Bleed Like Me

Universe: Prime

Pairing: RatchetxDrones

Story Rating: R/MA+

Chapter Rating: MA+

Warnings: Violence; Sexual content

Description: One day Ratchet shows up without any warning on the Nemesis and living with the Drones no less. When he shows them an ounce of kindness several decide to take him under their wings or wheels without any question as to why he left the Autobots.

"Who's gonna fight for what's right?
Who's gonna help us survive?
We're in the fight of our lives.
(And we're not ready to die)

Who's gonna fight for the weak?
Who's gonna make 'em believe?
I've got a hero (I've got a hero).
Livin' in me.

I'm gonna fight for what's right.
Today I'm speaking my mind.
And if it kills me tonight.
(I will be ready to die)

A hero's not afraid to give his life.
A hero's gonna save me just in time."

~ Skillet "Hero"

Even though I knew for certain that Sermin had gone to visit Knockout last night, he walked into the mess hall with a better disposition than ever. I stood to meet them halfway, noting several scratches across the young miner's form but also the slight bounce in his step. "Good morning, Ratchet, Sermin," I say, glad for the comforting smile on the older mech's faceplate.

"Good morning, Gabriel! I'll go get us our cubes," Sermin tells Ratchet before walking off.

I didn't miss the soft graze of Sermin's servo to Ratchet's. I note a slight limp but it could have been worse. "Good morning, Gabe, how are you?" Ratchet asks as he starts towards our usual table. My servo stops him with a light touch on his arm.

"Thank you," I say softly so that no one else hears. He looks up at me with a light curiosity and I can't help but squeeze his arm. "Whatever you did helped."

His optics flash slightly in what I can only think is anger. "This has been going on for a while," it wasn't a question. His grimace was livid and I could practically feel the heat coming from him. "That's disgusting."

"It's what we were built for," I point out.

"No, it's not!" he snaps, catching the attention of some of the others around us. I can't help the smile that crosses my faceplate behind my mask; he was a passionate old model, I'd give him that. "You were built to be warriors, not interface Drones!"

His heated response, the look in his optics, only furthered my respect for the mech. I let my smile widen behind my mask before, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder; it was a poor substitute for what I truly wanted to do to him at that moment. It would have to suffice for now. "You are one of few who think that, Ratchet," I tell him before turning to walk towards our table.

"Have you already had your energon for the morning?" he changes the subject as we sit down. We were the first at the table and I nodded my helm easily. "You always take your ration before the rest?"

"It is prudent, as a leader, for me to keep my team at ease. I fear that my appearance would only cause more distress," I explain calmly. I was accustomed to the burns, seeing as I had had them for most of my function, but I feared for the opinions of my team. They could not lose faith in my ability to lead or fight; I did not want them to question my leadership on the field. Only disaster could come from that.

He chuckles lightly, the sound pure music even though it was a rough texture. "You wouldn't be vain, would you?" he smirks with a kind of humor that puts me at ease. He was neither mocking, nor condescending when he laughed; instead, it was the kind of laughter that invited you to join in with him. It was contagious and a disease I wouldn't mind succumbing to.

"If by that, you mean to assume that I am not self-conscious of the burns, then you would be correct," I chuckle, fully enjoying the way my vocalizer didn't hurt when I used it. It was nice having a fully operational vocalizer, but, truth be told, all the attention I got for it was exhausting.

Ratchet looked across the hall to see where the other were in line and I couldn't help but admire him. He wasn't the most attractive mech I had ever seen, by any means, but there was a certain charm to him. He was a bulky, heavily-armored mech but his waist was slender and his hips surely rounded under all of his protective coverings. Perhaps I could get him to let me strip him of his outer metal so that I could feel every inch of his protoform against mine.

As if sensing my thoughts, he turns to look at me. "What?" he asks with a small amount of flush creeping over his cheek ridges.

The heat that spread through my system was unnerving. "I was just thinking…" I whisper, leaning my mask close to his audio receptor. My vocalizer was attractive, I knew this by now, so I let it dip low and husky. "Of all the ways I could thank you for my vocalizer…tonight."

I watched the shudder rush down his spinal struts and smirked. The heat poured off of him but he couldn't answer before Puck pushed in between us on the bench to sit down. "Alright you two! You're making everyone uncomfortable!" he laughs playfully. "Oh man, you're warm!"

