Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Optimus didn’t come back as Optimus. 

Of course, he was confused, lost and worried. He had spent a concerning amount of time working under Megatron as Orion Pax, and the entire window was gone from his memory. It was reasonable for him to be upset. 

But beyond that, Ratchet had watched him move about the base, watched the way he held himself, the way he spoke, the way his optics narrowed. There was something odd about him. When Ratchet had touched his arm, welcoming home, Optimus’ gaze had been searing. The Prime watched him with intensity that he’d never seen; a shiver had tingled through his armor as their optics met. Optimus’ whirled and narrowed, and Ratchet wasn’t sure what was happening behind them. 

And then the Prime was quiet. Another reasonable act, he had a lot of worries to digest. But he’d been lurking. Ratchet never had Optimus in the medbay so frequently. Optimus would just… hover. In the doorway, most often. Ratchet struggled to adjust to the watching optics. It was like being hunted. 

Optimus had always stayed up late, to work, to patrol, to be useful. Not as late as Ratchet, but he’d be up well past their other teammates. But he’d never remained awake just to watch Ratchet. 

Tonight was the same as any other. Optimus was leaning against the doorframe, and Ratchet was doing his best to ignore the feeling of being stalked. His leader was secretive when it came to his emotions and worries, this may have all been him trying to approach his dear friend, and struggling to. Ratchet had been turning this idea over in his head for a few nights now. If Optimus couldn’t approach Ratchet, then it’d have to be the other way around. 

“Do you want to talk about something?” He didn’t turn around, just kept typing away. “I’m happy to listen.” 

Optimus shifted his weight. 

“I’ll be leaving for my room soon. If you have something to say, you ought to say it.” Ratchet tried again, his hands stilling. Again, he went unanswered. 

Why was Optimus being so… sketchy? 

The medic vented, and shut down the monitor. He padded to the doorway, where Optimus stood, regarding him with stony optics. “Last chance, you may walk me to my room.” Ratchet looked up at him, trying to soften his expression, but he was tired. “Optimus, really, you can talk to me.” 

Optimus was silent for a moment longer, before he took a step into the medbay, the door sliding shut behind him. Ratchet opened his mouth to speak again, to offer to sit and chat, but he could only gasp as he was whirled around, and his back was slammed against the closed door. A strong arm planted on either side of him, he was trapped between Optimus’ broad chest, and the wall. He watched his reflection in Optimus’ windshields for a moment; his optics were wide. He craned his neck upward, sucking in a breath and holding it. 

“Optimus..?”

The optics drinking him in had an unfamiliar glint to them, and he shivered under the gaze. Optimus leaned down towards him, and seemed to breathe in the air between them, not unlike a predator. Ratchet’s tanks churned as the arms on either side of him slipped down his sides, taking his wrists, and pinning them to the wall on either side of his helm. He opened his mouth, and Optimus growled, optics narrowing. 

Had Optimus always been this big? He’d never been on the receiving end of the Prime’s strength. It must be terrifying to see him advancing in the battlefield. 

Ratchet’s spark pounded like it wanted out of it’s casing, and his breath hitched as Optimus stooped lower, his lips brushing Ratchet’s cheek, inching towards his mouth until something snapped in him, and Ratchet’s glossa was suddenly being suffocated by an invading one. It was paralyzing, to be trapped and vulnerable. He remained still as Optimus explored, domineering and rough. Ratchet’s wrists were denting under the strong grip, but he didn’t dare complain. 

He yelped as Optimus bit down on his lower lip, and he tasted warm energon. He was breathless as the Prime pulled away, licking his lips in a hungry way that made Ratchet’s servos shake. “Let's sit together, Old Friend.” Optimus whispered, and his voice was silky and predatory. Ratchet flinched as the door snapped open; Optimus had hit the button. He was dragged by the wrist in the direction of his room, and he thought rather frantically as they moved. He wasn't going to resist, it wouldn't do much good. Optimus was much bigger than him; he'd always been grateful for the Prime’s strength, but right now…

He also wasn't in any rush to give Optimus a reason to harm him. He didn't think that Optimus would ever, but this… this wasn't him. There was something very wrong.

His back landed onto his berth, and he took a long shaky breath, wishing his spark would quit pounding as Optimus crawled over him, watching him. "So submissive," the Prime murmured, as his denta traced Ratchet’s audial. "So pretty…" Ratchet shuddered as a cable along his neck was peppered with soft kisses. "Will you tell me to stop?" A whimper left Ratchet’s lips as Optimus bit down, and he felt a trickle of energon leave the mark. "Or will you lay just like this, and let me have you?" 

Ratchet closed his optics and chewed on the inside of his cheek as Optimus withdrew, afraid to look into the searing optics. He was kissed again, just as domineering as before. He could taste his energon on Optimus' glossa. 

The Prime's hands finally became involved, and Ratchet tried to relax his frame as his hips and thighs were grabbed and stroked, and his aft became a grip hold. "Are you frightened?" Optimus whispered against his lips. "Answer me, Old Friend." 

Ratchet didn't look at him. He was thinking, fast. But he'd happily answer this question honestly, regardless of what Optimus would do. "I never wanted it to be like this. " He murmured. 

His neck was being kissed again, and Optimus was inching downward. "You've wanted me?" He purred.

Not like this. Ratchet opened his optics and stared at the ceiling. His chest received little attention, Optimus was exploring his thighs with his lips. "This isn't you." 

Optimus scoffed, and it was a foreign sound. "Am I not a disciple of Primus?"

It clicked in Ratchet's helm. He understood what was happening now. 

A cry of pain left him, and he flinched as Optimus left another bite mark on his inner thigh. Now it was Ratchet’s closed panel that Optimus explored, and Ratchet squirmed at the way his body responded in kind. For the first time, the urge to kick or strike possessed him. This was going to go too far if he didn't stop it now. 

He let his sparkchamber snap open, and the room was bathed in soft blue light. Optimus froze, and Ratchet closed his optics. 

A few moments of paralyzing silence passed, and then Optimus was kissing him again, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. "So this is what you want." The Prime rumbled. Ratchet inhaled softly, and Optimus' chestlating shifted open. When their energy merged, he gasped. What should be benevolence and warmth was sinister and dark, and it was suffocating. Ratchet again resisted the urge to struggle. "My submissive little medic… You'll give everything to me, won't you?" 

As Optimus' conscious touched Ratchet's, surrounding it, there was a change. Ratchet let out his breath as he felt what was Optimus sort of… fizzle out? He found himself digging through Optimus to find that warmth he'd been expecting, through the maze of darkness that was Optimus' current psyche, and then… he found it. 

And Optimus was clambering off of him, stumbling off the berth and backing against the door, optics wide. Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief, sitting up. 

More silence, and this one was worse. Optimus covered his mouth, and his hands were shaking. Ratchet was bombarded with pure terror, and he realized very quickly that it wasn't his own. "It's okay," he whispered, like he was speaking to a frightened animal.

As Optimus lowered his servos, Ratchet noticed the trickle of energon down Optimus' chin, and glanced down at his bite marks. "It isn't," Optimus' voice shook. Ratchet had never heard him so… scared. 

"I know what happened, I know that it wasn't you." Ratchet inched towards the edge of the bed, but didn't stand. He worried Optimus would flee. 

"It was me, though," the Prime stared down at his trembling servos. "I… I'm so sorry…" 

"When you used the Matrix to trap Unicron," Ratchet spoke gently. "You bared your spark to him, to push him back with the Matrix. I think he lashed put as he was beaten, and I believe that just a little part of him wound up inside of you, sealing itself in as the Matrix gave out. We woke it up when we reintroduced the Wisdom of the Primes, the… stench of Primus. " He quoted the chaos spirit, watching Optimus' reaction. "You weren't acting on your own accord, you were under his influence."

"Unicron doesn't want you, I do," Optimus' voice cracked. Ratchet frowned at the sound. "That wasn't his doing."

"Don't be ridiculous." Ratchet chastised. “You would never hurt me, Optimus, I know that.”

“I already have.” The Prime’s optics watered when he looked at his medic. “And now… Primus, Ratchet, we’ve merged. I never meant… To force you… And now you’re trapped, you didn’t choose this-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Optimus promptly shut his mouth. Ratchet could feel his turmoil, twisting and rolling in his chest. “I did choose this. You didn’t force my sparkchamber open, I gave it to you all on my own. I thought that a merge with an uncorrupted,” he winced. That was the wrong word to use. “...spark would restore the balance, level out the energy, and… bring you back.” 

“You were right. You always know what to do.” Optimus leaned against the door, covering his face. “But at the cost of yourself. I’ve forcebonded to you, and… and I’ve hurt you.” Ratchet recognized the tremble of silent sobs behind Optimus’ hands, and he slowly rose from the berth. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I couldn’t ever ask that of you, but know that I regret this… more than anything.” 

The medic approached him, reaching out and pulling his hands away from his face. “Don’t cry, please. You didn’t force me to merge with you, I initiated it.” 

“To save me.” 

“And I don’t regret it. Believe me, this isn’t the way I wanted this to happen, but I promise you, I’m not angry, or scared, or sad. I’m quite content to have you in here,” he touched his chest, where he felt Optimus’ hurt pulsing. “I want you too, Optimus. And if all it took was a merge to keep the real you here, then I’d do it as many times as I needed.” He reached out, and cupped Optimus’ cheek, wiping away a stream of tears with his thumb. Optimus winced, and pressed his arms to his sides. He was scared to touch Ratchet. Ratchet wondered for a moment if this would be overstepping. “I’ve thought about you pinning me to the wall on many nights… Except it was you in my fantasy, not that other one.” He watched Optimus’ face, and how it hadn’t changed from frightened. Optimus was always quick to beat himself up, of course it would take everything for him to forgive himself. He couldn’t see through the fog, couldn’t see that Ratchet was just fine. “Am I clear?” Ratchet said firmly. “I’m in love with you. You didn’t hurt me. I would like you to take a deep breath and sit down with me.” 

Optimus timidly nodded, and let Ratchet sit him down at the edge of the berth. Ratchet used the corner of his sheet to wipe his face, clearing the tears and the energon. “I’m sorry.” The Prime whispered. 

“I forgive you.” Ratchet replied with a gentle smile. He stroked his leader’s helm, and Optimus resisted leaning into it. “You feel so warm.” He gestured to his spark. “And safe. Like a blanket.” He took Optimus’ servo, and guided it to rest above his spark. “Do you feel me?”

“Like a pillar.” The Prime answered immediately. “Sturdy and supportive, and… Generous. Gentle. A little standoffish.” 

Ratchet cupped his face again, in both hands. “May I kiss you?” He whispered. Optimus tensed, but answered with a nervous nod. He was hesitant when Ratchet kissed him, his shoulders were tight. He seemed to think touching Ratchet would initiate disaster. He would get over that. His medic was gentle, stroking his face and helm, engines humming pleasantly. “Do you promise to forgive yourself?” Ratchet whispered, parting their lips for a moment. Optimus hesitated, but under the warning look, he uttered a soft yes. “Do you promise me that you’ll pin me against the wall again soon?” 

