Chapter Text
Mirage stared at the repair bay ceiling. He made a mental note to suggest (anonymously, of course) that Ratchet paint something interesting on the tiles. His suggestion probably wouldn't be taken, but Ratchet's annoyance at the sheer cheek of such a thing would be good for a bit of amusement. Ratchet was working busily down at the foot of the berth Mirage was on, the chevron on his helm framed by Mirage's spread thighs.
Mirage let out a little squeak of discomfort at a sudden sharp movement in his valve. Ratchet looked up and met his optics.
"Sorry about that Mirage. I'm almost done," said Ratchet, resuming his work between Mirage's legs.
"It didn't hurt – just surprised me," Mirage answered, leaning back once again. He shifted uncomfortably as one of Ratchet's digits poked into his valve.
"You'll feel some pressure, Mirage."
Mirage nodded and gripped the bar on the side of the berth a bit tighter. His leg struts were becoming rather uncomfortable in the stirrups that suspended them.
The pressure Ratchet exerted to snap the retooled component into place was relieved just as it reached the level of true pain. The next touch was much gentler, as Ratchet smoothed a section of interior plating into place. In fact, it was almost-
...A caress? Mirage lifted his head again to look down at Ratchet, but other than lifting his optics to meet Mirage's for a brief moment, Ratchet showed no reaction.
Ratchet continued to work in silence, occasionally shifting the scope he was using to examine the walls of Mirage's valve for signs of wear. Mirage let his mind wander, thoroughly bored with the whole thing, until one of Ratchet's digits brushed over his anterior external sensor node.
There was no way that was accidental. Mirage tried to sit up, but could only prop up his torso on his elbows. The movement jarred the speculum holding his valve open and Ratchet looked up sharply.
"Mirage, you need to relax. If you don't, this will take much longer. Do I have to tie you down?" Ratchet's tone was stern.
"N-no, Ratchet," Mirage said meekly. Even if Ratchet was being highly inappropriate, Mirage was hardly in a position to protest. Mirage kept quiet, trying not to twitch every time Ratchet's tools or fingers brushed against sensor terminals.
Then a sharp click-click-click sound came from the foot of the berth. Mirage let out an involuntary whimper as the speculum was spread even wider.
"There's nothing for it, Mirage," groused Ratchet. "I have to clamp the components in place and let the epoxy cure. If you'd listened to me in the first place you wouldn't have to go through this every-"
"I know, I know, Ratchet," sighed Mirage. "It's just -mmmph- so undignified -eep!" Mirage's voice cut off with a squeak as the first clamp was placed.
"I don't imagine how you came to be in this condition was very dignified," Ratchet shot back, placing the second clamp – this one directly over a sensor node. He chuckled as Mirage gasped and arched his back. "Stay put." Ratchet slapped Mirage's hip plate in admonishment when Mirage twitched again.
"Easy- nghh- for you to say!" But Mirage controlled himself, and quieted enough for Ratchet to place the third and final clamp.
"Now, I have some reports to finish – you be quiet and I'll check on you in a joor." Ratchet wiped his hands and began putting away his tools. Mirage's mouth quirked up in annoyance when he noticed that Ratchet had recently moved his desk – it was now directly in line with the repair berth Mirage occupied, so Ratchet was sure to get an optic-full every time he looked up.
Cycling his vents, Mirage reclined again, determined to just wait it out. Besides, what did he care about the incorrigible pervert? Lacing his fingers behind his helm, Mirage shut off his optics, trying to ignore the little breezes and drafts that were stimulating his exposed valve. The constant pressure from the clamp over the sensor node made this difficult. Eventually Mirage's lost the struggle and a fan switched on deep in his chassis.
The noise sounded loud and intrusive in the quiet of the repair bay. Ratchet looked up over the top of the datapad he was reading and smirked at Mirage. Mirage just stared up at the ceiling and ignored him, determined to not give the medic the satisfaction. After a few kliks he mastered himself and managed to stop the fan.
At least Mirage could thank Primus for small blessings. The Ark repair bay lacked any sort of privacy screens, but most of the Autobots were out on patrol now, so it was unlikely that they would be disturbed...
