked, electing more laughter. The weigh lifted, his bound hands were grabbed and he was pulled painfully to his feet, a hand gripped his throat and he was slammed backwards into the wall again.

The seeker pushed his face olfactory sensor to olfactory sensor, crimson optics blazing. His other fist crashed once, twice, three times into his captive’s defenceless body.

“Fraggin mouthy for a medic.”

More laughter. Footsteps. Sudden silence. A looming shadow.

“What have you got there Windsheer?”

The seeker’s optics widened with fear, he turned his head to look at the speaker.

“Ju, ju, just a mouthy Autobot medic who needs to have some manners beaten into him. Lord Megatron.”

The silver gray Decepticon Warlord crossed his arms over his chest and smiled his approval. The green seeker held a medium tall mech, whose colours were the predominately pale cream that Autobot medic’s favoured. He had red hips, hands and the usual red crosses on the shoulders.

A dark chevron rose above his helm, slightly askew after the rough treatment he had been subjected too.

His armour was damaged and dirty, some pieces missing. There was a half sealed gash on his right cheekridge that had smeared Energon across his face. Blue optics were wide and bright with pain, his mouth open as he cycled air rapidly.

“On your knees before your Decepticon Master, you worthless piece of Autobot trash.”

Windsheer said, hoping to curry favour by pushing the prisoner to his knees before Megatron.

He shouldn’t have said it! He should have kept his mouth shut and his vocaliser silent, but he didn’t.

“Slaggin base created frellin refugee from a scrap yard. You’re not MY fragging master”

***********************************

Coming back on line was slow and painful. The flashing red and green lights of his self diagnostic made his CPU ache even more. Would he EVER learn to keep quiet? Cautiously, he powered up his optics, his vision was full of static that gradually cleared.

It looked like he had been thrown into a cell. Energy bars closed one end off. His hands were still bound behind him. The beating had been prolonged and brutal, but intended to inflict pain and not to cause irreparable damage. Big deal!!

He rolled onto his back and then managed to sit up, moving to lean against the wall. Primus was he in the slag now!!

Footsteps. A door opened and several mech’s entered. They went to the cell next to his. It was occupied as well. The medic could see shadows on the far wall.

The two seekers with Megatron picked up a smaller form. There was a jingle of chains and a low moan of pain. Megatron moved towards the prisoner.

“AAHHH good, you’re on line again. You know that you will tell me what I want to know. Soundwave will be here tomorrow and he will suck the information out of your CPU. In the mean time, I will be delighted to keep trying the old fashioned way.

Megatron’s voice. A shadow hand reached out to caress the prisoners face.

“What if I don’t know what you want to know?” An accented voice.

“We both know you do. Hang him up.” Jingle. Jingle.

He must have had shackles on his wrists with a chain they hung from a hook on the ceiling.

Bright flash. Crack. Energy whips. The bright flash seemed to caress the hanging body sensuously, but there was no pleasure in the cry that was rung from the twisting form.

Each blow and cry made the medic cringe. He could see Megatron’s shadow leaning on the wall watching. One hand began to wander slowly down the large body, rubbing over his chest and hip, moving to caress his cod piece, rubbing lightly at one side of it. He moved his hips.

Sweet…..Holy…..Slaggin…..Primus….. He was getting aroused by the torture.

Then, not a cry, a desperate gagging, choking sound from the hanging mech. It was a sound once heard never forgotten in the medical world. A rare condition. It had, as most medical problems have, a long and complicated name.

The short one was ‘fuel line twist’. Somewhere inside the pain filled body, a fuel line had snagged, twisted, kinked, and the pressure that was building inside the fuel pump would certainly send him into permanent stasis lock if not termination.

Megatron pushed himself away from the wall in a fury; he wanted to savour this pretty one’s pain. Wait, that mouthy medic was in the next cell, rapid strides took him there, the medic was sitting by the wall, optics wide, a moment to deactivate the bars.

Megatron’s hand gripped the Autobots neck and hauled him upright. Face to face.

“What the frag is wrong with him?” He snarled.

“Sounds like fuel line twist.” The Autobot strutted out.

Megatron dragged his captive to the next cell. “Deal with it!!” He snarled. Pushing the medic forward.

Time froze and stopped. The hanging mech was coloured black and white with a vertical blue strip on his chest, but his face!! If Primus created the first ones to be perfect, then he must be a first one.

