Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5103323.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Transformers:_Prime
  Relationship:
      Rafael_"Raf"_Esquivel/Ratchet
  Character:
      Rafael_"Raf"_Esquivel, Ratchet_(Transformers)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-29 Words: 2777
****** Cybertronian Tradition ******
by chocolatedisco
Summary
     Raf has a problem, and Ratchet is duty-bound to offer his assistance.
Notes
     This is a repost! The original version of this fic has been deleted.
     I'm sorry to all those who bookmarked it, left kudos, and commented -
     - the support for this fic has been amazing, so I hope it manages to
     find its way into fans' hands once more.
     This story contains exactly what the tags advertise, so please turn
     back if reading it would upset you.
Raf’s parents didn’t care to tell him what a magical time in his life he’d
reached, Memorial High didn’t even offer Health class until eighth grade, and
there sure weren’t any friends to listen to on the subject. Fortunately, he had
the internet; he had to be careful with it, but basic knowledge was easy enough
to find. So while he was slightly comforted by the knowledge that it was normal
for someone going through puberty to have a persistent random erection (hard-
- uh, difficult to even think the word), it didn’t help much when he had to
bail on patrol with Bee out of embarrassment. The whirrs of disappointment when
Raf told him he had extra homework were hard to listen to, but there was no way
he was taking his computer off his lap when he was like this.
Eventually, everyone save Ratchet was gone, and he seemed busy with some sort
of repairs. Of course, he didn’t have extra homework; he didn’t have any
homework, as he’d completed it all before even leaving school. He still needed
a distraction though, so he fired up his usual go-to racing game. It wasn’t as
much fun without someone to play against, but it was something to concentrate
on. It almost looked like his predicament would be over before he knew it until
a voice grumbled from behind him, “Doesn’t look much like homework to me.”
“Ratchet!” He nearly leapt out of his seat in shock, his car driving straight
into a wall as Ratchet walked around to face him. “I can explain,” he said
reflexively, but then went quiet. No, he couldn’t explain. He stood by his
decision to lie, but that didn’t mean he was any good at it. “Um... I...”
“Rafael...” Ratchet faltered, almost as awkward as Raf. The right words just
weren’t coming easy to either one of them. “You’re overheating,” he pointed at
Raf’s cheek. “If you weren’t feeling well, all you had to do was say so.”
“Blushing. It’s a sign of embarrassment. It’s not really that I’m not feeling
well,” he said without thinking, and sighed. An easy way out, and his natural
reaction was to be honest instead.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ve got doctor-patient confidentiality on
Cybertron too, you know,” he grumbled, annoyed as always that the humans didn’t
know everything about his home planet. But regardless of his annoyance, there
was still no way out of the situation. Raf took a deep breath, hoped that giant
robots had some kind of equivalent so he wouldn’t have to explain too many
details, and pointed at Ratchet’s crotch. Ratchet looked down, looked back at
Raf, looked down again, and then his eyes widened like a cartoon character’s.
“Oh. Oh! Well, that’s. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Perfectly natural,” he
mumbled, almost more embarrassed himself than Raf was.
“You won’t tell Bee I lied, will you?”
“No, no, of course not. I’ll... leave you alone, then,” he said. Raf could have
sworn there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, but he returned to his
work, so Raf turned his attention back to his game. Just as he was about to
start a new race, he was interrupted again by Ratchet turning around a few
times, almost pacing for a few moments before he eventually settled on leaving
his work again. “Rafael. I... hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I can’t
say I know anything of human attitudes on the matter. But...”
“But?”
“But. It is customary, that when a young Cybertronian goes through this stage
in life, that one of their elders is there to... aid them,” he said, wringing
his hands. It didn’t take much for Rafael to put two and two together.
“But I’m not Cybertronian,” he pointed out, surprised by Ratchet’s offer. Raf
liked to keep an open mind, especially when it came to the ‘bots, but some
levels of strange just took a few moments to process.
“You think I haven’t noticed that?” he laughed. It was actually sort of funny,
but Raf was a little too thrown off to join in. “You may not be Cybertronian,
but you’re an Autobot at... what was it?” he tapped his chest.
“Heart.” His was beating way too fast.
“That’s the one. It may sound odd, but I’d be shirking my duty not to offer.
Now, you’re not obligated to accept. There are plenty of young ones who prefer
to deal with things on their own. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been turned
down.” Despite Ratchet’s assurance that it wasn’t necessary, he found himself
really thinking about the offer. If it was normal for Cybertronians, it would
be inconsiderate to just dismiss it as strange, even though it was probably
somehow illegal by Earth standards. Yet, he couldn’t help but picture
Ratchet... well, touching him. He wondered just how those giant metal hands
would feel. It had to be better than locking the bathroom door at home because
that was the only way to get five minutes of privacy.
“We... could try?” he said, and despite the hesitance Ratchet’s face lit up for
a moment; maybe he’d been turned down a little more often than he preferred to
indicate.
