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Ultra Magnus, refueled and cleaned to his usual dull shine, folded himself down into the proper stance that denoted submission and respect for his Lord and Master upon entering the lab.
“You summoned me, my Liege?”
Lord Ratchet didn’t turn or acknowledge Ultra’s existence in any way, which was not unusual. The Autobot Commander’s advanced processor was regularly filled with tasks of monumental importance, and Ultra understood implicitly not to demand attention. Waiting patiently was not a chore, not when it gave him time to bask in the glorious presence of the mech who had slain Gods and Primes alike.
It did send a surge of excitement through him when, exactly a breem later, Lord Ratchet acknowledged him with a short command; “Recline on the table, Ultra Magnus.”
It was a pleasure to obey with alacrity, reclining on the medberth as he awaited further orders. He was even closer to Lord Ratchet here! Ultra could almost reach out and touch his Lord, but without explicit permission that would be unforgivably presumptuous. He restrained himself to admiring Lord Ratchet’s flawless frame from his peripheral vision, every move graceful without wasting valuable time or energy.
Ultra spent another precise breem basking in the heady energy-field of his liege, before Lord Ratchet set aside the project and focused his attention on his ever obedient officer. The mere touch of his luminescent green optics against Ultra’s frame sent his internal temperature spiking wildly, the charge in his circuits almost unbearable.
“Ultra Magnus,” his voice was smooth and intoxicating, and Ultra choked back a moan. He would not let a momentary loss of control disappoint his Lord! “Your service has been most commendable of late.” Lord Ratchet continued, and Ultra could only tremble as his Lord’s most glorious fingers traced invisible lines up the length of his leg. “In fact, your efforts have brought the Autobots a great deal closer to achieving our goals.”
Ultra couldn’t suppress his shiver as Lord Ratchet’s hand brushed his interface panel, the rattling of his armor against the medberth concealing his humiliatingly weak whimper. His optics dimmed in their sockets as his gaze roamed his Lord’s frame covetously; “There is no greater honor than to serve you, my Lord.”
“I know,” Lord Ratchet smiled down at him, the clear affection making Ultra’s spark flare with excitement. “Which is why I have decided to reward you. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed, and I will not allow them to go unappreciated either.”
Ultra would have responded with more gratitude, but his Lord’s descending face drove all coherent thought from his processor, and the kiss nearly overloaded his emotion circuits.
He failed to notice his Lord drag a surgical trolley over to his side, too consumed with the unique and glorious sensations and tastes that were so rarely experienced. Lord Ratchet only rewarded the very best of his soldiers in this manner.
A warm, comfortable weight settling over the expanse of Ultra’s pelvis startled him enough to online the optics he couldn’t even remember offlining, and the sight that met his gaze was unbelievable enough to make him freeze up.
Lord Ratchet was straddling his hips. Lord Ratchet’s interface panel was pressed over his own. Lord Ratchet was kissing him and grinding his panel against Ultra’s and stroking his frame with those masterful hands and not even the embrace of Primus could feel better than this.
Another weak whimper escaped him when Lord Ratchet shifted upright once more, his expert kisses ending even though his glorious flavour lingered against Ultra’s chemosensors. “M-my Lord-”
Lord Ratchet hushed him with a gesture, teasingly grinding his interface panel against Ultra’s one last time before lifting his perfect frame to his knees. Those glorious hands caressed his own frame this time, and Ultra could not stop his optics following their path up those gorgeous thighs and- oh, oh yes!
The scent of Lord Ratchet’s interface filtered through Ultra’s olfaction sensors as he retracted his panel, his Lord’s divine spike extending and rivulets of hot lubricant sliding down his inner thighs. Ultra could not have stifled the low, desperate moan that escaped him at the sight. No mecha could have remained impassive while receiving such esteem from Lord Ratchet.