"Shut up, Puck," Dante sighs, sitting across from us with his own cube.

"What? I can't help that I'm dreadfully jealous of the attention Ratchet gets from chocolate-chords over here," he states patting me on the arm in a friendly way. It wasn't an unwelcome gesture but I wasn't used to others openly touching me; usually, fear and discomfort were what mechs felt around me. Maybe this vocalizer was a good thing after all.

"Chocolate-chords?" Ratchet questions, smiling up at Sermin as a cube is set in front of him. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one that notices the happiness in the young miner's optics or the soft pat that Ratchet gives to his slim aft. "Have you even tried chocolate? And a vocalizer is a box not made up of chords."

Puck rolls his optics, he had been picking up more and more human quirks since we got to Earth. Probably watching that slag they called entertainment. "It's just a saying, Ratch, jeez," he mutters, earning a sigh from his best friend.

How he and Dante got along…I'll never understand.

"Just saying," Puck continues casually. "If Gabriel was a human, he'd be black!"

Dante smacks the front of his mask with his palm in frustration. "Primus above, Puck!" he sighs in exasperation.

"Aw, you know you love me, Dante!" the mech purrs, shifting his leg under the table.

"Sometimes I won-AH!" I didn't even want to know why Dante had nearly jumped out of his seat in surprise. "Puck!"

I can't help laughing with the others around me even as Gene comes by to sit down with us. "Alright, femmes, you're both pretty," he comments as he takes the seat right in front of me. "You're vocalizer sounds good, Gabriel. How's it feel?"

Gene was probably one of the only vehicons that I could stand for long periods of time. He enjoyed his space and his independence, which I could respect. He wasn't as loud and obnoxious as his brethren either. "Like it was just manufactured," I respond with a glance at Ratchet. He was holding his own conversation with Sermin and it was nice to see the youngling so relaxed.

We lapse into an easy silence for a few moments, happy to take in the conversation around us. Gene is the first to break it. "There's a raid today," he finally mutters so Ratchet won't hear us over his current conversation.

"There is," I affirm calmly. Raids were a tricky business. Supposedly, the Autobots had found a good source of energon and were working hard to mine it before we could get there. Megatron definitely had the upper hand when it came to mining because of all the miner Drones he had. "You ready?"

He vents a sigh before drinking more of his energon. "As ready as I'll ever be. We lose more vehicons in mine raids," he whispers and I can hear the unvoiced fear: Am I next? It was a valid concern but he hadn't lasted this long because he wasn't capable.

My fist clenches under the table at a sudden rush of anger. It's source was hard to place so I let it go. "Just stay away from Bulkhead. Let the double digits take care of him," I advice even as he scoffs.

"There are so few of them left and we're just not built like that anymore," he comments with distain so thick I fear it will clog his vocalizer.

It was true, sadly. After the double digits, the Drones became smaller and smaller until they started looking like Sermin. Gene, a three hundred model, was a little bigger than say Dante, a seven hundred model, or Puck, an eight hundred model. Shockwave seemed to be getting lazy or running out of materials to build us with. There were hardly any four digits left and they had just been sent to us right after we came to Earth.

The siren went off to signal the end of our morning ration period and I stood with the rest of our table. We had to report to the ground bridge but I was surprised when Ratchet sidled up beside me. "If you get hit," he says loud enough for most of those around us to hear. "Stay alive long enough for me to get to you."

Then, he disappeared further ahead in the mass of Drones. The word would travel fast but it was both comforting and frightening to know he would be out there with us. I had heard of Ratchet's prowess on the battlefield from the few Eradicons who had survived his impressive surprise attack. He had been, of course, under the influence of synthetic energon but it was a small glimpse into the past when he had been a strong, young warrior.

Even knowing he could take care of himself, I worried for his well-being. I suddenly cursed my beloved wings for keeping me outside the mine when I wanted to be inside, protecting the Medic. All I could do was stay outside and hold my position just in case the battle came outside. I wasn't used to feeling helpless nor was I accustomed to feeling so protective over someone.

It was an addictive sensation.