“Alright then,” he calmed down slightly, extending his hand to Raf so he could
step in. Raf set his computer aside, trying not to feel too self-conscious
about the bulge in his pants; it felt silly, considering what was about to
happen. He hopped into Ratchet’s hand, and Ratchet carried him over to the
operating table in his laboratory. A little morbid, but the only comfortable
place for someone not made out of metal to lie down. It showed Ratchet was
thinking about him. If he thought about it, he could trust Ratchet with his
life, so it would be strange to not trust him in this. He climbed out of
Ratchet’s hand to stand on the table, unsure of what to do next. Fortunately,
Ratchet seemed mostly prepared to direct the situation. “If you could take off
those...”
“Clothes?”
“Clothes. Can’t say I ever understood them, no protection whatsoever,” he
groused, leaving Raf chuckling as he began to disrobe. However, his amusement
quickly wore off as reality began to set in. There was no way around the
strangeness of getting naked for a millions of years old robot. “You’re
embarrassed again,” Ratchet noted less than helpfully.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t think any human’s done
anything like this before,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside
to lie with his sweater vest and shoes. He fumbled nervously with the button on
his pants; he didn’t even like changing for gym class, and now he had Ratchet
watching him in what appeared to be fascination. Still, he got them off,
leaving him standing there in boxer-briefs and socks, unsure whether he was
supposed to take the latter off or not. Would they be uncomfortable? Would his
feet get cold?
He settled on leaving them; he could always take them off later if he felt like
it. Which brought him to the moment of truth. Nothing but a cotton-polyester
blend between him and weird alien tradition sex. Ratchet looked him in the eye,
and his expression soured. “Rafael, perhaps we shouldn’t do this.”
“No, I... I want to,” he used his most authoritative voice, hoping it would
chase away the nervousness. He gripped his waistband with all his might,
counted to three in his mind, and pulled his underwear down, his eyes slamming
shut to avoid seeing Ratchet’s reaction. He hrrmed, and Raf could almost feel
himself being examined. At this rate, he really would overheat.
“Well. No valve, and some strange sac, but otherwise that’s not so unusua-
- sweet Primus, it twitched at me!” he suddenly shouted, and Raf couldn’t help
but burst into laughter. He hadn’t expected to be put at ease like that.
“Well, yeah. Doesn’t yours?”
“Certainly not! Well. It expands and retracts, naturally, but it definitely
doesn’t do that.” Raf clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his
giggles. Expanding and retracting sounded a lot stranger to him, but he kept
that opinion to himself. “Ahem. Assuming similar function to Cybertronian
interface equipment, this shouldn’t be too difficult. If you could lie down for
me, we’ll get started.” It was a little clinical-sounding, but Raf found it
somehow comforting, like Ratchet wasn’t putting on airs for him.
He laid down with his head on the pillow, and Ratchet leaned in close, watching
closely as he gave Raf’s... thing (all the terms he could think of were too
childish, scientific, or vulgar,) a cursory poke, perhaps wary of any further
strange behaviour. When nothing happened, he gave it a slow, light stroke down
its length, the metal of his finger almost perfectly smooth: just textured
enough to make Raf give a violent shudder of pleasure, the kind he never got
just hiding away in the bathroom. “Are you alright?”
“Whoa. I mean, um, yes,” he replied, flustered and feeling like the temperature
in the room had just gone up ten degrees. Ratchet gave him a strange look for a
moment, but quickly decided Raf’s response was satisfactory with a nod.
“Just let me know if it hurts.” With that, he returned to the task at hand. He
applied just a hint more pressure the second time, pulling back Raf’s foreskin.
“Fascinating,” he murmured to himself; just when Raf was starting to wonder
what Cybertronian ‘interface equipment’ was like that made his so interesting,
Ratchet’s finger rubbed at the sensitive tip, shooing the stray thoughts from
Raf’s mind and replacing them with something primal and unfamiliar that made
his hips rise to meet the touch. But the sensation didn’t last long;
apparently, Ratchet was determined to explore. His hand drifted ever lower,
stopping over Raf’s balls. “Is this area pleasurable as well?”
“Um. Maybe? I haven’t really had the time to check it out. Just go easy.
Pretend they’ve got a big ‘fragile’ sticker on them,” he warned Ratchet, but it
felt like a waste of words. His hands may have been big and heavy, but he made
them seem like anything but, he was so precise and tender. Raf supposed that
was part of what made him such a good doctor. And a pretty ok Cybertronian sex
mentor so far. His finger traced feather-light lines through the dustings of
hair that were beginning to grow; it didn’t bring on the same violent reaction
that he’d had before, but it still felt good, like there was a more subtle
tension starting to build inside him.