His Lord merely chuckled at Ultra’s unrestrained rapture before he stroked his resplendent spike with a light, teasing touch that had Ultra’s valve clenching with anticipation.
With every sensor turned up high, Ultra could only watch helplessly as Lord Ratchet’s expression drew into something subtle and beautiful, a teasing smile that dimmed his optics and made Ultra’s unworthy frame tighten and tremble in excitement.
Then his Lord reached further between his legs and circled his valve with one masterfully-crafted digit.
Ultra was physically unable look away- Megatron and half the Decepticon traitors could have broken through the ceiling at that very moment, and it would not have distracted him in the slightest. He felt his mouth grow hot and slick, the entirety of his frame vibrating with the urgency of his arousal.
Every system in his frame locked up as Lord Ratchet oh so slowly and cruelly slid a single digit into the slick, hot passage of his valve, so rarely used and so very divine.
Ultra nearly came undone as his Lord keened, a sound so erotic that his spark whirled faster in his chamber, flaring and pulsing in empathy. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to have those magnificent fingers buried in his own valve!
A wave of heat ghosted over his supine frame as Lord Ratchet vented the air trapped under his plates, a wry smile gracing his gorgeous face as he pressed a second finger deep into his valve. The stretch must have felt good, because a low, pleased purr emitted from his vocalizer as his armor flared and trembled.
Such a vivid, sensual expression of pleasure from his Lord nearly caused Ultra to overload in jealous sympathy. Fat droplets of lubricant dripped from Lord Ratchet’s wrist as he scissored the fingers buried within himself, splattering against the plating of Ultra’s pelvis and thighs.
Ultra’s moan was sharply cut off when Lord Ratchet pinned him under his commanding gaze. “Ultra Magnus, retract your panel.”
Charged and yearning, Lord Ratchet had barely finished speaking when Ultra’s interface cover shot back with a loud snap and his hot, eager spike extended to its fullest. Lubricant was beaded at the tip and smeared down the sides, clear evidence of how long and desperately aroused Ultra had been, watching his Lord’s display.
“Eager, are we?” Lord Ratchet purred, using the slick fingers that had been in his valve to draw glossy, meaningless patterns along Ultra’s length.
“My Lord!” Ultra gasped, straining to keep his hips from lurching up off the medberth. “Only the dead or glitched could hope to resist your allure!”
Lord Ratchet appeared pleased by this, as he wrapped his hand loosely around Ultra’s spike and pumped it with agonizing slowness and care. “Oh?”
“Ngh- my Lord, to bask in your presence is intoxicating enough, but this level of intimacy is...”Ultra gasped as Lord Ratchet’s hand tightened in the most wonderful manner, his thumb exerting the perfect amount of pressure on a sensitive node near the tip. Ultra’s hands scrabbled desperately against the berth, aching for permission to grasp his Lord’s perfect frame! “My Lord! Your touch is sacrosanct, your skill unsurpassed!” He proclaimed, his voice hoarse.
Lord Ratchet smiled at him then, and the warm fondness in it filled his spark with heat. “Ultra Magnus... you always were the loyal one.”
He would have replied, the earnest gratitude rose in his intake like fumes but the moment Lord Ratchet pressed the head of Ultra’s spike against his valve was the moment every fragment of Ultra’s frame froze, dizzy anticipation holding him better than a vise.
The slow, smooth slide into his Lord’s valve was beyond comparison, and the quiet click of their armor meeting once Ultra’s spike was completely buried like a blast of lightning. Ultra couldn’t stop his hands from rising off the berth, reaching reflexively for Lord Ratchet’s hips.
“No.”
Lord Ratchet snatched his wrists up before they got too close and slammed them back down against the medberth, provoking a sudden wave of shame that made Ultra’s spark shrink. He fought to apologize, but his vocalizer bled static with fear and his words were incomprehensible.
“It seems I’ve been teasing too long, if you’re behaving this wildly.” There was no anger in his Lord’s voice, just amused exasperation. “Let’s get started on your true reward, shall we?”