The door hissed open.
...Or not.
"Ratchet?" Optimus Prime said cautiously. "Am I disturbing anything?"
"Come in, Prime – I'm just going over some records," called Ratchet from his desk.
"Good Morning, Prime," Mirage said in sing-song, knowing that if he didn't, Optimus Prime would simply ignore him out of a misplaced sense of politeness.
"Mirage," Optimus nodded in his direction. To his credit, he looked Mirage directly in the optics, despite what was on display immediately below.
Ohh, he's going to get a reward for that.
Mirage listened with half an audio to Ratchet and Prime's conversation. It seemed to drone on forever, and he'd drifted into power-save mode when Ratchet left to go find something in his back office. His optics snapped on when he heard a vocoder cycle next to his berth.
Optimus Prime was standing next to him, staring down at him.
"Yes?" asked Mirage innocently. Mirage knew very well what Prime was going to say, but he was in a pique and felt like dragging it out.
"Ah, Mirage," Prime cleared his vocoder again. "You seem to have been in the repair bay… more often recently. You know you can come to me if anyone…" Mirage just kept staring up at Prime, waiting for him to continue. "…Takes advantage? You are a valuable member of my crew, and I won't have-"
Mirage couldn't take it anymore, (though Prime was almost adorable when he was flustered) and gave a small laugh, reaching out touch Prime's forearm reassuringly. "Oh, trust me, Prime. Nobody is taking advantage. If you must know what landed me in here was all my idea, and-" Mirage cut off as a large hand was placed ever-so-gently but firmly on his thigh. "And I am just dealing with the natural consequences of slightly too much enthusiasm," he finished, hoping Prime didn't pick up the strain in his voice. The touch was maddening, inflaming his already over-stimulated sensor array. Little frissons of sensation traveled through Mirage's valve, and the node that was under the clamp was throbbing.
"I'm glad to hear that," Prime replied, leaning closer. Mirage's fans kicked on again.
Slag him. He's doing it on purpose.
"Are you alright, Mirage?" Now it was Prime's turn to act innocent. "Do you need me to get Ratchet?"
"No," Mirage said through gritted denta. Prime's hand slid further up his thigh, tracing a seam. He was leaning closer over Mirage, and his optics were dimming to a deep blue that Mirage knew well. He was getting closer to the external node – so close - Mirage could feel the warm air from Prime's vents wafting over his plating. He arched his back, and groaned in encouragement. Just a little farther, and Prime would be touching it and Mirage could overload and –
"PRIME!"
Ratchet's shout startled both of them. Prime snatched his hand back, looking for all of Cybertron like a guilty cadet caught by a superior officer.
"Slaggit, I just fixed that, it hasn't set yet!" fumed Ratchet, stalking towards them. "Keep your hands to yourself; he'll be in here four times as long if you got your digits bonded to his valve! Have some patience, for Primus' sake." Ratchet shoved the datapad at Prime's chest. "Here's the information you wanted. Now scoot!" Mirage hid a smile behind one hand as he wiggled his fingers in an impudent wave with the other while Ratchet gave Prime the bum's rush out of the repair bay. But then Mirage sobered. Now what was he going to do? He supposed he could always just take care of it himself, which was a vexing idea (really, it was ridiculous that a mech whose company was so sought after would be brought to this) but Ratchet seemed to be determined to bring Mirage low.
With an eager grunt, Mirage reached carefully between his legs, feeling the various clamps and probes that were still in place. He memorized their locations, so that he wouldn't accidentally bump one. Then slowly, cautiously, he touched the sensor node anterior to his valve. Mirage hissed in pleasure as the fire in his pelvic unit was stoked by the stimulation. It wouldn't take long; just a quick overload and then he could relax…
"Slaggit, not you too!" Mirage jerked his hand away as Ratchet hurried towards him.
"Oh, Ratchet, please just a quick one-" Mirage hated to beg, but he was becoming downright desperate.
"No – I'm not resetting that plating again today, it's much too tedious!" Ratchet grabbed Mirage's wrist and with a practiced movement, fastened it to a restraint above Mirage's head.
