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Sunny Disposition	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 5677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Though I finding it sickeningly obvious, I find it necessary to admit that though this is a fanfiction site, I do not own Transformers nor make any money from it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8: Prying Hands
Sunny swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The Hatchet in the front and the third in command, behind. Slag. He could just plow by, but then Sideswipe would freak out.
Slag.
Slag.
Slag!
Slag it all to the pit.
“Sunstreaker,” added the medic a little more forcefully as he stepped forward and forcefully grabbed the frontliner by his forearm so there would be no escape. “I asked you a question.”
Swallowing, trying not to sound guilty for he knew he couldn’t outright deny it, “Nothing… just a little rough loving.”
“Rough,” growled the medic, automatically, eyeing Sideswipe who suddenly came into view, putting on his cod piece and limping out into the hall.
Jazz caught the look immediately, “Don’t blame red there. It wasn’t him. Sunstreaker… I think you should go with Ratchet.”
There was no play behind that usually casually-fun saboteur’s voice, his shoulders becoming square.
Sunstreaker threw the visored mech a growl and then added, “Don’t belittle me! If I tell you I’m fine, I’m fraggen fine! Don’t touch me!”
Ratchet who had reached to touch him, immediately put his hands up noticing that this was going to become violent quickly, stating, “Fine, just calm down. I just want to clean you up. No need for violence. There’s no need to… calm down.”
Sunstreaker wanted to strike out, wanted to throw his anger at the medic who was trying to uncover his secret, but the truth was… he needed to act cool. Freaking out would only rile up suspicion which he might already be too late for with the way Ratchet already had his hands displayed nonthreatening as if he were dealing with a mental case. Regardless, he might be able to clean himself up so that it wouldn’t look so… bad. He probably looked like he violated himself with a rusting pipe.
Swallowing, he added, “Fine. I need a shower though. I haven’t cleaned myself well recently.”
“No,” stated Ratchet, stepping in front of the other, a serious face on.
The medic knew that that wound was grievous, the energon all ready looked thick, but the glare Sunstreaker was giving him told him that he had to offer his next words with grace, “… Certain solvents are bad for wounds in such a sensitive area. Let me look at it first. I can clean the wound properly then you can go and wax yourself.”
A look of disbelief covered his facial plates and Sunny added in a dangerous tone, “I know proper interfacing care, Ratchet. Just because I’m off duty and in your care doesn’t mean I’m a slaggen sparkling that doesn’t know how to frag someone.”
His glare hit Sideswipe for a moment, ready to hiss a snide comment about no longer being a virgin to his brother, but then he felt a jaunting pin prick in the back of his neck cables and he turned. Ratchet had a needled in hand, frowning.
Slag… he had turned his back on a medic. That was like turning one’s back on a Con… you just didn’t do it.
His body almost immediately went fuzzy and the last thing he heard, as his optics went dark, was Ratchet barking for someone to catch him.
Slaggers… all of them.
…
“So that was why he was limping,” said Ratchet as he stood over Sunstreaker’s limp, unmoving form which was now on a med bay berth, Sideswipe on the opposite side holding his brother’s hand and running a soothing hand over his brother’s helm. Ratchet, who had a hand on either of Sunstreaker’s knees, having just spread them for his first peak at the damage, stared at the red twin. He didn’t want Sideswipe to be in emotional pained and Ratchet suspected why; Sunstreaker was most likely unable to up and barriers before he was knocked out and with the other twin so close, Sideswipe could probably feel emotions bleeding though the bond due to their closeness.
The utter destruction of his brother’s valve might have been the reason as well… Apparently the two were about to interface and probably bond.
“It’s an older wound,” stated the healer more for Jazz and Sideswipe than for anyone else. He knew they all suspected that this was Sideswipe’s work and that he had finished what he started all those days ago. Both figures sagged in relief; all guilt being taken off of Sideswipe’s shoulders since he had been far too detained to do such a thing.
Sideswipe was still worried though, looking far angrier now… like he had let this happen.
“Its nothing to worry about,” continued Ratchet, trying to be reassuring. “It’s fixable … probably will take me half of the slaggen day though. Sensitive circuitry means slow work. Its obvious it wasn’t you, Sideswipe, far to old being that you’ve been in the brig this whole time. So, any guesses who it was?”
“I think he did it to himself,” replied the red mech quickly, his voice forlorn. He could feel it. He could feel the pain and the soft agony as well as the guilt and self loathing through the bond. True, Sunstreaker had always had these emotions but never in such magnitude that Side’s could feel them so easily. Where was that usual pride? That vein flavor his brother always gave off? There was just need here… need he should have been fulfilling right now with a hot spike and a warm spark.
