Contains implied BDSM
RatchetxIronhide

Ironhide had always been the stronger one.  He didn’t mind it and rather liked being dominant, but he had a fetish, a desire if you will, to be submissive.  His mate didn’t often exude any tendencies that he wanted to ever be dominant for a night, so those certain occasions were very rare and barely ever seen.  Ironhide’s mate exuded anger toward his patients, but that didn’t mean that he was evil behind closed doors.

Ratchet had been touching him in a rather rough manner since this afternoon, and the red mech often found his work interrupted by a persistent com. frequency.  Ratchet would utter words and mutter suggestions into Ironhide’s audios and the red mech was sure they would make even Optimus Prime’s circuits go on the fritz if he had ever heard.

Worse than just Ratchet’s touching and words, however, Ironhide had decided to tell Ratchet of his one greatest fetish.  He had always had a fetish for Ratchet’s medical supplies and had a strange obsession with associating them to sexual overload, and now, strapped down on a berth in Medbay with Ratchet looming over his body, he figured that he might actually get his longing wish.  A Whitehead gag had been forced into his mouth and was painfully holding his mouth opened, his legs suspended in stirrups at the edge of the berth.  His cod piece was missing and a bright light was pointed directly at his head, causing Ironhide’s optics to squint and dim considerably to not let in that much light.

“Primus, you look so helpless,” Ratchet said, smiling down at his mate with an odd expression, the kind of expression he wore when he was dealing with one of the Twins, demanding and full of authority. “Who knew someone as strong as you could be so… pathetic?” Ironhide growled at the word, but that earned him a slap, his head snapping around and his cheek stinging. “Don’t talk back to me, Pet,” Ratchet growled in that same strict tone. “Do as your Medic commands; it’ll make this so much nicer.”

Ironhide watched Ratchet as he moved down to his legs, quickly picking up a couple metal pads.  The pads were attached to Ratchet’s defibrillator and the machine was turned on.  Pushing both pads simultaneously to Ironhide’s body induced a shock through his port as agonizing, stinging pain and pleasure ran up the red mech’s body, one of the pads against his port, the other on Ironhide’s thigh.  A moan quickly escaped Ironhide’s vocalizer, his head tossed back and his body arched against the straps holding him down to the berth as pulse after pulse of the electricity passed through his body, sending him into a state of euphoria one would normally associate with energon overload.

The pads were quickly taken away from Ironhide’s body, but the feelings remained until pain came to his body, forcing him out of his reverie and forcing a scream from his lips.  Ratchet had taken a static rod and had jammed it under Ironhide’s glass, passing tingles of electricity through the red mech’s body, causing his spark to warp, the energy flux uninviting.  Reaching back, he jammed his fingers into Ironhide’s port, inducing the strangest sensation Ironhide had ever experienced.  Pain from his chest and pleasure from his port both put him back into his sexual bliss, his overload coming on fast.

Ratchet smirked at Ironhide before removing the rod first, tossing it to the side as it zapped against the cold floor.  His fingers were removed next before he crawled up to Ironhide’s body, quickly straddling the mech’s hips.  Leaning down over Ironhide, he licked at his Mate’s face, his slick glossa running over Ironhide’s painfully stretched lips while his hands roved over the older mech’s body, his experienced fingers drifting over hot spots that induced shivers and moans to come from the red mech.  He tried to kiss Ratchet back, but his movements enticed a slap from Ratchet, his cheek stinging with pain again.

“Stay still, Pet.” Ratchet said in a low tone, the voice a signal to Ironhide that the Medic was getting close to his own breaking point.  He smirked as he held his energy scalpel at Ironhide’s nose, the energy from the blade touching the metal sending a tingling sensation through the mech’s head. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself, now do we?” Ironhide looked at the scalpel as it was taken away before Ratchet moved his hips down a little to put their ports together. “Overload for me,” He whispered huskily.

Ironhide moaned at the contact and thrust his hips up into Ratchet’s, the odd position of his legs being locked in the stirrups making his body hitch forward rather than up.  Reaching up, Ratchet drug one of the defibrillator pads against Ironhide’s body, enticing the powerful and painful stinging sensation through both of their bodies, the electricity arching wildly between them as they both moaned, yelling at the ceiling in pleasure, their systems quickly hitting their peaks.

Ironhide felt the pad move away from his body before Ratchet’s body had collapsed on top of him, the smell of oil and energon permeating Medbay.  Ironhide’s optics stayed off as he willed himself not to move, his fans still working to cool his body down.  Ratchet moved a little and removed the Whitehead from Ironhide’s mouth, the red mech grimacing as he moved his jaw around, quite glad to be rid of the uncomfortable thing.  Ratchet’s lips descended upon Ironhide’s in a soft kiss before the Medic got off of his mate, quickly undoing Ironhide’s legs from the stirrups.

Swinging his legs down, the bodyguard sighed and sat there a moment as he tried to gather himself after his overload, his body weak. “Wow…” he mumbled slightly.

“‘Wow’ what?” Ratchet asked him, looking the red mech over as if afraid he had hurt him.

Chuckling, he shook his head slightly before beckoning Ratchet to him.  Giving him a hug, Ironhide kissed Ratchet’s chevron gently. “Nothing.  I know one thing, though…” Ironhide mumbled slightly. “I am never gonna look at Medbay the same again.”