Title: Unusual morning
Verse: G1
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Ratchet/Prowl
Word Count: 3418
Warnings: sticky, bondage, dub-con
Summary: Meetings in the Ark are scheduled by Prowl... and he drives everyone crazy with his 7am meetings. Someone decides it's enough. Ratchet is stuck with assuring non-interupted Recharge for all Autobots.
Notes: Written for tfanonkink. betaed by awesome ultharkitty Enjoy.
Every booting up sequence started up exactly the same: systematically, one main system after another engaged. First the most important ones; then, if the diagnostic didn't report any errors, secondary routines switched on, and in the end self-written subroutines, comm lines, and, for saving power, optics switched on last. After that, his chronometer synchronised with that of Teletraan 1 ensuring he always functioned perfectly on time.
Prowl stood up from his berth and smoothed out the mesh that deformed during recharge.
The most beautiful thing about mornings, Prowl thought, was that they were the most organized and predictable time of any day. Booting up, cleaning, making himself presentable and leaving for the morning briefing. Always the same activities, but after that always an unavoidable chaos of meeting other bots.
Like every every morning Prowl entered the briefing room, he put his data-pads on the desk and arranged them into perfect, regular stack, ignoring the murmurs, the static of not-fully-booted vocalizers and the quiet, but distinct hum of recharging systems.
He raised his optics to the gathered Mechs and couldn't help the helpless, huffing exvent that left him as he saw his fellow Autobots.
The state some Mechs were in was unacceptable. Jazz and Blaster sat huddled together, swaying lightly - Prowl was sure they were listening to music of some kind. Hound and Bumblebee had some ugly smudges on their armor and Prowl didn't want to know where they came from. Mirage, seemingly alert and presentable, sported red scuff marks all over and Cliffjumper was mysteriously absent; If Prowl checked he would probably find the Red minibot had claimed a glitch-leave. Ironhide and few other mechs had a very distant look to their optics that indicated not finished [incomplete] boot sequences, and Ratchet had the audacity to be deep in recharge.
Only Perceptor seemed to be fully at attention, him and Bluestreak, though after closer inspection Prowl noticed gunner's optics flickering on and off in obvious effort to stay alert.
:Prime: Prowl commed his Leader who responded with a small delay.
:What's wrong?: Optimus's voice sounded panicky and was that recharge static? No. Impossible.
:I apologize Prime for interrupting your morning routine, but your soldiers present on the briefing need a wake up call. Could you please send empty, urgent tagged message to all of them?:
Optimus cleared his vocalizer, with what Prowl could swear sounded like groan of annoyance, but once again deemed it impossible. :Of course.:
The connection broke off and Prowl watched as suddenly all mechs present jumped up, random shouts of surprise sounding from all corners of the room and Ratchet fell down on his aft with a loud clang and whirl of systems coming online.
"Good Morning." Prowl didn't let the amusement into his voice even though Ratchet gathering himself from the floor, cursing and glaring daggers at anyone who was brave enough to smile at him, was an entertaining spectacle. "Now that we are all awake, we can begin."
The next morning Prowl's systems booted up as usual. All system checks coming clean, he engaged his subroutines and started his comm only to experience an error.
His comm-line was inaccessible and turned off from outside.
Prowl tried to move from the berth, and found himself unable to. Both hands and legs restrained. Something was terribly wrong.
He looked around feeling panic and logic battle with themselves. He was still in his quarters, on the Autobot ship, safe among his peers. He had subroutines set up to wake him up the moment the Intrusion alert sounded. But someone had switched off his comm and chained him to the berth. On the other hand it could be the Twins' prank him or another of Jazz's attempt to loosen him up. For a Third in Command, the black and white mech was definitely too relaxed for Prowl's tastes. Whatever the reason for his current situation he was most probably bound for humiliation. And whoever was responsible was bound for trouble.
"Good Morning." A mocking voice greeted him. "Now that we are all awake we can begin." Hearing the same words he had used the day before, Prowl gasped at the audacity and at the malicious smile on the face-plates of a mech that he least expected to see.
"Ratchet?" Prowl couldn't help his logic circuits stuttering. What was the CMO doing in his quarters smiling like that? And why was he chained to the berth? Prowl pulled at the bounds testing them and felt the cuffs close around his wrist even tighter.
"Expected someone else?" The last word was accented with a loud clang and only then Prowl noticed the big-aft wrench the medic held in his hand - his favourite tool to intimidate others, but the SIC wouldn't have any of it.
