Pretty Wicked Things
by SMYGO4EVA
Before he knew it, it was over.
The beautiful agony released him. He fell back onto the berth. He heard his own jagged air escaping and her soft ventilations; they were the only sounds piercing the room's silence.
Ratchet felt completely numb. The very heavy euphoria almost coursing through his veins, even as he felt Slipstream's huffed air upon his chassis. From what he could tell, she too had fallen under the frenzy from their act. She fell upon his chest to catch her breath, feeling what was left from all the pleasure they had just felt.
She tasted bitter, harsh, almost like spilled Energon, and he couldn't stop her. The scent of overload hung in the cell, the door locked and bolted; they were still connected, which had given just what it wanted.
Taking part in such actions – it has been too long since he felt that kind of pleasure, and the rush in his system were indeed, very well needed for him. The knots had all loosened and tightened before the coil finally snapped when he got the release he needed for so long. All thanks to Slipstream, even when she was his enemy.
Enemy….
"Just so you know, doctor, this meant nothing. This was only something to help you feel less stressed. It's so that you can work on the formula, and so that I felt something equally as pleasurable." Slipstream replied after a long period of silence, pulling away from him and stepped onto the floor.
Ratchet blinked and sighed. "Yes, I-I thought as much."
Slipstream looked back at him and smiled, almost contemptuously. "See, you're smart. You looked like you needed a release. I gave it to you. A conjugal visit, if you will."
Ratchet looked to the side, and then lowered his helm, narrowing his optics. "Of course, if this helps me for the formula—"
"Now you're getting it, Autobot." Slipstream replied as she sauntered over and put a servo on Ratchet's faceplate, lifting his helm so his optics met her own.
"Whenever I tell you that I need you to take me, you'll obey without a single word. I won't say anything to the others – not Shockwave, not Knock Out, not to Soundwave, certainly not to Starscream, and especially not to Lord Megatron. I won't say a word, and you certainly won't. It'll just be two consenting Cybetronians interfacing, so that you, my dear Ratchet, can save your home. Understand?"
Ratchet couldn't believe what he had just heard: he was to work on the formula in exchange for meaningless interfacing? That was Slipstream expected from him, obviously against Megatron's orders. He couldn't go through it. He couldn't. But he had to. He had to save his home, so that Optimus and the rest of Team Prime wouldn't have to fight anymore.
"I am already working under Megatron's orders. But if I do this, if the Synth-En formula is successful, this would mean nothing, and the arrangement would end just like that?"
Slipstream leaned in intently on Ratchet, her servo stroking his faceplate almost lovingly. Her nails hovered mere inches near his neck.
"You give me what I want, like you did just now. In turn I'll make you what you want, make you feel what you've needed since this war began. Then we get the formula; we work together on the Synth-En with my associates, and when it's complete, this will be over and done with. Until then, my dear Ratchet, you are mine to play with. Megatron may have ordered your capture, but you belong to me now."
With that said Slipstream leaned in and kissed the bewildered medic full on the lips. After what had felt like an eternity, she finally broke the kiss and walked towards the door.
"Oh, and by the way, Ratchet, you were amazing." Slipstream remarked to the medic. As she walked out of the room, she grinned wickedly; she saw his faceplate turn crimson upon hearing her say that.
Shutting the door behind her, Slipstream's exit echoed in his cell.
The medic's chassis churned, knots tightening and circuits fried; he didn't think that this would happen. He was a doctor, a medic, and he did what he could to save lives. He didn't suffer from pain or grief or fear, at least, not in front of all who could see him.
Ratchet tried not to have nightmares, not nightmares of a Decepticon femme who should have looked beautiful except for the fact her optics were so very cold.
He had reacted to her touches, so it wasn't what he thought it was, right? Her touches had gained the reactions she wanted, no matter how hard he had tried to suppress them.
He was pathetic, a poor excuse for a medic and a soldier; he couldn't even prevent a femme from…
It couldn't be…it couldn't be…
The medic's servos shook His spark pounded relentlessly, fear and disgust twisting and burning. If he was to show his face again, he hoped, he would be saved. Soon.
Would Optimus believe him? Would Arcee, and the others? Would they understand that a femme took advantage of him, or would they just say that it wasn't possible?
He was weak, pitiful…pathetic…
Ratchet let out a shuddering breath as he put his heavy head in his hands, torment and guilt seeping in his exhausted, broken form.
"What have I done?"
A/N: Again, this fic is in a TFP AU where there was more than one fembot for both the Autobots and the Decepticons, and in this case, it's Slipstream, from War of Cybertron, as TFP takes place in the Aligned continuity - NOT one of Drift's Mini-cons from Robots in Disguise, to avoid confusion.
A/N (2): I do not condone rape or even write about it as much. I'm only implying it in other fics, but understand that it is a terrible crime. I only put this in to show that Slipstream had enough power to do such a thing to Ratchet. Mark this, everyone – non-consensual sex is not love and it is unforgivable. It is not the victim's fault, only the attacker's. Don't flame me for this and understand that.