A/N: This was origionally a prompt put up by DeathStallion on DA and ChimeraDark on the LJ Twins-x-Ratch comm.
Hearken younglings, listen well,
for the truth 'tis all I tell.
The lycan howls, the nightwalker cries,
the fey dance and the mortal dies,
But all obey the siren's call
for by Her song in love they fall …
The chapel stood like a skeletal finger strut silhouetted against the night dark sky, blotting out the stars and moon above. Snow crunched beneath his pedes, crackling like the bubbled slag remains of mechs burnt with magnesium fire at the stake. Inside, the lifeless frames of countless Autobots hung from shackles along the once pristine chapel walls; walls now splattered in the garish macabre hues of mech fluids. Along the dull stone floor equally decorated in disturbing shades of death lie disemboweled frames of innumerable Decepticons. Everywhere the air was heady with the sickly sweet stench of death.
No echoes resounded from his faltering tread as he headed down the rightmost corridor behind the altar. It was cold here, frigid as the winter night outside could never be. Along the floor freezing water, colder than ice puddled and condensed, the occasional drop falling upwards to the ceiling crying out the presence evil.
The silence, punctuated by the rising droplets dripping upwards with echoing plips, was broken only by the slow grating of stone as a massive hidden door in the wall gradually slid open. From beyond the threshold blew in a killing chill, freezing the moisture from the air to fall as spreading frost along the dampened floors, like scattered rock salt falling as gentle lethal hail. He ran, fearing the spreading deadly ice without in the corridor more than the frigid air within the pitch black room.
It was warm; a small fire glowing in a low hearth heated the room, making the transition from relentless cold to comforting warmth churn his tanks, making him swallow tensely with a grimace the bitter fluid rising in his throat. Disoriented and unsteady he lit a lamp, increasing the meager firelight only slightly as he moved about the strangely familiar room. He turned, peering deeper into the consuming darkness until the dim gleam of ruddy hued plating caught his optics and stilled his intakes.
Beauty was something he had never held much stock in. He knew he was less than beautiful, still sometimes, like the perfect golden dawn in summer or a youngling activating its optics for the first time, beauty caught him by surprise. And, he mused as he tried to get his spark back in its chamber and his glossa out of his throat; this was one of those times.
They were beautiful. Warriors, taller than him by at least a head were pressed against the far wall. Bright plating colored a ruddy gold and deep red glimmered in the fire lit room. Their lines were clean, forms radiating power and strength even in their unconscious states. The golden mech caught his optics the most. His helm was graced with curved, flaring scalloped audio crests that arched out like strange shells found along the distant shore. The red form, though more angular than the nearly organic golden one, held sensor horns shaped like crystals, his helm more angular and faceted as a gem. Their necks, long and powerful were highlighted by vibrant blue tubing protecting their main energon lines, the bright contrasting colors only increasing their beauty. Their helms were black, highlighted in gold for the curved one and deeper black for the crystalline other.
He stared transfixed at their forms yet, something was off about how they stood there. It was as if they had no optics to speak of. He approached the warrior pair and cursed in horrified surprise. The pair had been bolted to the massive arching pillars. The heavy titanium spikes piercing through each joint ensured they would not be moved easily. Chains secured their frames to the pillars over the bolts as if someone feared the two could have the strength to rip the restraints from their damaged forms.
Thick blind folds masked the upper portions of their faces, gags muzzled them and around their necks shimmering golden gossamer cloths hung as bizarre accessories to their heavy bindings. He turned to the golden form pulled to the warm hue against his will. Bolts were carefully pulled from the wounds, each gaping hole thoroughly cleaned and bound. With each spike pulled he looked for the silver grey of processed energon, the light blue coolant, dark greenish-black lubricants, vibrant orange hydraulics, venom yellow servo fluids, or any other rainbow hued liquid a mech could generate – and found none.
The frames beneath his hands hummed steadily from active systems. They were running on the cool side, but with so little fluid in their systems it was unsettling that they ran at all. Finally, the last wound tended, he pulled the chains from the warriors, one at a time with painstaking slowness. He had to carefully lower them to the ground to keep from aggravating their extensive wounds.
Hands and arms trembling from the exertion he rolled the golden warrior over, accidentally ripping off the gossamer cloth about the mech's throat pulling it off black neck cabling by a rough chain link.
