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No Particular Reference
By : LeavesofMyself
Category: Transformers > G1
Views: 2509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer in Chapter 1
Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Chapter Warning(s): Mentions of explicit material, Sticky!, and suggestive themes.

Chapter Rating: M

Pairing(s): Ratchet/?; mentions of Ultra Magnus/Optimus Prime and Jazz/Prowl. (Set in Animated universe)

Units of Time
Kilk: 1.2 minutes
Breem = 8.3 minutes

Orn = 13 days

Ratchet sighed as he eased into his office chair as white servos pressed against the sides of his helm in a desperate attempt to ease the processor ache that had been brewing there for the past orn. Grumbling underneath his breath, Ratchet reached into his desk, harshly pulling the false bottom of one of the drawers out and grabbing, with greedy servos, one of the stashed high grades he had confiscated from Bulkhead and Bumblebee during one of their more outrageous ‘parties.’ Without hesitation, Ratchet downed four large gulps, wincing a bit as the potent concoction hit his empty tanks, burning his insides on the way down. Ratchet rolled his shoulders as he relaxed into his chair, sighing as he starred vacantly into his chosen poison, optics dulling as the high grade began to filter throughout his systems.
Primus he needed this. It had been a long orn since he returned to the Autobot base. As it turns out, the brief amount of time the Autobots spent in the presence of Megatron triggered something akin to a sympathetic heat cycle. Despite the warlord’s own cycle being in a brief hiatus, it seems that the others’ systems were able to detect the online breeding protocols currently circulating through the grey mech’s frame, thusly initiating their own protocols.
Ratchet still couldn’t burn the image of Bumblebee, sweet, innocent Bumblebee splayed out on the couch, his gorgeous yellow thighs gaped open and his small servo pumping four fingers into his dripping port, his usually mischievous blue optics glazed over in frantic lust, sugary sweet moans pouring from his vocalizer… Ratchet shuddered in both lust at the wonderful sight and in repulsion for even thinking of their youngest member in such a way. Ratchet gulped down another large portion of his high grade in a desperate attempt to forget the scout’s image.
Ratchet offlined his optics, his memory core shifting through the various occurrences of his team mates splayed in wanton positions as each of them tried to, in vain, rid their systems of their building charges. Ratchet, the only one to be unaffected by his teams’ sympathetic heat cycles, had barricaded himself in his medbay, the doors triple locked. While it had been highly tempting to simply ravish his team mates and rid them of their heat, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of his old fashioned ways… Plus, the mechs of his team had grown to become something of a family to him and he just couldn’t picture pleasuring Bumblebee without the overwhelming sense of ‘wrongness’ that plagued his processor at the mere thought.
The orn only got worse. Turns out, the Elite Guard decided to check up on the Earth bound team. Yeah, that had gone over well.
Ratchet snorted in amusement as he recalled the look of confusion and sheer horror on Ultra Magnus’s face-plates as Optimus, who had wandered into the room, threw himself onto his superior, his engines purring seductively as he gyrated against the shocked commander’s frame.
It had taken nearly a breem for Ratchet to pull a dejected and thrashing Prime off of the Magnus long enough to explain the current situation, though he left out the fact that it had been Megatron who had started everything. He figured he would let his commander assume that it had been one of the Autobots who had triggered the sympathetic heats. He hadn’t been sure of why he had felt the need to leave Megatron’s name out of this, pit, he still didn’t know, but he did know that the thought of revealing Megatron’s predicament left a bad aftertaste on his glossa and churned his tanks.
Ratchet onlined his optics, frowning as the medbay echoed with the loud, pleasured cries that distinctively sounded like Prowl. That was another thing that had surprised the medic, it turns out that though Prowl was a quiet mech in general, he was quite the opposite in the berth. The sounds were faint; the thick walls of the medbay dampening the impact but that didn’t stop the wanton sounds from drifting to Ratchet’s audios. The red and white medic shifted uncomfortably, his own systems heating as muffled pleas bounced around the quiet medbay, making the moans seem louder than they actually were. Soft pleas of “faster” and “Jazz” surrounded Ratchet in a cocoon of sheer lust, causing the medic’s cooling fans to kick on and his spike to harden.
Growling in annoyance, Ratchet chugged the last of the high grade in one go before reaching into the drawer and downing half of another cube. He needed to get intoxicated so he could pass out, and judging by the second loud cries of what had to be Prime joining in the chorus, he need to pass out quickly.
That had been the worst part of this whole orn. He had to listen to his team mate’s being ravished or ravishing others, depending on their protocols' demands, with no relief for himself. It made Ratchet want to pound his helm into the closest cement wall so he didn’t have to deal with the pent up frustration.