“That feels really nice,” he told Ratchet, if nothing else to keep the lines of
communication open. Ratchet was definitely excited about his sudden opportunity
to study human anatomy, and Raf didn’t want him getting too caught up in the
moment. Ratchet smiled his reply, looking strangely... well, handsome. All this
must have stirred up some strange hormones to make Raf think something like
that. Or he was just a weirder kid than even he’d realized.
Ratchet chose not to roam any lower, content to focus his attentions in one
place for now. He laid his hand across Raf’s length, stroking up and down. The
petting motion would have been hypnotic had it not left Raf on edge, thrusting
against Ratchet’s hand in a desperate plea for more. It was cathartic, letting
go and being perfectly honest about his desires for once. Kind of like playing
violent video games times a million.
“Ratchet,” he heard himself moan, surprised at just how breathy his voice could
sound; the movement of Ratchet’s hand suddenly stopped, the glimpse Raf caught
of his face before he turned away looked positively scandalized, and he could
swear he heard the sound of fans whirring to life. It wasn’t too hard to field
a guess at what it all meant, and Ratchet wasn’t inclined to try and hide it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding grim as if he’d committed some serious misdeed
and was resigned to any punishment he received.
“It’s fine!” Raf tried to reassure him, sitting up to try and catch his eye,
but Ratchet turned even further away.
“It’s supposed to be about the recipient,” he grumbled.
“I’m not supposed to be doing anything like this. So we’re both making
exceptions. Besides, it... makes me feel more comfortable, actually.” At that,
Ratchet faced him again, the surprise in his expression making Raf blush.
Knowing that Ratchet was more than just fascinated by him... it made him feel
less weird. Which was probably weird in itself, but he had more pressing things
on his mind. “Can I see?”
“You’re quite the human, you know that?” he asked. “I suppose it’s only fair.
But no touching!” Some sort of panel on his crotch slid back, and true to his
word, it... extended. It was an impressive sight: shiny and smooth, but with
neat-looking ridges, and big enough that Raf almost felt he could climb up on
it. He was intrigued by what he guessed was the valve underneath too, but
Ratchet prodded at Raf’s chest to get him to lie down again before he could get
a proper look at it. “I’d say that’s enough.”
Raf was about to complain that Ratchet had a whole lot more time to look at
him, but Ratchet lowered his head to Raf’s crotch, so close he could feel the
heat of Ratchet’s mouth, and, well, that shut him up. Ratchet was cruel, just
hovering there, waiting to strike, leaving Raf nearly trembling in
anticipation.
“Come on, Ratchet,” he pleaded in his best needy tones, and Ratchet was visibly
shaken. If Raf were any less scrupulous, he might have made some mental note of
how to take advantage of Ratchet’s auditory weakness. But he was a good kid,
and his reward was the slick, smooth surface of Ratchet’s tongue slowly making
its way up his length, making him squirm and gasp at every centimetre of
progress. When he reached the head, the torture grew to new heights, drawing
out whines that barely even sounded like him anymore as his hips arched into
the inviting heat. “Ratchet!” he cried the only word his mind could form.
“Rafael,” he whispered against Raf’s skin before renewing his assault on the
integrity of Raf’s brain. Raf could feel that moment where sense completely
destroyed thought approaching, but the words to warn Ratchet about it just
wouldn’t come to him. So he just let it hit, the force of it nearly enough to
knock him out. It was certainly enough to knock him back, leaving him lying
there on the table, eyes closed, chest heaving and spattered in fluid.
When he rejoined the world of the living, he opened his eyes to find Ratchet
stroking himself; a sight that would have given him another erection had that
been physically possible. But as it was, he just enjoyed the sight, listening
to his grunts as he finished, his own fluids making impressive arcs before
hitting the floor until they died down, becoming a trickle that ran down his
length. Raf found himself wanting to lick it off, and strangely unabashed about
the thought. Must have been the endorphins. “Wow.”
“A-ah! Rafael. Nice... nice to see you’re not too exhausted,” he stammered,
clearly embarrassed to have been caught in the act. Maybe he didn’t have
endorphins.
“I could have helped with that,” he said, stretching as Ratchet went to grab a
nearby towel.
“I hardly needed assistance.” He began to wipe the sticky substance from Raf,
just as gentle as ever despite his compromised state. When he finished, he
turned his attention to the floor.
“Well... maybe next time?” Raf suggested as he stood up and began to redress,
and Ratchet whirled around in place, surprised yet again. Raf was almost
starting to take pleasure in shocking him.
“And what makes you so sure there’ll be a next time?” he asked, folding his
arms. Raf paused with his pants halfway up his legs, trying to figure out his
response. After all, he definitely wanted there to be a next time.
“Wishful thinking,” he said with his best smile, and Ratchet stared at him for
a moment before turning away.
“Bah. Why don’t you go play your video games?” he grumbled as he began to wipe
the floor clean. Raf, for his part, just laughed softly as his still-shaky
fingers tripped over buttons. He got the feeling that Ratchet was a little more
receptive to the idea than “bah”, and that made him feel pretty darned great.
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