He wished he could bond with him.
Ratchet stalled for a moment, surprised. Sideswipe looked as if he were about to cry. The medic was silent for a moment before looking down at the damage. Sunstreaker was… wet and raw, minor energon lines broken. Ratchet started to correct Sideswipe about his hypothesis but caught himself from correcting the other. The present fluids were from right now, but he could tell that no mere masturbation had caused this. Sunstreaker had found a berth buddy. One could tell by the equal strain throughout the metal. A whole hand, despite how painful Ratchet imagined that to be, would not caused this. Another mech had done this… but who would be so violent? He knew there were some mechs that liked it a little rough around base but… not this badly.
He would have to a talk with the yellow mech and whomever he slept with about proper interfacing; it was best not to tell Sideswipe though. The older sibling would beat the slag out of every mech he ran into to find out who had maimed his ‘virginal’ brother in such a way.
“Maybe he did,” said the medic finally, waving his hand to tell the red twin to go. Sideswipe didn’t seem to catch the drift with how he waved his hand so Ratchet did it again. Side still didn’t move so Ratchet huffed, “Get out of here, boy. I don’t care if you are his brother. Your current regulator disciplines still stand, and I’m sure Sunny doesn’t want his sexual exploits told to everyone.”
“But,” said the twin tightening, knowing what Ratchet meant. Ratchet was talking about his actions as of late. Sides hadn’t meant it, hadn’t meant to hurt his brother. He had just wanted to love Blue (Blue who refused to come into the medical bay, most likely upset) and for his brother to understand that this was love… not a thing to be shared like a common whore.
He should have held his tongue and waited. Now Sunstreaker was falling apart, hurting himself and undoubtedly having spark issues. How long had it been since his brother had stabilized?
The words escaped him before he could stop himself, “But… I’m worried about him.”
Ratchet seemed to wilt at that, frowning softly before he added, “I know, but right now… you have to let me deal with this. Please, go. Talk to Bluestreak or something. He seemed really upset. I explained spark-bonds to him but there still seems to be misunderstand there. Now, finish moving yourself and Hound and take care of your lover. You made all this mess for him. It’s best to let him know it was for him.”
The medic watched as Sideswipe twitched at the last part of that statement, his hand slowly releasing his brother’s, his shoulders wilting like that for sun-denied flower.
The red form leaving, Ratchet turned his attention back to the valve. This was awful… and he had been masturbating? Something was seriously wrong. Why would Sunny not tell him? Why would be ashamed of such an injury? Why would he still want to touch such a seriously injured wound? Was it to make himself feel sexual? Was there some kind of metal trauma from the ‘virgin’ comment and he had been mutilating himself ever since?
No…
This was a spike wound. He had seen this type of wound before… in rape victims.
His optics went bright, his mind following an invisible trail. The tearing was common of rape victims, some of them hiding it in just this way. They then would continue to try to make themselves feel sexual, trying to recapture normalcy such as with masturbating.
The scream on the battlefield the other day.
Why had Sunstreaker been behind enemy lines? How had he gotten back there? Why wasn’t be dead… had… had.
No. Stop thinking that way.
Sunstreaker might have been the second born but was stronger than that. He would always put up a huge fight, would have been covered his dents and wounds, not merely discombobulated with some minor walking issues.
Yes, it was probably just one of the bigger mechs on base trying to be rough and going too far. That had to be it.
That had to be it.
He’d get the name from Sunny and if the mech wouldn’t tell him… well, there weren’t many mechs that size on base.
…
“I am glad you agreed to do this Hound,” stated Prowl as he walked down the halls with the green mech at his side, carrying the last of his things from his old room.
“Oh, I don’t mind Prowl. I mean Sunstreaker seems a little more like a real bot with emotions now and not like a demon from the pit anymore,” stated Hound immediately twitching, feeling a little worse for wear before even noting the slight glare he got from his commanding officer, “That came out wrong. What I mean to say is… he’s far easier to relate to now. His emotions seem plausible. Secrets can make a bot bitter and cold.”
Prowl’s wings dripped a little and he nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face as he stated, “I’m glad you are so understanding, Hound. Sunstreaker and you have never butted heads but if he needs a friend… I’m glad to know that you will be open minded about it.”
“Sure thing. Um … What does Sunstreaker think of me replacing… Sideswipe?” he asked reluctantly, the twin’s fight still in his mind.