Ratchet quickly finished off his second cube of high grade and was reaching for his third when he heard it… A faint but audible ‘click’ and soft hissing sounds as the medbay’s door hydraulics engaged and slide open. Ratchet stiffened, apprehension seeping through his circuitry as he quickly swirled to face the invading mech, wishing he hadn’t as his stabilizing gyros were thrown off balance from the sudden motion and the amount of potent grade energon circulating through his system. Ratchet’s vision blurred, his systems entering vertigo as his stabilizers fought to maintain his balance and keep him from crashing unceremoniously to the floor. Several kilks later, Ratchet’s vision focused, the swirling image of the mech in front of him centering.
The medic canted his head in confusion as Sentinel Prime stood before him. Ratchet growled out in annoyance, his processor ache beginning to resurface in full force.
“What do you want, kid? I’m busy,” Ratchet barked as he glared at the mech before it. Sentinel, in response, only moved towards the medic, his narrow blue hips swaying seductively as he closed in on his target. Hazed optics widen in surprise as it dawned on the medic just ‘what’ the Prime wanted. With unbalanced steps, Ratchet hastily moved back in attempt to widen the narrowing gap between himself and the intruder.
Unfortunately, Ratchet backed right into his desk, the large metal rattling from the force but otherwise sat unmoved from its current position in the room. The medic scrambled, his processor trying to fight through the haze of high grade to come up with… something to deter the other mech but alas, nothing came to mind.
Sentinel came to a halt in front of the red and white ambulance, his frame leaning in towards the other's as he rested grey servos on white shoulders, just over the red emblem before he shoved, sending the medic tumbling onto the desk. Ratchet yelled out in surprise, unprepared for Sentinel’s brazen movement. Sentinel climbed onto of the medic, straddling the mech’s waist.
Ratchet, caught off guard, could only stare at the Prime as he leaned down, his hot frame making his own shudder with suppressed lust, his spike, hard from the earlier cries of his team mates, pressurized more, pressing against his cover. Sentinel purred at his captive’s response, his own frame tingling with want and uncontrollable need.
Sentinel opened his mouth and licked the chevron on Ratchet’s helm, feeling the medic shift underneath him. Ratchet stifled a groan, his frame heating up more as his mind hazed from the growing tension and high grade.
In attempt to escape from the mech above him, Ratchet grabbed the Prime’s narrow hips and sat up, forcing the mech away from his frame but not completely as, in retaliation, grey servos held tightly onto his shoulder plating, refusing to budge no matter how hard the medic shoved. Growing desperate, Ratchet began to ramble.
“Don’t you have someone else you can… bother?”
Sentinel paused in his struggle to get back to the tempting red chevron, his helm tilting to the side as if contemplating the medic’s question before answering with a simple, “No.”
“What about Ultra Magnus?” Ratchet huffed, his desire beginning to win against his stubbornness, especially with the way Sentinel began to rotate his hips against his spike covering, sending sparks of tingling pleasure up his spinal strut.
“He’s busy.” Sentinel began to rock against the red and white mech, cherishing the rush of excitement and lust that traveled through his valve, engorging his already swelled spark.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined….” Ratchet was cut off as Sentinel grabbed his servo and brought one of his digits to his hot mouth. A squeak of surprise left the medic as Sentinel took the sensitive appendage into his mouth, swirling his glossa over the digit with expertise before sucking nosily, moaning in content as he continued to rock his frame against the others.
“Primus…” Ratchet mumbled as he took in the sensations sparking from his digit, the oversensitive nodes firing off continuously as Sentinel continued to worship it. Without realizing it, Ratchet’s red hips pushed up into blue, causing the mech above him to keen in delicious pleasure.
The medic’s audios drank up the delicious sound even as his processor fought on in a vain attempt to dislodge the Prime from his lap.
“Sentinel,” Ratchet paused, reaching up with a white servo to grasp the trembling mech’s chin and tilt it up, forcing lustful optics to meet his own, “You need to stop this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re under the effects of a sympathetic heat cycle…” Ratchet trailed off as the sharp sound of Sentinel’s port covering opening echoed off the thick medbay walls, the sweet smell of lubricant and heat wafting to his sensors, thrusting him into a haze and his processor began to succumb to the mech’s demanding heat.
Sentinel grabbed the fighting mech’s servo once more, trailing the hand down his frame, sensual optics watching as the medic froze, his own optics watching his servo slip further down the Prime’s frame before being manipulated and pressed against the other’s valve. Ratchet groaned, his optics brightening with want even as his processor screamed logical reasons of why this should stop. Sentinel mewled, rocking his frame against the servo in a desperate attempt to ease the ache in his valve. Spreading his thighs wider, Sentinel locked optics with Ratchet as he manipulated one of the medic’s digits to push inside his valve, his mouth opening as a moan of absolute bliss escaped him.

