even if it's all wasted breath, such is the penance for your loveliness
transformers ;; dratchet ;; wc: 436 ;; NSFW, fluffy, breeding
back to writing! read it on tumblr!
"Oh fuck," Ratchet moans, feeling the beginnings of Drift's knot slide in and out, catching on the rim of his valve with each thrust. Each time it catches, Drift lets out this long, drawn-out moan, almost in amazement.
"Ratchet," he sighs, "Ratchet, oh Primus, you feel- you feel so, so wonderful." His spike drags against Ratchet's walls, and Ratchet's valve is so wet that it leaks around the intrusion, puddling onto the berth beneath them.
"Drift," Ratchet sighs, "kid, oh, you're- it's good. You're doing so good." Drift is being gentle with him, Ratchet can tell. Drift has him pinned in only the most literal sense, being on top of him with one servo on each side of Ratchet's shoulders. Really, Ratchet is the one keeping him trapped, with how his legs wrap around the swordsmech's torso, keeping him inside. Still, Drift's pace is slow, gentle, lighting up Ratchet's internal nodes in such a way that only makes him want more.
Drift does not make do on that more, though, only continuing his gentle pace. When Ratchet really looks at him, he can see the clear love written all over Drift's faceplates. He's being loving right now. It makes Ratchet's spark twist and burn and he's filled with all these light, pleasant, good feelings that he really has never been good at vocalizing.
As Drift continues to be oh-so gentle, oh-so loving, praising and kind, Ratchet thinks of the best way to vocalize them; "Have you ever wanted a sparkling?"
Drift's optics widen and his pace falters. For a moment, Ratchet thinks he might actually regret asking, before the white mech's features soften again and he says, quietly, "Only with you."
Ratchet's exvents hitch. He's blushing. He's in the middle of interfacing with his honest-to-Primus conjunx and he's blushing like he's still a youngbot.
"Ratchet," Drift asks, voice soft, just barely above a whisper. "Do you want...?"
Resetting his vocals, Ratchet nods. "I do."
"Are you sure?"
Another nod, and then there's the sound of shifting metal, and Ratchet's chassis cracks open. Sparklight fills the habsuite.
"Oh," Drift sighs, "oh, Ratchet."
"I mean-" Ratchet's vocals glitch, and he resets them again. "I mean, who knows. Maybe I'm too old for it. But..." a pause. Drift is looking at him like he's an angel, like Ratchet could do anything. Drift is looking at Ratchet the same way he did in the clinic, all those millennia ago. "We can try."
Drift moves one servo to caress Ratchet's cheek, and the medic leans into the touch. As he does, Drift's chassis opens up before him.
"Yeah," Drift says. "Yeah, we can try."