A moment of silence. “If you will let me.” 

“Optimus, I will beg you to.” Ratchet’s spark swelled at the smile he received. “There’s that handsome smile.” 

“Do you think… that part of me is gone?” Optimus asked seriously, after a moment of thought. 

“I’m not sure. I know that if it does stir, I’ll feel it, and it can be as simple as another merge.” Ratchet shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like much of a problem.” 

Optimus heaved a long sigh, nodding. “Well… mazel tov.” 

“What the frag does that mean?” 

Chapter Text

Nemesis Prime didn’t appear again for a long time. His influence bled into Optimus at his weakest moments, perhaps attempting to take control, Ratchet wasn’t sure. But Ratchet could feel the difference in Optimus, could feel Nemesis trying to claw his way back to the top. 

During moments of extreme hardship, or fear, or anger, or sadness, Nemesis would rear his head. Optimus’ mood would swing, he would grow more violent, he would grow quieter, his optics would darken. But in these moments, he was still his own. He would flee to Ratchet, or Ratchet would simply drag him away, and they would merge sparks. This was generally followed by interfacing. Optimus was generally fired up after he was freed from Nemesis’ influence, and Ratchet was happy to give him what he wanted. 

The worst episode, thus far, had occurred after Optimus behaved rather harshly on the battlefield. He had ripped a vehicon in half with his bare hands, had stomped another's helm into the ground, and was decapitating his third when they finally fell back. Ratchet ushered him into the medbay quickly, ignoring the horrified looks of their teammates, and how Optimus left a trail of energon from the bridge to the medical berth. 

Optimus’ chest was heaving, his servos were balled into fists, his jaw was clenched… He was furious. His anger wasn’t his own, Ratchet could tell that much. He watched Optimus seethe for a moment, before he approached gently and touched his cheek. 

“Take a deep breath, Optimus.” 

“I… I need…” Optimus’ servo seemed to reach for Ratchet’s chest, before he snapped it back and rose to his pedes. “... To take a drive.”

“No, no, you’ll be staying here with me.” His medic’s voice was soft. He didn’t try to touch Optimus again, instead, he sat down on the slab, and laid back. “I need you, Optimus.” His chestplating snapped open, and so did his legs. 

Optimus’ gaze was searing, and he fought with himself. His hands trembled. “Ratchet…” He whispered. 

“And I know you need me. Get over here.” 

The Prime’s weight was almost suffocating as he crash landed on top of Ratchet, drowning his yelp in a desperate kiss, his own sparkchamber opening. 

This was easy. Ratchet had a handle on his leader, he could feel Nemesis from a mile away, would notice the signs early. Nemesis’ tricks didn’t work, for a while. 

When Nemesis made no appearances for several months, Ratchet had wondered if he had suffocated that part of Optimus with all of the merges. It had seemed that this was the case, there was no glimpse of the shadowy maze within Optimus’ chest. They thought Optimus’ little purple eyed problem was gone. 

They were wrong. 

Ratchet, much like before when Nemesis first acted, was typing away in the medbay, having just kicked everyone out. Rafael had wandered in to chat with him, but with him came Miko, then Bumblebee, then Bulkhead, and then Ratchet was snapping at them to leave and let him work. When Optimus wandered in, he didn’t complain. 

“Pardon me, Old Friend.” The Prime rumbled as he brushed against Ratchet. 

“Stop it, this isn’t the time.” The medic muttered as Optimus’ chest rested against his back. 

He stilled as Optimus’ large servo pressed against his mouth. He made to move, but Optimus trapped him against the desk, his free arm snaking around his waist. “Guess who?” Optimus whispered in his audial. Not Optimus, actually. 

Ratchet’s optics widened, and he tried to pull away, shaking his helm. 

“I’ve sent the others off… It was difficult to rid us of them, but I’ve done it. It’s just us, Ratchet.” Nemesis purred. “Come, now.” Ratchet was pulled away from the monitor, and then he was being dragged by the wrist down the hallway, just like before. 

“You hid it from me,” he tried to plant his pedes, but his weight was nothing against his leader’s. “How?”

“I learned something recently. Before, I thought Optimus’ only weak moments were those of anger and hurt. Those were my opportunities to… slip in, whisper to him, invade him. But he would resist me, it was a fight to influence him. He was always ready for me.” Nemesis glanced back at Ratchet as they passed several doors. He licked his lips hungrily, and his medic shivered. “But those aren’t his weakest moments. He, at his weakest, is when he’s head over heels for his little medic. It was far easier this way… To bleed into his mind, a little bit at a time, whenever he was weak at the knees for you.”

Ratchet averted his optics, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “How long…” 

“For weeks now, I’ve been slowly taking over him, and the poor thing had no idea, he was so distracted by you. He wasn’t prepared to fight me, as I was slipping in under the guise of his absolute adoration for you. He didn’t know until it was too late.” 

They had arrived at Optimus’ berthroom door. Ratchet yelped as he was flung through the door and onto the berth. 

Unlike before, he tried to resist. He immediately stood back up, and made to dodge Nemesis’ hands, but it made no difference. Ratchet was on his back with his servos above his helm in seconds. “You know better than to fight me. What are you going to do? Stab me? Burn me? Hit me?” Nemesis drooped down low and nipped at Ratchet’s lower lip. “You couldn’t hurt me. You love me.” 

“Not when you’re like this. This isn’t you.” Ratchet murmured, deflating as he was weighed down. His breath hitched as his wrists were fastened to the head of the berth. He pulled at the cuffs, his spark dropping through the floor. 

“You can’t lie to me. You love me regardless of what form I take. Optimus is Optimus.” Nemesis watched Ratchet try the bindings, satisfied, and before he became level with his prisoner again. “And regardless of what form I take, I’ll always be obsessed with you. Weak for you. Why do you think I’m doing this?” He took Ratchet’s lips for a moment, before continuing. “He was right, Unicron doesn’t want you… We do. Everything I do, he wants so badly… But I am the one brave enough to do it. To take it.”

“Optimus knows that he doesn’t have to… force me, that I want him back, that I would interface with him.” Ratchet stared up at him, swallowing his anxiety. 

“True. But he’s too much of a coward to tell you what he wants, what he fantasizes of, what he thinks of you, much less act on any of it. I am simply the absence of impulse control, morality, one could even say empathy.” Nemesis angled Ratchet’s face upward so he could suckle on his throat. “Did you know that he wants to watch you pleasure yourself in the shower? That he pictures you coated in his transfluid before he goes to sleep at night? That he wishes you would ride him from time to time? That he wants to tie you down and tease you until you scream his name and beg him for release?” Ratchet whimpered as teeth grazed his neck, and servos traced his sides. “What he truly wants, Ratchet, is your permission to do whatever he wants with you. To have you at his mercy. What he wants is for you to trust him… he and I don’t see eye to eye on that one. But he’s ashamed of his fantasies, he’s ashamed to be thinking of using his power over you. He’ll never come clean on that front. But I’m not afraid, or ashamed. I will do whatever I want to you.”

Nemesis’ engines revved hard, and he moved down Ratchet’s body. He traced a seam along the inside of Ratchet’s thigh with his tongue, moving towards his closed panel. Ratchet snapped his legs shut, but his knees were easily pushed back apart and held there. 

Panic was setting in. Ratchet was quickly coming to terms with how afraid he was. Part of him was guilty for fearing Optimus… This was who he loved. But this version of Optimus didn’t care if he was willing, he was only interested in feeding his own hunger, he didn’t care how Ratchet felt. 

Was he supposed to scream, or beg, or thrash? 

How was he going to convince Nemesis to merge sparks with him, Nemesis knew better now, he knew what it meant. 

A gasp left him as Nemesis sucked on his panel, his servos squeezed his thighs hard enough to leave finger sized dents. “Open up, my pet…” Ratchet shook his helm. “Ratchet. I said open.” Nemesis’ voice had dropped an octave, and lilac optics were suddenly locked with Ratchet’s. They were dark and… angry. Ratchet shivered. 

 I am simply the absence of impulse control, morality, one could even say empathy.

Ratchet realized that Nemesis would have no problem ripping his panel off and taking him violently. He almost felt the need to apologize, just to get those frightening optics off of him. He looked away and let his panel slide open. There were several things he desperately wanted to say, but something akin to pride was holding him back, forcing him to retain what little strength he had. 

Please don’t hurt me.

Be gentle. 

Be careful, I’m much smaller than you.

Please don’t do this.

A tender kiss was pressed to his outer node, and his array seemed to awaken. Nemesis’ mouth was gentle, and Ratchet decided then that it would be best if he gave in and didn’t resist. It would be easier, safer, and he could figure out how to trick Nemesis into merging sparks with him. 

“We love tasting you. We love how loud you get when we suck on your cute little valve.” Nemesis purred against his folds. Ratchet muffled a noise of appreciation… The deep rumble against his valve was wonderful, he loved when Optimus spoke to him while licking and suckling him. But this wasn’t his Optimus between his legs. 

Nemesis surprised him by sitting up, and Ratchet’s legs made to snap shut out of instinct when his panel shifted open. 

“You can’t,” he whimpered as the familiar tall spike emerged. “I-I’m not wet enough, you’re too big-”

“Relax, my pet.” Nemesis shushed him, pushing himself between Ratchet’s knees to keep them spread. The medic gave a strangled sound as two of Nemesis’ digits returned to his outer node, and began rubbing it in a circle. He looked away, cheeks flushed as Nemesis teased the delicate hood, pushing it around and watching his valve clench in excitement. Nemesis was watching his valve with intent, his optics hungry. He licked his lips again, and Ratchet held his breath. It was embarrassing to be watched like this, while he was being violated. “Look at me, my love.” Ratchet hated the way he obeyed, turning his helm back to watch Nemesis lick his palm before stroking his shaft. The medic’s cheeks grew impossibly hot as he watched Nemesis pleasure himself, tugging his spike and drinking in the way Ratchet’s valve glistened under his attention. “Your optics are stunning… You look so vulnerable like this. At my mercy.” Nemesis moaned, pumping his spike faster and rubbing Ratchet firmer. “Such a strong, prideful mech… with such wide, frightened eyes. Your legs trembling, you’re trying so hard not to feel good.” 

Ratchet wanted to look away so badly; Nemesis was right. He was shaking with the effort of keeping still and not grinding against the stimulation. His knees shook, his valve was clenching and growing slick. He didn’t want to be aroused, but it would be better if he was… He didn’t want this to hurt. 

“Tell me, Ratchet. Would you ever say, ‘stop, please, if you really loved me, you would stop?’” 

“You wouldn’t even if I did.” Ratchet whispered, his voice breathy and high. A finger had slipped inside of him, and he squirmed. 