Prowl was silent for a moment, stalling in front of the door that led to what use to be Sides and Sunny’s room, stating, “I don’t know if he knows he’s getting you as a roommate. He’s been… troubles. I will inform him soon though.”
Hound frowned at this but said nothing, the stoic Prowl keying in the new password and whispering it back to Hound as the door opened, adding, “And… do you know about twin bounds and there need for spark stabilization?”
Swallowing, plating pulling tight to his body, his interfacing equipment pinging at the thought of being ravaged in his own berth by a stabilization deprived mech, replied, “It’s been the talk of the base… thought everyone is going to keep their mouths shut around Sideswipe. Sunstreaker, from what I heard, no longer wants to bond with Sideswipe so he has to have someone else to… fulfill the role in keeping his half-spark stabilized.”
Hound swallowed, “Everyone’s waiting to see who he’s going to pick or if he’s just going to break down and … Ratchet’s going to do it for him. I thought it was a rumor but when I heard the regulations for Sideswipe… just what happened between those two in the med bay?”
Prowl’s wings were twitching, fury under his plates. Were all the men waiting to see who would get to frag a ‘virginal’ Sunstreaker? The audacity of the rumor was enough to make Prowl want to punish most of the men, but there was no point. It was bound to get out sooner or later.
The Second in Command inclined his head just slightly, adding, “For the most point, yes, Sunny will need to stabilize. If, since you will be his roommate and will have far closer interactions, are ever approached by Sunstreaker in an intimate way you find inappropriate… feel free to comm. Ratchet and have him deal with it. Or… if you feel comfortable. I’m sure you won’t take advantage.”
Hound went stiff, inclining his head and adding, “Sure… I’ll comm. Ratchet if I feel sexual threatened.”
“Good… now welcome home,” added Prowl, the lights in the room turning on. “If you ever feel that you can’t handle Sunstreaker and his present circumstances, just let me know.”
…
Sunny blinked his optics on and off, his form shivering when the first thing his senses decided to inform him of was that his cod piece was open and was being greeted by cool air. He moaned and slowly closed his legs, ready to sit up and look for his cod piece and get the slag out of this sensitive position.
Yet, before he could even sit up, a red hand was placed on either of his knees and a frowning Ratchet looked down at him, growling, “I wasn’t done yet, spread um.”
“What?” choked Sunny, trying not to note that First Aid came behind the elder medic and eyed Sunstreaker, intrigued. H-had his valve been a lesson for the medic’s students? He saw Swoop out of the corner of his eyes, washing his hands. He offlined his optics, holding back a click of shame before he growled, “I was a lesson? Who didn’t see my valve!”
“Everyone agreed that Swoop and First Aid could observe any repairs I made in order to learn. Let’s just say most people don’t let their valves get ripped up and fester like that,” he growled, hands tightening in a threat as he added. “And they needed to know how to treat such a wound. A wound you should have told me about days ago, slagger! You were in the bay!”
Sunstreaker twitched at the voice, the medic starting to dent his legs with his grip, yet just as quickly as the rage came, it was gone and Ratchet added, “Now, you heard me, slagger. Spread your legs so I can see if my repairs took. Replacing over half of the valve’s meta-skin is not a minor repair nor is widening your valve.”
Sunstreaker nearly sat up, frowning in confusion, “Widening my… valve? How did you…”
“It’s like prepping a mech for birthing,” he added nonchalantly, finally just prying the legs apart, Sunstreaker ignoring the ping from his spike that stated it could pressurize at any moment, still wondering why the frag he was so horny; this whole situation should be anything but arousing. “It’s simple though a little painful…. Not that I would have to have done it if it wasn’t for your partner. They are far too large for you Sunstreaker. They should have been far more gentle. Now tell me who the frag you’re fragging so I can slag them and maybe decrease the size of their spike while I’m at it.”
Wincing at the idea of Ratchet grabbing a hold of Megatron’s wonderful of spike and defiling it almost made him sick.
He wanted his valve to gulp up more of that warm excrete from that large item.
His valve gave a throb at the thought and he hoped the medic hadn’t noticed.
If he did, Ratchet didn’t say anything as he continued his rant, “The slagger should have given your valve a few minutes or so to adjust to the size. The stretch I performed does not make your valve impenetrable to rough treatment and needs to be done every few days. Now slide back down the table and spread them so I can check my repairs.”
