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Wheeljack laid back on the medical slab nervously. Ratchet had told him he needed a medical exam, and while he obviously trusted his conjunx… but he'd never been fond of exams. Usually it meant energon draws (which he hated with all of his spark), a lecture on how he needed to recharge better, drink less high grade, the usual. "Are ya sure I need an exam? I feel fine," Wheeljack complained. He shifted a bit, disgruntled that his valuable time he could be using otherwise was being taken up. "Sweetspark, I know ya care about me, but I'm really actually fine."
"Calm yourself Wheeljack, you'll be fine," Ratchet replied, laying out the tools he needed for the exam. "You need to be checked up on. You're too hard on your body. Now, spread your legs a little into a nice, relaxed position."
Wheeljack did as he was told, sighing. "I'm fine, I'd rather ya stick a vibrator on my node while I've got that overload inhibitor on than have an energon draw." He groaned loudly and dramatically.
Ratchet bit back the smirk he was feeling and moved next to the medical slab. "I assure you, it's not that bad," he snarked. Then, without warning, he strapped Wheeljack's legs and arms to the slab. "Just in case." He attached a spark beat monitor to Wheeljack's chassis, which showed the very slightly irregular spark beat of the wrecker. "I'm keeping an optic on that."
"I've had that since… prolly when I joined the wreckers," Wheeljack protested. "I don't need to worry, it's fine." The sound of his spark beat radiating around him was actually slightly comforting, but he refused to give in. He tried to move, but was helpless.
He was helpless.
A gush of lubricant rushed to his valve as he comprehended that, and his spark beat quickened a bit. Please, let him get a valve exam… Ratchet always have him a quick overload beforehand to satiate him. Frag, there was already charge building between his legs. He blushed a little, but tried to hide it.
"Something the matter?" Ratchet asked. "Your spark is racing."
"J-just nervous," Wheeljack lied, knowing Ratchet probably already knew lubricant was leaking from his panels and his spike was pressurized.
Ratchet gazed up at Wheeljack from a data pad, optics traveling to the small drips of lubricant on the slab from between Wheeljack's legs. His plan was working. "Perhaps something needs to be examined." He slowly traced digits over Wheeljack's interface array. "Open up," he requested.
Blushing profusely, Wheeljack opened his panels. The medical slab wasn't exactly the most private location in the base, which meant anyone could walk in on his array being examined. He didn't know if that was hot or embarrassing. Maybe both. "Look any different since the last time I fragged ya?" he joked.
"Not a bit… right down to how swollen and pressurized you are," Ratchet teased. "I'll have to take a look at that."
Wheeljack's spark beat raced, a sound that radiated around them as Ratchet inserted a digit in his valve, as if to "examine" it. Only he pushed another digit in. Both were feeling up his sensitive calipers and nodes, which had Wheeljack squirming. "S-sweetspark… is this…?"
"Only one part of the exam," Ratchet finished, pulling his digits out and gazing at them. "You're rather sticky for a normal exam… is someone turned on…?" Ratchet, of course, had planned this, but had to play along."I'm just your doctor…." Oh how he loved to play like this.
Wheeljack gasped when Ratchet licked the lubricant off of his digits, then returned to play softly with Wheeljack's anterior node. Wheeljack gasped again, arching his back. Ratchet felt himself get aroused as he heard Wheeljack's spark speed up, but he had to contain himself, for now. He stopped teasing Wheeljack's valve and moved to the huge, stiff spike above it. Bio lights glowed brightly, and Wheeljack whimpered loudly, interspersed with groans. "Sunshine, please, give me an overload like ya always do…."
Ratchet gave the spike in his servo a few slow, experimental pumps, in time with every other beat of Wheeljack's spark. He toyed with the head of Wheeljack's spike, then let go completely. "Looks like someone's gonna need to depressurize before I'm done here," he commented. He hadn't recorded a single thing on the data pad and had no plan to. Not until the very end.