Suddenly he was pinned against the golden plating, strong arms holding him immobile against the broad chest plates. A warm mouth clamped around the cabling of his neck as a sting of agony ripped through him, making him cry in ecstasy. This close to the other mech a soft fragrance rose to tantalize his olfactory sensors, alluring and heady, intoxicating yet subtle he pressed himself closer, white hot desire making him rub wantonly against the other as another set of arms wrapped securely about his waist sandwiching him between both warriors with a needy moan –
Long shadows stretched across the white ceiling, weak late afternoon sunlight making the room feel stifled and drowsy. Within the oversized berth Ratchet stirred sluggishly despite the fresh charge filling his interface array burning him from the inside out. Noting the late hour of the day, his third in Pax Crystalia, he vented unhappily, thanks to that 'miracle' he had lost the entire day to recharging – and dreaming of the thrall that had nearly made him bare himself to the very nightwalkers who had destroyed Coldsteel Garrison. He wanted to scream, and only the memory of his first tour reminded him that the one day lost this time had been nowhere near as severe as his first, where he had nearly lost a week to exhaustion. That thought kept him calm. That, and how energized he felt now as his frame seethed with need and burning want.
Finding himself for once allowed to rest he shifted uncomfortably. His plating prickled and his lines tensed with unfulfilled longing. The charge in his lines had never completely faded after being enthralled by the nightwalker pair in the chapel of the former Steeldale village and the dream he had just pulled himself from had only encouraged the heady burn to conflagration.
Now, he shifted again, his frame longed for the very creatures he feared, even as his spark yearned for the beautiful mechs who had saved him from freezing to death on the road, and watched his back in the brawl yesterday. His processors felt fuzzy, drifting within the haze of need and unfulfilled lust.
"You seem tense." A voice purred with dark intent that sent tremors of desire coursing through Ratchet's lines like burning liquid mercury. He looked down, startled at the intent optics staring at him hungrily from their perch on his abdomen and hip plating.
"You two are squishing me." Ratchet groused gruffly, internally flinching at his petulant tone that seethed with need. He sounded like a street walker, he thought with disgust even as the beautiful pair laying indolently on top of him smiled hugely, optics brightening with desire and emotions Ratchet lacked the experience to identify.
A black hand spread across Ratchet's chest, pressing over his wildly pulsing spark, "All the better to seduce you, then." Sideswipe purred, tracing seams on Ratchet's bare chest plating. Ratchet cycled his optics, when had he lost his shirt?
Fingers gently guided Ratchet's chin, pulling him into a chaste press of lip plating. Firm lips pressed against his, nibbling languidly without deepening the exchange as Sunstreaker stoked the inferno building in Ratchet's interface circuits. Sideswipe continued to press open mouthed kisses along the taunt, white abdominal plating, trailing slowly towards tantalizing red hips, hips that clothing usually kept secreted from his hungering gaze.
Ratchet shuddered, trapped beneath the glorious, beautiful pair. They tormented his plating, earning writhing shudders and throaty moans as skilled musicians playing electro-harps. He was torn as he slowly gave into his mounting desire between fulfilling his longing for the pair so willingly in his berth and protecting the beautiful idiots from the nightwalkers that plagued his waking moments – nightwalkers that suddenly seemed nonexistent in his processors, as if the past three and a half weeks of horror and recrimination had never been.
Sensing his uncertainty in the hesitant return of his kisses Sunstreaker gently pulled away, optics deepened to a near cobalt hue in a mesmerizing mix of unchecked desire and concerned adoration. "You can ask us to stop." He spoke breathlessly, deep voice nudging the healer's lust beyond mere want, optics belying his soothing words.
Ratchet let his hazy processors follow that statement. He thought of stopping them, taking a cold shower and putting in some work – focusing on his route map while ignoring the aching longing coursing through his lines like searing venom that tormented him in increasing agony building by the second – "Frag that." Ratchet hissed as he pulled Sunstreaker roughly to him, crushing their lips together in a fierce demanding kiss. His other hand blindly sought Sideswipe's helm pressing the other mech further down towards his interface array and the desperately burning circuitry there.
He lost track of time as his glossa tangled with Sunstreaker's. Their mouths battling for dominance of the kiss and Ratchet refused to back down. He lost track of everything as a skilled glossa writhe within his valve, gasping into the talented mouth dueling with his as the slick appendage writhed within his sensitive channel.
Thick fingers pressed into his valve, a mouth enveloping his spike, bobbing as he was sucked in sync with the thrusting of those deliciously roughened fingers against the many sensitized nodes that sang within his valve walls wringing a cry of delight from his lips. Sunstreaker pulled from the prolonged kiss, optics locked with Ratchet's lust hazed own, smiling a salacious grin that made Ratchet's spark hitch from its promise and beauty. Why these gorgeous mechs were loving him he didn't know – his thought was cut off, shattered from his processors as more fingers, smooth as the softest silk joined with the roughened fingers still stimulating his delicate inner lining.