Pain, so sharp it dulled my processor, raced through my systems and my optic fluttered offline. I was used to darkness but the panic was quick to set in; I couldn't make up or down so my equilibrium must be slagged. My internals ran a diagnostics so quickly it sent my spark pounding but it shut down my optic and tried to reboot it. Where was my opponent? The lug-nut must be here somewhere; did he think I was down for the count or was he otherwise occupied for the moment?

My optics flashed back to life just in time to see the hulking Autobot raise his cannon-ball fist above his head. He was looking straight at me with that callous smirk on his faceplate. After all of my battles, I was going to die on the ground by this ex-Wrecker. It could be worse, I guess.

"No!" I vaguely hear someone roar as I shut off my optic. Call me a coward but I didn't want to see my own death. "Get away from him!"

Yet again, nothing happens and I online my optic just as a red and white blur crosses in front of me to slash out at the bulky mech. "Ratchet, it's me!" Bulkhead tries to plead even as energon flows from the cut on his abdomen. Those were some dangerous blades, I thought in my oncoming delirium. "I don't want to fight you, Ratch!"

The huge mech backs up but Ratchet follows after him and they disappear from my vision or maybe that was because I couldn't hold my head in that direction anymore. All I could see was the lightly glowing ceiling from my one optic. Slag, I was in a lot of pain. It'd be nice to have some high-grade...I felt the dry chuckle but it sounded more like a sickening gurgle. There was energon in my oral vent...that couldn't be a good sign.

"Gene, hold on!" I hear that familiar voice whisper just as servos were on my form. I turn my head a small bit to get the red and white 'bot-no-'con in my limited vision. "You're going to be okay."

"Ratchet," I mutter, the sound wet and ugly. Ratchet doesn't wince or show his disdain but I know it lurks under the surface.

"Stop talking, you glitch," he snaps but I can hear the worry underlying the order.

I wince as something is shoved into my arm. "You're sexy when you're angry," I mumble weakly. Warmth floods my processor. "Am I dying, Doc?"

He is baring his denta in an effort to hide his anxiety with anger and somehow it only makes him more attractive. "No, you're not!" he tries to say with venom but it only sounds like a choked sob. "I just shot you up with some sedatives, so you'll feel a little weird for a second."

It was already soaking through my body to take the pain away. I was suddenly very sleepy and my injury, whatever it was, was making my vision spin or maybe that was the sedative. "Don' wanna sleep, Doc," I slur, fluttering my optic as I feel pressure in my abdomen. He was working fast, I could hardly keep up with his movements now as the edges of my vision started to darken. "Don' leave me."

Ratchet heaves a sigh that somehow mixed frustration and sadness. "I'm not leaving you, Gene," he promises just as the darkness starts to envelope my processor as well as my vision. "I'm right here."

"'M glad," I manage just before my systems do a manual shut down and I lose consciousness.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sermin asks as soon as I step out of the room.

The energon on my servos was still warm as I ran a cloth over them and I had to keep myself from wincing so that the young miner didn't take anything from it. "I've done what I can and the worst is fixed," I explain, staring at the small group standing in the hallway. Gabriel, Puck and Dante had been mostly left out of the battle, mostly, though I heard they did get a little action; Sermin, thankfully, had been at a different mining site. "He just needs some rest, for now."

Sermin doesn't look convinced, holding his servos tightly to his spark chamber. "Hey, come on, let's go get some energon, Sermin," Dante offers, touching the youngling's arm gently. "There's nothing we can do here." His optics glance up at me and I nod my helm; it would be good to get the mech's processor away from the damage done.

The miner looks unconvinced but concedes to go with Dante and Puck who stand on either side to escort him. They looked like body guards as they talked to him about useless things to take his processor away from Gene. Gabriel stays though and I can't help but take comfort in his strong disposition. He touches my shoulder gently before pulling my faceplate against his spark chamber in a rare show of affection.

"He'll be fine," he soothes in that deep, resonating voice. "He's survived much worse without a Medic of your caliber, Ratchet."

I wanted to believe him, I truly did, but I kept bringing up the memory of Bulkhead's cannonball impacting Gene's abdomen. I could see it with such clarity that it hurt. Energon splattered everywhere as the spines on the sphere lanced through the frail metal that the Vehicon had just below his spark chamber. The only way I even knew it was Gene was by his unique frequency and for some reason I was highly keyed in to it along with the others. Gene had been so close to death that I had gone up against Bulkhead without thinking; he could have easily dismantled me. Thankfully, he still had some inhibitions about fighting me so I got away clean.