High cheekridges, mouth, even gasping to cycle air, made to smile and be kissed. Dark helm rising into horned peaks. Optics dark as his body shut down. Time started.

“Get him the frag down and untie me, I can’t do anything like this.”

The two Con’s complied. The terminating body went into spasm. He didn’t want to do this as roughly as he had to, but there was no other choice. Should he? If he saved this mech, Megatron would kill him slowly. Basic programming kicked in. Save him now, worry later. He pulled a diagnostic scanner from subspace.

“Hold him still.”

Their hands were brutal. So were his, searching for the chest catches and ripping them open. Being able to hear the labouring fuel pump. Optics on scanner, tracing down to abdomen. There!! Such a small kink but deadly. Red hands untwisting, soothing. Fuel pump easing, slowing. Body shuddering going offline in defence.

Megatron watched the medic’s back. His helm bent over his patient. A slow sadistic smile played at the corner of his mouth.

If you put two Decepticon’s in a cell together, likely one would kill the other. Put two Autobots in a cell together and they would become friends. Then, hurt one, hurt both.

“Make sure he has nothing that can be used as a weapon and leave them here. I will be back later.”

************************

If it hurts to come back on line, at least you know you are still alive. He powered up his optics. Hello. He was no longer alone. He rolled, sitting up to look at the new mech.

A medic, knees pulled up to chest, helm resting on crossed arms on top of them. He moved to kneel at his side. Body moving easily. He flicked a finger onto the bent helm. The startled mech jumped raising his head.

Optic to optic. Window to the spark.

“Jazz.” The spy said, holding out a hand.

“Ratchet.” The medic replied taking it.

The hand was damp with mech fluid leaking from his wrists. The rough metal of the shackles rubbing.

“I can help with that.” Ratchet offered.

Jazz smiled. His optics were unusually light ice blue. Ratchet’s laser core turned over and his fuel pump jumped. He smiled tentatively back.

Taking the dark hands in his own, activating the sensors in his fingers that would aid Jazz’s auto repair system to seal the weeping wounds. He ran his fingers around the wrists, hideously conscious of how close that perfect face was to his own.

“How did you come to be here Ratchet?” A voice that seemed to sing rather than talk.

“Got separated from the medi evac unit. Seekers jumped me. I guess I ran my mouth off a bit, instead of using me for target practice, they brought me here.”

The black and white mech regarded him, not quite true, but he didn’t appear to be a plant, someone to gain his confidence, but he was very nervous. Jazz would later learn that Ratchet had given up his place on the evac so that two seriously wounded mech’s could be transported.

“Your auto repair system is working in overdrive.”

“It pays to heal quickly in my business and not to let them know that I’m not as weak as they think”

“Done.” Ratchet said, raising his head from his work. Jazz was in no hurry to remove his hands. He watched the other’s optics dance nervously.

‘I think he’s shy.’ Thought Jazz.

“I should thank you for saving my life. As I can’t buy you a high grade, this will have to do” He purred, moving closer to brush lips, he could hear the medic’s air cycling jump into higher gear.

He sucked gently, moving his lips until he got a response, teasing lips with glossa until they parted, glossa hesitantly entwining with his. Drawing them both deeper into a wonderfully sensuous kiss.

‘Thank you Primus.’ Ratchet thought.

A last moment of pleasure for the condemned. No matter what the Con’s did to him now, they couldn’t take this memory away.

They didn’t know that they were being observed. In his private quarters Megatron watched, he had found that watching prisoners together could be …… entertaining……. His cod piece had been discarded and his fingers barely touched his rising interface. He watched the medic’s fingers moving quite erotically around the chained wrists, the hesitant lift of the pale face.

“Yes. Go on. Kiss him.” He commanded the view screen, watching intently as lips came together. He could imagine those fingers on his cock, gliding up and down, making the sensors keen with desire. His hand closed almost painfully tight and moved rhythmical up and down or pretty bots lips or both of them together. It was amazing what some mech’s would do to prevent more pain.

On the screen, dark hands were now caressing pale face, while a red hand was stroking the blue strip on the others chest. Jazz moved his lips slowly down to suck and nip at the offered neck, feeling a hand creep up his face and rub at one horn, he pushed it into the hand, making small mewing sounds of pleasure. After the brutality of the interrogation, this felt so nice.