Slowly, trying not to look at the medics eyeing him, he slid down and lifted his knees, spread wide. Ratchet paid no mind to Sunny’s sudden modesty and with practiced hands he immediately pressed two fingers on the equipment and slid the valve to the top. His valve gave a hungry throb and he knew the medics saw it by the way First Aid looked away for a moment, probably blushing under that mask.
“So, who was it? Is it a permanent or a one night stand kind of thing? I need to know. I can tell already that your spark is starting to get deprived,” added the medic, taking something from First Aid in a bottle and squirting it on his hands.
“None of your business, and what the frag is that … ahhh!”
Sunstreaker nearly bulked when he felt a pair of warm greased hands suddenly assault his port, spreading it open with each of his forefingers. Then, caring little that Sunny looked mortified, he brought his face down to the other’s interface equipment and started eyeing the valve walls as his optics brightened. First Aid gave Sunstreaker a pitying look.
“Hmmm. You still look a little raw but the new graphs are taking nicely. Hopefully the psedo-skin is functioning properly. Just as well’s test it,” added Ratchet suddenly, Sunstreaker opening his mouth about to ask how he was going to do that when he felt those greased, warmed fingers press deeper inside him and start scissoring.
He immediately tried to pull away, yelling, “What the hell are you doing! Stop!”
Ratchet pull him back down with one harsh tug on a hip, placing himself between Sunstreaker’s legs, fingers working back inside of the valve and thrusting as he got into Sunstreaker’s face.
“Testing your valve, and it’s either my warm fingers or a cold medical tool to thrust into you?” Sunstreaker swallowed, remembering that cold tool from his first valve examination as a soldier. “Now, I just want to make sure your valve is healthy with one valve overload; besides, First Aid and Swoop need to know how to do this, while you tell me why you don’t want me to know your partner’s name.”
Sunstreaker almost wheezed as he felt those two fingers slowly being joined by a third. Pumping up and down like hard, hot, pistons.
Oh slag… if felt so good to have someone touching him.
Frag.
No.
No.
No!
What the pit was wrong with him? Was his spark really so deprived that he was getting all hot and heavy for Ratchet? The medic was good with his hands, don’t get him wrong, but he should have been disgusted a little bit longer before giving in and dripping lube all down the medic’s hand.
Regardless another moan escaped him and his valve started to ripple, sucking at the fingers and the delicious way the medic was down rubbing his thumb over the still unsheathed spike. He even was being courteous enough to thrust his hand up and down as if it was a real spike penetrating him, sliding his aft up and down on the inclined medical berth.
“Well, don’t just suck my fingers or I’m going to drag this out so it’s painful and you’re begging for overload,” growled the medic in a threat.
Sunny whined, wondering if he should try to pull away and run off and finish himself off behind some engine or box, his liquids dripping onto the floor like a common whore. But Ratchet’s other hand was fixed firmly on his hip, holding him still and those fingers were so good!
“I’m losing patience,” growled the mech in a threat, pumping so fast that it almost hurt, his valve swallowing in preparation only to have the medic stop.
“Ratchet!” whined Sunny; the cry so pathetic that Swoop looked away and Ratchet gave a dark growl. “Please … don’t… ugh… no… uh.”
He tried to speak again, but Ratchet pulled out a little bit more making the Lamborghini whimper.
The medic putting a threat in his voice, growled, “Why not! Why won’t you telling me? You are still in my care. I could keep you off duty instead of putting you on light duty… you still haven’t talked to me about your feelings, Sunstreaker.”
Hating himself, desperately wanting to feel an orgasm in his valve, he whimper, “F-fine. I’ll t-talk every f-Friday morning if you just finish me, but I won’t give you his name… he doesn’t want anyone to know. It was a p-private thing.”
Ratchet eyed the mech for a lie and when he saw no lie he pressed his fingers back in, noting how Sunny’s valve greedily sucked them up, Sunny shifting his hips and glad to have them back inside him.
“Was it at least consensual?” he growled, getting in close and eyeing the yellow mech for any lies in those optics.
“Y-yes, he fucked so good. I didn’t tell him it was hurting,” whined Sunstreaker, fucking the fingers himself as he pumped his hips. Primus, he was acting like a common whore. Why was he so needy? It generally took months to start to become unstable yet he had fragged Megatron in the desert only about a month ago. It hadn’t been that long.
What was wrong with him?
Ratchet observed him for a moment more and then asked, “Is your spark hurting or in need of … stabilization… its best to do it now since you are wet and … responsive.”
The arousal dropped by about ten points and he stopped moving his hips, a frown forming. True, if he spark fragged with someone like Ratchet, it wasn’t the same as bonding with his brother. Thoughts, memories, and fears could jump through the bond… such as ones about Megatron.