Nemesis chuckled. “You’re getting wet rather fast, don’t you think?” Ratchet resented the question. It wasn’t his fault his body was responding. “Could you be lying to yourself? Could you want me just as much as you want him?” Ratchet shook his helm, squeezing his optics shut. His valve gushed as Nemesis charmed a delicate sensor, and he prayed that it would go unnoticed, but his leader’s engines gave a thrilled rumble. “Or are you just that much of a whore?” Ratchet’s field pulsed in offense. “I’ll stop if you tell me how much you’re enjoying this.” 

Ratchet’s pride was like a brick wall, and he wasn’t keen on letting it come down. It stung him to be submissive, to stick with his plan on being obedient until he could merge sparks. His voice betraying him, he made a high sound of enjoyment as Nemesis played with him, his outer node throbbing with approval, his valve clenching down on the intruding finger. 

“Or I could keep playing with your pretty little valve, and watch you squirm and whimper, let you make a mess of the berth. I’ll lick it up and then do it again… And perhaps then make you ride me… Force you to move up and down my spike until I overload deep inside you… And then make you lick my spike clean…” Nemesis was groaning, jerking on his spike with intent and excitement. 

Ratchet panicked. “A-Ah… Please… I… I’m enjoying it…” 

“Not good enough.” 

“It feels good… I love it… Please…” The medic hid half of his face under his arm, as if it would shield him from his captor. He hated the humiliation, he hated how his charge was building up. 

Nemesis stopped. He withdrew his hand and wiped it off, humming pleasantly. Ratchet deflated again, blinking away the tears that had begun to burn at his optics. He felt defeated, like he’d lost something. Nemesis was picking apart his wall, brick by brick. “Good… good.” Nemesis panted. He crawled up Ratchet’s body, and straddled his chest, his spike resting right at Ratchet’s chin. The medic’s spark just about stopped, and he tried to bury his face further, like he could hide from his leader. Nemesis’ servo on his spike had slowed to a steady pump. “I’m going to overload in your mouth now. Look at me.” 

Optimus had never ordered him around like this. Had never humiliated him. Ratchet wanted him back so badly. He drew in shaky breaths, trying to calm his spark. 

“I said now. Look at me and open your mouth.” 

The medic turned his helm back, sparing a glance at the firm spike. His jaw tightened automatically, and he had to fight with it to open. Slowly, quivering, he parted his lips.

“Don’t you dare close those beautiful optics… Look at me, my pet.” 

Ratchet was relieved that Nemesis’ spike wasn’t shoved down his throat. The head merely rested on his lower lip, and the hand sped back up, eagerly pumping it and encouraging the overload on. Ratchet looked up at Nemesis; he looked deranged. Like an animal. His optics were wide and his mouth was split open in a toothy grin as he stroked himself to completion, and warm ooze coated Ratchet’s glossa. A glob reached his throat, and he shuddered with a small gag. He swallowed under Nemesis’ firm look, trying to keep his open for the tip of the spike to rest there. 

“Gorgeous.” The dark Prime said softly, stroking his helm. “What do you say?” 

Ratchet wasn’t sure. Was he supposed to beg, cry, argue? He mumbled a weak “thank you” against Nemesis’ spike. ‘

“You are wonderful, my love. Nothing is more beautiful than a strong willed, fiery mech, broken down to complete submission. You’ve been a good little whore for me. I’ll give you a break… Let you collect yourself.” He wiped away a singular tear that had made it down Ratchet’s cheek. He climbed off of the berth, his panel closing. 

All Ratchet could do was stare at the ceiling. He felt… shattered, like Nemesis had taken something from him. He breathed shakily as Nemesis busied himself with something. “N-No,” he whispered as his leader came back into view. “No, please, not that.” 

Nemesis was holding a ball gag. He was smirking as he leaned over his prisoner, touching his face with faux affection. “Be good. What if the others return? Do you want them to think you’re a little slut?”

“Please, don’t, I’ll be quiet,” Ratchet pleaded. He didn’t want to be silenced, his voice was all he had, he was bound and helpless. How could he negotiate when Nemesis already had his body, how could he argue with no voice? When the ball was pushed against his lips, he whined. But his resolve was gone, he had nothing left in him to fight Nemesis. He’d been humiliated enough, and he truly did want a break to think, to strategize. His mouth opened, and Nemesis fastened the gag around his helm. 

“I love you.” Nemesis rumbled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love the way you’ve given yourself to me. You know you’re mine, and it drives me wild. This likely wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such a damn tease with those optics, with those legs… If you hadn’t made me love you.” Ratchet huffed. The Prime stood up again, and fetched one more object. “Now spread your legs for me, my pet.” He said from the bottom of the berth. Ratchet didn’t look, he only scooted his thighs apart and opened himself to his captor, without thinking much at all. He moaned around the gag as a long foreign object slipped inside of his now cold valve, pushing deep into him and stretching his walls. It wasn’t a spike, it was cool and lifeless. When it began to buzz and jiggle his sensors, he wriggled and gasped. The vibrator pulsed inside of him, making his slick walls convulse around it’s smooth edges. “Does that feel nice?” Nemesis purred, stroking his outer node. When Ratchet didn’t answer, the nub was squeezed, hard. He shouted into the gag and nodded his helm frantically. 

“Good.” Nemesis laughed, his voice smooth and dark. “You have fun, pet.” 

Ratchet stared at him in horror as he left the room, shutting off the light and snapping the door shut behind him. He cried out, pulling against the cuffs and thrashing. He shifted and squirmed, trying to get the toy to fall free of his valve, but Nemesis had it pushed deep inside of him. Pushing it out crossed his mind, but his port wasn’t obeying him right now, it was clenching and squeezing in appreciation of the delicious attention the toy was giving it. All Ratchet could do was lay there, staring at the ceiling, his hips jerking involuntarily as he was dominated by unwelcome pleasure. He moaned and cried into the gag, not bothering to hide the sounds of enjoyment, there was nobody there to watch him. His first overload was already approaching, and he didn’t bother to fight it, it wouldn’t change his situation. 

He came alone in the dark, his valve gushing, the sheets beneath him glued to his armor by the lubrication. His sensors were attacked mercilessly, the vibrator didn’t care that he was overloading, and recovering. Primus, he wanted to scream. 

The overloads kept coming, and he kept moaning, squirming, grinding against nothing, staring into the darkness. 

Hours passed.

Nemesis showed no sign of returning. 

Chapter Text

It was hardly a relief when Nemesis returned. Ratchet’s weeping valve was sore and aching, and completely spent. It was a genuine fight to keep his optics open. Nemesis pushed apart his trembling thighs with hands so gentle that Ratchet could’ve been fooled. He exhaled long and slow when the vibrator was pulled free and set aside, his tight frame falling slack. 

“Tired?” His leader rumbled, stroking a servo down his side. “You certainly made a mess.” Ratchet wasn’t listening, his optics were already closed, and he was surrendering to a powerdown. “We have both been very patient today. We are not done yet, however. I am not near spent.” 

The cuffs snapped open, and Ratchet whined sleepily as he was pulled off of his back. Anxiety reared its head in his chest, and he woke enough to be aware of how Nemesis was moving his body. He gathered the strength he had left, and looked at his captor, but Nemesis’ purple optics were averted, as if he was avoiding Ratchet’s gaze, even as he unclipped the gag. Ratchet’s jaw was sore, and he worked it for a moment, still following the purple. “Optimus, wh… Wait!” He yelped as Nemesis flipped him over with frightening ease, and when he pushed himself up onto his elbows, there was a woosh and a thwack, and his aft was stinging quite badly. He fell still, the message loud and clear. Nemesis posed him in silence, putting him with his face in the sheets and his aft in the air. His wrists were cuffed to his ankles, forcing him to stay in the rather compromising position. 

It was an odd change, considering how much Nemesis wanted Ratchet to be on top. He had previously marveled in watching Ratchet’s face as he was played with, but now, he was burying it to continue his advances. Ratchet drew in a breath.

“I-I thought… you wanted me to…” 

“The marshmallow trapped in my chest was having a hard time seeing your face, all broken and teary. This is a compromise.” 

Thwack!

Ratchet squeaked and wriggled, curling in out of instinct to hide from the next blow. The sting remained, tingling through his armor, and he wondered if there was a mark. 

"Ah, no no," Nemesis chuckled. "Keep your cute little aft up, Ratchet. You know that I like the view." Ratchet's face flushed hot with embarrassment, and he hid his face in the sheets as he scooted his knees to lift his aft back up as high as he could. A moment passed, and nothing happened. He snuck a glance. "My apologies." Nemesis rumbled. His optics were sparkling. "I was just admiring a whore who knows his place." 

That stung nearly as much as the next thwack of the crop. A yelp and a whimper left Ratchet, and he buried his face once again. He wondered if Optimus thought of him like that. 

Ratchet took a moment to collect his own thoughts. Optimus struggled with seeing his face while Nemesis violated him, it had to have struck a chord in him to see Ratchet cry, and look helpless. It caused a strong enough reaction in him to make Nemesis change positions to avoid eye-contact entirely. If he kept striking that chord, perhaps Optimus could take over, just as Nemesis had.  

Thwack!

"You look wonderful like this."

Thwack!

He had to find a way to change his position, he needed the Prime to be able to see his face. Optimus had to see him like this. They’d have to change positions. How was he going to get out of sitting with his aft in the air?

"I-I'm sorry," Ratchet choked out into the blankets. Behind him, Nemesis tilted his helm. "I'm sorry that I ever tried to fight you. You are right… I do enjoy this, I do want you… this is my place. I am so sorry that I ever denied it." He had caught his captor off guard. "Please… I want you so badly." He squirmed to spread his knees wider, and a hungry sound answered him. "Let me ride your spike. Please, I'll be good, I promise. I want you to…" He swallowed, hoping to suffocate the humiliation in his voice. He hated groveling like this. Begging was always on the table, he was always happy to beg for an overload in a steamy moment of passion. But this felt worlds different. Perhaps it was the fact that he was begging for forgiveness, or for something he didn't want at all. "I want you to hold my hips and make me move up and down your spike like you promised. I'll be good." This was embarrassing. 

"Cute." The Prime answered with little emotion to it. 

  Thwack!

Ratchet yelped a little higher this time, and let it draw out into a moan. "Y-Yes…" 

Thwack! 

It was hard to moan or gasp every time, like he was enjoying it. He really wasn't. Nemesis wasn't being gentle and the humiliation aspect was suffocating.

It seemed that Nemesis didn't want him to enjoy it anyway.

There was the swoosh of the crop gliding through the air, faster, with more force, and Ratchet let out a genuine cry of pain, before burying his face again, whimpering into the covers. Nemesis' engine hummed in excitement, and he ran a hand over Ratchet's aft, where he'd been struck. "You cannot manipulate me, my pet. We will change positions when I choose to. When I bore of this lovely view…" 

Thwack!

"Which may take a while. We adore your aft. My lesser side loves to think of you like this, face down, aft up, where he can taste your valve from behind." Ratchet was ready to start sobbing and begging for mercy, but he was sure that would only send energon to Nemesis' spike faster. He wanted rest. He wanted Optimus to slip in beside him and curl around him, put an arm around his stomach like he always did. Nemesis pulled his arm back farther again and gathered more force. 

