"C'mon, Ratchet-you know you can trust me."

And that was the most precious yet wretchedly painful, most awful thing Wheeljack could have said to him.

Because he knew he could trust Wheeljack—but could Wheeljack trust him?

There was a party aboard the Ark; and Jazz had been hoping to get with Prowl that night.

…least to say that more than he was getting 'lucky.'

Ratchet watched the other 'bots mingle; getting entirely to close for their usual personal comfort fields and becoming far too overcharged.

Wheeljack was in his lab; a serious project capturing his attention so much that, even when he tried to invite Ratchet to go, Ratchet had almost taken the offer-however; he didn't care to end up in his own medbay.

So Ratchet sat alone; sipping at his highgrade-which admittedly he handled much better than the mechs he was currently watching with slight amusement and even more irritation.

Tracks was slowly kissing along Mirage's neck cables; biting softly when he heard the spy moan and nuzzle his faceplate against Tracks's forehelm – either out of slight embarrassment or a show Ratchet wasn't sure; but if Hound found out there would be hell to pay for them both. The tracker was on a mission in Arabia and couldn't attend the party that night, or for the past three months. Bumblebee had avoided getting caught between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe; who were currently focusing their attention on Smokescreen-who obviously enjoyed the attention lavished upon his frame in ways that even Jazz would be reluctant to mention. The mechs that had already gone to interface – mainly the lightweights; such as the minibots, Perceptor and Ironhide (Ratchet chuckled at this thought) – were long gone; since it was already…Ratchet checked his internal chronometer.

Two in the morning.

"Hey M-Medic~"

Ratchet felt two servos run down his windshield.

"Why aren't yyyyou in the medbay? I'd love to examine you.."

Ratchet didn't know whether to feel extremely irritated or incredibly violated…until he felt those nimble servos work their way under his hood and the mech behind him earned a rev of Ratchet's engine.

"C-Come'n, doct'r…I have an illness only you can cure—see; I got this bad case of lovin' you~"

Ratchet felt a kiss upon his neck cables, slowly, steadily running down until it met the base wires that connected to his neck and his internals screamed with bliss.

And then things went from good to great.

As the effects of the highgrade kicked in (like they had awhile ago; Ratchet just never took notice of them because in heavier frames they travelled slower), and Ratchet felt his processor starting to slip into a haze; especially when the mech's own red servos took his, and started to play with the most sensitive part of his frame and 'Primus this feels so nice..' Ratchet gave a soft,contented sigh; letting the feelings rush over him.

"Primus, let me hear that sound again.."

Then he heard the mech whisper in his audio.

"No…actually, let me hear you do better."

The mech behind him leaned down to suck at one of his fingers; and Ratchet nearly lost it there, blinded by a colorful extasy.

And then he noticed that the mech was in his view.

And by Primus he couldn't believe his optics.

And who the frag would have guessed; out of all the mechs aboard the Ark?

First Aid practically hung off him; hanging on his servos and nibbling gently on one digit…where was his mouth guard?

"FirST Aid..!" Ratchet's vocalizer crackled with static as his apprentice bit down gently on his mentor's thumb, humming softly into Ratchet's very sensitive metalline.

"Yes, sir~?"

"First Aid; this isn't-"

Ratchet didn't get to finish his sentence as First Aid pulled him into a kiss. Panic sparked around his bond; and he quickly shut his bond to Wheeljack only to realize that he had done so already to avoid distracting the engineer when he was close to finishing his project.

Ratchet found himself rudely awakened back to reality to find the First Aid was now slowly and tantalizingly grinding into the pelvic region of his lap as Ratchet himself was pulling the smaller bot into a deeper kiss, only to be broken about two seconds later with a whisper soft sound coming from the mech atop of him; never stopping from moving his hips-scraping against his own.

"You would think you would have asked wh-hy I took off my mouth guard…but I'll show you how mysterious I can b-be with the hidden talents I can do without it."

Ratchet shuttered his optics a few times in shock as First Aid leaned in for another kiss, and the medic's last conscious thoughts were worries of his bonded; and how he would be hurt…and then his passion and needs took control.

Ratchet found himself stumbling along behind First Aid; being gently tugged towards his own quarters by the smaller medic-in-training. As they approached, the younger mech clawed his fingers against Ratchet's hood almost desperately.