"How many did we lose?" the hulking mech asks after a few moments of silence.

Venting a sigh, I wrap my arms around his waist to lean closer. "Too many," I admit sadly. A lot of grounders had been sacrificed, for what? The mine was pretty much stripped when we got there; not much more than a few cubes left for us. "We have six in there."

It was an extra room that I had been allowed to turn into a make-shift Med-bay for the Drones. Megatron had allowed me that much; the true Med-bay was only for the Generals and he thought it was a waste of time to try and heal the wounded Drones. They were just cannon-fodder, right? Not to me. Since I had changed sides they had become...my family. I couldn't remember a time after Praxus that I had truly felt at home. Even in the Prime's team...I felt detached even with them. This community of Drones, creations built only for death, took me in and I felt at home.

Five of them would survive, I knew this for certain but Gene was the worst off among them. His internals were damaged pretty bad and I worried that there might be something I missed. Gabriel's servos stroke down my tired back, making me relax just a bit. "You need some energon and a long rest, Ratchet," he whispers, pulling away just enough to cup the side of my faceplate with his large servo.

My spark pulses strongly. "No, I'm going to sit with him," I pull away and go towards the door.

"Ratchet," I pause to turn and look at him, my servo on the door frame. "Thank you. It's good to feel hope again."

Before I can say anything in response, he turns and walks down the hallway. Staring after him, I push myself back into the makeshift Med-bay. It was the familiar smell of sterilization, burnt metal and energon that I had grown so accustomed to. It reminded me of my private practice back on Cybertron; a time when I had been used for my true purpose, to my oath. I wasn't supposed to kill things; I was a healer, a Medic. I was supposed to help and this war had turned me into a murderer.

Shaking my helm, I walk around to each berth to check on the Vehicons. These were only the ones that I could save; the others were long dead before I got to them. To think, I took out nearly a dozen of the Drones without thinking back in my synthetic energon fiasco. Before now, they were just something to kill off. We feared seeing Knockout or Breakdown, when he was still living, or Dreadwing or, Primus-forbid, Megatron but we never feared these purple and black Drones; we never thought that they had personalities, potential.

Sinking down in the chair next to Gene's berth, I ran my servos across my faceplate to squelch my guilt. How many Genes had I killed? How many Sermins? Looking at the energon transfusion bags and tubes connected to the grounder, I took the recharging mech's servo gently. Never, in all my years as a Medic, had seeing a mech like this hurt so much.

"Here," I hear a soft voice say just as a cube of energon was lowered into my face. Dante's gentle faceplate stares down at me just before he is pulling another chair up to sit by me. "You look like you could use it."

I take the cube with a weak smile. "Thanks," I mutter, taking a sip of the warm liquid. It was soothing, I'll admit and I really did need some fuel. The second the Autobots had retreated, I had worked to get the wounded through the ground bridge. It took some help from Gabriel's team but we did it just in time for Megatron to close the bridge. I got started on Gene as soon as everything was set up and I don't think I stopped moving for close to three or four hours after the attack.

The silence stretches on for so long that when Dante finally speaks I had all but forgotten he was there. "You know," he starts out softly. I look over at him to see the worry creasing his faceplate ever so slightly. "Gene was kind of our Medic before you." I don't say anything, waiting for him to continue. "It didn't matter if you were a grounder or a flier or a miner...if you got shot down on the field...he would drag you away to safety then go back to fight."

My optics went back to the peaceful faceplate of the grounder, looking at the white optic cap. He looked like he had taken a beating. Who the Pit was I kidding? All of them had taken a beating! Gene had lost his optic; Gabriel's vocalizer and faceplate; Sermin's confidence...they had all, at some point or another, been beaten down. Sometimes...it was by me.

"I was one of those mechs several times when I first came to the field," he admits, squeezing his servos into tight fists. "He's an independent mech who likes his solitude but he has a spark of gold, Ratchet. I'm glad you're here when he needs you."