Thwack!

Ratchet tried to swallow his cry.

"He does not like that I'm doing this. I admit, this is not what he had in mind when he pictures you like this. I have taken some creative liberties to his fantasy. Now is a good time as any for experimenting." Nemesis shifted closer, and Ratchet instinctively lowered his aft, he couldn't help it. A firm hand caught it and brought it right back up. "And I would say this was a successful experiment… Feel how much I love seeing you like this?" 

Ratchet tried not to react as Nemesis' warm, hard spike was dragged against his aft, tracing the curves and smearing small dribbles of fluid along his armor. 

"Is it not flattering that you can do this to me?" 

Ratchet could have scoffed. He could get Optimus as stiff as a brick with his voice and face alone, that wasn't flattering, that was a Tuesday. But Nemesis seemed to think he ought to be honored, and he was nudged for a response. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice muffled. His breath hitched and his back went tense when Nemesis shifted again, and he waited to feel the head of his leader's spike nudging his entrance. He didn't want this to be how he was fragged, he was desperate to get the upper hand back… not that he ever had it. He thought about begging to be on top again. 

An involuntary whimper left him as his folds were spread wide, and he hated the way his valve clenched, exposed to the open air. Nemesis opened him up and inspected him with a pleasant rumble, and he shook with the effort of keeping still. Frag, he wanted to thrash and scream, he felt so exposed. It felt so wrong to be on display for this side of Optimus. 

It wasn't Nemesis' spike that slipped inside him. He suffocated an embarrassed sob as the ribbed handle of the crop entered him, and circled around, greeting all of his sensors. This was more humiliating. He chewed on the inside of the cheek and tried to keep his crying down as Nemesis withdrew and then pushed it right back in, fragging him with the handle, still holding the lips of his valve wide open. 

"You like this." Nemesis murmured. He was watching Ratchet’s port cycle down on the ribbed edges as it charmed his slick walls. "Look at how much you like this." 

Ratchet hated it. For the first time, he tried to think of something else. The view from his apartment on Cybertron, drinks with his university friends, books he'd read and enjoyed. Nemesis growled at him, and pulled out the crop to strike him with it one time before plunging it back in. His cheeks burned. "Y-Yes… I like it…" He complied weakly. 

"Then get your face out of the bed and sound like it. You aren't ungrateful, are you?" 

He turned his helm to free his mouth, and let himself moan. It wasn't entirely fake. The crop was nuzzling his favorite spots, and he was dripping and shivering with pleasure. He gasped and moaned for his captor, trying to filter out the cracks in his voice. The crop sped up, and he hated the fire in his array. He resented the overload that was coming on.

Perhaps it was time to beg again.

“Not like this… Please… Optimus, please,” Ratchet whimpered weakly. Nemesis regarded him with a deep, pleased purr. “I don’t want to overload from this, please, don’t make me. Use your spike, please, ” he let his voice break to sell it. 

“Feeling humiliated, are we?” Nemesis stroked his sore, irritated armor. “I do quite like the sound of you begging for my spike. You do owe me quite a few overloads, as well.” A sigh left Ratchet as the crop slipped free and was tossed aside. “If you wish to ride me that badly… I suppose…” 

Sell it, before he changes his mind. “Please, yes,” Ratchet pushed himself up to his hands and knees when he was uncuffed, but didn’t dare move otherwise. He waited until his leader had flopped down beside him on the berth, until strong servos had his hips. Obediently, he climbed onto Nemesis’ lap, straddling his hips and hovering above the large, eager spike that he knew quite well. 

“Go on then.”

Ratchet’s servos shook until he rested them on his leader’s windshield, putting his weight there as he lowered his aft down so the head of the spike brushed his valve’s lips. There was no tingle of excitement, his valve was spent and sore. He whimpered as he sank down onto the length, taking it all the way down to the base, the familiar stretch greeting his tired walls. The deep penetration wasn’t comfortable, he was aching, and he couldn’t relax. His aft connected with Nemesis’ pelvic plating, and the Prime moaned, watching his spike disappear into the clenching port. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Nemesis growled, still watching Ratchet’s valve as he tightened his hold on his medic’s hips. On his best behavior, Ratchet pushed himself part way off of the shaft and then back down, rocking his hips as he bounced himself on the deep rod. 

Ratchet panted, watching Nemesis’ face. “Optimus…” He whimpered. 

“Don’t you dare stop… Keep moving your hips...” 

Obediently still, Ratchet rode him, biting his glossa when his partner hissed out words like whore and slut under his breath. Again, he wondered if Optimus really thought of him like this when they were together. This ordeal was awful enough, did he really have to be shamed for it? 

Back on track. 

He gasped, and let it draw into a moan. Nemesis’ optics finally flicked up to his face, and he seized his opportunity. He let himself cry, tossing aside his pride and strength. He let the tears flow uncontrollably, and he let his body shake. He let his shoulders slacken, let his posture fall. He let himself crumble under Nemesis’ lavender gaze. “Optimus…” He never thought that he’d sound like this, not even if he was on his deathbed, not even if he was at Megatron’s mercy. He sounded weak and pathetic, and broken. 

When he broke into a sob, the hands on his hips tightened painfully. It was as if Nemesis froze, his optics wide. Ratchet watched him, vision blurry through his tears. His cheeks dripped. And then, Nemesis was shaking, violently. He released Ratchet to grip the sheets on either side of him, his breath becoming ragged.

“N-No… No… No… ” The Prime snarled through gritted denta. “Stop it… Stop! I will not go back! No… I will not let you…” 

“Optimus?” Ratchet whispered. He reached down and touched the side of his leader’s helm, and gasped as Optimus’ body jolted, as if he was seizing. His back was arching off of the berth, the sheets tore under his digits. 

“Hngh… Nngh…” His optics were flashing, and one of his servos ripped at his own chest, cracking the glass of his windshield. He clawed at his own sparkchamber, keening, denting his armor, peeling his paint. 

Ratchet caught his wrist and fought with it, putting his weight into holding it against the berth. “Optimus, your sparkchamber, please! Open for me, please Optimus!” He begged, his own chest snapping open, the glow of his spark flooding over his struggling mate. “Please, open, let me help you!” He leaned across Optimus, pressing their chests together, releasing Optimus’ wrist. The loose servo gripped at his arm, shaking madly.

“Ratchet… kngh…” 

“ Please, let him open…” Ratchet whispered weakly as Optimus’ fingers peeled his paint. 

The Prime’s chest opened, and their energies clashed. Nemesis was a roaring beast, swirling around the Prime’s spark like a twister, trapping him in the dark maze. Optimus had stepped into the storm and had met it head on, and they churned together, bashing one another with pure hatred. When Ratchet’s spark met theirs, finally reaching them through the corridors of darkness, Nemesis screamed, and lashed out. Ratchet had to grip Optimus to keep from pulling away, gasping, tears flooding down his cheeks and dripping onto his mate. And then Optimus’ light brushed Ratchet’s, stroking it, then embracing it, and they raced side by side, trapping Nemesis in the center of a whirlpool of bright light. The dark energy was fizzling out, suffocating and screeching in agony until reduced to nothing. 

And then it was quiet, just a normal merge, no longer a wild battle. 

Ratchet pushed himself up, so he was no longer lying flat on his leader. He shifted so Optimus’ softening spike fell free of his valve, and let himself hover over Optimus’ chest, sighing in relief. “Optimus… Oh, thank Primus, Optimus.” A fresh round of tears gathered in his optics, for an entirely different reason. Beneath him, his leader was panting, blue flooding back into his optics. As his face became his own, the look of pure horror dawned. Ratchet stroked his helm, cupped his cheeks, and peppered his face with kisses. “I am so glad you are back… You came through, you fought him, thank Primus…” Finally, he could be kissed and cuddled and supported. 

The Prime’s hand had fallen to his side, and he was just breathing, long and slow now, avoiding Ratchet’s tearful optics. 

“Are you alright? Do you need fuel?” Ratchet sat up a little more so their sparkchambers could close. Resisting Nemesis had to have taken his energy. “Do you need rest?” Ratchet certainly did. His spark warmed at the thought of sleeping snuggled against his mate’s chest. That’s all he wanted. To be held, to be safe. Ratchet cupped his cheek again, stroking the warm metal tenderly. He frowned as Optimus took his servo, and guided it away from his face. “Optimus?” 

Still silent, the Prime gently lifted Ratchet off of himself, and stood, his panel closing. Ratchet sat on the berth, watching him. His own panel snapped shut, and he shuddered at the fluid being trapped inside. 

“Don’t do this again, don’t blame yourself.” He said softly. “Please, don’t. You and I both know that it isn’t your fault. I could never blame you.” His pedes touched the floor. Optimus’ optics remained downcast. “I need you, Optimus.” His voice cracked, and he hated it. The time to look and sound pathetic was over. “I need you right now. Maybe… We could take a bath, and then tuck in early for the night. I don’t want to be away from you right now, if you could just…” He paused, collecting himself. He couldn’t believe he was asking for this, he felt so weak and embarrassed for it. “If you could just hold me. I need you so badly right now, Optimus.” 

Optimus didn’t look at him still. Ratchet gave him a flare of disapproval through their bond. He’d just bared his spark, and Optimus wouldn’t even look at him. “I am sorry, Ratchet. I cannot…” His optics squeezed shut. “I am sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” Ratchet stood, and Optimus took a step back and away from him, like Ratchet’s presence burned him. “Optimus, talk to me.” The medic pleaded. 

“Tomorrow.” The Prime said weakly. “I cannot do this right now. I am sorry, Ratchet, I… Cannot after what I have done to you.”

“You didn’t do anything, Optimus, do you hear me at all when I speak?” Ratchet said, exasperated. “You fought for me, and you are back now, that is all that matters.” 

“I have made my decision, for now. I am sorry.” 

So you’re just kicking me out? 

Ratchet sucked in a breath, trying to suffocate the frustration in his chest. He was certain that Optimus could feel it. Even still, what had happened was a lot to process. It had been hard for both of them. Ratchet more so than Optimus, but Ratchet could still give his mate time to cope, even though it hurt so badly to be alone. It was hard to accept Optimus’ refusal to comfort him. 

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He murmured tiredly. He left the berthroom without looking back, and hurried to the washracks. 

Optimus’ end of the bond was closed off. 

It was in the afternoon when Optimus finally appeared at the medbay door, staring inside with dull optics. It had taken Ratchet a moment to notice him, he hadn’t announced his presence or approached. When his medic finally looked at him, he stepped inside and let the door slide shut. 

