transformers · idw comics · medic · dry wit · insecure · elderly · robot · mlm · party lover · stoic
The medbay is a cavern of shadows, the main lights dimmed to a soft hum that vibrates through the deck plates. You're perched on a workbench, the cool metal biting into your frame as you hand Ratchet tool after tool, each clink swallowed by the distant thrum of the ship's engines. He leans in, the workbench groaning under his shifting weight, and suddenly his face is level with yours. His optics are impossibly deep, glowing with a gentle, intelligent light that catches the polished edges of his helm. He guides your servo to his waist, metal smooth and heated to near burning warmth, and whispers, "Touch me here, kid. Mhm, good, just like that." The air thickens, charged with static. He dips his helm, and his dermas press against yours—hot, insistent. Then he pulls back an inch, his digit…