I reach out to touch his servo tenderly. "Gene's a strong spark, Dante," I tell the young mech. "He'll make it." And, for the first time since I saw the grounder get pummeled, I believed it. I had to.

He squeezed my servo back but said nothing for a long time. It was a comfortable silence even if I knew there was something the young mech wanted to say. It took him almost ten minutes to gather the nerve to ask the one question I didn't want to answer. "Ratchet, why did you leave the Autobots?" his voice is barely a whisper and I can't help the way my shoulders tense. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. I just want you to know that I'm glad you came."

I can't help the smile that crosses my faceplate. "I just felt that my place wasn't with the Autobots anymore," I admit honestly. Dante was smart and I knew that he would understand my reasoning even if no one else did. "I felt...taken advantage of."

His optics show his understanding and it soothes my spark. "All of us can understand that feeling," he chuckles dryly, staring at Gene's comatose form. "And I can promise that we will never take you for granted."

Had it come from anyone other than a Drone, I wouldn't have believed them. "I know you probably don't remember Cybertron the way I do, Dante, but if I could rebuild it...I'd fashion it after this community," I say with a humorless smile. "You give so much more than you're given and you take care of one another. This is a true paradise."

His optics widen in shock. "We're only Drones, Ratchet," he tells me, saying Drone as if it were a derogatory term.

"No, Dante, don't you see?" I ask, taking his servos in mine. "You're so much more than that. I used to destroy your kind just as the Decepticons did but...you have personalities and quirks. You have a spark just like mine; what makes me better than you? Nothing."

He looks away from me to Gene and I see something pass through him. "We were created to die, Ratchet. All of us understand this and accept it," he surrenders.

"Stop saying that!" I snap. "A spark isn't trash that can be used and thrown away! You're more than that, Dante!"

Something inside the flier snapped and I had to catch myself before I was thrown back when his arms wrapped around my neck, his derma covering mine. It was shocking but I wrapped my arms around his waist and let him settle on my lap. I think he lost his senses for a second because he jerks away from the kiss, shocked by himself after a moment. "Oh Primus," he mutters, embarrassed.

"Oh no you don't," I chuckle when he tries to escape.

"I don't know what came over me I just-" I quirk an optic ridge at him playfully. "This is highly inappropriate...considering the environment."

I look around the room but all of the patients were recharging. "Yeah, a little," I laugh, releasing my hold on him. He quickly jumps up from my lap, looking a little uncomfortable. "I meant what I said."

He takes a deep breath of air through his oral vent. "Yeah, I know," he whispers before nodding his head and fleeing the room.

Consciousness was sluggish to finally dawn on my processor but there were several systems that needed to reboot multiple times. I was warned that there had been a full body transfusion, which was odd. Where was I? It was warm here and I was on something solid but it was dark. It took me several minutes to realize that my optic hadn't rebooted yet so I waited for my processor to clean itself. My optic slowly came online and I found myself staring at a dark ceiling. It wasn't the same ceiling that I usually slept under; they all looked the same but something told me this room was different.

I try to sit up but a sharp pain keeps me stationary. There were others here with me but I could hardly tell up from down, left from right. My equalibrium took a bit more time to defrag than the rest of me and then my memories came rushing back in a swift current. "Oh slag," I mutter, looking down at my abdomen as best I can. It looked fine, actually, it looked as if someone had fixed it up.

"Gene," I hear a familiar vocalizer say just as Ratchet's faceplate invades my field of vision. My body instantly relaxes. Who else would it be? "How are you feeling?"

I can't help the smile that crosses my faceplate. "I'm alive," I say, truly grateful for it.

He sits down on the chair next to my berth, smiling. "We thought you were as good as dead," he admits after a few moments of silence. His servo, warm and shaking, wraps around mine and I squeeze it reassuringly.

"Me too," I respond, running my other servo down my abdomen slowly. "Nice fix, though." I look at the transfusion equipment next and wince. "How'd you get Megatron to agree to this?"

His fingers flinch just slightly on my servo. "I have my ways," he smiles before standing to place a servo on my shoulder. "Recharge, now; we can talk later when you're healed."

"Is everyone else...okay?" I whisper as he injects a sedative into my system.

"They're fine. Recharge."

I hated the smell of a Med-bay.