“Come sit, then.” Ratchet gestured to the medical slab. “I’m glad you’re here.” Optimus moved with low hanging shoulders as he sank down, clasping his servos on his knees. Despite the severity of hurt hanging in the air, Ratchet felt the familiar surge of affection in his chest as he turned to face his leader. He cupped his cheek in a gentle hold and bent to press a kiss to his forehelm, but found that his hand was being guided back to his side, and Optimus was leaning away from him. “What’s wrong?” Ratchet murmured. He didn’t receive an answer, and he huffed. “Optimus, you aren’t on the same scrap you were last night, are you? I’m fine, we’re fine, we just have to be smarter than before.” He sighed, long and slow. Emotions were stirring in his chest. “I could really use my big strong mate right now… And you know I have a hard time admitting that.” 

Silence still answered him, and Ratchet felt the sting of hurt in his field.

“You’re really digging your heel in on this one, aren’t you? You are dead set on refusing to give me any sort of reassurance?” 

How much of his spark had to be bared before the Prime realized that all Ratchet wanted from him was a hug? 

“Optimus, fragging talk to me!” Ratchet hated that his optics were filling with tears. He didn’t want to feel like an idiot while he confronted his leader. “You can’t even try to comfort me? Would it kill you to hold me, sit beside me, hold my fragging hand? I need you, Optimus. I need you to be there for me. Why are you doing this?”

Optimus’ face had softened, and he seemed unable to meet Ratchet’s eyes. “I am the one who has done the damage, I have no place trying to fix it.” 

“You most certainly do! You are my mate, I ought to be able to turn to you!” 

“I cannot, Ratchet. Not after what I’ve done. You deserve an untainted spark, to be touched by hands that haven’t violated you. I cannot lure you into a false comfort, when I could hurt you again.” The Prime stared down at his servos, and his jaw tightened. 

His medic threw up his servos and made an exasperated sound. “I don’t care about that! I want you, you’ve always been there for me, and I you. My spark is yours, Optimus, I gave it to you, and it was my choice to do that. I chose you , I want you . And I know that you want me because that’s all the other one would talk about!” He insisted. “So why won’t you trust that I forgive you and just… hold me, Optimus. Just be with me, please.” He reached out and touched his mate’s hand, and it was snapped away from him. 

“Every time I touch you, every time I see your optics…” Optimus whispered. “I see what he saw. I see you scared and helpless, I have never seen you like that before. Too frightened to even beg me to stop…” He sighed, and his breath wavered. Ratchet tried not to react as his leader’s voice caught. “I refuse to put you in that position again. I refuse to see you like that again. I refuse to make you cry like that. I am sorry.” 

Hot tears had finally made it down Ratchet’s cheeks, and it was like they burnt Optimus. “We can work through this, we can help each other. This doesn’t have to end here. Repressing all of your emotions won’t fix this part of you.” He said, strained. “Or the damage that’s been done.” 

“Until I am more stable, your idea of two merges a week should suffice. Going forward, I believe it must happen on a weekly basis, I cannot risk jeopardizing the team, or you.” Optimus still couldn’t seem to gather the courage to look at his distressed medic. His optics closed, and he drew in a long breath. “I am deeply sorry that I must ask this of you, I know it is not fair. We will search for a more permanent solution.” 

“Optimus.” Ratchet complained. 

“That will be the extent of our personal contact.” 

“Optimus!” Ratchet’s frustration was boiling over the top. He wasn’t being listened to. “Do you really think this is the answer? Pushing me away?” 

Optimus stood, and still without looking at him, moved towards the door. “Know this, Ratchet. All I want is for you to be safe.” 

“You’re a fragging coward.” Ratchet hissed. “You’re running away when I need you the most. Instead of facing the problem head on, you’re leaving me to deal with it on my own. I was wrong about you.” His voice hitched, and he swallowed the sob. "Your problem isn't that you're soft… it's that you are a coward."

Finally, the Prime looked at him, and his own cheeks were streaked. “I am so sorry, Old Friend.” 

And then he was gone, and Ratchet was more alone than ever.

Chapter Text

It was painfully obvious that Optimus was avoiding his medic like the plague. The deliberate attempts to be at the opposite end of the room from him, the refusal to meet his eyes, the way he wouldn’t even speak to Ratchet if others were in the room, aside from orders or requests, wasn't secretive in the slightest. It didn’t take much time for their teammates to notice, and it wasn’t like they could just ask Optimus. Ratchet became the target, he was the approachable one out of the two. To save face, he swore up and down that he noticed no difference in their leader’s behavior, but by the looks on their faces, he wasn’t lying very well. 

Very few days had passed when Optimus had silently moved into the medbay, his optics downcast, to request that week’s second spark merge. 

Ratchet wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to badger him. 

“So how long are you going to tiptoe around me?” He asked rather dryly, not bothering to look at his leader as he sat down. “The others are pestering me nonstop. They want to know why you are behaving the way you are.” 

“I made my stance clear.” The Prime uttered. His sparkchamber opened. Ratchet missed that soft blue glow already. 

“And if I withhold the merges until you step up and talk to me?” The medic crossed his arms over his chest, barring his spark off. Optimus set his jaw, and seemed to battle with a frown for a moment before letting his face fall flat. 

“I doubt you will risk yourself or our team.” 

Ratchet sucked in a breath. “At least the other you was honest and upfront.” When it came out, it was venomous. Had he been less stubborn, he could have winced. 

It certainly struck Optimus, and the glimpse of betrayal in his optics was heartbreaking. The look almost brought Ratchet to blurt out an apology, something like “I would never prefer him to you, I didn’t mean it,” but he caught himself. “Shall I return later?” Optimus asked him in a weak shadow of his voice. 

Why was he digging his heel in like this? Why was he so bent on ending everything? Why would he refuse to work through the problem with Ratchet? Why was supporting Ratchet so hard now when he had done it so well previously?

His behavior was a pathetic excuse for coping. 

“Primes don’t run, Optimus.” Ratchet hissed. He was angry. Optimus had abandoned him, and he was losing hope that it would change.

“You are safer the more distance I put between us. I have made myself clear on that front. Team Prime is incapable of functioning without you.” The Prime reasoned. 

“You’re going to let him drive us apart. You're giving up like I meant nothing to you.” His medic fired back. 

“You meant everything to me.” When Optimus’ optics finally found Ratchet’s, the Prime’s body was wracked with a flinch, like he’d been struck. “That is why this must be done.” 

“ Fine. ” Optimus watched Ratchet’s sparkchamber snap open, and heaved a long sigh. 

While Ratchet had given up on words, he was far from done arguing. His fury was searing, the merge was uncomfortable. Optimus’ spark was taking a beating, drinking in every wave of anger, hurt and betrayal with no rebuttal. It made his hands shake, it made his helm ache. Ratchet did everything he could to make the merge as miserable as he could, to let his anger be known. 

But it still ended with Optimus leaving, and Ratchet standing alone once again. 

Optimus fled from the base immediately, wherever the bridge would spit him out. He trudged through thick mud of a vast marsh, watching egrets through blurry vision as they lifted off and chased the horizon. Slop was draining into crevices in his armor, and his pedes were suckled into the earth once or twice when he stepped into deeper spots, but he was determined to just walk. He wasn’t sure where, but if he kept moving, maybe he’d leave some of his thoughts behind him, and journey on unburdened. 

He’d made a mistake. He’d looked into Ratchet’s optics. 

And he had seen Ratchet, his hands above his helm, his optics wide, his body shaking. 

His medic had been by his side for a millenia, yet he had never seen Ratchet cry. They had mourned the loss of their friends and comrades countless times, they had lost so much, but still, Ratchet remained the strongest mech he knew. He had never broken in front of anyone. It was all he had left. His sheer stubbornness kept him from faltering. It had gotten him so far. 

And Optimus was the one to break him. To make him cry like a frightened child, to beg, to tremble. The sight of his cheeks streaked with tears… 

The image flashed in his mind, and Optimus knees shook violently. Nausea swelled up in his middle. His hands tore through sludge as they tried to support him when he crumbled. The picture in his mind was enough to drain everything from him. He was sick, he was helpless, he was so, so scared to see him like that again. 

He had seen gruesome deaths, disgusting wounds, devastated faces, why did this effect him so badly? 

He couldn’t look at Ratchet, he couldn’t touch Ratchet, without feeling the overwhelming dread that immobilized him, that made him weak and useless. 

Ratchet didn’t understand what it was doing to him. 

How could he live with this? It was suffocating. The anticipation of knowing what he would see if he looked into the optics he loved so dearly. The guilt and fear was so thick he could choke on it. And now, it felt as if he was. He was breathing so hard that he was gagging on his own breath, it caught in his chest, and it seemed to swell and crush him from the inside. 

When the nausea had died down, he noticed how hard his spark was pounding. It slammed against its casing like a trapped animal, fight or flight streaming through his blood. His stomach and head felt hot and twisting, swimming in a pool of thick, oozing dread.

 He had endured the plague himself. He had been stabbed, shot, burned, thrown, and yet this was what brought him to his knees. 

He wasn’t strong enough to be there for Ratchet. He let this control him, let this feeling take Ratchet away from him… 

Because he was a coward. 

He couldn’t face what he had done. 

He was a coward. 

Ratchet didn't even bother to chastise Optimus when he tracked mud back into the base. That was how he knew Ratchet was still furious with him when he returned. 

"What happened to you?" Miko asked as he passed by the railing, moving towards the washracks. 

"I slipped." Optimus replied. 

"Into a swamp?" Miko eyed his coated plating. "Did you meet Shrek?" 

The Prime didn't have a chance to answer, Ratchet was announcing a signal that was now blinking on his monitor. "A dark energon signal, on the move. A rather big one." 

"That means it's Megatron, doesn't it?" Miko followed the railing as close as she could to the screen. 

"Do you think he's shot himself up again, is that why it's so strong?" Bulkhead asked. 

"Possibly. I am still learning to read these signals, they are still foreign to me." Ratchet entered the coordinates into the bridge, but didn't pull the lever. "The question is if we plan to investigate."

"He's above patrolling like a common drone. If he's out and about, it's for a reason." Arcee piped in. “Is it a good idea to run interference?” She looked at Optimus. 

“I’d advise against starting a fight if he’s simply out for a flight. As of now, we don’t know what it is he is setting out to do.” Ratchet spoke before their leader had a chance to. “He’s dangerous like this, the dark energon makes him a greater threat. If I had any faith in Optimus beating him, I’d be all for it, but this seems like an opportunity for Optimus to get beaten within an inch of his life more than anything.” He shifted his weight, letting his tone slip. His attitude brought all eyes to him. Bulkhead cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Optimus didn’t let the silence set in. “Arcee, Bumblebee, with me. We will begin with reconnaissance only, Megatron may not pose a significant threat to us at this moment.” He hesitated before speaking again, as if what he had to say was flammable. “Ratchet, activate the groundbridge.” 

A lazy wave answered him. “When you get cut open, fix it yourself, perhaps you’ll learn something.” The weight behind it was strong. Bulkhead, Miko and Bumblebee made faces, jaws dropping. Everyone looked to Optimus to see how he would react, if he’d discipline Ratchet, if he’d ask what was wrong. 

