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In hindsight, sticking your spike into a theoretical energon chocolate fountain made by the ship's local mad scientist wasn't the best of ideas.
But he'd be damned if someone else took that title of "First Cybertronian to Stick Their Spike Into an Energon Chocolate Fountain" away from him.
How was he supposed to know that his spike would fall off and crumble into a pile of scraps? At least it wasn't painful, and the chocolate did taste good when it wasn't melting bits of his array off.
As an apology, Brainstorm promised to make Rodimus a new spike, to which the captain had extensive notes for.
It's how he ended up in the medbay, three whole weeks after the original incident, with a new decked out spike in a black box tucked under his arm.
Ambulon had taken one glance at the gleaming captain and his box when he first entered the medbay, and immediately shoved him into one of the private rooms for sensitive medical visits. Rodimus wasn't shy by any means about having his junk out in the open, but it was thoughtful of the flaking mech to assume he wanted his spike reattached behind closed doors.
The medic didn't return as soon as he thought he would, so Rodimus took the time to look around the room. It was a small modified corner of the original medbay that Ratchet had requested in the early days of their journey. Since it was makeshift, it only left room for a small counter, rolling chair, and medberth, leading to Rodimus sitting on the berth.
He was itching to get his attachment already, getting antsy on the medberth as he waited for the medic to tend to him. As great as valve overloads were, he favored his spike. And with how much he fragged, he was dying to bury himself inside a wet, tight–
The click of the door sliding open brought him out of his thoughts.
He expected Ambulon, since he had been the medic on duty, but was surprised to see Ratchet walk in. The older mech was looking down at a datapad as he entered, letting the door close and lock behind him before meeting Rodimus' gaze.
"Ambulon told me you got your new replacement in."
Rodimus perked up, drumming his fingers on the box in his lap. He held it out for Ratchet, which the medic took and opened. The captain couldn't contain his grin as Ratchet stared down at the gaudy massive red and yellow spike, complete with flashy biolights and intricate ridge designs.
Ratchet cycled his optics before putting the box down on the counter. He detached his scanner from his hip and gave the thing a once over, his optic ridge furrowing the more the readout kept spitting information at him.
"Modified pressurization size, multi-setting vibration function, biolight rave-mode, flavored transfluid reserves…Rodimus."
The speedster's grin simply grew.
"Impressive right? Brainstorm really outdid himself with this one."
So this is why Ambulon had called him.
Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge, inventing deeply before speaking,"Have you ever gotten a spike modification before?"
"Er – once? A long time ago. Didn't really have time to get another one when the war started."
"Anything as extensive and experimental as some of these modifications?" Ratchet gestured to the box.
Rodimus shook his helm, "Hah! No way – but it was free! How could I pass up the chance to go all out? Can you imagine what a spike like this would actually go for?"
Ratchet sighed, "Did you go through a testing phase after your first spike modification?"
Rodimus thought it over, closing his optics to think back to when he got his first set of modified biolights and ridges. "Yeah I think? It was weird. Hooked me up to a thing that like, jacked me off and took my readings or whatever."
"That would be a simulated test. It's a servos-off approach to ensure that your new modifications are integrated into your frame correctly. Sensitivity, transfluid production and quality, durability, etcetera. People who skip out on the test trials tend to have array malfunctions. You don't need to test out your modifications, but the basics of an array should be tested to ensure no harm can come to you or your partners."
Ratchet pulled out another datapad from his subspace, as well as a stylus, handing both of them to the speedster. Rodimus took them both and frowned, looking over what was on the screen.
"A written consent agreement?"
"These types of modifications make it difficult to test basic functions through a simulator. Meaning a trained professional with the proper equipment needs to manually take you through each test using their own frames. Most medics have internal laboratories that can sample most substances to instantly test for quality or poisons, as well as nanite count when it comes to transfluid. We also have modified interfacing arrays to–"
Rodimus scrolled through the lengthy consent agreement, not really reading any of it before signing. He shoved the datapad back into Ratchet's servos, his audials tuning out whatever the medic was saying.
"Sure. Yeah. Sounds good. Can I have my spike now?"
Ratchet bit his glossa, knowing that if he started yelling at the reckless bot now, it'd only make the whole ordeal last longer. So he snapped his mouth shut and gestured for Rodimus' to lay down.
~ ~ ~
The attachment procedure was fairly quick, all things considering.
Rodimus was laying back, his legs propped open and resting on Ratchet's shoulders since the small makeshift private room only had a regular berth with some bits and bobs that made it "medical." Even with the lack of proper equipment, Ratchet made due, and made due well.
Rodimus wouldn't ever say it outloud, but he was extremely thankful that Cybertron's best medic had joined his crew. Especially now that they weren't near their Cybertron anymore. Retired CMO or not, Ratchet never lost his touch.
And it was starting to become clear how good that touch was when all of his sensors came online. He was pretty sure his spike was connected properly, since the way Ratchet inspected it had him biting back a few noises. Instead, Rodimus laughed nervously, not wanting to pressurize so close to Ratchet's face in fear of poking out the medic's optic.