Megatron’s air cycling was at full speed as he reached that exquisite moment and his release shot from his burning interface pole. As his body cooled, he thought. ’Enjoy your time with one other. You’ll not enjoy what I have in store for you.’

Jazz reluctantly moved back from Ratchet, his body wanted more, but this was not the time or place. From the colour of Ratchet’s optics he wanted more too.

“I’m not sure that you should thank me. Megatron still intends on taking you apart.” Said Ratchet.

********************************

They sat quietly and talked a little. Jazz was now sure that Ratchet was an Autobot and not a Deceptercon agent.

They could hear the footsteps approaching. Jazz knew that this was an old Decepticon intimidation trick. He glanced at the medic, there was anger not fear on his face. They both stood, Jazz moved in front of Ratchet.

“I’m not helpless you know.” He snapped.

Jazz laughed. “In that case, can I hide behind you?” He got a chuckle. “Only if we can both hide behind Omega Supreme.”

The door opened and Megatron walked in. He came to stand at the bars, leering at the two prisoners who faced him defiantly. He deactivated the bars and twirled the baton he held in one hand. Jazz stiffened, a shock stick. Megatron had used one of those on him before. They hurt.

Tapping the shock stick lightly into his other hand, Megatron flicked his gaze from one to the other. Which one? He wanted information from the pretty black and white, well, confirmation. He had been betrayed by his contact, so…… the medic. He would have to be careful, they were usually so fragile. He smiled. Optics locking onto his prey.

“Leave him alone, he doesn’t know anything.” Jazz said, moving forward.

Megatron’s hand moved faster than an attacking cyber wolf. The shock stick hit Jazz across the face knocking him flying into the cell wall; he slumped onto his hands and knees dazed, Energon flowing from cracked dermaplating.

Megatron moved forward, one leg swinging back to kick the helpless Autobot. That should keep him down while he played with the medic.

Ratchet had retreated to the back of the cell. Not in fear but to give himself room. Two fast steps and a twisting kick of his own caught the Con on the hip, staggering him back, then a side kick to the helm staggered Megatron more. Rage exploded in him. How dare a lowly Autobot medic fight back!!!!

With a roar of anger he charged forward, shoulder dipping to slam Ratchet back into the wall. Blue optics wide with shock and pain, Ratchet remembered the lessons from so long ago. Flinging his arms as wide apart as he could get them, slamming his hands together across Megatron’s audios.

Head ringing, CPU feeling as though it was going to short out, Megatron gripped him by the throat and threw him at Jazz. The two Autobots collided in a tangle of arms and legs.

Snarling in anger and pain, Megatron pounced on them. Jazz was face down at the bottom of the pile and could do nothing but squirm helplessly. Ratchet flailed trying to drive stiffened fingers into the Warlord’s optics, but to no avail.

Black hands forced him to turn, lying face down across Jazz. Megatron knelt behind him, pinning his legs beneath his ankles, holding the pale body down with one hand at the back of his neck.

Pretty bot could watch over his shoulder. He activated the shock stick, moving it just above the struggling back. Scarlet optics locked with ice blue.

Ratchet was still struggling and cursing when the shock stick touched him. Pain like he had never imagined tore through him. He screamed, body twisting, the pain ceased and he went limp gasping, the pain came again and again and again and again. Megatron’s voice floated from somewhere far away.

“Give me the name of your contact in Tarn and I don’t need to hurt him any more.”

“NO!!!” He gasped, gripping Jazz’s shoulder. “Don’t betray AAAHHHHHHH”

The pain returned. Megatron growled, Pretty bot had wavered. Time for a different type of torture. He subspaced the shock stick. He smiled at Pretty bot.

“Fond of you new friend? I guess he does have a nice aft.”

The black hand stroked gently at the pale back, moving down to the red hips and aft.

“I wonder if he’s had his bolt popped yet? Shall we see?”

Jazz was horrified. “NO!! Leave him alone!!!”

Megatron was crudely referring to the first time mech’s used their auxiliary aft port to be intimate with each other.

As the fingers lightly traced the entrance to his port, Ratchet went rigid, this couldn’t be happening, then forced his body to relax, going as limp as possible, tensing the servos and cables would only make it more painful.

Megatron’s smile broadened at the wheezing moan of pain the medic made as the fingers entered his body forcefully. Pulling his hand back, he slammed it forwards hard, a louder keening cry.

“It looks like he has. Pity, I enjoy being the first, they’re so deliciously tight.”