"Ratchet, unlock th' doooooooors…"

The medic complied; sending a mental ping to unlock and open his quarters (instead of the medbay; where someone may walk in on them), and carried the smaller mech inside; only to roughly deposit him on the berth.

"Nngh, Ratchet, I like it when you treat me rough…"

Ratchet growled; his engine giving a sharp rev as he climbed onto the berth that the smaller mech occupied. First Aid immediately lunged for Ratchet's waist, wrapping his arms under Ratchet's thigh's and locked him in place as he dragged his glossa across the hot metal that was the only thing from releasing Ratchet's spike. Ratchet groaned loudly and pressed First Aid's helm closer to his region, who complied with little mewls and nuzzles towards his rapidly heating armor.

"Open uuuuuppppp – don't make me auto-release you."

Ratchet opened his panel with a quick snap (knowing that this wasn't a pleasant experience for any mech or femme; regardless of faction) and First Aid marveled at the sight of the red and white spike that sprung to life before him, tall and proud.

Ratchet was becoming a bit uneasy with the slightly-too-long-stare before the smaller mech before him completely engulfed his spike in his mouth. Ratchet didn't even have time to gasp before First Aid started to bob his helm; taking in a slightly larger amount each time.

Ratchet didn't brag about his size like other mechs might; but he quite knew he had his own package.

First Aid swirled his glossa around the senior medic's spike; starting from the base and going to the tip; just to reverse and go back to the base as his helm bobbed back and forth. Ratchet grit his denta and grabbed First Aid by the hip joints; and rubbing little circles on his panel that protected his valve. Less than a nanosecond later it clicked open; revealing a slightly dripping wet valve that radiated heat inches away.

Ratchet wasted no time in pushing in two digits; right to the third knuckle of his servo. The medic shuddered as he felt the valve clench around the two fingers; arousal further pushed on by the stifled gasp and his moaning into Ratchet's spike from First Aid – more than likely because of the sudden and none-too-gentle intrusion.

First Aid continued to suck on Ratchet's spike; adding little nibbles and sucking movements every so often while Ratchet had started a steady rhythm of thrusting his servo into his valve, growing slightly more rugged with each thrust.

First Aid; however, had made the mistake of biting the chief medic a bit too hard. Ratchet yelped (though First Aid seemed not to hear—or he was ignoring the elder medic) and took his servo out of the younger mech's valve, quite to his protest; and took the smaller mech from his spike to lick off his own transfluids.

First Aid had let go of the medic and suckled at his fingers until all five were absolutely spotless; letting Ratchet moan and writhe in place-and apparently taking no shame in it. If anything, First Aid appeared to be very much enjoying the show if the look on his faceplate was anything to go by.

Ratchet nearly sighed in relief when First Aid stopped sucking on his sensitive digits and moved on.

Then he realized how much moving the mech was actually doing.

The medic-in-training rolled over to lay on his front, leaning back onto his knee struts and lifting his aft into the air; while using the plating on his forearms to support himself.

"C'mon medic…fill me up with the medicine that I need."

Ratchet looked over to the valve that was literally dripping a small amount of pre-transfluid down First Aid's inner thighs. Ratchet hefted himself up onto his knee struts; placing his servos on either side of First Aid's hips, his legs on the inside of First Aid's, and aligned his hips with the younger mechs.

"Ratchet, if you don't hurry up and plug—a-AH!"

With one quick thrust; Ratchet had buried his spike hilt deep into the smaller mech's valve. First Aid had immediately reacted; arching his back outwards and hissing in slight pain. Ratchet continued; an unforgiving pace. The mech wanted rough? He got it. As Ratchet felt the warm tingles of overload arising, he felt a pressure build against his spike and splatter out of the small space that Ratchet continued to thrust into. It landed on Ratchet's thighs as it ended, and after First Aid slumped to the berth. Ratchet continued thrusting until he peaked at overload himself; thrusting in one last time to release his transfluid inside a very spent First Aid. As Ratchet finished; First Aid mumbled something incoherent before his systems went off line.

Ratchet gave a sigh of relaxation as the buzz of the overload receded, pulling out of First Aid and letting the liquids pool out of First Aid's legs around them as he lay down beside the smaller mech.

He could clean it up in the morning.

As he got comfortable, Ratchet lay his helm right above First Aid's.