"Ratchet!" Mirage wailed. This was absurd! When he wanted an overload he got one. That was how the universe worked, and Ratchet wasn't letting it happen!
"No arguments, Mirage. If you'd stayed still, and left well enough alone, this could be done by now." Ratchet's voice was gruff as he grabbed Mirage's other wrist and secured it beside the first.
"But Ratchet," Mirage moaned, writhing shamelessly. "I need to!" He tried to move his pelvic unit – the clamps and devices in his valve moved minutely when he did, maybe that stimulation could-
"No you don't!" There was a burst of activity while Ratchet strapped down Mirage's hips and immobilized his legs. "And don't try that pout on me, you little tart."
Mirage immediately sucked in his lower lip component, which had been poking out just a little but it wasn't fair to call it a pout. Ratchet could be so unreasonable.
Stepping back to examine his handiwork and giving a satisfied little nod, Ratchet went back to his desk and picked up a datapad. Mirage wanted to scream. Instead he kept working at finding a direction in which he could move that might help alleviate his predicament, but he was completely immobilized. He cycled his vents with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary and let his helm fall back with a thump.
Back to studying the ceiling panels.
Ratchet ignored him, which was almost more maddening than being trussed up like this. Mirage was not accustomed to being ignored.
True to his word, exactly one joor later Ratchet put down the datapad and approached Mirage. "How are you doing, Mirage?" he said conversationally.
"How do you think I'm doing, Ratchet?" Mirage said through gritted denta. This was torture, there had to be a rule or regulation against letting someone be denied release like this!
"I'll just check to see that the epoxy has cured, and then I'll turn your lubricant system back on and retighten your valve. After that you can go." Ratchet seated himself at the foot of the berth, and selected a long scope and probe from the berth-side tray. He inserted them quickly, and Mirage gasped as he felt both moving inside of him. The scope followed the probe, and his vocoder emitted a low keen as the probe tapped along the walls of his valve, testing the fixative. Then Ratchet withdrew the probe, and said cheerfully, "You're all set, Mirage, just a few more steps and you're free to go."
Mirage just nodded tightly, barely controlling himself as the clamps were removed. As each one was unfastened, a tingling sensation built in his valve as crimped energon lines and wires were released. Mirage sighed in relief when the speculum was retracted and removed. Ratchet opened a panel on Mirage's hip and hit a few buttons, and a pop up in Mirage's HUD informed him that his lubricant system had been reactivated.
"How long until I can interface again?" asked Mirage.
"Oh, you'll have to wait until your valve is re-lubricated," said Ratchet blithely. "Of course, if you'd prefer, I can manually stimulate it to release so that you don't have to wait…?" Ratchet looked deep into Mirage's optics, an unvoiced question hanging between them.
"Yes… I would prefer that, please, Ratchet." Mirage's voice was husky, and laced with static.
"As you wish." Ratchet opened a unit of repair-grade lubricant and smeared it over his first two fingers. "This might be a little cold at first." Mirage just nodded. He gasped and tensed when the first sure, but chilly, touch came. Ratchet reached up with his other hand and stroked Mirage's thigh reassuringly. The two digits pushed deep into his valve, until the heel of Ratchet's palm was pressed up against the outer rim.
Mirage moaned, tossing his head from side to side at the wonderful feeling of being filled. Ratchet began stroking along the thin silicone that covered the deeper part of Mirage's valve, working lubricant through the lines beneath. When he finally managed to hit the main storage bladder and express a squirt of Mirage's own lubricant, Mirage shrieked at the surge of pleasure the act sent through his systems.
"I hope I'm not hurting you, Mirage." Mirage didn't have to look at Ratchet to know that he was leering.
"You know very well you're not hurting me, now get on with it!"
"Mmm, what did I tell you about patience?"
"That was Prime!"
"Oh, well, remind me to have that talk with you someday, too." Ratchet withdrew his fingers, wiped them off, and picked up a chuck key. He inserted it into a tiny notch on the rim of Mirage's valve, and slowly rotated it. Mirage tensed while Ratchet worked, but stayed still. It didn't…hurt exactly, but it certainly wasn't comfortable. "I'm sorry, Mirage," Ratchet said sincerely, patting Mirage's hip plate.
