“Don’t you – ah – have a meeting?” Ratchet gasped as Optimus pressed him harder against the wall, leaving harsh scrapes of white in the stone.
Optimus’ bent down, nibbling at Ratchet’s throat. “I have a little time,” he rumbled as he rolled his hips, grinding their panels together, as neither of them had extended their equipment.
“But you don’t have time to clean up,” Ratchet said, even as another moan escaped him, one leg tightening around Optimus’ waist. He put his hands on Optimus’ shoulders, every intention being to push Optimus away before they got further than he could resist.
“Which is why I’ve not opened my panel,” Optimus replied with a teasing laugh that few knew him capable.
He then rolled his hips, scraping metal against metal, and Ratchet stopped pushing and started holding. His helm tipped back, mouth falling open, as pleasure rippled through his frame. His array pinged for release, and Ratchet denied it.
There was a… a meeting. And Optimus didn’t have time.
Ratchet rocked down, meeting Optimus’ heated panel with his own, feeling lubricant seep around the edges. His valve ached with need, but there was something deliciously dirty about doing it this way.
“Learning new tricks then?” Ratchet moaned as he had to deny a second and third request, charge licking out from under his armor as arousal notched higher and higher.
Optimus’ lips dragged a searing path up the curve of Ratchet’s jaw. “I learned from the best,” he claimed, and stole Ratchet’s lips for a breath-stealing kiss.