It took the elder medic roughly .206717 seconds to drift into the bliss of its own that was recharge.

As Ratchet's systems started out of recharge one by one, his optics onlined and he seen his apprentice recharging on his berth. About to call out his name and ask him what he was doing in his berth, Ratchet seen something from the corner of his optic and looked down.

The mess of transfluid crusted on their frames could have given him confirmation.

His spike and First Aid's port still being open proved it without a doubt.

Ratchet's spark nearly stopped. He realized what he had done…

"Primus-"

First Aid shifted. 'A light sleeper, eh? This will be difficult…but not unmanageable.'

Ratchet had quietly gotten up, easing himself away from the tumbled mess he has been in with his apprentice. He got the cleaning supplies and sprayed himself first, cleaning himself with the rag they kept with the solvent until the started feeling like Sunstreaker. Then, he went to First Aid and-instead of spraying him-opened him up to make sure he would stay in recharge for at least half the day.

After he cleaned First Aid, he scrubbed down the berth.

And everything looked fine.

After Ratchet put the solvents away, he was pacing back an forth in front of First Aid and happened to noticed something wrong with his pelvic region.

There were white streaks of paint on him. Ratchet looked down and realized that there was streaks of red on his abdominal plating. Not even questioning how it happened, he gently picked up First Aid and took him to the medbay-that's where the paints were.

He just hoped that the trip would be as boring and uneventful as ever.

Ratchet sighed with relief. The only one that had gone by was Prowl; and he was far too busy with the datapad he was currently examining to even give a nod of acknowledgement as he went by.

Once inside; Ratchet had placed First Aid on one of the special berths (specifically made for repainting a unconscious bot-you never knew what trouble they got into until they ended up in your medbay) and immediately got out the paints to start fixing First Aid's out-of-place colors. It took roughly an hour, and once he was done all that was left for Fist Aid to do was dry. Earlier it had taken four hours to get the berth and First Aid cleaned; going through several clothes and half a bottle of solvent before Ratchet was satisfied. Now Ratchet was hoping that it would dry before First Aid woke up…and paint usually takes about a half hour to dry, sometimes a whole hour for thorough results.

The elder medic just needed to fix himself now; which would be marginally more difficult. Before he did so, he ducked into his office and used a small examining tool to get his aft an the back of his legs. Being a elder medic had its perks-sharp optics notice smaller, finer details. After he was done with his back, he worked around both sides of his hips-right first, then left-and finished with his front.

Finally finished, he put away the paints and got out a syringe.

There was no way in slag he got that drunk last night.

"R…Ratchet..?"

Ratchet turned over and looked at First Aid, his spark laced with panic, however he forced himself a calm reply.

"Well hello First Aid. It's about time you woke up."

"What happened last night..?"

Ratchet turned to look at him. The poor little bot probably couldn't handle the highgrade in his thinner frame.

"What do you remember?"

"N-Nothing…and my mask is gone…."

Distress flowed and around the smaller mech's field in archs and small ebbs.

This could work to his advantage…and besides, Ratchet knew First Aid would never act like he had last night; and he would be disappointed and ashamed of himself in such a way that would even make Ironhide depressed upon looking upon the medic-in-training if First Aid found out.

"Well, you were very hyper. Bouncing off the walls, even."

"Is…is that it?"

"That's it."

First Aid sighed in relief.

"I'll help you look for your mask as soon as I'm done with your energon results."

"My energon-ow..!"

Ratchet had taken the syringe and drawn some energon from First Aid's soft protoform, in the spot between his armor on his arm.

Ratchet sprayed the liquid into a test tube and dismissed Fist Aid, reminding him that he would help him in his search when he finished. When he left, Ratchet pulled out a new syringe and did the same to his own protoform by his wrist; not even flinched as it penetrated his 'skin.'

After Ratchet put his own energon into various different test tubes, he added a different chemical to each tube and flicked them a couple times each.

Nothing happened.

Ratchet was just about to sigh when a blue sample of energon started turning pink; and even farther into a deep red.

Ratchet picked it up and looked at it, adding some of the same chemical into First Aid's energon test tube and waited.

A few minutes later, it started going pink and changed to the same deep red.

They had been drugged by one of the most potent yet rare drugs in the galaxy

Prnaxus.