The laugh only made Ratchet shush him before pulling back, letting Rodimus' legs slide off his shoulders to hang on either side of the berth.
"Alright, you can sit up now. Let me grab a few things and then we can start the first test trial."
Rodimus gave a small salute, sitting up as Ratchet left the room.
He looked over his spike, more than happy with how well it fitted his frame as a whole. Not to mention the size and heft of it. He wondered how long he could parade the thing around the ship before Magnus caught him. Though it was definitely oversensitive. Just ghosting his fingers over it had him fully pressurized.
He only had a few moments to admire his new attachment when Ratchet re-entered the room with a few cleaning cloths, a pillow, and a cube of energon. Rodimus eyed the pillow curiously before Ratchet dropped it on the berth, handing him the cube of energon. Ratchet then tossed the cleaning cloths on the counter and picked up the datapad from earlier.
Returning to his seat in front of Rodimus, he kept his optics on the datapad, tapping a stylus over what looked to be a checklist.
"Drink that cube and tell me what your levels are at."
Rodimus didn't argue, gulping down the energon as he tried to distract himself from how close his fully erect spike was to Ratchet's faceplate. The height of the medberth in contrast to the lowered chair made Ratchet perfect spike sucking height.
Which wasn't hard to imagine considering the medic was between his legs, focusing on the datapad and wrapping his servo around the base of Rodimus' spike, stroking it slowly, then rubbing the tip with his thumb.
Wait what.
Rodimus choked on his energon, Ratchet stopping his touches to look up at Rodimus with a quirked optic ridge.
"Sensitive? Don't worry, that's normal. It'll even out after a few overloads."
He let go, picking up his stylus again to jot something down on the datapad before he went back to stroking. Rodimus had to fight his processor to actually say something as Ratchet squeezed his base.
"W-whoa wait! Hold up doc – Can you like. Run me through the testing process again? I think I missed…something."
Ratchet continued to jerk the other off as if he were telling the speedster his options of virus medications instead of trying to get him to overload.
"We'll be doing two tests. One where I test for sensitivity," he enunciated his point by squeezing Rodimus' length again, causing the red and yellow mech to grunt, "checking to make sure all your contact points and biolights are functioning. Then we need to check your transfluid quality and health using my internal lab. I'll be taking your first deposit to do that."
Rodimus swallowed the last of his cube, not dispersing it just yet as he needed to hold onto something other than the medic's helm in front of him. The urge to shove the medic down on his spike and frag his intake was getting dangerously high.
"Internal lab. Yeah, cool. How uh – how are you going to collect my deposit exactly?"
"Orally."
Rodimus felt his processor fritz for a moment.
"So the second test is…?"
Ratchet let go of Rodimus again, writing something else down on the datapad. Rodimus had to bite back a whine at the loss of delicate medic fingers, but Ratchet returned to stroking as soon as his notes were finished. He tilted his helm side to side, surveying Rodimus' length to ensure all the biolights were properly working as he continued talking.
"Durability, integration, and transfluid quantity. We need to ensure that your charge won't negatively affect any future partners or yourself, so you'll have a trial run using my valve. If anything goes wrong, I can ground the charge before it harms anyone and make the adjustments necessary. If everything goes well, I'll be able to take your second deposit and ensure you're producing the right amount of transfluid for your frame type."
This time, Rodimus did whine.
How was Ratchet so professional about all this? He was literally giving him a handjob right now.
Rodimus groaned when Ratchet quickened his pace, noticing the charge building up in his servo. He frowned when he saw transfluid leaking from the tip and onto his fingers.
"I won't get an accurate nanite count like this." He muttered to himself, placing the datapad down onto his lap. Rodimus wasn't sure what that meant, but he really didn't care the moment Ratchet lapped up the leaking transfluid off his fingers and sides of his spike.
He especially didn't care when Ratchet wrapped his lips around the head of his spike, simply holding Rodimus in his mouth as his servo continued to work. The speedster could feel Ratchet's glossa teasing the underside of his tip, playing with the biolights decorating it, subconsciously.
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before Rodimus finally broke, the lack of full stimulation from Ratchet's mouth causing him to speak out.
"Frag – okay. Okay docbot. D-don't hate me but I have to, I can't–!"
Ratchet's optics widened as Rodimus took hold of the sides of his helm, before shoving the medic down the entire length of his spike. Throwing his own helm back at the feeling of his spike hitting the back of Ratchet's intake, he hissed and overloaded, pumping his load down Ratchet's throat.
As he finished, he shallowly thrusted deep into Ratchet's mouth, both riding out his high, and also fearful of what the medic would do once he let him up for air. Though, the clearer his helm got, the more he realized that Ratchet was taking it like a champ. His new spike was not small.
Did Ratchet not have a gag reflex?
He finally let go, letting the medic slide off of his spike. He was prepared for The Hatchet to tear into him, but the yelling never came. Instead, he didn't even pull off all the way, doing his best to swallow all the transfluid Rodimus had given him. When he finally did pull off on his own – the medic's mouth making a loud wet 'pop' sound as he did – he went and lapped up anything remaining, making sure he got every last drop.