Ultra trembled with anticipation as his Lord leaned forward, bringing Ultra’s right arm up to rest on the medberth beside his helm. There was a moment of stillness, as Lord Ratchet’s beautiful green optics stared into his own, before their intakes met once again in a blisteringly hot kiss.
He screamed into his Lord’s mouth when the unnoticed blade was brought down, cleaving Ultra’s hand from his wrist. His vocalized pain was swallowed down like high-grade, Lord Ratchet drinking it with enthusiasm and licking away the last whimpering vestiges before lifting his helm a fraction.
“Very good, Ultra Magnus.” He purred, and his approval mollified some of the pain.
The blade retracted, and his Lord went to work on the armor plating of his arm, stripping it off piece by piece before setting it in neat piles off to the side. Ultra could only tremble and vent shallowly, his optics dim and unfocused.
Lord Ratchet hummed an oddly cheerful-sounding dirge as he operated. Ultra could feel the agony as wires were stripped, removed or replaced. The pain was searing when his servomotors were altered, dull and burning as his fuel lines were kinked to stop the flow of energon before Lord Ratchet cut and shifted them. There were sharp stabbing pains as his actuators were modified, and deep, acidic burning as strange new lines were added. The pain radiated up to his exposed shoulder array, separating into numerous lines before they fanned out through the rest of his frame.
Each line of pain that grounded itself in his spark was silently excruciating, and his optics finally flickered offline when every last one of the surging spears redirected the pain into his sparkchamber. The darkness reduced his world to the pain, to his Lord’s sonorous humming and the divine valve wrapped hot and tight around his spike, still achingly pressurized despite the sudden change in pace.
He focused on the pleasant sensations, the comfort of having his Lord’s frame pressed up against him, the honor of having those masterful hands buried deep in his circuits. Reminding himself that this pain is a privilege to experience from his Lord helps considerably, and the hot pain... it edges towards pleasure, while not quite reaching it.
It lasts for an indeterminate eternity, and Ultra could honestly say that he appreciated every moment. The pain, even when spark-deep, was how his Lord celebrated his strength, his service. It was a badge of pride to wear, just as much as the lubricant and paint-scrapings that covered his hips and thighs.
Slick heat pressed against his intake, and Ultra obediently opened his mouth and accepted Lord Ratchet’s soothing, analgesic kiss.
“Online your optics, Ultra Magnus.”
Obedient as ever, Ultra gazed once more on the strikingly lovely frame of his Master and smiled.
“Tell me what you think of your gift,” Lord Ratchet commanded, returning the smile as he held up-
Oh. Oh! Ultra could only stare in awe at the new cannon that had replaced his hand. It was truly beautiful, the alloy it had been constructed out of was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite put a name to it. Lord Ratchet, recognizing his confusion, helpfully dragged a digit every so lightly across the smooth rim, provoking an abnormally strong surge of erotic pleasure that directed itself straight into his spark.
Ultra’s optics widened in sudden recognition, provoking a pleased sound from Lord Ratchet. “Yes, that’s right. The barrel is constructed from the sparkchamber of the Decepticon who murdered Sea Spray.”
“M-my Lord...” Ultra could only stare at his gift with wordless gratitude.
“That’s not all,” Lord Ratchet’s smirk grew devious, “I constructed it that way for a reason beyond your pleasure, Ultra Magnus. You always vowed that there was no greater honor than to sacrifice your spark in my service.”
Ultra met his Lord’s gaze, uncomprehending.
“Your new cannon,” his Lord continued, “is plugged directly into your spark, and uses that energy as ammunition.”
Understanding surged into Ultra, and with a hoarse scream he overloaded powerfully, his hips lifting Lord Ratchet into the air with the force of it before he collapsed offline as though his plug had been pulled.
Ratchet’s smile turned contented, “I knew you’d like it.”
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