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A servo pressed his own above his helm, before gently stroking down his left wrist and arm. Drift kept his servos where Ratchet had placed them, keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling above. He was wearing his collar again, Ratchet stroking his frame to get him to relax. Drift vented softly, letting those servos do whatever they pleased with his frame. He could feel the warmth from Ratchets own frame against his side, the soft berth cushion beneath him.
There was a clicking of latches and the sound of liquid being shaken, Ratchet setting up his painting kit. Drift licked his lips and blinked slowly, willing himself to remain still. A servo was holding the left side of his helm still, Ratchet leaning over to paint thin black lines on his finials. The first few times had been strange to Drift, the paint almost felt like it was pulling on his plating as it dried. The more they did it, the easier it got for Drift to accept it. The lines made it look like his finials were ears, Drift had spent a long time looking in the mirror and moving them.
“I’m sorry I can’t handle the silicone ears.”
“Don’t worry about that, this seems to suit you just fine. I told you that this is between the two of us, if something makes you feel uncomfortable just tell me.”
Drift just blinked his optics again, watching Ratchet narrow his own optics and turn his helm slightly to inspect his work. Satisfied with the line placement he let go and cleaned the brush, opening another bottle and changing to a wider brush. “Close your optics for me.” Drift complied and went still when he felt a servo hold his chin, the slightest touch of the brush and a stroke of cold paint at the corner of his optics. Ratchet often painted his red tear lines, sometimes would give it a slight deviation depending on his mood or if it was a special day. It was extremely personal to Drift, a mark on his frame from Ratchet.
“What color tonight?”
“A dark blue, what did the data serial call it? The Cat Eye look? Stay still for a klik longer, I will be right back.” Drift listened to Ratchet clean the brush and repack the paint kit, warmth leaving his side as he moved around the hab. Lightly twining his digits together, vents slightly stronger. He couldn’t relax, his frame felt like it was winding up. Maybe it was a good thing they were playing tonight, Drift needed something to break the tension he had been feeling lately.
Hearing pede steps return, a light touch against his abdominal plating. “Drift, are you feeling alright?”
Just nodded his helm, a digit stroking his cheek. Opened his optics with permission from Ratchet, the medic giving him a concerned look. “I’m okay. Just wound up I guess.” The servo rubbing his belly felt nice, Drift pressing his thighs together. “Ratch, it's so noisy in my processor. I need it tonight.”
He was still getting a concerned look, but Ratchet leaned over his frame to kiss him. Parted his lips willingly, tangling his glossa with Ratchets. There was a bitter taste, the lingering glass of engex Ratchet had drank earlier that evening. Drift thought about needing to get another bottle again, the more he stayed in the hab with Drift the less they had to go out to Swerves. They broke apart, Drift panting. Nips along his jawline, a servo tracing down his neck cables. Sometimes Drift wanted Ratchet to bite him, mark him like he had done to the medic so many times before.
“Vent Drift, kill the process tree and just relax for me.”
“I’m sorry. Distracted.”
Puffs of warm air against his collar as Ratchet chuckled, kisses and teasing touches moving down his frame. Forced himself to vent a few times, swallowing against a sudden tightness in his intake. He tried to snip the process tree, kill the string of thoughts spinning up his processors. But every time he ended one another took its place, Drift reaching deep into his subroutines and shutting off several non-critical processes. Dialed up his sensitivity, shivering at the touch of a digit tracing a transformation seam.
A servo tracing the tops of his thighs broke through his thoughts, Drift relaxing them enough that Ratchet could spread them apart. Digits traced up his right inner thigh, lightly trembling against the touch. He couldn’t keep his arms above his helm anymore, breaking his clutched digits apart and shifting his arms down to clutch at the sheets near his hips. Ratchet raised his helm slightly to give him a look, frown returning.
“Maybe we should stop. Something is bothering you.”
“No, I-I’ll be good!”
“Drift, this isn’t about you being good or not. You are wound up like a spring.”
He made a frustrated sound in his intake, gritting his denta. “I’m just…frustrated. I need this. I need you to make it go away.” Released his grip on the sheets and grabbed for Ratchets helm, rubbing his thumb over his crest. “Please, Ratty.”
Ratchet was still for a few more moments, contemplating Drift. The mech asked him again, Ratchet deciding against his own judgement to continue. He returned to nipping at his plating, servo making rubbing motions on his thigh. The frame below him was tense, Drift panting in short vents. Tracing his digits along his panel on an upward stroke, sliding down into the hip joint and teasing at cables. The servo on his helm let go and reached for his, pulling it out of the joint and pressing it against his valve panel. A silent plea, Ratchet watching Drifts face from the corner of his optics.
