Don't Stand So Close to Me

AN: The prompt was, specifically, Ratchet wants Bumblebee but thinks he's too old for him, so he decides to drink his troubles away. Unfortunately for Bumblebee, that's the time he decides to visit the medbay. All reviews and concrit appreciated!



The high grade was affecting him faster than usual. Ratchet was used to seeing Bumblebee's sexy little yellow aft everywhere when he got drunk, but he'd only had three cubes so far, and normally he had to down at least five before he started seeing things.

Not that he was going to complain if the hallucinations started early. The base had cleared out an hour ago, and everyone was supposed to be out late, but Ratchet intended to be deep in an energon-soused recharge when his teammates got back. He was not in the mood to have some new bit of human nonsense shoved into his face while a certain yellow bot chattered happily, bouncing from foot to foot, hips swinging, that perfect little aft just begging for Ratchet's touch....

Ratchet shifted uncomfortably as lust shivered along his circuits and pooled around his spark and glared at the imaginary aft, which was currently bobbing in the air because hallucination-Bumblebee was head-down in a cabinet, rooting for something Ratchet had likely forbidden him to touch. This was new; his fantasies had always tended toward a lust-crazed bot pleading with Ratchet to take him, not a bot who didn't even notice the medic was in the room. Bad enough Ratchet couldn't have the real thing. He was not going to put up with insubordination from hallucination-Bumblebee into the bargain.

"Get over here," he snapped, pushing himself more-or-less upright.

Hallucination-Bumblebee scrambled backwards out of the cabinet. For a moment, his face was the picture of startled guilt, and then donned a look of innocent-young-thing with a tinge of I-didn't-mean-to-be-bad.

Ratchet nearly overloaded then and there. Bumblebee always pulled that face when he got caught bending or breaking the rules, and it never failed to send Ratchet's temperature sky-rocketing. It made him want to grab the little glitch and pin him down, stroke and tease and strip away any trace of innocence. Make him into a debauched creature, too far gone to care what Ratchet did to him, creeping into the medbay in the dead of night to press against the medic and beg for just one more overload.

Quick movement caught his attention just in time to see hallucination-Bumblebee take advantage of his distraction to dart for the door, intent on escaping with whatever he'd managed to pilfer. Ratchet reacted instinctively; his electromagnets flashed out, curling neatly around the runaway and dragging him back to Ratchet. Hallucination-Bumblebee stared at him, optics wide, and opened his mouth to prostest, or whine, or wheedle, and Ratchet fine-tuned the magnetic field just a bit. It was a handy little trick he'd developed that prevented a bot who he might happen to be holding captive from alerting other Decepticons.

It also served to shut hallucination-Bumblebee up nicely. Pity he couldn't use it on the real Bumblebee.

Ratchet maneuvered his prisoner onto the berth, and then hesitated as a quandary presented itself. The magnetic fields would keep hallucination-Bumblebee bound and gagged, but Ratchet couldn't concentrated on ravishing if he was busy restraining. Maybe he could find something to tie hallucination-Bumblebee up with.

As Ratchet struggled to his feet to search for some make-do bondage gear, the fine-tuning slipped and hallucination-Bumblebee took the opportunity to start screaming at the top of his vocalizer.

Ratchet tried to slap a hand over that yammering mouth, bounced off the field, and cut the electromagnets as he scrambled onto the berth and flattened a hysterical hallucination.

"You've never been this much trouble before," he grumbled, while the bot under him struggled wildly. "Usually you just show up and start dancing, or dropping things and bending over to pick them up. Maybe there was something in that high grade." Careful to keep hallucination-Bumblebee pinned, Ratchet wiggled a hand underneath and finally cupped that perfect little aft. Hallucination-Bumblebee went still, little quivers working through his frame as Ratchet stroked, letting his fingertips wander into the seams where those slim legs began.

The warmth of the delicate circuitry distracted him; one yellow arm jerked loose and a stinger jammed against his torso. Ratchet had time to reflect that this had never happened before, either, before electricity crackled through him and sent him offline.



When he onlined, head aching and with a nasty throbbing in his side, Bumblebee was perched on top of him with a stinger pointed directly at his optics. He could feel the weight of the smaller bot's body, the faint heat of him. Memory crashed through Ratchet's processor of what he'd just done and he stared up at Bumblebee in mute horror.

Lovely. Not only was he a pervert lusting after a bot a fraction of his age, he was also apparently so senile he couldn't tell fantasy from reality.

"Um." Bumblebee said. "That was different." He shifted slightly, biting his lower lip, and desire surged through Ratchet again, revving his engine loudly enough that Bumblebee couldn't miss it.

There was an odd look on Bumblebee's face, not the disgust or fear that Ratchet expected, but something more thoughtful. He shifted again, provoking another rev, and then the start of a grin crept across his face.

"You want me," he said, sounding just like he did when he was about to start torturing Bulkhead or Sari about some embarrassing incident they wished had never happened.

Ratchet groaned. "Just scram, kid. Get out of here." He tried to sit up and push Bumblebee off, only to flop back down when the stinger poked playfully at his face.