Fragging a normal mech would only reveal the most powerful thoughts and feels at the top of his consciousness… which had only been about Megatron lately. He couldn’t risk it… though his spark had been acting funny.
“No… never. No,” he reacted a moment later, trying to pull away from the fingers.
Ratchet just frowned at the childish display and pulled the yellow mech back down and stated, “I don’t want to see what demented thoughts are in your spark anyway, just calm down and let me finish you off.”
Ratchet then started pumping again, sliding in and out with the pulling of the valve, using his other hand to press into the bundles of wires he could reach between armor plates. Soon, Sunny was once again hot, digging his hand into berth, whimpering as Ratchet hit all the right nodes, cry with each pump of the hand, “Faster… deeper… please… more.”
Ratchet soon had his forth finger taunting the entrance of the valve and he asked, “Well, if you do need some assistance in that department, Sunstreaker, please ask… I don’t want your spark suffering. Now, don’t scream… there are mechs sleeping in the med bay.”
“Please…” panted Sunny, “I’m not going too…”
Suddenly the medic hand seemed to vibrate, picking up speed and curling his fingers upward hitting the g-shot, slamming into Sunstreaker so fast that Sunny was actually sliding a few inches up and down the berth with each slam. It only took a moment before Sunstreaker… screamed.
Ratchet chuckled as Sunny orgasmed around his fingers, hearing someone grip from the far corner of the medical bay, out of sight and unable to see who had screamed. He then took a rag offered to him by Swoop who was watching with far too much intent as the valve sucked on Ratchet’s fingers as if tasting them before he slowly offer three more pumps and pulled out, Sunny sighing and offlining his optics in content.
He wiped his hands and then handed the rag to Swoop, trying not to chuckle as the dinobot’s amazement. The young mech was still a virgin and was just starting to become interested in interfacing. He’d let the mech cleanup Sunstreaker so he could feel someone else’s equipment to get an idea of how each mech’s valve different in size and sensitivity.
“Clean him up… and be thorough. The valve is reacting fine but best to keep it healthy and stretched,” he added, handing a valve stretcher to First Aid whom held it with a sick fascination, looking from the twitching valve to the huge spike-shaped item with a deranging horror. That was supposed to fit in that little hole?
The elder medic tried not to laugh at First Aid expression… nor Sunny’s as he eyed it with intent. Ratchet grinned, almost manically as he added, “That, Sunstreaker, is what I’ve been using to stretch you valve. It is a stretcher stick.”
Ratchet handed the large almost spike looking object to Sunny, noting the slight look of horror on Sunny’s face as he noted the size.
“It is not a toy or the equal of a human dildo. It is probably best to use it before recharge because I don’t think Red Alert would find it hilarious if you overloaded in the security room. Now, just lube up the entire shafted and then slowly press it inside your valve. That may pinch at first and will take a minute or two, but take your time easing it in. Leave it in your valve and don’t use it as a toy because it is far too large and you’ll just rip yourself up. Just leave it in there,” he stated sternly before added with small smile, “… doesn’t mean it won’t overload you though which is why it’s probably best to leave it in at night when there is … little movement. A walk down the hall could cause you to overload.”
Sunny just eyed Ratchet in shock and might have protested if Swoop hadn’t started cleaning him then, the valve oversensitive, causing him to jerk and gasp.
Turning his back, he added to the two trainees, “Now make sure Sunstreaker takes that with him. I’m going to go get a drink… and hunt for that damn spike that caused all this trouble.”
A few halls later and a bidding of Optimus to come out of his room and join him for a drink, Ratchet soon found himself surround by most of the top command in the Ark. Prime was already pleasantly buzz because no one, not even Prowl, would say no to a drink when that drink involved Ratchet’s special brew.
… Though Prowl did note that this better be made for medical purposes.
Ratchet would always reply, ‘Of course… it keeps me calm so I don’t kill you of all.’
No one, not even the tight aft, could disagree with that. Though they all knew that Ratchet didn’t have these little overcharge parties for nothing… he wanted something and Ironhide thought it best to ask before all of them were too overcharge to think straight in order to say say ‘No’… though no one said ‘No’ to the harpie easily.
“Soo…” Ironhide, who had noted that Ratchet was eyeing him and Prime for most of the evening with a quizzical expression. “What’s on your mind, Hatchet?”
“Oh nothing much… Prime, I was just wondering how long have you been fragging Sunstreaker? It looks like more than one time as well?” added Ratchet far too bluntly.