Wheeljack groaned at the lack of attention to his array. "C'mon, ya always let me overload during exams!" he complained loudly.
"Shh, not so loudly," Ratchet warned in a falsely concerned tone. "Someone might hear you and see your pretty array. Wouldn't want that, now would we?"
Wheeljack reluctantly bit his lip plate and calmed himself down a little, staying still for the examination to continue. The ache between his legs was driving him crazy, as was hearing his spark beat. The gentle pulse it made almost made the pulsing between his legs more intense and deep. Ratchet's servos roamed over him, but almost more as if he was feeling the wrecker up rather than fully examining. His servo slipped into plating seams, feeling the soft mesh and wiring beneath. Wheeljack squirmed, crying out softly as it only added you to the sensations he was feeling. It didn't further him towards an overload, but it felt oddly good nonetheless.
Ratchet had a hard time containing himself from climbing onto the medical slab and lowering his valve over the stiff, weeping spike of his conjunx. But he had to control himself. Control, he thought to himself. He was, after all, Wheeljack's doctor. His sensitive digits gently felt Wheeljack's chest, right over his spark. The monitor showed Wheeljack's spark beat increase at the closeness to a part of his conjunx. Patience, Ratchet reminded himself as his valve grew wetter behind his panel. By the end of this, his thighs would be stained, sticky, and wet, but that would only make sinking onto that spike so much easier. "You're a bit excited there, something wrong?"
Wheeljack shook his helm. "No, I'm fine," he panted. His still pressurized spike said otherwise, but he tried to play it cool as his arousal became controllable.
That was, until Ratchet began to examine his digits.
Like Ratchet's, his digits were sensitive. Very, very sensitive. And Ratchet's exam was no ordinary one: first, he unfastened one arm, examined the plating on his servo as he would any other time, then began to press kisses over each digit. Oh, it felt so good…! He felt himself relax under the kissing. He could deal with this medical exam. So long as he got a good frag later. He moaned very softly, spike still aching in time with his spark beat. It was almost as if hearing it made him feel it.
Ratchet pressed a kiss on the back of Wheeljack's servo, then gently laid it back down and restrained it. "You're so handsome," Ratchet purred under his breath. "A shame i can't frag you, as your doctor." He kept himself fully in the mindset of the roleplay, albeit with a lot of difficulty. "Looks like I might have to take care of that myself." He knew it would drive Wheeljack crazy if he had to watch Ratchet please himself first… first things first though… he ran a servo over Wheeljack's trembling thighs, digits nearing Wheeljack's sensitive array.
"Y-ya can frag me, please, I'd love it," Wheeljack begged, charge building back up in him, spark beat racing yet again. Ratchet's digits found their way back to his valve and gently pressed in, stretching the soft mesh gently. Wheeljack moaned loudly, attempting to buck into the touch. He felt Ratchet insert a third digit, and the spark monitor registered Wheeljack's spark beating yet harder and faster. He gritted his dentae as Ratchet began to stroke his spike slowly while stretching him, pleasure radiating through him. "Please, more, s-sweetspark--!" He whined and panted desperately, making an attempt to spread his thighs more. Primus help him… his thighs couldn't spread any further. He was bound where he couldn't spread out more to achieve overload.
Ratchet removed his digits, all three of them dripping with lubricant and transfluid. He smirked. "Why don't you taste how a good mech like you should?" he offered, holding the dripping digits in front of Wheeljack's intake. Wheeljack opened up and began to lap at them eagerly. He'd of course tasted himself, and tasted himself off of Ratchet's digits. But something about hearing the way his spark pounded made it a whole new experience. His spike had bits of transfluid beading at the tip as he eagerly sucked at Ratchet's servo, which in turn had Ratchet moaning softly.