"As a matter of fact, yes, I was expecting some suicidal youngling, twins, or in the worst case, Jazz, but you? That's illogical."
"I'm afraid your logic failed you this time; I'm the only one who can chain you to the berth and get away with it." Ratchet sounded bored as he inspected the wrench. "And I pulled the shortest cable."
"Why then? I thought you were old enough to not be a part of any prank." Prowl tried to understand what exactly happened.
"It's not a prank, Prowl. It's entirely your fault." Ratchet raised up to his full height and loomed over Prowl, his voice tight. "You insisted on holding the briefings on an ungodly hour, you make Prime wake us up with those unfair methods and you..." Ratchet leaned even closer to Prowl until their face-plates were mere inches from each other. "You humiliated me yesterday."
"You were in recharge," Prowl stated calmly despite the fuel rushing in his lines; he knew all too well that Ratchet was not to be messed with when angry. But he wouldn't give up that easily, he was Second in Command, he had his pride.
"I was in recharge because I pulled an unexpected nightshift, you..." the expletives and name-calling hung in the air, but obviously Ratchet knew better than to add "Disrespect to a senior officer' to the list of offences.
"You'll be punished for this." Prowl threatened, and earned himself a wide smile.
"You're getting rusty, Prowl, I won't be punished as long as I don't hurt you, other than that, doctor's orders, as the humans say."
"You must be kidding, Ratchet. How can this situation be connected to any medical necessity?."
Ratchet sat down beside him and traced a finger over the cuff around Prowl's leg. The Datsun ignored the tingly feeling it provoked.
"I have chained you to the bed because you're a major cause of sleep deprivation of the entire crew, poor Prime included, and before you ask, no, he doesn't know what I'm doing, I only promised him undisturbed recharge for a change. He didn't seem to care just what I will do to you." Oddly enough, I think he trusts me. And so should you.'
Prowl really tried not to twitch as the finger slipped off the cuff and began innocently tracing the armor around it. He tried to stay cold and unmooved, and he almost managed it when a wave of terror rolled through him at the information that he was depriving Prime off his recharge time. But then Ratchet slipped his finger under the cuff and the metal tightened, making Prowl shudder, any kind of retort he was planning gone. Oh how Prowl hoped Ratchet would not notice.
But the medic wouldn't be a medic if he missed something like that. "All in all you look quite enticing chained and spread like that." Ratchet traced his finger up Prowl's leg. "Really amazing." The finger stopped short of his pelvic plating only to jump to the cuff on another leg, this time instantly slipping under it, twisting and pulling.
Prowl groaned and tried to pull his hands out of the restraints. He would not be left at the mercy of the medic helpless and unable to fight or stop, but it was obviously wrong thing to do as the chains and cuffs tightened again eliciting another groan from him.
"Medical restraints, Prowl; The more you struggle the tighter they get, but I think you'd like them to get really tight, wouldn't you?" There was a tone to this question that Prowl couldn't identify.
"No I wouldn't! I demand that you stop." Prowl tugged again and Ratchet wriggled his finger. Prowl strained against the berth, this time short of whimpering helplessly, but adamant about not showing Ratchet that this was getting to him. Because Ratchet couldn't have known about him and the restraints, could he? And Prowl couldn't succumb to this dirty pleasure from his academy days. He was Prime's SIC now.
Ratchet snorted in response and stopped. He rose up from the berth and regarded Prowl careful, optics sliding over every piece of armor. "I'm going to leave you chained here and let Twins or Jazz on the info, when they boot up of 'll figure it all out, and you seriously look very fraggable like this."
THAT was downright mean thing to do and what Ratchet implied... He really wanted to yell something stupid like 'Go frag yourself' or similar, but he was above that.
"Would it be true then that you have hots for me, Ratchet? Does seeing me like this, bound and helpless get your coolers running?" Yeah, teasing back was much better strategy. Prowl stretched in what he hoped was attractive way and looked straight into Ratchet's optics.
"Oh, you have no idea." The medic's optics darkened, and Prowl cursed his inaccurate assessment of the situation when he heard hum of cooling fans and felt Ratchet press into him, his lips kissing the air out of SIC's ventilation system.
Now he could feel how hot Ratchet's frame really was. Was Ratchet really this turned on? Prowl struggled and whimpered into the kiss as the cuffs tightened enclosing deliciously over his wrists and ankles, the metal scuffing his armor.
Ratchet released his lips from the kiss; Prowl stared at him defiantly. "Stop and Release me," he demanded, but even he heard that the words lacked strength. "Ratchet, please, untie me." He softened his tone, trying this time to ask as he would a friend and not a subordinate.