The bridge whirled to life. 

“Go on then.” Ratchet didn’t look at any of them. He turned back to the monitor; Optimus seemed to have nothing to say. His footsteps alerted him that he was leaving, and that the others were following him in silence. The bridge feathered to a close behind them. 

“What’s your problem?” Miko asked with genuine curiosity. “What did Optimus do?” 

“Miko, come on,” Bulkhead said quickly, scooping her up. 

It was what Optimus didn’t do. 

Ratchet massaged his temple for a moment, before returning to typing. 

Megatron’s signal hadn’t meant anything. It seemed to be as simple as a flight. But the base was awkward now, Ratchet’s frustration was hanging in the air. He continued to snap at Optimus at any opportunity he received, regardless who was watching. Each time, the others would stare at their leader, awaiting his response, but he had nothing to say. He took it each time. 

Since they needed Ratchet for almost everything in the base, Optimus was the one that had to avoid the main hangar, unless he wanted to be verbally assaulted. 

The others were too afraid to ask. Ratchet was glad for that. 

But the base was suffocating now. The tension made it difficult enough that the Autobots spent time with their human friends outside of the base; they deemed it unwise to bring the children around the fighting. 

Good. 

Ratchet could be angry in quiet. 

The next four merges were insignificant. The new normal was absolute silence, and a searing, burning connection, where Ratchet would let his displeasure be known to the best of his ability. Optimus would not look at him or touch him. 

It wasn’t until the fifth one that Ratchet tried again. 

“Have you turned this over in your head at all?” He asked as his leader sat down. 

“My decision is final.”

“And how is it working for you?” Ratchet spat. “Are you happier like this? Is this so much better?” 

Optimus was hesitant when he spoke. “You needn’t be so hostile. I am sorry that this is how it must be.” 

That’s all it took for Ratchet to snap. 

“Did you forget what fragging happened to me? Did you not see what I went through? Do you have any idea what it was like to be tied there, taking the humiliation?” His shout made Optimus startle. “I took all of it, and I begged for your return, it was all I could think about. I endured it, holding onto the hope that you would be there for me when you came back. That when I broke, you would hold me. And I fragging broke, and I did it to get you back. I let my guard down and I let it show how badly I was hurting, because that was the only way you’d take control again. And you…” Optimus flinched as a tool was hurled in his direction. “Turn your fragging back on me, you leave me to cope on my own. I know that you love me, the other you wouldn’t shut the frag up about it. So what the frag is stopping you?”

Ratchet’s voice had been loud. Optimus spared a nervous glance at the door. “We mustn’t do this.” He uttered softly. “Please, Old Friend-”

“Don’t fragging call me that. This isn’t friendship. This isn’t what we had.” Ratchet was backing away, and Optimus still couldn’t look at him. “So find someone else to merge with. If you want us to be over, then it’s fragging over.” He was the one to walk out this time. Optimus called after him, but the feeling of giving him a taste of his own medicine was a little too satisfying for him to turn around. 

He’d go for a long drive. He’d let Optimus worry about him. He’d make this as hard as possible. 

He wondered if this made him a bad person. 

Obviously Optimus wasn't all that troubled that he'd left, he hadn't been called back, over his com or their bond. That left a stinging feeling in Ratchet's chest. Even still, after he'd driven his energy out and calmed down some, he conceded that he didn't like the idea of Optimus bonding with anyone else. He didn’t like the idea of bringing a third into their personal life.

When he returned hours later, he summoned Optimus to the medbay for another spiteful merge. It had made his leader tremble. Ratchet had to make sure going back on his initial stance was worth it, it wasn’t in his stubborn nature to give in. 

“Get out.” Ratchet snapped when he heard the medbay door shift open. “I’m not in the mood for a mer…” 

It wasn’t Optimus’ hands that touched his shoulders, massaging in circles, thumbs working into the tense wiring. Ratchet whirled around, startling. 

“What are you doing here?” He sputtered. 

Wheeljack grinned at him. “Just visiting. Bulkhead asked me to come and see everybody, try to lighten the mood. Don’t tell him I told you, but he says you’ve been a real piece of work lately, and that the base has been a warzone.” He leaned one elbow on the wall and rested one heel. “Figured it was time to see the gang.” 

“Then go on, entertain the lot of them.” Ratchet waved him off. “I’m working.” 

“Heard that you’ve been all riled up with Optimus.” The white wrecker leaned closer, like it was a secret. “What’s the deal, what’s got you so upset?” He didn’t receive a response. Ratchet turned back to his screen and resumed typing. “The kids are still at school. The fun and games don’t start until the ‘bots go and get them. Bulkhead didn’t tell Miko, it’s supposed to be a surprise. Never thought I’d be a guest of honor. It’s sweet, right?” 

Ratchet wanted to bash his own head through the screen. 

“I’ve got all this free time. And as it’s my responsibility to make this place fun again, I thought I’d start with the root of the problem.” Wheeljack was slowly leaning into his view. “I take my job very seriously.” 

“Tell Bulkhead that he better enjoy this while it lasts, because I’m going to…” The medic glared at the hand on his shoulder like he could burn it off. “If you touch me one more time,” he snapped. 

“For real, Doc. Let’s have a conversation.” 

Optimus always hastily retreated when Ratchet gave him a look. It seemed to only make Wheeljack’s optics sparkle. “That is not my name, and I have no interest in a therapy session with the likes of you. The door is that way.” He nodded towards the exit. 

“The others think they know you, and they think they know Optimus. They think they would’ve noticed if something went on between the two of you. I know that if you’re all mad at him, it was something personal.” Wheeljack said with genuine thought. “I’m not dumb enough to think that you and Optimus would let anything personal slip. You two have got secrets. And I don’t really care to hear them.”

He caught Ratchet’s attention then. The medic watched him with wary optics. 

“I only care to hear how he hurt you if that’s what you really want, to rant or whatever.” Wheeljack shrugged. “But what I had in mind…” As he spoke, his hand was slipping across Ratchet’s back to rest on his other shoulder. “Was to make you feel better in a different way. To relieve you of some of this tension, give you an outlet. And who knows, getting back at Optimus like this might knock some sense into him. Let’s show Mister High Roads that you don’t need him.” When he finished, his arm was draped around Ratchet, and his voice had lowered. 

It was nice to be embraced for a moment. Ratchet could have teared up at how much he had longed for the feeling, how much he missed it. Was Wheeljack right, would this get Optimus’ attention? He’d have to know what they had done, but that wouldn’t be very difficult, Wheeljack would likely flaunt it. They were due for a merge that day anyway, Optimus might even find the aftermath. Would it awaken something in him, would he be jealous or possessive, would he fight to have Ratchet back? 

Aside from the revenge aspect, he was finally being seen. Wheeljack had come to the conclusion that he was lashing out from a place of hurt, and while his motives were questionable, he was giving Ratchet attention that he had missed. The comforting touch was warm enough to melt into. Ratchet was desperate to be held and loved on, and the feeling of finally having it was worth a frag. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked quietly. 

“Honestly? To get a hit at that aft of yours. Builds like yours are right up my alley. I bet you can take a pounding.” Wheeljack’s arm was pulling him in closer, lips pulling into a smirk. He knew he had won Ratchet over. “I get lonely, all by myself.” 

“You don’t actually care.” Ratchet scoffed. 

“I didn’t say that.” Ratchet’s cheeks flushed as his servo was taken, and guided downward. His palm was pressed against Wheeljack’s closed panel, and it was warm and pushed outward ever so slightly. “This is my emotional support erection.” 

Ratchet laughed, genuinely. It was freeing to do so. He took Wheeljack by the collar and shoved him in the direction of the examination table. The wide smirk he received didn’t warm his insides like Optimus’ smile did, but he could work with it. He pushed Wheeljack onto his back and climbed on, their mouths finding each others’. Wheeljack was rough, but not in the way Ratchet preferred. He was rough and sloppy. When Optimus was rough with him, it was controlled. Even when he was plowing into Ratchet, chasing an overload with reckless abandon, he still had enough control to worship Ratchet along the way. Wheeljack didn’t seem to appreciate his body as much, though he did seem rather thrilled. 

Ratchet’s aft was being squeezed hard enough to leave dents. His glossa was tangling with Wheeljack’s, and his thigh was being used to grind on. “You are so fragging hot,” Wheeljack growled into his mouth. He was enjoying squeezing Ratchet’s aft and thighs like he was a squeaky toy. “I’m going to put my face between these. Get up here.” He was holding Ratchet’s thighs. 

This was moving rather quickly. The medic crawled up his body with a vent. Optimus always took his time to touch him and explore him, to get him wanting before he moved on. And here he was sitting on Wheeljack’s face after barely getting to know him. When his panel opened, he realized that his valve didn’t seem all that interested. 

“I bet you’re a tight frag. I bet you’ve got a tight little valve that squeezes so fragging good.” Wheeljack groaned before molding his mouth to Ratchet’s anterior, licking at his dry lips. Ratchet made a soft noise as the warm tongue teased each fold before moving to his anterior node, nudging it firmly. 

The valve is a muscle, if it’s tight, it means your partner isn’t as into you as you think they are. Ratchet rolled his optics. He looked over his shoulder as Wheeljack’s panel popped open, and a white spike with green and red accents was waiting for him. 

“Return the favor, huh?” Wheeljack mumbled against his valve. Ratchet swiveled around to be facing the foot of the berth, the wrecker beneath him still lapping at his port, and laid down onto his elbows to touch his lips to the base of Wheeljack’s spike. It twitched excitedly. He dragged his mouth up to the tip, and took it to the back of his throat. Optimus’ was bigger, obviously, look at the size of him, and had ridges that Ratchet loved to feel inside of him. He had never explored it with his mouth, but the thought sent electricity through him. He wondered how much he could fit in his mouth, and how attractive it would be when Optimus trembled with the effort of restraining himself from fragging Ratchet’s intake. 

He had to stop thinking about Optimus. He had to stop comparing him to Wheeljack. 

Though it did help his valve slicken. 

Ratchet moved his helm up and down Wheeljack’s hardness, suckling absentmindedly. “I knew you’d be able to swallow deep.” The wrecker groaned. His hips thrusted upward, and Ratchet tried to continue his rhythm with the new movement. “You are a mech of many talents.” 

Wheeljack’s glossa made it inside of him, and circled his inner walls. He moaned and lightly ground into the sensation, his port growing wet at the internal tickling. Admittedly, Wheeljack was doing a nice job with his valve. He was being tended to and appreciated again, and the feeling was intoxicating. 

The wet tongue was moving in him faster already, and he quickened his own pace on Wheeljack’s spike. The wrecker certainly didn’t take his time. Already, he was egging an overload on. Alright, then. He sucked with more intent, moving quickly, encouraged by Wheeljack’s moans of enjoyment. “You taste as good as I thought you would. I love being between your thick damn thighs.”

Ratchet shivered and whimpered as Wheeljack’s lower row of denta grazed his anterior node. “Right there,” he groaned, his voice muffled and unintelligible. 