“STOP IT!!! You perverted slagger.” Pretty bots optics were anger bright. Hands clenched.

“The name and I’ll stop.” Megatron lied.

He was enjoying this far too much; he sped up his assault on the quivering body. More whimpering cries of pain. His optics glowed with sadistic pleasure. Pretty bot wavered again.

“N. N. No don’t tell.” Gasped Ratchet through the agony.

The fingers gripped and scratched inside him in punishment. Ratchet bit his lip components until they bled. The fingers left him. Megatron bent closer to the pinned spy.

“I’ll give you a little time to think it over. When I come back it will be with Windsheer and his trine. After I’ve finished with your medic, they can play with him. You will watch. And this time it won’t be fingers inside him, this building will ring with his screams” With that threat, Megatron rose and left the cell.

“Ratchet!!! OH Mech, I’m so sorry. Can you move?”

Jazz was horrified, it’s one thing to withstand torture yourself but another to have to watch someone else suffer. Especially someone who’d only desire was to heal. It was just so wrong.

Slowly, Ratchet pushed himself to his hands and knees to free Jazz who scrambled up to help him sit, gingerly against the wall. Ratchet pulled his legs up to his chest wrapping his arms around them. His optics almost white with shock.

Jazz had to resist the urge to pull the traumatised mech close, gently rubbing a hand up and down a trembling forearm. Jazz moved his head close to Ratchets and whispered in his audio.

“I’ll tell him. I can’t let him do that to you.”

“Even if you do tell him. Do you honestly think he wouldn’t?” Ratchet replied.

“No. He would do it either way.”

Jazz pulled back slightly. He would not let Ratchet suffer. He lifted his hand to gently touch the bleeding lips, brushing it across the chin and down to the softer metallic skin of the throat, thumb lightly stroking against the beat of the main fuel line.

If he was quick, Ratchet would never even know what happened. He moved forward to kiss the medic for the last time, and to distract him from what he was about to do. Ratchet’s hand closed over his.

“Not that way Jazz.”

They heard footsteps approaching. Jazz cocked his head to one side.

“Only one. Seeker. Ratchet, play dead.”

Ratchet’s body slumped, optics going dark. The seeker entered the cell block.

“Lord Megatron said we get to play with you, after……..”

Windsheer broke off mid gloat, to look with incredulous optics at what was happening in the cell. The medic was limp with the other prisoner’s hands around his throat.

“NO!!!”

Windsheer deactivated the bars and lunged at the black and white bot, who backed away. The ‘dead body’ suddenly grabbed his legs around the knees and tripped him up; he hit his head on the wall and went offline. Jazz didn’t need to hit him at all.

“Can you walk?” Jazz asked.

“Give me a hand up.”

Jazz pulled him to his feet. Ratchet grimaced but was able to move painfully. His optics were returning to their normal blue colour.

“Where now?” He asked. “This place is crawling with Cons. We will never make it to the front door.”

Jazz found the key to his shackles and freed himself.

“Then we don’t leave by the front door. We leave by the roof. Stay close.”

The detention block was quiet, they crept along the corridor. Jazz finding security traps and guiding them around the cameras. They made the roof unobserved. Jazz grinned, he pressed at one small spot on his right wrist. The tiny transmitter embedded there beeped once. He put an arm around Ratchet holding him close.

”Pick up will be here soon. It will be quick and probably rough. You will need to hang on to me tight.”

Ratchet smirked. “That’s some ‘pick up’ line you’ve got.”

Jazz groaned, at least he still had his sense of humour, even if it was bad. Optics fixed on one point. “Here she comes.”

Jazz’s hand disappeared into his arm and a grappling hook appeared. They moved to the middle of the roof, he wrapped his other arm around Ratchet’s waist, feeling the medic’s arms lock around his neck. The dot grew in size, a seeker or so it appeared until she was overhead and the hologram was switched off.

Jazz fired his grapple and they were whisked off their feet, Jazz wound the line quickly to bring them near the body of the flier, who opened a hatch and swung around, the two mech’s tumbled inside as weapon fire began to explode around them.

“Hold tight boys.”

Said a femme voice as the flier hit her after burners to carry them all to safety. Jazz, who had ended up on top of Ratchet grabbed hold of hand holds to stop them sliding around. Ratchet still had his arms locked around Jazz’s neck; he also had one leg twisted around Jazz’s holding his body securely against the twisting and turning. Jazz grinned down at him.