Ratchet couldn't take it. He was going to have to break the roleplay eventually and give in. He hadn't anticipated how hot Wheeljack would be, whining and begging while completely helpless. He could try to get off… or even better… get off and overload all over the wrecker. Oh, he would be seen as such a dirty slut if he were seen before he could get to the washracks! Perfect.
Ratchet stopped touching Wheeljack in favor of climbing up onto the medical slab, his renowned thighs straddling Wheeljack's chest beneath him. He opened his panels, letting out a gush of fluid all over Wheeljack's chest. He pressed his exposed valve against Wheeljack's chest, right above his spark, enjoying the quickening said spark did when met with the hot, wet warmth. He watched the monitor, feeling the beating directly under his anterior node in time with the ECG on the monitor. He smirked at Wheeljack, who was panting desperately. "You're not gonna choke me with that, are ya?"
"You'll have to see sweetspark," Ratchet purred, pressing the tip of his spike against Wheeljack's lip plates. "C'mon sweetspark, open up. It's part of my thorough examination."
Wheeljack opened to take the spike, frustrated that Ratchet got to release before him. At his expense! He just wanted to overload all over him and humiliate him. Admittedly that was hot though. He sucked, Ratchet eagerly beginning to roll his hips into Wheeljack's intake. "That's it, suck like it's the last you'll get for a time," Ratchet encouraged, groaning as he continued. It would be obvious what they were up to if they were caught. But having his spike in Wheeljack's intake, watching the wrecker get riled up then come back down? Worth it. He held Wheeljack's helm, shoving as much of his spike as would fit into the wrecker's intake. It felt so good to have a hot glossa lapping at it… a strained intake swallowing around the tip… a racing spark….
Wheeljack tried so desperately to take in any air, but hardly could. His mind was becoming clouded from that, which in turn almost made everything more intense. That and there was nothing quite like being between Ratchet's thighs. Every rock of Ratchet's hips, in time with his spark beat, had him wishing for the metallic, sweet taste of transfluid.
A taste that he only barely got.
Ratchet suddenly pulled away and moved so that he could kiss his sweet wrecker, then he lowered his valve to Wheeljack's ab plate. He softly ground into it, groaning at the sensation of each groove catching on his mesh. Wheeljack moaned at the slick, wet warmth sliding across his torso, and the way Ratchet's aft made contact with his spike every so often. Watching Ratchet's thighs work was a gift he could not refuse.
Ratchet suddenly overloaded, letting out a loud groan as his transfluid from his spike shot all over Wheeljack's front, and his valve gushed all over Wheeljack's torso, getting caught in the grooves there. Primus it felt good… Wheeljack squirmed under him. "Can ya just gimme an overload already?" he begged, static and desperation in his vocalizer. "Please sweetspark… please…!"
Oh… he was begging so hard! Shaking a little, Ratchet clumsily climbed off the slab and moved between Wheeljack's thighs. "I suppose I could…." He licked a long lap along Wheeljack's valve. "Give you something." Wheeljack shuddered at the touch to his node, spark racing as Ratchet began to lap up and down the shaft of his spike. Come on sunshine, he thought. He groaned and squirmed as Ratchet began to suck the head of his spike, his entire spike being too thick for him to fully take. Two digits slipped into his valve as his spike was sucked, adding to his pleasure. Spark absolutely pounding, Wheeljack let out a loud groan as he neared overload. It was only when Ratchet rubbed his thumb across his node that he finally had his release. It was timed perfectly: Ratchet had stopped sucking to lick up the mess of lubricants, only to get a face full of transfluid. There was enough left for him to suck Wheeljack's spike dry of it though… Wheeljack was the perfect taste of sweet and metallic. Wheeljack's valve gushed all over the medical slab, coating it in fluids. They were both such a mess.
Wheeljack's spark was pounding. That overload had been hard. He panted tiredly, shaking. "T-that was amazing," he commented breathlessly.
Ratchet smirked from between his legs. "I think I'm going to keep the records of your spark beat from his session," he commented. "For science, of course."