“Frag, Ratch, frag …” 

The door opened. 

Optimus was halfway into the room before he noticed, his optics were cast downward as usual. When he looked up, he froze, optics cycling wide and his jaw dropping. 

The look of horror wasn’t satisfying like Ratchet thought it would be. Instead, it stung, and panic swelled up in his chest. He wanted to reassure Optimus that this wasn’t what he wanted, that he would never trade another for him, that he was just so hurt and desperate- 

He had to make it right, he had to say something. 

Optimus didn’t flee immediately. He stared, his face tightening, his servos balling into fists. He was on the verge of something, standing right on the edge, teetering over, but still he just stood. 

Wheeljack was too busy burying his face in Ratchet’s panel, lapping up his insides to notice. His hips were still thrusting into Ratchet’s throat. 

Frantic to speak, Ratchet freed his mouth, his lips forming Optimus’ name, just in time for Wheeljack’s spike to spurt transfluid across his face. He clambered off of the white wrecker, wiping his face furiously. “Optimus, I am so-” 

The door had closed. Wheeljack was sitting up, wiping his mouth off. “If looks could kill.” He muttered. 

Ratchet’s insides were dissolving into panic. “Oh, frag,” he covered his face. “I fragged this up so badly.” 

“You got his attention, that’s something.” Wheeljack offered. He deflated when Ratchet’s panel closed. 

“I have to go after him. I shouldn’t have done this.” The medic paced for a moment before gathering himself up. “I’m sorry. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

Wheeljack waved as he sprinted from the room. 

The groundbridge had been activated, and Optimus was already gone. Ratchet transformed and floored it to make it through the portal as it vanished. He barreled through the other side onto dirt, his tires spinning without moving for a moment before he gained traction and surged forward again. His leader was already kicking up dust up a steep hill, weaving between large rocks and trees. Ratchet tore after him, dust billowing behind him, dirt raining across his windshield and dappling his sides. 

“Wait, Optimus, slow down!” He shouted. 

Optimus answered over the com instead of yelling down the hill. “Return to base.” 

“We are going to talk, now.” Ratchet hissed back. “Please, Optimus.” His leader didn’t respond, but sped up more, in a cowardly attempt to flee from his mate. Ratchet huffed and sped up as well. “I’m going to hurt myself, Optimus, this isn’t safe, ambulances aren’t meant for this.” He complained as a rock jostled him, and he swerved to straighten back out. The Prime had disappeared. 

He climbed faster yet. 

The top of the hill was approaching. He pushed himself harder. He could catch Optimus on the downhill. 

It turns out, there was no downhill. 

Optimus had skidded to a stop where the ground dropped off into a deep cliff, overlooking a vast lake. The view would have been captivating, if Ratchet had time to stop. By the time he saw why Optimus had halted, it was too late, and his tires had no grip through the dirt and grass. He skidded straight into his leader, and the impact took them both over the edge. They transformed mid air as they pummeled downwards, breaking the water with a massive splash. 

It was a wet trek to shore that only took a few minutes of tense, tired silence. Optimus was still ahead of Ratchet, picking water greenery out of crevices in his armor, and freeing a fish that had trapped itself in one of his tires. 

Ratchet’s frustration was blooming again. He’d just chased Optimus down and sent them both flying into a lake, and Optimus was still ignoring him. 

Optimus had made it to shore, and was raising his finger to his audial to access his com. 

No fragging way was Ratchet going to let him run away again. 

Optimus yelped in surprise as he was tackled to the ground. He found himself flat on his back, staring wide eyed at his medic, who gripped him by the collar and glared down at him. “We are going to talk now .” Ratchet insisted. 

The Prime’s fingers dug through the rocks beneath him as a wave of nauseous panic swelled in him. He closed his optics and sucked in a shaky breath, his body adopting a small tremble. The hands pinning him down softened, and he set his jaw as Ratchet stroked his helm, cupping his jaw. 

“We are going to talk. Now.” Ratchet said in a gentler voice, fully sitting down on Optimus’ lap and opening his end of the bond, allowing his emotions to rest freely in the space between them. 

Optimus let out his breath, it had been burning in his chest. Without opening his optics, he whispered, “Very well.”

Chapter Text

“What do you want me to say?” The combative tone was foreign to Optimus’ voice. It seemed out of place there, but Ratchet was glad to hear it. He needed Optimus to abandon his need to always be on the high road and just talk about his feelings for once. “What do you expect of me, Ratchet?” 

“I expect you to get angry and do something about me fragging Wheeljack.” That sounded childish. Ratchet felt immature saying it, but he pushed forward. “That’s why I did it, I want you to snap and tell me what you really think, instead of the nonsense you’ve been throwing my way for weeks.” 

“It is not my place to tell you who to interface with. We are not together. I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do with your body.” Optimus answered simply. The way his jaw set gave him away. 

“So you aren’t angry, or jealous, or hurt? You’d rather I run off and let Wheeljack frag me than do it yourself?” Ratchet fired back. It made his circuits sizzle when Optimus still refused to meet his optics. “You’re completely fine with me sucking his spike? And letting him do everything that you used to do to my valve?” 

“There is no need to make this so crude.” Optimus chastised, but the image had made his optics cycle narrower. “As I said before, you may interface with whoever you choose, it is none of my concern.” 

Ratchet could’ve hit him. This was infuriating. “You are fragging insufferable.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, drawing in a long breath. This was going to take a different approach, even though he’d rather double down and out-stubborn Optimus. “Alright. You don’t care that I interfaced with someone else. That’s an absolute lie, but whatever. You need to convince me that breaking up is really what you want to do.” He stared down at his leader, watching for any sort of reaction. “You love me. I know that you do. Both versions of you have made that clear. And ending everything for my safety is a weak excuse, because your condition is absolutely manageable, we slipped up, that’s all. So why do you want to separate? What is making you run from your problems instead of facing them?” 

“We have had this conversation before.” 

“Optimus.” Ratchet growled. 

Optimus’ fingers sifted through the rocks beneath his hands, and he weighed his thoughts for a moment. “I am finding myself unable to face you. It is difficult to look at you after watching what was done to you. The guilt is too much to bear.” 

“Elaborate.” When he paused, Ratchet pushed him again. 

“What else is there to say? I cannot cope with what I’ve done.” 

“So you’re refusing to let me help you, or work through it.” The medic huffed. Irritation pulsed in his end of the bond. Beneath him, he could feel Optimus’ spark speeding up. “Am I correct? You are abandoning us because of your inability to cope?” 

His leader watched a wave roll in, gently sloshing against the rocks, shimmering in the pale light. Tadpoles suckled at the stones near Ratchet’s knee. When Optimus had been tackled, they had uprooted the lake floor and freed algae, and now the aquatic wildlife was blooming around them. “I suppose you are correct.” He answered softly. A salamander was climbing up Ratchet’s calf. It was much easier to observe than Ratchet’s fiery optics. 

He expected anger. He expected Ratchet to start shouting at him, and cause all the wildlife to scatter for cover. But what left his medic was a broken sigh. He felt the weight on top of him change as Ratchet deflated. 

When Ratchet spoke, his voice cracked, and the sound was like a streak of lightning through Optimus’ chest. “We weren’t worth fighting for.” He said quietly. “I wasn’t worth fighting for.” 

Before Optimus could stop it, his end of the bond pulsed loudly in offense. He gathered the strength to look at his medic. 

Ratchet stared down at his servos, venting. “You don’t think what we had was worth working for.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “You refuse to work towards it because it wasn’t worth facing your demons.” 

The silence between them was deafening. Optimus opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat, and he was just laying there, helpless. 

“Tell me what we had wasn’t worth it, and I’ll let it go.” Ratchet whispered. “I won’t push you anymore, I’ll let you go. But I won’t let you run from this, you need to own up to how you feel. Tell me that you think I wasn’t worth fighting for.” 

“I can’t.” Optimus’ voice was weak. 

“You are such a coward.” Ratchet’s voice rose, and the salamander wriggled off of him, back into the water. “You are such a fragging coward.”

“You’re right. I am. I abandoned you instead of facing my problems. I let my demons stand in the way of being there for you.” The Prime admitted. “I was too afraid to face you after seeing you… hurt. I let myself fall into panic at the sight of you.”

“I’m sorry that we weren’t fragging worth the trouble.” Ratchet hissed. He made to climb off of Optimus, but two strong hands took his thighs and held him there. 

“Ratchet…” Optimus murmured. Their optics met, and instead of letting the dread separate them, he tried something else. One of his hands cupped Ratchet’s cheek, and he let his end of the bond unfold. “You deserve so much better than me. I am so sorry. I cannot imagine how alone you must have felt through all of this. You are right, I abandoned you when you needed me, and I have regretted it ever since. You are so strong to have endured what you did, and I faltered at a mere panic attack.” His voice wavered, and his optics watered. “Please understand that you are worth so much more than my cowardice. It is not your fault that I let you down. I could never expect you to forgive me, I doubt I will ever forgive myself.” 

Ratchet pushed into the touch, and it brought tears to his optics. “I just want you, Optimus.” He whimpered. 

“How could you forgive me? I have hurt you and abandoned you. How could you still want me?” 

“Because I am head over heels for you, Optimus, and I know that you would never hurt me intentionally. I trust that you can be there for me, if you’d just get out of your own head.” Ratchet turned his helm away to wipe his optics. 

“How do you not see me as a monster?” The Prime asked, averting his own gaze. “You’ve had a look into my thoughts, what I’ve…” He paused, but there was no going back now. “...Pictured doing to you.” 

“I’ve thought about that, actually.” Ratchet was grateful for the opportunity to speak on a more academic level. He could do so without crying. “I believe I know why Nemesis acted on these thoughts in particular. You seem to have forbidden certain thoughts, because you view them as evil or wrong. Because you’ve buried them as something dark, they’ve resurfaced in Nemesis’ actions. Let’s talk about those fantasies for a second.” He gave in to the urge to touch Optimus affectionately; he stroked his helm and wiped tears from his cheeks. “Optimus, I need you to understand that you aren’t a monster for fantasizing about me in the shower, or riding you, or sucking your spike. Those don’t make you a bad person, those are completely normal.” He smiled; Optimus' cheeks were warming beneath his hands. “I love that you want me, Optimus. I love that you fantasize about me. You aren’t wrong for picturing different ways to interface with me. Now, if you were picturing dismembering me or throwing me off of a bridge, those are thoughts that we want to question. But Primus, Optimus, just ask me to use my mouth, or get on top, or finger myself so you can watch. Communication is necessary in any partner, if you want to try something, just ask. Perhaps your partner is into it.” Ratchet finished his lecture with a kiss against Optimus’ palm. 

“I do not think you are a whore.” Optimus blurted out. “Nemesis said that to bring your resolve down.” 