Ratchet watched the pair seducing him, enthralled as they moved over and around each other. They barely registered the other was there – and yet it was as if they were almost hyper aware of their positions. They never touched, never tuned to pleasure each other and yet if one made Ratchet squirm or moan they both grinned like younglings with new candy. One's joyous discovery was equally shared with the other.
His side tracked musings were cut off as the pair shifted and gathered Ratchet into their arms, fingers abandoning their dalliance within his valve as large, trembling spikes, one black one gold, slowly pressed to fill him. They seethed in exquisite agony, the taller pair hissing their delight in his still tight valve even as he moaned long and loud as they pressed further inside with maddening slowness. Deep, throbbing moans rushed from his mouth, gusting his lovers with heated intakes. The chill air of the room swiftly heated, vapor rising from Ratchet's burning plating as he was slowly filled with those powerful spikes.
Condensation clung heavily to the red and golden frames dripping to saturate the heavy bedclothes. Twin sighs came as the pair surrounding him hilted themselves, panting softly as he adjusted to their girths. Ratchet licked hungrily along Sideswipe's neck plating, grinding shallowly against black and gold plating pressing impossibly close to signal he was ready. And, like hunting cats charging after startled prey they began thrusting in earnest, long strokes stimulating every node almost painfully within his too full valve, making him keen in joyous ecstasy at the sweet agony.
Sunstreaker groaned from the tight heat encasing him and his twin, grinding his denta as he fought the urge to enthrall his lover with his kiss. Ratchet made it so difficult as he pushed against their thrusts, that delectable valve rippling and clenching about them, milking them ever closer towards release. Thrusting their spikes further into Ratchet's slicked channel they wrung sweet moans that were a siren's call pulling the twins deeper into their desire for the smaller white mech crying their names and writhing between them.
Sideswipe trembled as he fought for control as his brother set their pace, sought to deepen this exquisite encounter as he sealed his lips against the healer's mouth tasting the frame-shuddering moans. The medic owned them, controlled them. His fear became their courage, his lust their pleasure. He could command them to rip out their own spark and they would do so gratefully if only to feel his joy swell their battered spark before it left their death grayed frames as so much ash. The imagery was erotic within his processors, spiking his lust and increasing his thrusts. His desire bleed through the twin bond, making Sunstreaker growl ferally, denta bared as optics bleed to dark violet with the loss of their self control and their guises.
Ratchet moaned into the talented mouth sealing against his own, cried out as another bit savagely against his neck plating that seared delicious pained pleasure through his lines and stoked him to overload. His valve spiraled tightly down on the paired spikes still thrusting shallowly within him as he keened his release, the pair grunting their releases one after the other as he came down from the earth shattering high.
Trembling with exhaustion and sated to the point of recharge Ratchet slumped against the red chest before him, clinging tightly to the frames shielding him in his weakened state of afterglow. The twins shifted him, moved him to lay with them, still conjoined by the sated spikes twitching within his shuddering valve.
"'Jack's never going to let me live this down." Ratchet sighed as he clung closer to his lovers, smiling as he felt their sated smirks and possessive optics land on his bent helm. The pair lounged in contented silence as they held Ratchet, ghosting fingers both rough and smooth over his overheated frame as he slowly slipped into a light doze safely surrounded by his new lovers and dark violet light.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe let themselves lie in pleasured bliss with the recharging healer as the late afternoon shadows slowly lengthened towards golden dusk that mingled night darkness with daylight shade. :: It's time. :: Sideswipe urged silently, reluctantly pulling himself and his twin from their lover's berth.
:: I love him. :: Sunstreaker breathed in awe over their bond, deep violet optics locked devotedly on the white frame. Sideswipe smiled broadly at his twin, their new affection for this medic quickly becoming a solid anchor within their tattered spark.
:: I know. :: Sideswipe pulled his twin gently from the berth side, and into the en suite wash racks, taking time to make their armor shine. :: We need to do this with him next time. :: the red twin leered towards the shut wash rack door as if he could still see Ratchet's sated frame leaking their transfluids from that beautiful valve. He grunted as Sunstreaker's elbow slammed into his chest.
:: Less spacing, more waxing. If we're going to intimidate our 'host' we have to be flawless. :: Sunstreaker glared over his shoulder at his twin, getting a smug, leering smirk in return.
