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Title: Predatory Advances
Series: G1
Prompt: Prowl/Ratchet - Predatory
Rating: M
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Prowl/Ratchet
Word Count: 651
Summary: Sometimes a mech just needs some surprise intimacy after a bad day.
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Notes: This was written ages ago (back in 2008) in response to a prompt over at the Random Pairings Generator and I somehow failed to post it anywhere but on the old Transfictions.net. Then after the site went belly up, the fic was lost and forgotten about. Thankfully my wonderful beta kept a copy of it in her email and we were able to retrieve this little ficlet. So, as always, special thanks to [livejournal.com profile] eloquencelost for the help and support.


Ratchet looked up from the examination table he was cleaning and peered into the dark
corners of the med bay. There it was again. That noise. It was almost like a scrape, but
it was gone so fast that he couldn’t place it or locate it. Shrugging, he turned back to his
work.

He never saw Prowl slip out of his office, never heard him walk up behind him. But he
most certainly did feel it when the strategist ran his fingers down his back and over his
aft. Ratchet spun, only to be pressed back against the examination table, pinned down to
the surface by a pair of white hands.

“Prowl what are you –hmph.” His protest was smothered as Prowl kissed him
passionately.

Without breaking the kiss, Prowl climbed atop the table and straddled Ratchet’s waist.
As he attacked Ratchet’s mouth, drawing moans and whimpers from the medic’s
vocalizer, he ran his hands down Ratchet’s arms and slowly guided his hands above his
head. With a delicate touch, he manipulated those red digits, causing Ratchet to pull
away with a moaning gasp.

“Hmmm … Prowl ….! What are you doing?”

Ratchet tossed his head as Prowl leaned in and flicked his glossa against Ratchet’s
chevron.

“Come now,” Prowl replied wickedly. “I would think it would be obvious.”

“Not what I meant-” Once again Ratchet’s protest was cut off with a gasp as he felt the
binders close around his wrists, chaining him to the examining table.

“Now lay back and relax,” Prowl whispered into Ratchet’s audio. “I am taking charge
tonight.”

“Prowl,” Ratchet protested, “I’m at work!”

“No one is going to come in at this hour,” Prowl replied in a low voice. “Besides, I made
sure to lock the door and we will receive more than adequate warning if either of us
needed.”

“Yeah but-” Ratchet’s protest was cut off as Prowl attacked his mouth again.

He ran his hands down Ratchet’s chest, dipping into transformation seams and joints,
teasing Ratchet’s body mercilessly.

Ratchet arched up against Prowl as the strategist hit a particularly sensitive bundle of

wires. He pulled against the binders, but these had been designed to hold mechs like the
Lamborghini twins, and Ratchet didn’t have nearly enough strength to escape from them.
He squirmed in arousal as Prowl moved down his body, playing with the most sensitive
areas of his armour, stroking his energy field and reducing him to a writhing, moaning
pile on the table.

Prowl pressed himself against Ratchet’s body, cycling his energy field until his came into
perfect synch with the medic’s.

“Overload for me,” he growled sensually into Ratchet’s audio.

That voice - that order - was enough to send Ratchet over the edge and the flaring of his
field brought Prowl along with him. Energy filled the room, crackling over the frames of
both mechs and into the examination table. Ratchet threw his head back, arching up off
the table as he screamed out Prowl name, not caring that the med bay was not in any way
soundproofed.

Finally the electricity dissipated and their cooling fans kicked in, trying desperately to
pull heat away from overcharged systems. Prowl lay his head on Ratchet’s chest and
vented heavily, holding the medic close and running weak fingers over his sides.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?” Ratchet asked, his voice an
exhausted whisper.

“Bad meeting with Prime,” Prowl replied. If Ratchet hadn’t known better he could have
sworn he heard a sullen edge to Prowl’s tone. “Don’t ask. I can’t discuss it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Ratchet replied as he wrapped his arms around the 2IC.

Prowl looked up at Ratchet, a question written in his optics.

“Laser welders do more than just fix mechs,” Ratchet replied smugly.

Date: 15 Jul 2012 23:04 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] karinablue-rose.livejournal.com
Thank you for posting this.TF smut is just the right way to relax after a long day at work.

Date: 18 Jul 2012 04:11 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wyntir-knight.livejournal.com
I'm so glad to hear that this came at a good time :)

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