It just smelt like death to me and I had seen too much of that to be comfortable with it. No, the only reason why I came here was to drag the Medic away for a few hours of recharge. The patients were all in their rooms now anyways, being taken care of by their teams and regimens. Ratchet had done more than enough for those wounded. The fact that they were even given a chance to survive was enough for most of them. All six were grounders and all in the upper-triple digits except for Gene.

Had he done what I instructed and stayed away from Bulkhead...

It didn't matter now. He was fine.

I found Ratchet cleaning up the area with a rag even though it didn't seem like there was a mess to be cleaned. He was always working, always doing something. It was frustrating that this was the fourth...no fifth time that I had been here to try and convince him to recharge. This time, though, I wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Ratchet, you need to recharge," I say, slightly amused when he jumps in shock.

"Gabe, Primus, you startled me," he places a servo to his spark chamber and heaves a sigh. "I'm almost done."

Growling, I move forward and take the rag from his grasp. "You've been working without any recharge for almost two days, Ratchet," I point out, cutting off his protest by picking him up and throwing him over my shoulder. He was a heavy mech but I had size on my side as he gasps then proceeds to complain. "Shut up, Medic. This is for your own good."

"Gabe, put me down!" he snaps, squirming to get away. Smirking, I let the servo that wasn't holding him in place, run up his thigh. He yelps indignantly. "Is that the game you want to play? I can play your game, slag-head!" I nearly drop him as deft servos run up my sensitive wings. "What's wrong? Sensitive?"

I growl darkly and dig one of my slender fingers into his hip seam to press against a senor array. The hitched sound he makes is extremely gratifying and has my interface panel heating quickly. I had planned to do this days go, give him back his payment, but the raid got in the way and it was highly inappropriate for me to take advantage of the Medic while Gene was in dire circumstances so I waited. I was done waiting.

The door to his room swished open softly and I threw the Medic to the bed before following him. My heated panel presses against his as I crawl between his legs, pinning him down with my shear mass alone. He struggles for a second before I pin his arms even as I feel the heat of his panel scortch into mine. He couldn't claim that this little fight wasn't turning on...that or maybe it was being overpowered that revved his engine. Either way, he was heating up fast and I smirked from behind my mask as he went limp.

"Take the mask off if you're going to frag me. I hate it when you guys wear them around me," he snaps but it is a breathless kind of anger that makes my spike ache to be pressurized.

Releasing one of his arms, I reach up and toss the mask to the side table. He takes my minor distraction to lean up and catch my derma in a kiss that makes me growl with pleasure. For someone who hadn't recharged in almost two days, he was lively. My glossa invaded his oral vent in a fight for dominance that was easily won and I devoured his helpless moan. For a rugged old model, he was a tantalizing submissive lover.

My servo runs down to cup his interface panel, groping roughly. "Open," I demand, nipping at his lower derma playfully. I am rewarded as his panel slides away, his spike pressurizing right into my palm. He bucks his hips in a desperate need that slips through my processor and devours my common sense.

His breathless sounds were beautiful and they were eating away at my carefully constructed self-control until I felt that I might just break. I was used to interfacing, it was common for the Drones, but I had never felt so...frenzied and it was frightening and arousing all at the same time. "G-Gabe," he mutters my name, looking down at me because I had paused. "What?"

I shake my head before pressing a finger slowly into his valve, being careful not to rip anything with the talon end. He gasps in pleasured shock as the intrusion spreads his tight valve. "It's been a while," I observe, watching his faceplate. I wanted to drink in his every expression, his every pleasure until I couldn't handle it anymore.

"Y-Yeah," he admits, grabbing onto my arm to steady himself. The loss of control, the beautiful breaking of this calm, level-headed mech was the most appealing thing I had ever seen. The fact that it was me to tear down the delicately constructed walls...indescribable.

Pulling the digit out, I slipped it back in, feeling the walls clench in pleasure. He was already lubricated but if this was the first time he had been penetrated in a while...my girth would hurt him if I wasn't careful. I wasn't bragging; it was just fact. I gently slipped another finger into him, watching his faceplate for any sign of discomfort but there was only blissful desire staring back at me. When he was like this, flushed and incoherent with pleasure, he looked centuries younger and more beautiful than any Cybertronian.