“Told you it would be quick. Airglide has been waiting for my call for a while.”

“And it is so going to cost you Jazz. If I get my paintwork scratched, you can redo it personally.”

“For you Airglide, any time.” Jazz said in a seductive voice.

Ratchet felt his holding tank turn over. Of course a mech as good looking as Jazz probably had a bonded or a partner, maybe several. Why would he look twice at a lowly medic like him? The kiss in the cell probably meant nothing to him, but to Ratchet it had meant so much more. At least he could enjoy the feel of Jazz lying on top of him for a while.

“YAHOO!!! Here comes the cavalry.” Shouted Airglide. “The trip home should be a little smoother now boys.”

Other engines could be heard as more Autobot fliers joined the fray. The air battle was over very quickly and the aircraft all turned for home. Jazz let go of his hand holds and instead of getting up, put his arms around Ratchet in a hug.

“I should say thank you for saving me from Megatron. And apologise for not being able to save you.” He said, lowering his mouth to Ratchet’s hesitantly, as if unsure of its acceptance. This kiss was even better than the first.

‘Primus.’ Thought Jazz. ‘I want him so badly, but after what Megatron did to him because of me, he wouldn’t want me near him.’

“Coming in to land boys.” Airglide told them.

Jazz reluctantly broke the kiss and gripped the hand holds again, burying his face into Ratchet’s shoulder and neck. They bumped to a stop. Jazz got up and helped Ratchet to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Jazz asked. “Dumb question, but do you need a medic?”

Ratchet felt panic. He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened and medics were a nosy bunch. He ran a self diagnostic, the physical damage was minimal and his self repair could handle it.

“No.” He answered. “Does anyone need to know………….. that?”

“No. Megatron just beat the scrap out of you and used the shock stick. That’s all my report will say.” Jazz reassured him as they left Airglide. There were several people waiting for them. One stepped forward, running an optic over Ratchet.

“Jazz?”

Jazz cocked his head to one side as he answered the unspoken question.

“I couldn’t have escaped without him Blaze. Wouldn’t have been right to leave him behind.”

“You will accompany me to Intel Central now.” The all black mech turned and walked away.

“Sorry, I have to go. Will you be all right?”

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll report back to Medical HQ. Goodbye Jazz. Thank you for bringing me home. I hope you’re not going to get into any trouble because you did.”

He turned and walked away, heading for the medical quarter. Jazz could see he was still in pain from the way he moved. Cold anger at Megatron flashed through him.

“Jazz!!” Blaze was impatient.

*********************************

For Ratchet, life went on, not quite the same as before. His superiors were surprised to see him, they had been sure that he had been terminated by the seekers who had grabbed him.

The CMO, Lifeline, had insisted on giving him a complete physical. The elderly medic had put a hand on his shoulder and told him that he could return to duty and if there was anything he wanted to talk about, the door to his office would always be open.

The compassion in the older bots optics made the smart remark die in Ratchet’s vocaliser. He hung his head; he just couldn’t talk about it yet. Lifeline patted his shoulder.

“You are stronger than you think Ratchet. One day, you might need to have this talk with another young bot. The only advice I can give you is: It was not your fault. You are not to blame. You had no choice.”

Puzzled, Ratchet looked up into Lifeline’s optics, sudden understanding flooded him. Lifeline pulled him into a hug.

You are not alone. You and I are survivors. Don’t be ashamed of being a survivor. Now, get out there and earn your Energon.”

Ratchet did. It was noted that he seemed quieter and he worked all the extra shifts he could get. While he was at work he was all right, off duty was another matter.

Off lining was worst. The nightmares. They varied. There was always the one where he was still pinned to Jazz and Megatron’s hand slid down his body, but worse was the one where they hadn’t escaped and Megatron had come back with the seekers. He had come on line screaming at them all.

He tried to cling to the memories of Jazz, the touch of his lips, the feel of that lithe wonderful body pressed against his own. The sound of his voice. He could imagine that it was Jazz’s hand on his cock, bringing him to overload not his own. But when he powered up his optics he was always alone. And somehow that hurt more than the nightmares.

***************************************

He dragged himself wearily back to his quarters and keyed in the door sequence.

“Heard any good pick up lines lately?”

Sang that amazing lilting voice. Ratchet turned in astonishment. Lounging against the wall was Jazz.