Ratchet’s resolve caved.
Ratchet purred as he pressed his digit deeper into the wet valve, watching with wicked optics as Sentinel moaned, his frame pushing down onto the servo as his weeping valve pulsated. Sentinel leaned into Ratchet’s frame, his own trembling with tension as the medic quickly added another finger to his loosened valve before thrusting the digits in and out in quick succession.
“Ratchet…” Sentinel breathed, his vents humming loudly in an attempt to cool his frame. Ratchet, in response, added another finger, watching as Sentinel’s frame arched, his valve tightening before a warm gush of lubricant coated the medic’s servo and forearm.
Sentinel collapsed against the red and white mech, his vents heaving in post-overload. Ratchet hummed in appreciation as he inspected the lubricant, before he brought his digits to his mouth and licked them clean, purring at the sweet taste. Sentinel shivered as his optics watched the medic savor his flavor, his systems heating up quickly at the sight.
“Want you…” whined Sentinel as he gyrated against the medic’s broad hips. Ratchet responded by gripping narrow blue hips before heaving the two of them up into a standing position. Sentinel wrapped his legs tightly around the medic’s waist as said mech stood and turned, placing Sentinel onto the desk, his aft resting at the edge of the solid metal.
Ratchet pushed Sentinel frame away from his own, causing the other mech to whine. Ratchet sent the commands to his spike covering to open and it did with a ‘click,’ his spike jutting out from its housing as it was released. Sentinel immediately trailed his eyes to it, his glossa licking his lips as he studied it. Ratchet’s spike was just about average in length but what he failed to have in size, he more than made up for it in girth. The medic’s spike was thick, not enough to cause pain to his berth partners but just enough that it would take gentle consideration to ease inside a valve and not tear it. It was also modified, the length of the spike covered in ribs designed to seek out and ravish a mech’s or femme’s valve nodes.
Sentinel whined as his valve clenched in need. Ratchet purred in response, his servos gently gripping the Prime’s thigh plating and spreading him wide, forcing the other to balance himself by leaning back on his own servos. The medic pressed a servo against the other mech’s back, forcing the blue mech to arch his spinal strut, which, in turn, forced the Prime’s hips into broad red ones. As the thick spike touch the dripping valve, Sentinel mewled, arching his back further before rubbing himself against the ribbed surface, his frame trembling as his valve was stimulated.
Ratchet shivered as his spike twitched, sparking pleasure to burst through his frame. White servos gripped the gyrating blue ones, holding them still for a moment before they lifted Sentinel’s hips upwards, allowing the medic to line his spike up with the valve opening before he left gravity do its work. Ratchet’s spike pushed into Sentinel, the head of the spike pressing in with some difficultly. Sentinel mewled, his frame tensing at the new sensation invading his valve, his helm rocked back as the head of the spike made it in. Ratchet continued to push in, relishing the way to tight valve sucked him deeper, until he paused, his processor clearing as his spike met a barrier.
“You have a seal.” Ratchet stuttered, utterly shocked that Sentinel’s valve had been untouched, until now. Sentinel only mewled, his hips pushing down only to be met with resistance as Ratchet held him still.
“Please… Want this.” Sentinel begged, his processor long since lost to his heat cycle. Ratchet sighed, knowing there was no way around this.
“Lie down; it’ll be much easier on you if you do. Even though you’re in heat, losing your seal is still going to sting.”
Sentinel complied without a moment’s hesitant. As he lay down, Ratchet pulled his spike free of the valve, causing the Prime to whine at the loss. The medic grabbed narrow hips and pulled the other mech down the desk until the blue mech’s aft was resting against the edge of the metal slab. Without hesitation, Ratchet pushed the head of his spike back in, shivering as the heat enveloped him.
Ratchet pressed his spike’s head against the seal, feeling the barrier shift under the assault but continued to hold. Ratchet leaned his heavy set frame over the younger mech’s, reaching with one white servo to grip one of Sentinel’s own while he rested the rest of his weight on his other forearm. Sentinel brought up his free servo to rest lightly on Ratchet’s arm, wincing as the medic’s movements caused the spike to push harder against his seal.