“Open for me Drift.”
That servo ground his own against the panel, hips moving slightly with the movement. It took Drift a few moments before he was clear headed enough to retract his panel, hot mesh beneath his digits. Ratchet rubbed along that soft mesh a few times, tracing a digit through his valve lips and feeling lubricant. That was a positive sign, maybe Drift was just too worked up to relax as usual.
Ratchet shifted more onto the berth, snaking an arm under Drifts back to pull on his right leg. He licked the top of his valve, feeling the hard anterior node beneath the mesh hood. Drift was stifling his noises, trying not to cry out. A servo clutched at his, widening his leg open even further. Pressing two digits in he teased at the entrance, using his thumb to rub against his node as he continued to lick.
“Ratch…please…..”
“Please what Drift? Tell me what you want.” He vented against that mesh, feeling Drift shiver beneath him at the sensation.
“I-I want too….can I……aaannggh…..overload…”
“Of course you can. All you want.”
There was a subtle release of tension, that frame relaxing slightly beneath him. Drift whimpered when he pushed two digits in to the second knuckle, anterior node firming beneath his glossa. Calipers squeezed down onto his digits, trying to draw him in deeper. Curling them he rubbed along the top of his inner valve channel, feeling for a certain cluster midway. Knew when he found them, Drift bucking his hips beneath him. Ratchet moved with him, moving his other servo from his leg to the hip joint to keep him still.
Drift cried out as he stroked that cluster again, a firm bud in the mesh lining. Pressed hard with the pad of his tongue against his anterior node, long licks upwards. “That …feeeeels…strange…”
:: Tell me Drift, we can stop right now ::
:: Green, I'm green ::
Tossed his helm and shut his optics as Ratchet rubbed that cluster several times, a tightening in his hips. He felt odd, but it was still pleasant, his overload approaching. “Ratch….a little harder…pleeeaaase.”
Ratchet hummed and sucked on his anterior node, striking his internal cluster hard with several upward thrusts. Shock ran up his lines, the crackle of static as his overload surprised him. Drift bit his lip hard while stifling a cry, his whole frame arcing with pleasure. Fluids gushed from his valve, the tight sensation in his hips unfurling. He felt like he was burning suddenly, Ratchet still lightly teasing his entrance and rubbing his anterior node. Fluids dripped down his aft, a squelching noise as those digits scissored his entrance open.
Drift felt wet, like he was laying in a puddle. There was a warm tingling sensation in his hips, like a long held pressure had been released. Sense came back to him slowly, overload stuttering the flow of thoughts. Ratchet moved again, now sitting up between his legs, using one of the sheets to wipe him down. He opened his optics slightly to watch Ratchet pull his digits free from his valve and suck on them, the sight causing him to cycle down on nothing.
“Is that your first time squirting?”
Drift frowned at the words, not making sense for a moment. Realization slowly came to him. His cheeks flushing, biting on his lip again. Ratchet only gave him a laugh, stroking along his sides. “Lucky mech, not everyone can, bet it felt good.”
Shame burned in Drifts processors, not understanding Ratchets meaning. His valve cycled down again at Ratchets caresses, that tingling heat building once more. “I….n-no….I’ve never..squirted?” His frame was collected up into Ratchets lap, lips capturing his again. Drift went timid, letting Ratchet have his way with him. He felt good, Ratchet had made him feel great again. Slowly he kissed back, regaining his confidence. Running his own servos along Ratchets shoulders and neck, their fans dumping warm air between their frames. Drift wanted more, he wanted to be free from his thoughts for a bit. He whispered between pants against Ratchets helm, moving his servo between their frames to rub against Ratchets spike panel.
Ratchet hiked Drifts frame up a bit more onto his lap, holding him up by the back of his thighs. Drift stroked him when he pressurized his spike, murmuring to him.
“Is that what you want Drift?”
“Make it go away Ratch. I don’t want to think tonight.” Shifted his legs around Ratchets waist slightly to gain some space, pede tips barely touching the berth, guiding Ratchets spike to his valve. The head teased at his entrance, pressing in slowly. The angle grinded his anterior node against it, Drift dropping his forehelm down onto Ratchets shoulder. Slipping past his entrance that spike was finally in, Drifts weight sinking down and seating himself onto Ratchets hip plating. Tightening his hold onto Ratchet, the medic grunting with the tightness of his valve.