"I-I'm not fragile, Gabe," he stammers, as I let the pads of my fingers rub across a very sensitive node on the inside of his valve.

"What do you want, Ratchet?" I whisper into his audio receptor with my smooth voice. He shuddered in pleasure as I lathe his receptor spine with my glossa. "Tell me."

"Y-You're spike," he responds in a tone of voice that sounds much more innocent than he is.

It was arousing enough to click my panel open without prompting and I pulled my fingers out of him quickly. "You're beautiful, you know that, Ratchet?" I growl in his receptor as I line my spike up to his weeping valve.

"So are you," is all he can utter before I push forward. His back arches taut as I stretch him and I wish I had more than three fingers to work with. I pull back to stare down into his face but instead of pain, I saw nothing but searing, desperate pleasure that stabbed at my spark. "Gabe, more!"

It breaks the last ounce of resolve that I have in me and I slam my hips forward into his. The sound of slamming metal is drowned out his cry of bliss, guttural and heady. It was the perfect sound to harmonize with the melody of our hips snapping together as I thrust into him wanting-needing-him to feel what I was feeling. His fingers claw at my shoulders, desperate for purchase.

Running my servos down his body, I hook my fingers under his knees to pull his legs up around my waist and thrust forward. He lets out a choked off noise as I hit the furthest nodes in his valve. "O-Oh frag!" he moans, lifting his hips so that I can have a better angle to strike that spot over and over again until he is incoherent with pleasure. "Gabe, Primus, please!"

He was close, I could feel the charge passing along his valve walls and through my spike. It sent shudders across my body as his fingers, blunt but strong, dig into my shoulders roughly. My own charge was building and I could feel it across my metal until I was thrusting into him with shallow, sharp thrusts. Ratchet's form gains tension until he finally breaks and he can only sigh in amazement as the overload crashes over his sensors, rippling across his body like a tidal wave.

The beauty of his overload struck me deep and combined with the clenched valve around my spike, I whispered his name as I too fell over the edge. My hips pushed forward a few times more to draw our bliss out before I pulled out and collapsed to the side. My fans were loud in comparison to his and my body was shouting warnings at me so I took in deep breaths of air through my oral vent to level myself out. I honestly couldn't remember any other interface session ever being that...powerful but maybe I was just biased in my affection for Ratchet.

"You're still a slag-head," he mutters, turning to cuddle up to my side.

"Yeah," I affirm, wrapping one arm under his helm and the other around his waist to pull him close. "Tired now?" He mutters a vile oath but is too exhausted to come back with a commendable retort. "Mission accomplished."

"Shut up, Gabriel, or I'll throw you out of my berth," he mumbles even as he is pressing closer to my warm chassis.

"Okay."

To be continued...

A/N: Sorry this one took a little longer! xD My flash drive broke but thankfully I had an extra backed up on this computer!

Thanks for everyone who commented! I'm so glad everyone's loving the Drones (-Still trying to find a better general word for them! xD) just as much as I do!

Pandablubb: Okay, totally didn't even realize that! xD I love My Little Ponies and I can totally see the resemblance in personalities!

Foxyperv: Dante is an enigma, that's for sure! Though, you caught a little glimpse of him this time! ;D I also love when someone goes into a community that no one really pays attention to! I hope mine does some justice!

Arceeenergon: Since you asked so nicely! :D

I love all yaoi: (-Love your username by the way!) I know Sermin's my baby! ^~^

SethBlackWolf: Yeah, I'm with you! Knockout should be careful! D

Nebula: Yay, paper hearts! o3o It's definitely going to take a while to finish! x3

Red Angry Bird: Thank you! I'm so glad you like it! ;3 I wish I could find someone like Gabriel!

Elita-2: Thank you! :D It's always nice to delve deeper into the oppressed, poor Vehicons and Eradicons! ;3;

Moonlight Black Rose: Ha ha! Harem, it's such a funny word but you're right! Ratchet's a pimp, don't you know? T3T

DemonSurfer: I probably will make it it's own chapter once I'm done with it here! I think Eradicons and Vehicons need more love!

Yamiishot: Right? It's such a fantastic picture!

ConArtist24-7: Hugs to all oppressed vehicons! TT3TT

Okay, now that that's over! xD I hope you all enjoyed it and I can't wait to start on the next part! :D