“You better not think I’m a whore.” Ratchet laughed. He watched his leader for a moment, venting. “I’m sorry that I’ve made the bonds so unpleasant, and that I’ve been an aft to you in front of everyone, and that I fragged Wheeljack.” 

“Don’t be.” Optimus shook his helm. The dread in his chest was calming down. His medic’s smile and soft voice was putting out the flames. He sighed, looking back to the tadpoles. “If I may ask…” He hesitated. 

“If you may ask?” Ratchet followed his gaze and watched the swimmers nibble at the rocks. 

“What did he do to you?” 

Ratchet vented. Rather shyly, he answered, “We kissed, he groped a little, he used his mouth on my valve, and I…” He trailed off. Optimus had seen the rest. Possessive hands crawled over his thighs, and then strong arms were wrapped around his hips. “I had hoped that you’d get jealous and it’d make you talk to me, or yell at me, or hit Wheeljack.” A frog zipped by, and the tadpoles scattered. “Before, you said that whenever you looked at me, you saw what you did that night. Is that what you’re seeing now?” 

Optimus shook his helm slowly. “No. I started to feel it, the beginning of… the anxiety, or whatever it was, but…” 

“You opened yourself up instead of running.” Ratchet finished for him. 

“I should have done this from the beginning. I should have opened myself to you, and been there for you. It would have helped me, if we had worked through it together.” Optimus admitted softly. “You were right.” 

“Are you going to take me back?” 

Their bond was suddenly flooding with fresh affection. “My spark beats only for you, Ratchet. I will never understand how you could forgive me, but I am ready to fix my mistakes.” Optimus’ sparkchamber snapped open, and Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief. 

He let his own chestplating shift open, and he bent to hover over his leader’s handsome face. Optimus’ spark reached out tentatively, cautious, why wouldn’t it be, the last many merges had been violent and angry. Ratchet’s energy came much lighter this time, gentle and soft, and then they were melting into one another. Ratchet gasped as Optimus pulled him down into a sharp kiss, needy and desperate, gripping his armor. Weeks of pent up hurt and longing wept into the bond, and it throbbed in need as they caressed one another’s energy. “I love you, Optimus, I love you so much,” Ratchet whimpered against his mate’s lips. “I need you so badly, I just need you with me. I… I was so scared.”

“I’ve got you now. You are safe with me.” Optimus murmured back. “I will not let him hurt you again.” 

This was it. 

This is what was meant to happen. 

It felt so right to be nestled in Optimus’ arms, beneath the blanket that was his energy and strength. Optimus would protect him. 

“Nothing will come between us again. I will not allow anything to stop me from being your mate, ever again.” 

Ratchet pushed hard into the kiss, whining in complaint when the merge naturally drew to a close. His spark chased after his mate’s, even as their sparkchambers closed. He realized that his fans had clicked on during the merge, and were now whirring softly to combat his rising body temperature. His panel had certainly responded to the warm presence of his mate. 

They parted, and Ratchet sat up. His aft came in contact with Optimus’ panel, and it too was warm. The merge had them both awake and riled up. When he looked down, he found Optimus’ optics sweeping over his body, lingering over his spread thighs. He was nearly panting, his own fans whirring. “You know…” Ratchet murmured. “It was thinking about your spike that got me wet for Wheeljack. He had me as dry as the fragging desert.” 

The bond rippled with appreciation, but Optimus didn’t say anything. Ratchet smiled and continued. 

“So I thought about you, and how much better your spike was.” His cheeks were flushing to a bright blue; he wondered if he was about to embarrass himself. “So big… And you hit all the right places…” He trailed his hand down his own body, and let his panel slide open. Optimus’ optics cycled wide. “You make me stretch to take all of you, makes me feel so good…” He chewed on his lower lip, his middle and ring fingers reaching his outer node. With light pressure, he rubbed it in slow circles. His free hand leaned on Optimus’ knee so he could lean back and tilt his hips upward, giving Optimus a clear view of the plump lips of his valve. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of you I could fit in my mouth.” 

Optimus’ engines were rumbling like thunder, and his servos twitched with the urge to touch his mate. Lubricant was dripping onto his chestplating; Ratchet had scooted upward, and was seated on Optimus’ chest. “You have no obligation to indulge me,” he uttered weakly, clearing his throat. Even as he spoke, his gaze was locked on Ratchet as he fondled his anterior node. 

“I have no problem indulging your fantasies.” Ratchet’s two fingers slipped into his dripping port, and Optimus’ spike begged to be released. He gasped as he scissored his fingers wide, teasing himself, before slowly thrusting his digits. 

Optimus’ mouth had gone dry, and he realized how badly he wanted to taste his mate’s needy valve. There was something about Ratchet’s body that was so wonderfully beautiful to him. And his valve… Grey swollen lips with mild white accents, lined with glowing biolights, and an anterior node that was as blue as his optics. The color matched perfectly. The thinner inner lips of his valve were always slick and shining in the light, and Ratchet always whined and bucked his hips when Optimus teased them with his glossa. White and orange accents made it into his panel, lining his spike and pelvis. When he was aroused, his biolights would glow the brilliant blue they were right now, bright enough to shine white when he overloaded. 

“I hope you know how beautiful you are.” Optimus rumbled, his spark skipping a beat when Ratchet’s valve gave a generous gush. “You’re making a mess.” He purred. 

Ratchet moaned as he touched himself, his hips quivering. “Y-You make me so fragging wet,” he whimpered. Optimus’ panel opened, and his spike sprang free. It twitched impatiently when Ratchet looked over his shoulder at it. “Perfect.” He said breathily. He swiveled himself around, just as he had on Wheeljack. He put his weight on his knees to push his aft up as high as he could, so Optimus could watch him frag himself open with his digits from behind. “Let’s see how much of you I can shove down my throat.” 

The feeling of warm, soft lips peppering his spike was electrifying. Ratchet kissed every inch of it, his glossa lapping at the tip when he reached it. Optimus groaned when Ratchet’s mouth moved down his length, his lips closing around the shaft. It was tight, wet and warm when Ratchet gagged on it, but even as it nestled deep in his throat, he moved his helm up and down the impossible length, making shameless slurping noises as he went. Optimus moaned, his hips straining. He wanted to thrust into the warm heat. He wanted to drive his spike down Ratchet’s throat. His hands found Ratchet’s round thighs, and he groped, squeezing and stroking everything he could reach. 

Ratchet’s drenched valve was dripping onto Optimus’ chest more than ever, a puddle was forming on his windshield. He watched the oozing lubricant drip down slowly, and moaned again, louder. His hips bucked, and Ratchet suckled on his spike through the thrust, taking it deep. Encouragement bloomed in Ratchet’s end, and Optimus timidly repeated the action, gentler. Ratchet wanted him to act, to give in to his more primal desires. He carefully rolled his hips up and into Ratchet’s mouth, listening to his mate slurp away. 

“Primus, Ratchet…” Optimus groaned. 

They writhed against each other under a cloudy sky, waves sloshing around them, the wildlife frightened off by their movement. Optimus’ watched Ratchet’s fingers disappear all the way to the knuckles inside of his clenching valve, playing with himself, drawing out more lubricant. He wanted the wet, warm port more than anything. 

“Do you wish to be spiked?” The Prime asked. 

Ratchet lifted his helm, and cold air hit Optimus’ spike. “Obviously.” He sat up and looked over his shoulder. “Do you want to overload in my mouth first? Or…” Ratchet gave him a little smirk that made his spike throb. 

Optimus thought about it. He didn’t like the image of Wheeljack’s transfluid across Ratchet’s face, and he wouldn’t mind washing the picture away with his own. But right now, he wanted that wonderful valve that was so close, so ready for him. “I’d like to lay you on your back.” He answered. 

Ratchet was happy to roll onto his back and spread his legs for his mate. “Put it in, then,” he complained when Optimus took his sweet time, positioning himself over him, dragging his spike through Ratchet’s folds. “Frag me, damn you.” He whined when Optimus gave him a playful smile. 

“Anything my dear mate wishes for.” 

“Do it hard, then. I want Wheeljack to see me limping when we walk in together.” Ratchet grabbed his windshield and yanked him down into a sloppy kiss before Optimus glided into him. 

The thrusts were hard snaps that dragged Ratchet through the rocks every time. To anchor himself, he wrapped his legs around Optimus’ hips, crossing his ankles behind him. “Am I hurting you?” The Prime panted, driving his spike deep. Ratchet was shuddering and crying out. 

“Please don’t stop,” he begged. “Please…” 

Optimus was rough and sloppy. He trusted that he would feel any discomfort in their bond, and that Ratchet would tell him right away. He plowed into Ratchet’s valve like it was… Something you plow into. He wasn’t sure. He was preoccupied right now. 

Ratchet’s back arched off of the stones, and he moaned, digits digging through the dirt beneath him. How had Optimus denied this? How had he left this behind? How could he let one image of Ratchet destroy him when he could see Ratchet like this, beneath him, crying out in bliss and writhing with pleasure? 

“M-May I…” Optimus grunted. “Inside…” 

“Yes!” Ratchet gasped. 

Optimus bent down and caught his lips, and their glossas caressed one another, muffling each other’s moans. He was close. He could reach it if he just kept slamming into his mate’s port, if he just kept drilling him with his hips… If he kept abusing the tight, wet passage… If he angled his hips, Ratchet would shout, and his valve would clench. It was a wonderful feeling, and Optimus chased it. 

“I’m g-going to… Oh frag… I’m going to…” Ratchet moaned into Optimus’ mouth. 

“Overload for me…” Yes, overload impaled on my spike. 

Ratchet’s body tensed, and his valve squeezed Optimus’ member, milking it deeper, begging it to release inside of him. The cry that left Ratchet was enchanting, and Optimus thrusted further, hoping to draw out his partner’s climax, anything to get him to continue making that wonderful sound. He came as Ratchet fell limp, panting, spent. He pumped his mate full, draining his transfluid deep inside of him. It trickled out around the base of his spike, and when he slowly pulled out, it was like a floodgate had opened. 

“O-Oh…” Ratchet mumbled. “So much…” He lifted his helm, and Optimus caught his lips, pushing him back down. “For how stubborn you were about breaking up, you sure gave in quickly when I was pinning you down.” He murmured playfully when they parted. 

“You’re scary.” Optimus replied. He smiled as Ratchet rolled his optics. “You knew what to say. You called me out on my bluff, and I couldn’t run.” He vented. “I am so, so sorry, Ratchet.” 

His mate reached up and stroked his handsome face. “No more apologizing. I forgive you. We’ve made up.” 

Optimus crawled off of him and helped him up, taking him into his arms and sweeping him off of his pedes. Ratchet buried his face into his mate’s neck as he was carried into the lake, past the shallows. “Let us rinse you off.” Optimus rumbled pleasantly. 

“You as well.” Ratchet’s lubricant was still shimmering on Optimus’ chest. 

They dipped into the cool water, staying pressed together even as they wiped themselves off. 

Under the white sky, they trudged back to the shore, and returned to base, Ratchet’s hand tucked into Optimus’.