Without warning, Ratchet thrust forward in a quick, short thrust, his spike breaking the seal in one clean go. Sentinel’s frame tensed, the pain nothing more than a slight ache do to the heat’s overwhelming presence, but the unexpectedness of the action caused Sentinel’s servo to clamped down on the medic’s own.
Ratchet lifted his frame, allowing the mech room to breathe. Sentinel, moaned as the spike inside him shifted with the medic’s movements. Gripping the narrow hips with his free servo once more, Ratchet pushed further into the mech beneath him, loving the way the once virgin valve split apart to accept his girth.
“Ratchet…” The Prime breathlessly sighed, moaning at the new sensation of being stretched for the first time, loving the way the ribbed spike lit up the nodes in his valve. Growing impatient with the medic’s slow entry, Sentinel wrapped his legs around the medic’s waist and tugged, causing Ratchet’s hips to snap forward, shoving that thick spike deeper into his needy valve.
“Primus… oh, Primus. Ratchet… Primus, yes.” The submissive mech mewled, even as Ratchet fell forward onto his frame as the action caused him to lose his balance. Huffing in slight irritation, the medic glared down at the impatient mech beneath him.
“Want it rough, do ya?” The medic stated before he reposition himself and shoved the last new inches of his of his spike into Sentinel, loving the way the mech arched into the sensation.
“This what ya want youngling?” Ratchet pulled out until the head of his spike was all that was left enveloped by the hot valve before he slammed back in, causing Sentinel’s frame to rock upwards from the force, a long moan piercing the air. “Want me to pound your virgin port until you come?”
Ratchet set a brutal pace, his hips snapping back and forth with in deep, hard strokes, his thick spike’s ribs dragging across hyper-sensitive nodes mercilessly. Sentinel’s helm thrashed back and forth, his vocalizer lost in a drawn out moan as the sensors in his valve became overwhelmed.
“Answer me youngling,” Ratchet snarled, his hips pumping harder into the orange and blue mech below him, “You want me to frag you into this table?”
Sentinel only mewled as the spike speared into him, his hips bounced back into the metal surface beneath him from the force of the thrusts, his entire frame rocking up the length of the desk so much so that he lifted his free servo to grasped the edge of the desk for anchorage, using his arm to continuously push himself back onto that spike. Leaning down, Ratchet bit down on one of Sentinel’s orange antenna, causing the young mech to arch, his frame stuck in a limbo of pleasure and pain.
“You do, don’t ya youngling. You want this. Need my spike. You need me to fuck you.” Ratchet purred into Sentinel’s audios, causing the mech to shiver at both the deep, husky purr of the medic’s voice and the disgusting organic word. “Say it, youngling. Tell me you need me to fuck you.”
Sentinel mewled as Ratchet’s spike continued its brutal pace, his valve tingling wildly as the spike’s modifications rubbed at his nodes in all the right ways. Sentinel shifted, twisting his frame as hot need washed over him, his heat-clouded processor loving the way Ratchet dominated him. The shift in position forced the medic’s spike into Sentinel’s recessive node, causing the mech to buck with the new intense sensation that sparked through his valve and twisted itself inside his gestational chamber. His spark gorged at the new feeling as it hammered against its casing.
Ratchet smirked and stopped his thrusting, coming to a complete stop buried deep inside the sopping wet port. Sentinel whined, using his free servo to try and push himself onto that spike but was held still by the medic’s surprisingly superior strength.
“Say it. Say you need me to fuck you.”
Sentinel thrashed, desperate to ease the throbbing ache in his valve and quell the tension building in his tank. Ratchet remained firm, however, refusing to pleasure the mech any further until the Prime submitted himself completely.
Several kilks ticked by as Sentinel sobbed in frustration before Ratchet pulled his spike almost out, lined himself up, and slammed back in the needy frame, hard, his spike’s head pounding into Sentinel’s recessive node. The younger mech howled in pleasure, his frame arching as far as it was allowed to off the desk beneath him, the sound of metal slamming into metal echoing throughout the quiet medbay.
“Say it.”
Sentinel thrashed his helm from side to side, fighting through the haze that was clouding his processor to form the words, but when he opened his mouth, static escaped his vocalizer. Ratchet repeated the process, loving the way the young Prime twisted into his frame.
