Ironhide had seen the sign on Prowl’s door and knew exactly what it meant. The simple sentence gave him pause, a moment of debate, before he tucked the datapad under his arm and tried to key his command override into the panel.
It beeped acceptance at him, and Ironhide’s spark fluttered in surprise. And curiosity. He was welcome, if he so desired.
Ironhide braced himself and pressed the final key for the door to open. He stepped inside quickly, so the door would shut just as fast, but even the sign did not prepare him for what he found within.
Ratchet sat in the only chair Prowl had available for visitors. He looked relaxed, unbothered, as he held a datapad in one hand and rested his other along the arm of the chair. Meanwhile, Prowl knelt between his legs, his mouth wrapped around Ratchet’s spike to the hilt, his own hands resting calmly in his lap.
Prowl’s head did not move, neither up nor down, but his intake bobbed occasionally as he swallowed. His door wings gave the tiniest of barely there twitches, but of arousal in the room, there was no scent of it.
The sight still made Ironhide’s engine rev.
“Can we help you?” Ratchet asked, tone so mild, without looking up from his datapad.
“I, uh, got that report fer Prowl. The one he was askin’ for earlier,” Ironhide said, untucking his datapad and giving it a wiggle for emphasis.
Ratchet still didn’t look up. But his free hand moved to rest on the back of Prowl’s head, stopping the tiniest of movements as Prowl made to lean back. He kept Prowl pierced on his spike, filling Prowl’s mouth and intake.
“Is it urgent?”
“Nah.” Ironhide shook his head, his optics glued on the tremble of Prowl’s lips, and the tiny flex of his intake.
“Then it can wait. Prowl’s on his break right now.” Ratchet tipped his head toward the desk. “Put it there. He’ll get to it later.”
Ironhide crossed the floor and put the datapad on the stack in Prowl’s inbox. “And when will that be?”
By the time he turned, it was enough to catch Ratchet’s smug smirk. “When I overload.”
Primus. Knowing Ratchet, that could take hours. Of all the mechs Ironhide had ever played with, casually and no, Ratchet had stamina to spare. Especially if he was trying to prove a point or playing a dom/sub game.
Prowl must have been misbehaving again. Probably not refueling or resting properly.
Damn, what a punishment though. Ironhide was almost jealous, save it wasn’t in his nature to hand over control of himself to someone else like that. Not even Ratchet, who he trusted like no one else, only second to his Prime.
“I see.” Ironhide stood there, fidgeting.
“Was there anything else?” Ratchet asked, tone amused now. His hand was still on the back of Prowl’s head, keeping him in place, not that he seemed to be using any force. It looked more like a reminder.
Ironhide shook his head and took the hint. He headed to the door. “No, that’s it.” He paused before he opened it. “Uh, tell Prowl to CC me on whatever action he sends ta Prime, will ya?”
“Noted.” Ratchet’s gaze dropped back to his datapad, not so much as a shiver in his field despite how warm and wet and welcoming Prowl’s mouth must have been.
Damned lucky medic.
Ironhide left, and before the door had completely locked shut behind him, he was already pinging Wheeljack. He had an ache in his groin, and a rev in his engine, and he really hoped the engineer was up for a good time right now, because the idea of taking care of it on his own was very unappealing.
Wheeljack’s reply was a knowing chuckle. “Stopped by Prowl’s office, did ya?”
“Shut up,” Ironhide said playfully. “You free or not?”
A low sound, possibly a moan, rippled into the comm. “Why don’t you swing by and find out?”
Well, that sounded like an invitation if Ironhide ever heard one.
“Don’t overload without me,” he said, spinning on a heelstrut and making a beeline for Wheeljack’s lab.
“I don’t make any promises.”
The line went silent.
Like the Pits he was going to miss out on this.