"Can't be helped," Mirage said shortly as Ratchet gave the key another quarter-turn.
"How tight would you like it this time? Did the aperture setting I used last time work for you?" Ratchet asked, cranking the chucks around Mirage's valve a notch tighter.
"It worked, but I would like it a bit tighter this time, please."
"How's that?" Ratchet asked after another half-turn.
"Hmm," Mirage considered. "I can't really tell, you know, without something in it." He let his head fall to the side and looked down at Ratchet. "I don't suppose you could… test it out?" he said coyly.
"Anything for a patient." Mirage was gratified to hear a hint of static creep into Ratchet's voice. Sometimes it seemed like the medic had struts of ice, and it was always nice to know that he wasn't losing his touch.
"You're so good to me, Ratchet," Mirage cooed as Ratchet stood up, extended his spike, and positioned himself at Mirage's entrance. "I know it must be such a bother for you t-ooooooh!" Mirage's voice was choked off in a cry as Ratchet thrust home in one smooth motion.
"You -uh- were saying, Mirage?"
"Shut up and frag me!"
"Tut, tut, such… oh language," Ratchet scolded as he held himself still, trembling with arousal. "If someone heard you, they might think you were common stock," Ratchet pulled out and pushed back in smoothly, while Mirage writhed and jerked to and fro in the restraints. "Not a properly brought-up Towers mech."
Mirage released a stream of colorful invective that made Ratchet throw back his helm and laughed.
"I don't think that's physically possible, Mirage. And I should know, I am a doctor," said Ratchet when his mirth had died down. "And as…pleasurable as this is, I do need to know if I have it on the correct setting."
Mirage calmed himself a bit, and concentrated on the feel of the spike inside of his valve. "Move out just a bit," he said. Ratchet complied. "Now in…it could be just a notch or two tighter."
"Are you sure?" Ratchet asked. "That's a smaller setting than you've ever had before."
"I'm sure." Mirage smiled down at Ratchet. "Wait," he said as Ratchet made to withdraw.
"Y-yes, Mirage?" Mirage could feel Ratchet's hands tightening compulsively on his thigh-plating as the medic paused.
"Maybe… maybe even tighter…" Mirage whispered.
"M-Mirage, no one would be able to fit in then-" Ratchet protested.
"What if… what if they were already in?" Mirage gave Ratchet a significant look.
"Already…Mirage!"
"That's what you want, isn't it, Ratchet?" said Mirage softly. "That's what you like… and I like being tight for you, so what's the problem?"
"I-I could hurt you." Ratchet was worried, but sounded halfway-convinced already.
"Please, Ratchet," Mirage moaned, shutting off his optics and giving a staticky moan. He could feel Ratchet trembling inside of him, the medic's self control was stretched to the limit, and Mirage was intent on snapping it. "You won't hurt me, you're always so good to me, you're good to all of us. Please, let me be good to you."
"Oh, Mirage," Ratchet said shakily. He turned his head and grabbed one of Mirage's leg struts, which was hanging, suspended next to Ratchet's helm. Ratchet nuzzled Mirage's ankle joint, tracing the racing logos that adorned it with one finger. "All right." Mirage managed to resist the temptation to give a little coo of victory. "But you must tell me if this is painful, and we'll stop right away."
Mirage nodded eagerly, and couldn't keep from grinning as Ratchet fumbled with the chuck key. He could feel it being inserted into the seating and then turned. Mirage bit his lip plating and flicked off his optics. The sensation of his valve slowly closing around Ratchet's spike was incredible, better than he had ever imagined.
Ratchet shouted, leaning over and bracing his hands on the berth on either side of Mirage's hips. "Mirage, Mirage, this is amazing, you're amazing, you're wonderful-" he babbled, overcome by the sensation.
"Mmm- Ratchet, please, tighter," Mirage whispered.
"Yes."
There were two more clicks as the chuck key was turned a bit more. Both Ratchet and Mirage cried out at the same time- the ridges on Ratchet's spike had become fully seated in the grooves in Mirage's valve in a way that was normally impossible. Ratchet struggled to stay upright – the powerful sensations made him feel like the hydraulics in his leg struts were de-pressurized. His spike was immovable within the valve, and as he gave a small push Mirage's entire body was shifted on the berth.