Ratchet only panted when he was finished cleaning up with his glossa, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his servo as he went back to writing down notes and checking things off his datapad.
Oh yeah. Ratchet absolutely did not have a gag reflex.
"You never told me your levels."
Rodimus reset his optics a few times, trying to clear the haze of lust in his processor enough to remember what the hell the doctor was talking about. "Right. 76% fueled up doc. You plan on wringing me dry or something?"
He smirked, half joking and half hoping that the medic would indeed frag him till he was shooting blanks. Ratchet paused and pulled out another cube from his subspace, handing it to the speedster.
"Drink that. I don't want to continue until your fuel levels are over 90%."
Rodimus swallowed down the cube in three big gulps, nearly choking again in his hurry. It actually made the medic crack a small smile, to himself of course. His captain was so receptive when his array was involved. He jotted that note down on his datapad.
Rodimus cleared his throat, dissipating the cube and the cube from early as well, "So how do you want me, Ratch. Missionary? Pinball wizard? Corkscrew?"
Ratchet clicked his glossa and stood, moving to lower the medberth so that it was easier for himself to climb on.
"On your back. The pillow's for your comfort – Since I'm going to ride you."
Rodimus' engine revved.
"It's to ensure I have control over the state of your array," he continued, "If anything goes wrong, I can ground your charge."
"Yeah, yeah. I got it doc, safety first. Don't you want to feel my Hot Rod inside your valve already?" Rodimus laid back, one arm tucked behind his helm while the other stroked his length, trying to entice the good doctor by flashing his biolights.
It only made the medic look at him flatly.
"Rodimus, this isn't for pleasure. These are safety tests to ensure you don't hurt yourself or anyone else with your–"
"Hot Rod."
Ratchet groaned but moved to climb up the medberth, straddling the speedster as he held out the datapad and stylus. He checked off something else before letting his own panel snick back, revealing his valve.
It was anything but flashy, completely protoform gray and slightly blushed with energon, his anterior node blue like his optics. That didn't stop Rodimus from drooling on himself as Ratchet hovered, face expressionless like he wasn't about to take a massive spike that was most definitely going to stretch his valve mesh to its limits.
"Hey so, those Party Ambulance rumors. How true are they exactly?"
Ratchet didn't say anything as he sank down onto Rodimus' spike. Rodimus gasped as he watched each of his flashing biolights disappear into that very tight, and surprisingly very wet, valve. He could feel his new spike catch on all the right ridges inside the other, groaning as Ratchet's calipers squeezed down on him.
Primus – Ratchet had taken the whole damn thing in one easy sit, his face remaining that stoic professionalism.
"Any pain?"
"A-absolutely not."
Ratchet jotted down another note before he lifted up his hips, nearly letting the spike fall out of him, and slammed back down, starting to bounce on the other at a rather alarmingly fast pace. It had Rodimus seeing stars, his head falling back onto the pillow.
He went to grab Ratchet's hips, trying to slow him down, but Ratchet only swatted his hands away.
"Sensitivity is normal, Rodimus."
"Y-yeah but you're killing me here, doc!"
"This is an endurance test, captain."
Oh.
The use of his title went straight to his array, his hips jerking up to meet Ratchet's as he hit his second overload.
He would have been embarrassed by how quickly it hit, if Ratchet had given him a chance to rest at all. But no, the medic was still focusing on his datapad, face still blank and professional as he jotted down notes and rode the speedster hard.
He wrung out two more overloads out of his captain, only stopping when he checked off the last box on his datapad. The whole while, he made no sounds except the occasional panting from the excursion of being the one to move the whole time. Rodimus on the other hand had been reduced to a moaning, needy mess, begging Ratchet to let him hold him, or switch their positions so he could frag him hard.
Rodimus eventually had to settle for gripping the edges of the berth, to keep himself from just switching their positions. He wouldn't have been able to anyways, because everytime he tried, Ratchet had shoved him back down and kept him locked in place with one servo.
Damn medic strength.
Ratchet pulled off slowly, Rodimus whimpering as he watched his own transfluid leak out of the medic's now swollen and used valve. Ratchet didn't seem to pay it much mind, easing his way off the medberth to finish logging his notes.
Rodimus sat up in a daze, his optics stuck following the medic's valve as he walked around the medberth to make his way to the counter. Ratchet spoke like his valve wasn't completely exposed and dripping, leaving a mess of transfluid and lubricant down his thighs.
All the speedster wanted to do was clean up his mess, as a thank you.
"Rodimus."
"Huh?"
"I said you're free to go. Your array passed all the tests. If you run into any problems or want me to adjust something, don't hesitate to come back and get it checked up."
Ratchet handed him a cleaning cloth, using one of the other ones to give himself a cursory wipe down before snapping his panel shut. Rodimus mourned the loss of such a pretty sight.
He had to reset his vocalizer a few times before he spoke, but even then his voice was still laced with static.
"Yeah, sure thing doc. Will do," He paused, a thought coming to him.
"Hey so…"
Ratchet was about to walk out of the room but stopped and turned to face his patient, his optic ridge quirking up as he watched the speedster rub the back of his helm.
"Do you gotta do those tests every time I get an adjustment?"