“Say it.”
Vents heaving, Sentinel looked up at the dominating medic, his trembling frame igniting in hot desire at the burning optics above him, dark with want and possession.
“Ratchet…” Sentinel’s vocalizer cut out into static, causing Ratchet to repeat his motion again… and again… until the blue mech forcefully reset his vocalizer several times before he whimpered, “Ratchet… fuck me.”
Ratchet’s frame resonated with a deep, rumbling purr as the medic freed his servo from the young mech’s and wrapped it around the narrow waist, crushing the mech to his own broad frame. Sentinel, quickly threw a hand behind him to slap against the metal desk to help balance the duo and his other arm, now free, crushed the medic further into his frame by wrapping itself around broad shoulders.
“Fuck me. Ratchet…” Sentinel groaned as the medic began to move, the pace more moderate, the thrust still hard, but now deeper. Sentinel rocked his frame into Ratchet’s own, shivering as the charge quickly built back up in his systems.
“Like that, youngling.” Ratchet whispered huskily into Sentinel’s audios as his spike repeatedly hit Sentinel’s recessive node in rapid succession.
“Primus yes… Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Mmm… Fuck me, Ratchet, fuck me.” Sentinel mewled, his body tensing as his valve began to spasm. Ratchet shivered, the young mech’s begging almost driving him over the edge. Ratchet’s pace began to slow, his thrusts becoming more drawn out, his own frame tensing form his own impending overload. Sentinel’s valve continued to spasm, lubricant dripping faster, coating both the desk and Ratchet’s spike in a thick quantity of the sweet liquid.
“I’m so close.” Sentinel trembled.
“Overload, Sentinel. I want to watch you come.” Ratchet growled, his thrusts pushing into the soaking valve with renewed vigor. Sentinel shivered and pulled back from the medic, resting his other hand on the metal desk and used what little strength he had left to help push him back onto the medic’s thick spike, his need to overload growing desperate as, despite his efforts, the end refusing to come.
“I-I can’t… Ratchet…” Sentinel sobbed, his need beginning to hurt. Ratchet hushed his berthmate, his thrusts remaining deep and hard, but he picked up his pace some, wanting to help the other finish. The older mech shifted back and moved a free servo into the space between them. With his thumb, the medic gently massaged Sentinel’s outer node but the teasing touch only served to irritate Sentinel. In his frustration, Sentinel pressed Ratchet’s servo harder to his valve’s outer node as he rocked his body back and forth, moans spilling from his vocalizer.
“Ah… Oh… Primus, yes. Like that Ratchet. Oh Primus, like that. I’m gonna… Oh!” Sentinel rocked harder, the mix of Ratchet’s thick, ribbed spike combined with the stimulation to his outer node finally starting his overload.
“That’s it, kid. Come for me.” Ratchet purred, watching as Sentinel’s face twisted in pure bliss. The Prime’s frame rocked harder, his valve’s spasms quickening before the younger mech tensed, overloading.
“Oh! OH! Ratchet.. Primus, Ratchet! I’m coming… I’m coming! Oh Primus, RATCHET!” Sentinel’s valve exploded in a tidal wave of pleasure, the already soaking wet valve became drenched in wave after wave of lubricant as the valve pulsated. Sentinel chanted the medic’s name over and over again in a long, drawn out moan that trail off into static as overload fully gripped the young frame.
Ratchet groaned, the mixed sensation of Sentinel’s rippling valve and the beautiful look on the young mech’s face sent the medic into his own overload. The older mech pump into Sentinel a few more times before stilling, his thick spike buried deep in the overloading valve. Wave after wave of thick transfluid flooded the valve only to be swallowed up by the hungry gestational tank. In the back of his processor, a voice screamed that he should have pulled out, that finishing inside the mech was a horrible idea, but the sensation surrounding his twitching spike was reason enough to ignore that voice. Ratchet groaned again as he pumped his spike into Sentinel a few more times, his protocols demanding that he get as much transfluid into the mech below him.

Finally, the medic collapsed onto Sentinel and then promptly passed out from exhaustion, the mech below him not far behind.

LeavesofMyself: I think… I got carried away…
- 24
- 25
- 26
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No Particular Reference	By : LeavesofMyself Category: Transformers > G1 Views: 2509 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: See full disclaimer in Chapter 1

No Particular Reference