“No. Have you?”

Jazz came closer. “You look tired. Can I come in?”

Ratchet shook himself, was this another dream?

“Yes, please, come in. It’s not much but its home.”

Jazz looked around the living quarters, Spartan, tidy. One door that probably lead to the sleeping chamber, with a small washroom off it. What would Ratchet look like wet?

“Please sit down Jazz; I know I have some high grade around here somewhere. I hope you didn’t get into trouble bringing me back.”

Ratchet knew he was babbling as he looked through the cupboard.

“Hey Ratch.”

He turned, Jazz was right behind him, dark hands rose to cup his face.

“Calm down, it’s only me.”

Dark fingers stroked gently, Jazz watched the pale face carefully. Ratchet gave a deep sigh and relaxed. Jazz moved slowly forwards and kissed the parted lips, the response was immediate, Ratchet’s arms encircled his waist and pulled him closer, holding on as if his life depended on it.

Jazz deepened the kiss, sliding one hand down to again stroke the main fuel line, this time as stimulation not to give the kindness of a quick termination. One of Ratchet’s hands rose to caress one of the helm horns on Jazz’s head. Jazz moaned. Oh Primus, he wanted this mech so bad. His conscience kicked in. He pulled away gasping.

“Ratchet, how far do you want to take this?”

It was hard for Ratchet to put two words together coherently.

“How. How far?”

Jazz rubbed his shoulders.

“I want to interface with you. Hee. I wanted to after that first kiss, just pull you up and bang you against the wall. After……. After, I wanted to protect you. Aboard Airglide it was agony, lying there on top of you, knowing you must hate me being close to you. I didn’t think that you wanted me.”

Ratchet was aghast. Not want him? Hate him? He put a finger on Jazz’s lips.

“I didn’t think you would look twice at me. I was so grateful for one kiss never mind more, I. I dream about you………………… Touching me, holding me. I’d rather dream about you than what Megatron did. I have bad dreams about that.” There, he had admitted it.

“My………Poor………….Brave…………Medic.” Each word was interspaced with a kiss. “Let me give you better dreams. You have been the star in most of mine.”

Ratchet was suddenly conscious of his grimy appearance. He hadn’t used the washracks at the hospital. Jazz was now rubbing a very bulging cod piece against his hip. It he was honest, his own was becoming painful tight.

“Jazz. I’m filthy.”

“I should be so lucky!!!” Jazz giggled into his neck. “Need someone to wash your back?”

“UUMMMMM. That would be nice.”

Still slightly hesitant, praying if this was a dream that he wouldn’t wake up yet, Ratchet lead Jazz into the sleeping chamber. Jazz noted that the bunk was more than big enough for two, surprisingly, so was the washroom.

The cleansing solution was warm, Jazz picked up a wash cloth as he followed Ratchet into the shower. He began to rub gently at the tense shoulders. Ratchet leaned against the wall. Oh, this felt so good, Jazz cleaned his back and turned him around, Optics dark with passion. Body gleaming. Ratchet looked good wet.

“If, if I do anything you don’t like or you don’t want me to do, you must tell me. Promise me.” Jazz gasped between kissing his neck, electing the most wonderful little whimpers. “I don’t want to hurt or frighten you.”

The only thing Ratchet was afraid of was that Jazz might want to leave, but he understood and was deeply touched that Jazz was so considerate. He ran his hand down Jazz’s torso to his groin, fingers lightly tracing around the bulging cod piece searching for the catches, they came away easily.

All the fantasy’s he had had, paled into insignificance as his hand folded around Jazz. Warm, long and full, bulbous head already weeping precum. Jazz moaned into his neck, thrusting his hips forward. Oh, he wanted this so much, but had something else planned.

“Ratchet, I want the first time to be different and special for you. Okay.” He panted, lifting his head. Ratchet looked stunned.

“Want……….. You.” He moaned.

Jazz began to kiss down his chest, down his waist, kneeling at his feet. Ratchet’s head dropped forwards to watch him. He licked around the bulging red cod piece and slowly undid the catches. Ratchet’s pole was as red as his hips. Jazz laughed as it sprang upwards on its release. He raised his optics.

“I’m not your superior officer; you don’t have to salute me.”

“It wants your ‘attention’.” Ratchet quipped back.

“Let’s see if I can’t ……..Lick it into shape!!”