:: You just don't want some nameless grifter to scent our healer on us and think to take a tumble in the berth with him. :: Sideswipe snickered, swallowing his mirth immediately as Sunstreaker's rare possessive streak blazed across their bond, instantly turning Sideswipe's cheerful ribbing into black hate and green jealously writhing through their spark. The thought meant as a jibe to his normally more aloof twin had sent them both reeling from the depth of their ardent devotion to Ratchet.
:: We're so slagged. :: The though came unbidden between their bond, unknowing who said it or if it was one of those emotions that came straight from their shared spark in a voice that was both theirs and neither, as if their spark held a voice of its own.
:: Let's go. :: Sunstreaker snarled, giving his red twin a once over before they vanished from mortal sight.
Bleary optics blinked with vague awareness at the darkened room, taking in the early night darkness that filled the space and his cold berth with deep shadows while the window just above the headboard still glowed dimly with day's last dying light. "They're gone." Ratchet sighed almost despondently as he moved from the berth, grimacing as the heavy sheets peeled from his frame wetly with the mingled transfulids from their lovemaking. He coughed, the dim reek of ozone and hard interface lingering in the air, making the room nearly unbearable with their reek.
He swiftly stripped the berth of its sheets, wiping the mattress down before remaking the it with fresh sheets from the small wardrobe by the berth room door. Still in the nude he pulled air cleansing incense from his healing pack, lighting them to pull the love stink from the room and moved to the wash racks, scenting his lovers' unique wash and wax within the still damp room with an uncomfortable pang of uncertainty. He had, somewhere in his recharge, led himself to believe that he'd wake up to them staring at him, counting his intakes as he rested like some sappy scene from a love ballad.
Shaking his head at his own ridiculousness Ratchet quickly cleansed himself, his processors urging him to clean himself quickly and maybe get some real work done before this day was lost completely. Now he just had to pray that the lingering stench from their earlier activities would be removed from the room before Wheeljack showed up. Finally clean he strode from the washroom, foregoing a towel to cover his modesty as his satchel was just outside the washroom door – and gapped at Wheeljack's knowing smirk.
'Jack smirked, one optic ridge quirking towards the berth, audio indicators strobing his amusement as he looked over his brother's nude form. "Oh, really?"
Ratchet gaped, faceplates burning with mortification as his brother merely leaned against the room's table, arms casually folded across his chest. He felt trapped, mortified at 'Jack finding him like this, hurt at waking alone and furious that he was being such a pansy-bot.
"Not that I blame them, you are easy on the optics Ratch." 'Jack finally spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence, still scrutinizing his brother.
"Say one more word, any word and I will steak you out for sunrise." Ratchet snarled savagely as he pushed past his brother to his satchel and clothes, "And 'Jack? If First Aid hears one rumor of this I will rip your spark out through your nasal assembly."
Despite the threats he knew were more promise than idle banter, 'Jack grinned beneath his face guard, an angry, violent Ratchet was much more comforting and familiar than this nice, helpful bot he was pretending to be out here on his winter circuit. "He won't hear one word from me, but I'm sure these thin walls will provide all the savory, sordid details his mortal spark could ask for."
"Slaggit, 'Jack! It's not like I planned this! They should have been at their stall selling their precious energon, not in here seducing – with me – they shouldn't have been in here with me." Ratchet snarled flustered as he savagely yanked his clothes from his pack with a soft curse.
"What's wrong?" Jack immediately asked, not knowing how to deal with Ratchet's sudden emotional bouts that were threatening to give him elevation sickness from his rising fury to his spiraling depression.
"They were here, with me when I woke up this afternoon. They – " he gestured helplessly to the empty berth room still fragrant with the pungent sweet stench of a hard interface, and something Wheeljack couldn't identify, some underlying scent that made his neck plating prickle with unease. "Then they were gone and I – I – damn it 'Jack I never wanted to fall in love. Unmaker, take them." Ratchet swore softly as he pulled on the last of his robes.
Wheeljack stared at his brother in stunned silence, wondering what Unmaker sent nightmare he had just walked in to. His brother, the Unmaker incarnate himself, had finally found a – no two – lovers. Within his processors terrifying images of his brother fawning over the merchant pair, murmuring sweet nothings in public and acting like any youngling on their first crush warred violently with nauseating scenes of Hide and Chromia bouncing like littles at seeing their mechling settled with mates. He could only look to the ceiling in desperate supplication, "Primus save me."