"Mmmm, you say please so nicely. Maybe if you beg me some more then I'll release you, but till then, let's make sure you enjoy your glitch-leave." With those words Ratchet placed a hand on Prowl's codpiece and rubbed.
"Not likely..." Prowl seethed through his denta, but his body arched into the caress making the restraints tighten up again. He was not going to beg, but as for enjoying it, he probably had no choice, his body decided for him.
Ratchet's hands were hot on his armor, almost burning, the heat spread, conducted to all of the nearby senors, making Prowl squirm. His fans turned on and he fought the subroutines demanding that his codpiece open, demanding his spike to pressurize, to be touched. But had not interfaced for a long time, and it was lost battle from the beginning.
Ratchet chuckled as the codpiece slid aside revealing the pressurizing spike underneath. "I was right after all, you enjoy it." He touched the tip of the spike with his finger and then slid it down to the valve opening. "Maybe you still don't enjoy it enough." He traced his finger around the rim teasingly.
"I had no idea you had this much evil inside you!" Prowl seethed, but his systems were starting to hum with pleasure from those teasing caress.
"You hurt me, Prowl. Think about it, I whack random mechs with the wrench when they misbehave, I'm surely going to enjoy teasing someone bound and helpless, especially someone as fraggable as you." Ratchet still traced around the valve and Prowl felt like whimpering and begging him to 'Stick a finger inside, dammit', But he wouldn't let Ratchet get it this easily. If he wanted him, and all logic dictated that Ratchet planned 'facing him, he could work for it.
"You think that's enough for me? Cuffs, little teasing and you'll have me dripping wet for you, not going to happen."
But Ratchet only smirked and swallowed Prowl's spike, and tactician's logic was lost to his processor, because how could anyone think with a hot mouth around his spike? He wanted to press Ratchet's head lower, to thrust into his mouth, and he even managed to buck, but then strong hands dug into his hips and held him still.
Prowl thrashed helplessly, the cuffs tightening, the chains shortening and making him dizzy with the sensation of being completely overpowered. He couldn't do anything if he wanted; Ratchet was controlling him, holding him, and frag but it was wonderful feeling.
Ratchet released his spike and ex-vented a hot puff of air on it. "That felt nice, didn't it?" He traced his finger over the slick spike and licked it. "You are tasty."
"Go frag yourself" This time Prowl was too lost in pleasure and frustration to stop the words from leaving his vocalizer. He wanted to stare defiantly into Ratchet's optics, but the wet finger distracted him. Oh how he wanted to feel it inside him, teasing him, fragging him.
"Such bad language in your mouth, makes me want to kiss it away." Ratchet bent and pressed his glossa between Prowl's lips, the sensitive plates denting from the pressure, but Prowl couldn't care less, because one hand went to his reflector, gently caressing the glass and the other reached and slid over his chevron. He thrashed and bucked, wanting more of that touch, more of that mouth everywhere.
"Frag, Ratchet." The words slipped out his vocalizer uncontrolled.
"Eventualy," Ratchet teased and traced the finger over armor edges as he licked along Prowl's jaw line only to nip on the sensitive cables at his neck.
Prowl cried out and arched off the berth, struggling against the restraints, wanting them to hold him closer, to trap him, to fragging control him, because that was all that he wanted now. For something to hold him, to loose control. "More," he rasped.
"Beg for it," Ratchet demanded, and his words shot with a shiver through Prowl's body straight into his valve which clenched helplessly.
"No!" Prowl groaned and yelped as Ratchet's hands followed under his knees to caress sensitive wiring. The medic licked his reflector.
"But I know you want me to stick my finger in your valve. It's dripping already. If you ask nicely maybe I'll let you have my spike, hmmm," Ratchet whispered straight into his audio. He licked it, and Prowl shivered, the restraints tightening due to his movements, eliciting a whimper from his vocalizer.
Ratchet's hands moved again and traced the gentlest of caresses over Prowl's sides, only to stop at his hips and press him to the berth. The medic pecked on Prowl's cheek, and kissed a way down his chest, then lapped on the armor plates making Prowl whimper helplessly. He licked along the seams, humming when Prowl moaned at the feeling, only to stop mere inches over Prowl's open codpiece.
"I have time, The longer I keep you here, the longer others can recharge. I won't touch your interface array unless you ask me for it." He purred, blowing hot puffs of air against the straining spike and lubricated valve.