Keeping optic contact, Jazz extended his glossa and slowly ran it up the underside to where the head flared into a dome, swirling the glossa around the end and the small weeping hole and then slowly sliding his lips around the head.

Optics so wide they almost fell from their sockets Ratchet watched, as Jazz’s mouth swallowed more of him, the feeling that shot through him was indescribable. He placed his hands on Jazz’s helm horns, caressing them and activating sensors in his fingers that would stimulate the pleasure nodes buried there.

Jazz moved his head up and down. Oh this was the best treat he had ever had. He brought one hand up to grip the base and as his head went up his thumb rubbed the sensitive underside. His other hand wrapped around his own erection and moved in rhythm.

Ratchet’s moans of pleasure and the activation of the pleasure nodes soon got to Jazz. He whimpered as he orgasamed, shooting cum against the shower side. The vibration of the whimper set Ratchet off and he came explosively into Jazz’s hungry sucking mouth.

Cycling air frantically, Ratchet slowly slid down the wall to sit in front of Jazz, who pinned him against the wall with a kiss. Ratchet could taste himself on Jazz’s glossa. Jazz finally moved back, grin so big it threatened to meet at the back of his head.

“Special?” He asked.

“Best ever.”

Ratchet pulled him to sit against his chest as their bodies cooled and their fuel pumps slowed to normal. Jazz soon began nuzzling at Ratchet’s neck. Ratchet’s hand slid across the black and white body to play with his new toy. Jazz moaned.

“I want to feel you inside me, please Ratchet, please.” He begged.

“Here?” Asked Ratchet, who wanted it just as much. Jazz nodded enthusiastically, kneeling up and bracing himself against the wall, solvent cascading down his shoulders and back. Ratchet moved slowly behind him, running his hands over him, still unbelieving that he really was there. He hesitated.

“Err Jazz, we need some……”

Jazz looked over his shoulder, subspacing a small tube which he offered.

“You came prepared?” Ratchet said taking the tube.

“I came hopefully.” Jazz corrected. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me. Hee, thought you might do one of those kicks on me or chase after me with a loaded weapon.”

“Only this loaded weapon!!” Ratchet replied, rubbing his erection against Jazz’s hip.

“Primus!! Not in the corridor.” Jazz giggled, making him laugh too.

Ratchet smeared the oil onto his fingers and froze. What if he hurt Jazz? His body cringed at the remembrance of the pain; he couldn’t do that to Jazz.

“I can’t, can’t, might hurt you.” He stuttered in a panic.

Jazz’s hands cupped his face.

“You won’t!! You’re a medic, you take pain away, and you are going to give me the greatest pleasure that one mech can give another. I trust you.” Gentle kisses helped.

Slowly Ratchet pushed the tip of one finger into Jazz; the look on his face was one of ecstasy not pain, he dropped his head forwards, air intake increasing.

“More, more please more, more. OOOOHHHH” He moaned as Ratchet complied, first one finger then two, Jazz’s moans echoing off the walls. Confidence restored somewhat, Ratchet smeared the oil liberally onto his straining cock; the thought of being deep inside Jazz was almost CPU blowing. He pressed his chest to Jazz’s back.

“Ready?” He asked.

Jazz nodded, more than ready. Ratchet placed his erection against Jazz’s port and pushed his hips forwards slowly, feeling the walls close around him, Jazz was whimpering and trying to push back against him, frantically wanting to feel Ratchet deep inside him.

As his groin met Jazz’s aft, Ratchet wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tightly. Jazz hit the wall with his fists in frustration.

“Don’t sit there like a statue Ratchet. Move!!!”

“Like this?” Sliding almost completely out of him and thrusting back quickly.

“Primus frag it!! Slag!!!! YES. YES. YES. OOOOHHHH!!!”

Ratchet gripped Jazz’s erection and pumped it in time to his thrusts, he ran his other hand over the dark hip searching for deeply buried pleasure nodes, there, he moved Jazz’s body slightly, now each thrust brushed these nodes.

Jazz’s screams of pleasure echoed around the small washroom. For the second time he ejaculated onto the wall. Gasping, Ratchet came too.

“If we don’t move, we will rust.” Ratchet managed to gasp as he pulled out of Jazz. Feeling as if the main cables in his legs had been turned to rubber, he managed to stand using the wall as support. He extended his hand to Jazz who looked as if he would go offline any nanoclick.