"You waaaant me," Bumblebee repeated, looking more and more pleased with himself. "You wanna strip my gears, you wanna spark my circuits, you wanna-"

The litany cut off with a startled sqeak as a magnetic field yanked his arm sideways and Ratchet rolled and pinned the little yellow menace down again.

"Shut up," he growled.

For a moment, Bumblebee just stared up at him with wide optics, and then he grinned again. "Make me."

So Ratchet did.

Bumblebee's mouth was hot, slick, inexperienced, and Ratchet nearly moaned as he finally tasted that innocence. Bumblebee was a fast learner, and in moments he was kissing back fiercely, slender body arching and rubbing against Ratchet's as he tried to pull his wrists from the medic's grasp.

"No, you don't," Ratchet grunted, pressing down just a little harder and savoring Bumblebee's helpless little whimpers. "You wanted this, you're going to get it my way. Or we stop."

A quivering silence, and then Bumblebee whispered, "Don't stop."
Ratchet kissed him again, licking his bottom lip, and then shifted so that both of Bumblebee's wrists were in his right hand and he was lying along the smaller bot's side.

Then he let himself play. Fingertips ghosted along Bumblebee's armor until he arched upward, than pressed firmly along sensitive seams, the barest tickle of Rachet's magnetic field dancing over hidden circuits.

Bumblebee made a strangled sound, shuddering as Ratchet stroked down one leg and back up the other, igniting sensors. "Please," he gasped, "please please-"

"Please what?" Ratchet asked, tracing the outline of the panel that hid Bumblebee's port.

"Anything," Bumblebee almost wailed, hips bucking, "anything, please-"

Ratchet cupped the panel and sent a pulse that made Bumblebee scream and overload. He was beautiful as he writhed, optics dimmed and head thrown back, and as he finally went limp Ratchet stood up, rolled Bumblebee over, and pulled him around so that he was kneeling on the floor with his upper body resting on the berth and his aft at the perfect height.

Ratchet knelt behind him and filled his hands with warm curving metal, sliding up to span that little waist and then back down, savoring the feeling while Bumblebee recovered. Soon the yellow bot was humming with each stroke, and Ratchet spread Bumblebee's legs a little more and opened his panel.

Bumblebee squeaked and struggled a little as a finger slid into his port and Ratchet held him down easily. The younger bot still hadn't completely recovered from the overload, and all that his weak movements managed to do was arouse Ratchet further.

The medic nearly snarled in frustration. Bumblebee wasn't nearly lubricated enough for anything more than a very slow, gentle penetration, which was not at all what Ratchet had in mind.

Keeping Bumblebee pinned to the berth, Ratchet fumbled on the little table beside it. Earth had proven damp enough to give his joints trouble, and he'd taken to keeping a sprayer full of oil nearby so that if something froze up on him, he could take care of the problem without asking for help. He set the canister on the floor and inserted the slender nozzle into Bumblebee's port.

Bumblebee yelped at the chill metal, and again as Ratchet pressed the trigger, spraying a fine mist of oil into him. The medic worked the nozzle carefully, rotating it to be sure the oil coated every surface, and before long the slightest twitch was making Bumblebee moan and spread his legs wider.

Ratchet pulled the nozzle out and pushed the sprayer aside, sliding a finger into Bumblebee. He was dripping wet now, oil trickling down his thighs. With a shuddering moan, Ratchet finally let the protective covering over his spike click open and knelt up over Bumblebee.

The first thrust pushed Bumblebee up against the berth's side, forced a wail from him. Ratchet got his hands around that small waist and pulled him back. The medic shuddered as he plunged deeper into slick heat, opening Bumblebee up, making him feel every bit of the spike impaling him. Yellow fingers clawed the berth's surface as Bumblebee bucked and shivered. Ratchet wasn't sure if he was spasming in pleasure or trying to get away.

Heat streaked along his circuits and gathered around his spark, and the part of him that might have cared fell silent. Energy built, crackling between him and the panting bot beneath him, and Ratchet was thrusting as hard as he could. Dimly he was aware that he was being rougher than he'd planned, but it felt good, felt perfect, and Bumblebee certainly wasn't protesting.

Ratchet was getting close to overload now, and he dropped one hand down to press against Bumblebee just above that tight port. A few more thrusts, and just as release began to spread outward from spark and spike Ratchet sent one hard magnetic pulse through the armor into sensors hyper-sensitive from stimulation.

Bumblebee's entire body went rigid, then jerked as overload snaked through him. His shriek was cut off as his vocalizer offlined, and then he went limp as his processers shut down. Ratchet slammed into him once more, then collapsed on top of him.

He didn't know what Bumblebee would say when he onlined. The yellow bot couldn't have bargained on this, but he hadn't said, "Stop," hadn't asked Ratchet to slow down or be gentler. Maybe, just maybe, he'd enjoyed it every bit as Ratchet had.

Ratchet traced the scrapes he'd left on Bumblebee's thighs and aft, places where armor hadn't quite held up against the friction. Marks that would make it quite clear what he'd been up to, and by the paint embedded in them, who he'd been with. Ratchet's marks.

He pressed a kiss to one and settled down to wait for Bumblebee to wake up.