Prowl keened in frustration, his body pulsing with overwhelming desire. He needed to climax, to let out the delicious and frustrating charge that built inside his circuits into an overload.
"Please," he whispered, and the sound of Ratchet's codpiece opening made him shiver. He tried to buck his hips, but Ratchet's hold was strong.
"Mmmm a good start," Ratchet purred and flicked his tongue against the side of Prowl's interface. "Please what.?"
"Touch me." Prowl's ventilation hitched at the caress, so close to where he wanted to feel it.
"I am," Ratchet smirked and dug his fingers into Prowl's hips, making him cry out in pleasure.
"Touch my valve, Ratchet. I need it, Please," Prowl managed, and earned himself a pleasurable growl from Ratchet before a wicked glossa swept over the opening of his valve making the outer sensors blaze with the sudden feeling. Then Ratchet thrust it inside, making Prowl Arch and thrash and cry out in exploding pleasure. It was at once too much and not enough, inflaming him, making his sensors whine and spiral into overload with lightning speed, only to end as abruptly as they started.
Ratchet's hands and glossa and whole presence seemed to disappear suddenly leaving Prowl quivering on the edge. Prowl looked at the medic, his optics onlining from an ecstasy-induced switch-off, only to notice Ratchet panting himself, optics dark with his own desire, spike in his hand and stroking it. Lips parted.
"Please Ratchet, I want your spike inside, I need it. Please." Prowl gyrated his hips tugging at the restraints. His body arched in ebbing pleasure, wanting Ratchet to take him.
The medic whimpered and Prowl watched as he crawled over him, positioned his spike against Prowl's valve and slowly slid it inside flaring one sensor after another. Prowl moaned and tried to hold still, enjoying every inch of Ratchet's spike until it was fully in, both mechs panting in pleasure.
"Slag, you shouldn't be so tight" Ratchet panted. "Tell me if anything hurts."
"Slagging Medic, will you 'face me or not? you tortured me long enough," Prowl growled and bucked.
"Pushy hypocrite."
"Sadistic AAAH YES!" Ratchet moved and Prowl's world blazed with the scorching pleasure of being fragged. He rocked and squirmed and tugged at the restrains wanting them to get tighter, to hold him. Ratchet pounded into him with a steady rhythm, overload building, ecstasy tingling in his wrist and ankles, shivers of need caressing his legs and arms only to pool with a burning heat of the charge in his interface array.
"Can't go... long... you're too... frag.. hot" Ratchet was gasping for words, he was getting close, and Prowl didn't mind.
"Close... let go." Prowl moaned, feeling the overload almost there in his interface.
Ratchet complied, his control snapping, his movements getting faster and jerky. Prowl felt the energy peak and then explode in overload making his body spasm with waves of pure, hot pleasure. His valve clenched as Ratchet erupted in him, transfluid hitting overcharged sensors, making Prowl whimper and thrash around even after Ratchet's wight fell down on him, both sets of coolers working overtime.
Before Ratchet moved, his spike jerked slightly in Prowl's oversensitive valve making the Tactician keen in over-dragged pleasure. And then Ratchet was sliding out of him, self satisfaction plastered all over his face.
"We've made a mess," he smiled, looking between Prowl's legs, and the tactician could feel the said mess as it seeped out his valve.
Prowl rolled his eyes "You've made a mess, so you should clean it." He gasped when Ratchet took out a cloth and gently wiped him... "Oh... thanks... I think."
"You think?" Ratchet gave him a curious look and Prowl mentally facepalmed. They were entirely too relaxed now. After no response from the tactician, Ratchet started to undo the chains, Prowl rubbing at the wrists, finding them in much better shape he expected.
Seeing the wonder in Prowl's optics Ratchet explained, "Medical restraints do not leave signs, I wouldn't want anyone to figure out what I did to keep you in the berth, but now that my work here is done I can go back to my duties." He started to raise up, but Prowl pulled him back and pushed him onto the berth.
"No you're not. " He ordered "You don't have a duty cycle today." Ratchet looked bewildered at him and Prowl smirked " Stay, recharge and don't even think about leaving before I let you. I'm still your officer." Prowl eyed the Medic, checking to see if he would obey, and when he saw no movement from him, he lay down on the one side of the berth. The whole Interfacing left him in need of some more recharge. He sent a glitch leave form to Prime, tagging him as unimportant and iniciated recharge cycle.
Only half consciously was he aware about somehow comforting weight of an arm being thrown over him. Relaxed and satiated, for the first time in a long time he didn't care. With a smile he fell into recharge.