Eeee! Oh, you'd better be working on those! They sound fabulous! (BEE. And Optimus! Lol!) That was exactly what I needed to read tonight. Heee!
Let's see...
1. Ironhide/Optimus/Ratchet OT3
Ironhide huffed a low rumble of laughter. "Sounds like someone's ready for the next round," he drawled, fingers dipping underneath Optimus' exoplates to slide across the sensor net and deeper, brushing the endomass beneath.
Optimus' voice was still static heavy, crackling. "I -- ah!" The deep tone sank impossibly lower into a growl before spiraling up again as Ratchet slid his fingers back home into the other mech's soaked valve, steady strokes activating sensor nodes with an expert touch. Shaking, Prime pushed into the touch, his field swelling hot with incipient charge. ::Please...:: The word was ragged, even over the com, underscored with desperation and saturated through with layer upon layer of frantic need. ::Pleasepleaseplease...::
"Pit," Ironhide breathed heavily, biting back a groan. "I was joking."
2. Ratchet with a side of Optimus
Overload came in a weak, bitter swell that left his sensors aching with a dull discontent but his systems didn’t care and Ratchet gasped, choking on static through the surge. It was only a belated nanoklik later that he realized the external sound hadn’t been his own and had been coupled with the hiss of the door. It was a particular type of self loathing masochism that prompted him to raise his head and meet the startled optics of their Prime where the larger mech stood, frozen, in the open door of the medbay.
Neither of them did anything for a beat until Ratchet straightened with a sharp, angry ventilation and reached for a rag to wipe the lubricant from his fingers. Prime’s optics followed the movement with a sort of horrified fascination that made Ratchet scowl. “That,” he announced, “was exactly what it looked like, so you can stop gaping like a stunned glitchmouse and let the slagging door close.”
3. Unquiet officer meetings on the Ark
Jazz shrugged. "There's a lot of worry about Ratchet. Wonderin' what's gonna happen in Medbay if he's down."
"It's a valid concern," Red Alert sighed, flicking a data pad on to scroll through it. "We're going to have to pull from the Science division to supplement the medical staff and Hoist is going to need to be promoted to Chief Medical Officer..."
Ironhide's fist met the tabletop with a harsh, plate vibrating clang. "Acting," he ground out, meeting Red Alert's startled optics with his own glare. "Ah'm pretty sure you meant acting CMO, Red, 'less you're already votin' to strip a mech in crisis of his rank and stasis lock 'im..."
Red Alert's back struts went stiff, the Security Director's mouth pressed thin in irritation. "That remains to be seen. I only meant..."
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momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2011-09-11 05:24 am (UTC)Let's see...
1. Ironhide/Optimus/Ratchet OT3
Ironhide huffed a low rumble of laughter. "Sounds like someone's ready for the next round," he drawled, fingers dipping underneath Optimus' exoplates to slide across the sensor net and deeper, brushing the endomass beneath.
Optimus' voice was still static heavy, crackling. "I -- ah!" The deep tone sank impossibly lower into a growl before spiraling up again as Ratchet slid his fingers back home into the other mech's soaked valve, steady strokes activating sensor nodes with an expert touch. Shaking, Prime pushed into the touch, his field swelling hot with incipient charge. ::Please...:: The word was ragged, even over the com, underscored with desperation and saturated through with layer upon layer of frantic need. ::Pleasepleaseplease...::
"Pit," Ironhide breathed heavily, biting back a groan. "I was joking."
2. Ratchet with a side of Optimus
Overload came in a weak, bitter swell that left his sensors aching with a dull discontent but his systems didn’t care and Ratchet gasped, choking on static through the surge. It was only a belated nanoklik later that he realized the external sound hadn’t been his own and had been coupled with the hiss of the door. It was a particular type of self loathing masochism that prompted him to raise his head and meet the startled optics of their Prime where the larger mech stood, frozen, in the open door of the medbay.
Neither of them did anything for a beat until Ratchet straightened with a sharp, angry ventilation and reached for a rag to wipe the lubricant from his fingers. Prime’s optics followed the movement with a sort of horrified fascination that made Ratchet scowl. “That,” he announced, “was exactly what it looked like, so you can stop gaping like a stunned glitchmouse and let the slagging door close.”
3. Unquiet officer meetings on the Ark
Jazz shrugged. "There's a lot of worry about Ratchet. Wonderin' what's gonna happen in Medbay if he's down."
"It's a valid concern," Red Alert sighed, flicking a data pad on to scroll through it. "We're going to have to pull from the Science division to supplement the medical staff and Hoist is going to need to be promoted to Chief Medical Officer..."
Ironhide's fist met the tabletop with a harsh, plate vibrating clang. "Acting," he ground out, meeting Red Alert's startled optics with his own glare. "Ah'm pretty sure you meant acting CMO, Red, 'less you're already votin' to strip a mech in crisis of his rank and stasis lock 'im..."
Red Alert's back struts went stiff, the Security Director's mouth pressed thin in irritation. "That remains to be seen. I only meant..."
“’Remains ta be seen’ my aft!” Ironhide snarled.
(stupid comment limits...)