“I got you, I’ll make it stop.”
Except it didn’t stop. The thoughts came rushing back, Drift whimpering. He was being torn apart, the fullness in his valve filling him with pleasure. His thoughts turned that pleasure against him. Ratchet holding him tightly and thrusting against him. He wanted to be happy, he should be happy. His pede shifted against the berth, a cold wet patch touching it. Drift trembled, suddenly feeling sick.
He didn’t deserve to feel this way. He was disgusting. A killer. A leaker, in more ways than one. The cold patch on the bed was proof of it. Ratchet moaned out his name as he tightened up more, whole frame tensing. Ratchet was just using him, using his frame just like others had in the past.
“Ratchet…..stop……please stop.”
Everything stilled, Ratchet holding him close, warm pants against the side of his helm. You can’t even get this right, the one good thing in your life and you are driving him away. Drift grit his denta and sniffled, the trembling in his frame worsening.
“Drift, what's wrong?” He felt Ratchet pull out, his field flaring with concern. Drift moved on his own, mind disconnected from his frame. He slid out the claws on his left servo and ran it along his abdominal plating, keeping his forehelm pressed against Ratchets shoulder. Ratchet was speaking to him, servos moving over his back. Drift needed to do this, to break the cycle, it was the only way he knew how. His claws grazed his valve before he plunged three digits in roughly and jerked his arm upwards, choking out a cry at the pain.
“Drift! Stop it!”
:: Red red red Ratchet redredredredredredredredredredredredredredred::
The disconnect from Ratchet was swift, his frame was being lain down on the berth and wrapped into a blanket, Drift shutting down. “I’m sorry. It's me.” His voice sounded small and far away.
“Talk to me. Are you hurt?” There was a panic to Ratchets voice, Drift feeling even sicker with the sound of it. His tanks churned, fearful he would purge. The internal monologue continued, Drift fighting the urge to scream.
Servos lightly touched him, keeping to areas where he was wrapped in the blanket. “I messed up Drift, I should have never pushed you.”
“S-wasn’t you. I’m gross and broken. But I deserve it.”
“Don’t talk like that, Drift.”
Should have just kept your mouth shut and let him use you. Drift shrunk down into the blanket, letting out a pained sob. The voice in his head was right, he didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve to feel good. Had left Ratchet unfulfilled, denying him his own release. Untangling the blanket around him slowly he hiked his knees up, shifting them closer towards Ratchet. The medic shook his helm no at him, the rejection stinging. A sharp pain in his finial had Drift crying out and dragging his digits across his gauntlet, Ratchet pinching it firmly. It broke through the voices, silencing them temporarily.
Ratchet wrapped him back up in the blanket and rolled him to his side, working the soiled sheet out from under him and tucking a pillow under his helm. Tossing it away Ratchet got up to get a heavier blanket and covered Drift with it, helm sinking down and hiding. Drift curled up and used one of his programming MODs to kill all his processes, effectively sending him into a processor stall and blue screened.
He woke sometime later, feeling Ratchets field against his own. Drift remained still for a long time, not ready to face the consequences of his failure. A gentle press on his side, Drift understood that Ratchet was waiting on the berth next to him.
“I brought you the Great Sword. I know it helps you focus. There is a cube on the side table, please make sure you refuel. I will stay in the other room until you are ready.”
“......no……”
Drift could hear Ratchet getting up, panic lacing down his frame. He struggled to untangle a servo, finally reaching out towards Ratchet. The room was dark, Ratchets blue optics bright as they looked down at him. “Please…don’t go. Don’t leave me alone again.”
Realizing he was holding Ratchets arm tightly he let go, pulling the sword closer and laying back down, face half concealed by the pillow. The medic moved slowly, sitting back down beside him. Not touching, but close enough they could reach for each other. “Drift, I won’t leave you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Didn’t hurt me. I’m just messed up.”
Ratchet huffed an exvent, trying to find the right words. “Not messed up kid, and you're not gross either. I didn’t mean to pinch your finial but you were spiraling. I needed to break the cycle you had put yourself in.”
Pulling the sword even closer, rubbing his thumb along the worn leather strapping on the handle. Wing spoke to him, his words clear. Drift swallowed and shut his optics, steadying himself. “You know all about my time in the Dead End, and then I was Deadlock. I did things to survive, to please others, and to make sure I had enough fuel to function for another cycle. Somewhere along the line my programming got all messed up, and I started to do strange things. The noise in my processors, the voices get too loud, and I can’t handle them.”