"Oh, Ratchet, Ratchet, Ratchet!" Mirage cried out at each small movement. He was so lost in ecstasy that he didn't even notice his posterior plating scraping over the surface of the berth.
"M-Mirage, Mirage!" Ratchet gave a particularly hard push and Mirage tumbled over the edge of his overload, screaming in bliss as his systems maxed out and shut down. Ratchet followed a moment later, his transfluid spilling into Mirage. He slumped over Mirage, insensate, as his systems forced him to reboot.
Mirage recovered quickly, all but purring in satisfaction at the warmth that always suffused his circuits after an overload. He noticed that he had accidentally snapped one of the restraints around his wrists, and quickly reached over to undo the other one. Then he let both hands fall onto the helm that was resting on his abdominal plating. Mirage slowly traced the seams and chevron of Ratchet's helm, relishing the feeling of Ratchet's spike still filling him.
As he waited for Ratchet to come back online, Mirage pulled up his schedule and looked at his pending appointment requests. The program was a handy one that Prowl had devised – it was stored on a public portion of Teletraan-1's server, and while Mirage ultimately had control over it, other mechs could add their names in time slots that did not already have appointments or that Mirage had not blacked out. But before they would appear on his public schedule, Mirage had to approve the requests. It was a good system.
He hummed a mindless little tune as he looked through the requests, approving one, suggesting a change in time in another, and... oh. Mirage smiled as he looked at the latest request in his in-box. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but, the timing was unusual. After accepting the request, Mirage blacked out several joors immediately after the appointment. He had a feeling this one would take some time.
"Mmmrrgh." Ratchet shifted, finally rebooting. An unsteady hand worked its way up Mirage's side, to grip his fingers.
"Rise and shine," Mirage teased, giving Ratchet's hand a squeeze.
"You broke my mag cuffs again, didn't you," said Ratchet as he lifted his head and looked blearily up at Mirage, who smiled down at him.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."
"Sorry," Ratchet mumbled, as he lifted his torso. Mirage cried out as Ratchet tried to take a step back, forgetting about his spike still trapped in Mirage's valve. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" Ratchet grabbed for the chuck key, and Mirage experienced a spark freezing moment of fear when it almost slipped through Ratchet's fingers. If the blasted thing fell where Ratchet couldn't reach it-
But Ratchet kept hold of it, and quickly released the tension on Mirage's valve to where he could withdraw. Then he took a small pin and gently inserted it into a hole on the chucks, securing them at that setting.
"Are you going let me down, now?" Mirage asked with a hint of impatience in his voice. His leg struts really were getting stiff.
"Just a klik." Ratchet reached out and grabbed a handful of pre-treated disposable cleaning pads, and quickly rubbed down Mirage's panel, aft, and made a few quick swipes inside of his valve to remove the excess lubricant and Ratchet's own transfluid. When he was satisfied with the results, he nodded up at Mirage. "Alright, you can close it up. All clean."
"Thank you, Ratchet." Mirage's panel cover slid shut. Ratchet quickly undid the metal mesh straps that had held him to the berth, then released his pedes from the stirrups. Mirage hissed as fluid flowed through previously dry lines as they were un-crimped. Ratchet helped him sit up, and supported him carefully as Mirage stood on unsteady legs.
"Are you alright?" asked Ratchet as he walked Mirage around in a little circle.
"Oh, I'm fine, just a little-" Mirage didn't get to finish the thought as the alarm klaxon blared to life.
"Attention," Prowl's voice sounded from the intercom. "All Autobots fit for battle report to the main entrance. Decepticons approaching." Mirage and Ratchet looked at each other and then separated- Mirage going to the corner where he had left his electro disruptor and rocket launcher, and Ratchet to the storage closet for his battlefield jump kit. Ratchet wordlessly helped Mirage shoulder the rocket launcher, and Mirage gave him a tight smile as he flipped the catches that were hard for Mirage to reach.
Grabbing their rifles, the pair ran out of the repair bay and headed to the main entrance, ready to fight.