Prime, who was taking a sip of Ratchet’s famous brew, his facemask off in front of his most trusted soldier, spewed his drinks into the faces of the other soldiers at the table, Jazz and Prowl wincing as it splashed over their faces. Ironhide, who had been shocked at the question but out of range, took his time in laughing his aft off. He was already, partially intoxicated.
Wiping his pouty lips, optics going bright, the leader frowned at his medical chief and added, “I would never take advantage of one of my men… especially one as emotionally unstable as Sunstreaker is right now.”
Eying the leader suspiciously for a moment, he surrendered and stated, “Apologies then Prime; it’s just that I’ve been looking for someone of your size. Some idiot was too rough and I spent my afternoon making repairs on some rather delicate … equipment.”
The mechs at the table cringed, Jazz’s hand moving down to guard his own delicate equipment.
“Yeah, I’m a little pissed about it,” growled the mech in frustration, his best lead dead; Prime seeming the likeliest candidate, taking pity in one of his soldiers though the damage seemed a bit rough for kind sparked Optimus.
“It’s just that,” continued the medic. “There aren’t many mech’s on the planet that size, Prime. So, once again I apologies.”
Optimus coughed and rubbed behind his neck as he spoke in a slight embarrassment, “No problem, Ratchet. I’m so glad you know the staff so well that you note things like … sizes.”
All the other mech’s couldn’t help but laugh at this, even Prime putting in a warm laugh. The conversation was so awkward with high grade in their veins, it was hard not to.
Only once the laughter had died did Ratchet turn to the weapon specialist and ask, “Was it you then, Ironhide? You’re a little smaller than Prime but are large enough.”
Everyone choked again, besides ‘Hide who looked a bit flabbergasted before adding, “Well, I’m glad to know I’m one of the largest ones on base, Ratchet, and Sunny might have a nice aft but angry and bitter ain’t my type.”
Frowning at this, Ratchet sighed and mumbled, “Well, this was a bust. There’s only a few more choices left then. There’s Skyfire, which I doubt, and the Dinobots… which Sunny would probably be to vain to sleep with, besides… their seals haven’t been broken.”
The other mech’s all shifted at this, everyone uncomfortable with how things have been going from bad to worse with Sunstreaker lately and Jazz couldn’t help but ask, “So… is he fit for duty yet? After what happened with… Sideswipe?”
Ratchet was silent for a long time before adding, a serious air taking over table before he stated, “No… he’s been broken a long time, and it’s going to take time but he did agree to weekly consoling after some persuasion. So, for now, just help me keep an optic on him before I allow him to be put on normal duty again. He will be put on light duty though.”
“Sure… we’ll look after him until he opens up,” stated Prime.
“In more than one way,” snickered a tanked Ironhide, his spike twitch at the idea of a stretched valve and opened legs. Slag, he really needed to get laid… what was Ratchet putting in this stuff?
…
Later that day, Sunstreaker was walking down the hall, Swoop having finally allowed him to go to his room to try his first… stretching, and then come in for an examination the following morning to make sure he didn’t rip himself. He didn’t want to look like he was already sex deprived, caring the dildo impersonation down the hall for the whole crew to see, so he just… stuck it up there. Now he wished he had just put it in his subspace because he was now twitching like he was Red Alert.
Frag. His valve was just going crazy, sucking that false spike as if trying to get water from a rock. It was like the valve was hungry and he wasn’t about to stop in some random room and pull it out, dripping coolant and other things all down his leg, and then he would have a wet stretcher that he was not going to put in his clean subspace.
He could take another one or two overloads…
Maybe.
He was so out of it, his mind completely stuck on the tightening valve that he barely noticed he was leaning again the wall, panting when Blaster came up to him, worried expression on his face. The red cassette rack quickly put a hand on Sunny’s back in what was meant to be a comforting way, though it nearly made Sunstreaker overload again from the contact.
“You okay, buddy? What’s wrong? You in pain? Need me to call the old Hatchet?” stated the red mech, his visor blinking in worry.
Sunstreaker tried to not laugh or moan, whimpering, “I’m anything but in pain… just give me a minute and don’t jostle me. C-can you help me to my berth?”
Blaster frowned, not liking that answer, “Naw, you’re going to Ratchet, pal.”
Sunstreaker finally laughed, adding bitterly, “Please, he was the one that did this to me. Now help me to my berth before I get valve juice all over the floor.”
Giving a wide optic look, Blaster did not disagree.
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Sunny Disposition