A servo rested lightly against his, Drift not pulling away from it. “And what do they say to you?”
“The usual self depreciating slag. Worthless. Broken down leaker. I don’t deserve happiness or to feel pleasure.”
“And do you believe it?” Drift only turned his face more into the pillow, hiding the flush on his cheeks. Ratchet just squeezed his servo against his, field exuding comfort and love. “I don’t believe it, any of it. Not worthless, not to me at least. You worked so hard to be here today, proving to others that you are worthy of happiness and love.”
Drift grimaced, feeling the sting of tears. His words were muffled into the pillow. “I don’t know how to prove it to myself without causing more pain.”
Ratchet leaned closer, still not touching the rest of his frame. “Time, I am afraid that only comes with time. And the help from another. Someone to prove to you that the thoughts you have are wrong, and to set you back on the right track.”
“I have them all the time, but they get worse when I’m close with someone. Even intimate.”
“We all have bad thoughts, you should hear mine sometimes. Do they get worse after or near overload?” Drift only nodded into the pillow, peaking up at Ratchet. He was giving him a small smile, blue optics half lidded. “That would be the PTSD part I suspect. Erotophobia is a complicated one, it can stem from trauma, rejection, and frame dysphoria. Something you all experienced over the vorns.”
“Will it get better?”
“Yes, again with time. And having a partner to work it out with you. I am sorry Drift, I should have stopped sooner, you were showing all the signs of having an episode.”
“What if it gets worse?” Drift was sure Ratchet could sense the fear in his field, the worry churning his tanks again. Ratchet was quiet for a long time, absently stroking his thumb against Drifts servo.
“Medically it is always a possibility. But I will help you through it, I promise. That is if you want me too. I realize I might be part of the problem now.” Turned his helm to look down, smile gone and set in a thin line. “I rejected you harshly so many times. And you put yourself in harm's way for my sake several times.”
Drift shifted up and reached for Ratchet, pulling him closer. The medic made sure the blanket was still between them, laying sideways on the berth and resting his helm against a shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave Ratchet. I love you. I did all those things because I have always loved you.”
“I know, and I can only hope that one day I can convince you that I love you as well despite what those voices tell you otherwise. All your Stubbornness. The last thing I want to do is leave you again.”
“Will you stay here with me?”
“If that is what you want.”
Nodded into the pillow again, feeling Ratchet relax a little more against him. “I…I was doing better. You have really helped me the last few weeks. Sometimes I wish I could take you with me, into that void. The silence. Which is strange, because I can feel you. Hear you talking to me, the touch of your servos against my frame. I guess maybe you do come with me, blocking out all those other voices. I just worry that I’m being selfish.”
“Drift, be selfish for once. Seeing you escape, feeling your frame go lax, brings me pleasure. I did that to you, brought you to that state. Besides, you pamper the slag out of me.” Ratchet let go of his servo and wiped at his face, a line of tears and blue paint staining his cheek.
Drift felt weary, the stress of the night wearing him out. “I want to get better. For both of us. I don’t know if I will ever be free of it, but I know you will take care of me.”
“Will you promise me something? I’ll let whatever MOD you used earlier to crash your system slide, but don’t think I will forget about it. No, I want you to promise me you will stop hurting yourself like you did tonight. I have seen you do it on other occasions but tonight was different, that was intentional self harm. There is a thin line between pain and pleasure, you know that. But that kind of self abuse, I won’t tolerate it.”
“I don’t know when I started doing it, or even why. But I promise to try. You might need to step in and tell me to stop, I can’t seem to control myself sometimes.”
Ratchet leaned down over him, gathering him into his arms, the Great Sword between their frames. Drift hid his helm in Ratchets neck, servo releasing the sword and rubbing against the cables. “And I promise to be more attentive to you. I want you to talk to me more, even if you think it is meaningless. Let me drive those internal thoughts away. If you start to feel like you did earlier just tell me. Other ways we can work that tension out.”
“Can I……can I still be your kitten?”
Ratchet smiled against his forehelm, petting him through the blanket. “When you are ready, we can play again. Even if it is just the gear and you laying in my lap.”
“Ratch, I think……..”Drift took a deep invent, pressing closer to Ratchet. “I think I’m ready to see Rung.”
“That would be a good idea. You don’t need to talk to him about this at first either. Even if you just talk about the crew and the ship it will do you some good.”
“I want to be good. I want to be good for you.”
“I know, and that is why I’m so proud of you. My good mech, my sweetspark.”