Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Generation 1.

Warning: MechxMech...OptimusxRatchet...Details are not given. I'm leaving that up to your imagination. ;)

First Aid was suddenly pushed into a closet by Ratchet. By Cybertronian standards, it was small. It was long and almost unbelievably narrow. Luckily for First Aid, he had been pushed in sideways so that he didn't get stuck. As soon as he was in, Ratchet shut the door. Not a moment too soon, apparently, because he could hear Optimus walk in a moment later.

Even though he didn't want Optimus to see him in his current state, he still had a burning desire in his spark. It was extremely powerful, and it screamed…kill Ratchet. How was Ratchet going to meet his demise? By his own wrench hitting him on the head several times. Once he got out, he was going to offline Ratchet.

"Ratchet, have you seen First Aid? I wanted to speak with him."

"He's a little busy at the moment. I'll let him know you came." First Aid hit his helm against the wall once. Ratchet, you are not helping my condition in the slightest. "Until then...why don't you tell me...why would you be looking for him?" First Aid eyes shuttered. He could've sworn he just heard Ratchet purr the last part of his sentence.

"I am merely concerned about him. He sounded...odd...when he informed me that he wouldn't be attending the meeting. He sounded stressed and I was going to tell him to take a day off so that he could relax."

"I wouldn't be concerned. I already took care of it."

Ratchet, how in the pit is throwing me into a closet taking care of anything?

First Aid looked down at his throbbing spike as he temporarily blocked out the conversation taking place on the other side of the door. Perhaps he could-

"Ratchet." First Aid's optics widened when he heard Optimus groan. "Ratchet, I don't think-"

"Optimus, this is my med bay. Do you really think anyone would enter without my permission? And even if they did, who would dare to interrupt Prime in his spare time?"

Optimus chuckled. "I think they'd be more afraid of you than me, old friend."

Ratchet groaned. "Just what are you suggesting?"

"Merely that you can be rather-" Optimus moaned, causing First Aid spike to burn even more uncomfortably than it was before as it pressed against its confinements. First Aid quickly undid his codpiece. "Persuasive."

First Aid choked, barely succeeding in quieting a moan that threatened to vibrate across his vocal chords.

"Are you saying that I would suggest a threesome if someone interrupted us?"

"Only as punishment for walking in," chuckled Prime.

"In that case...how about a little aid?"

First Aid froze and nearly dropped his codpiece. If Ratchet called him out...he was going to murder him. Period. Forget the fact that he's chief medic-

"Happily."

The several moans that were released from Ratchet's throat after that statement caused First Aid to drop the codpiece and place his hands on the wall in front of him. His aft hit the wall behind him as he stretched out like a feline. It looked as though he was going to have to overload by facing himself into a wall after all.

First Aid imagined Optimus leanning down and running his glossa across Ratchet's piece before bucking his hips against the wall repeatedly. He knew that there would be scratches afterward, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. This problem needed to be solved, and this wasn't the time to complain about being shoved into a narrow closet. In this case, it helped him immensely. He couldn't deny that it felt good to face himself against the concrete wall, and the sensations that he received from scraping his aft against the wall behind him were also stimulating and helped him build up a decent charge. This felt less awkward than rubbing himself against the floor. It also felt less primitive and amazing. At least now the charge was building up and not remaining stagnant.

Leaving this problem unresolved had left him twitchy. He had to constantly leave his guard up. Now that he was in this closet where he couldn't see anything and could only hear moans, pants, and sharp yelps from behind the door (which both aroused him even farther and amused him to no end), he felt like he could let his guard down. He had let his guard down. His overload almost surprised him, and when he finally settled down, he settled his helm against the wall behind him and simply bathed in the afterglow. Perhaps he wouldn't offline Ratchet.

Author's note: Reviews are appreciated. The ones so far are lovely! :o