Holding onto one another, they staggered out of the washroom and into the sleeping chamber, tumbling onto the bunk, curling around each other and falling offline.

**************************************

Drowsily, not quite offline and not awake. Ratchet thanked Primus for a night without the nightmares. Just the most amazing and wonderful dream of Jazz. He could still imagine dark fingers stroking his helm. With a sigh he powered up his optics, to gaze into ice blue ones. Holy Primus Below!!!! It wasn’t a dream.

“Hello you.” Jazz said, moving in for one of his CPU blowing kisses.

Ratchet returned the kiss ardently, he had no idea how long Jazz would stay, but was determined to enjoy every moment of it.

“I thought this was a dream.”

He gasped as Jazz moved to kiss his chevron, licking and nibbling on it. Ratchet arched his body that was so wonderful.

“Hee, as long as I’m not a nightmare.” Jazz chortled.

Ratchet pulled away. Jazz was contrite.

“What did I say?” He asked.

“No. No. It should be me thanking you. This is the first offline I’ve had where the nightmares haven’t woken me up screaming.” Ratchet confessed.

“Hee. Hee. Jazz the nightmare killer, that’s me. …………… I guess I will have to stay ………. Occasionally. Just to make sure that you have a decent offline.” Jazz nibbled at his neck.

“You want to come again?” Ratchet couldn’t believe it.

Jazz’s grin turned lecherous.

Ho, you bet I want to cum again!! On the bunk, in the shower, around the living room, in you, on you, over you, anywhere I can!! That is, if you’ll have me back?”

Ratchet showed he had the same taste in humour.

“I’ll have your back, your front, in the shower, on the bunk, in the living room, anywhere, anytime. Except the corridor, I think the neighbours might complain.”

They giggled, slowly exploring each others bodies. Jazz moaned as he moved from again nibbling on Ratchet’s chevron to his audio. He licked at it before whispering.

“I want you so bad it hurt’s; I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me, but only when you’re ready.”

Determination blossomed in Ratchet’s spark. There was no way in the Pit that he was going to let a sadistic monster like Megatron spoil his life. He trusted Jazz, he wanted Jazz, more, he wanted the pleasure that Jazz promised. He wanted it so bad, he could almost taste it.

He grinned, and began to kiss and lick down Jazz’s body, finding nooks and crannies that he investigated with his glossa. Jazz whimpered and moaned, body arching upwards as Ratchet found a particularly sensitive place. He raised his head as the wandering lips nibbled up his erect cock.

Ratchet smiled up at him and began to anoint him with the oil they had used. When Jazz was coated to Ratchet’s satisfaction, he rose, placing his hands on Jazz’s chest and swung one leg over the dark hips. Jazz gripped his forearms.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. We can wait.”

“Don’t want to wait. You promised me pleasure.”

Ratchet slowly moved his body down, feeling the pressure against his port. This was totally different to Megatron’s violation, this was Jazz, and Jazz was now inside him, filling him. He began to move up and down, angling his body so that his pleasure nodes were brushed and stimulated, liquid fire ran through his fuel circulatory system.

Jazz sat up, one hand gripping the back of Ratchet’s helm and kissing him with almost desperate need. The other hand around his back. Ratchet’s hands latched onto his hips. Ratchet’s erection was trapped between their bodies, rubbing up and down Jazz’s groin.

Ratchet’s body started to shake as he felt the orgasm building; he tipped his head back with a cry of ‘Oh Primus’ as he came, fluid coating both their bodies. He kept moving up and down; Jazz was still hard inside him. Jazz bit his neck as he came. Hard enough to mark the skin, to leave a brand that said. ‘This is mine.’

Gasping and shaking, Jazz flopped back onto the bunk, pulling Ratchet with him.

“Whoo. When you promise something, you deliver.” Ratchet said, laughing.

“I aim to please.” Jazz responded.

“If you’re going to be coming over, I guess we need to tell each other what we like.” Ratchet nuzzled Jazz’s neck.

Jazz, who now didn’t care if he never went back to his own quarters again. (Well, except to pick up his music tracks and data discs and posters and…… everything.) Started to chuckle. This was going to be good.

“Well. You will find this very strange, especially how we met, but I’ve always had this thing…….. about……… handcuffs!!!!!!”

*****************************************
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I hope you haven’t been too offended by this story. I guess I must apologise for the awful puns and bad jokes too!!!!!
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