clang clang clang

Until he breaks down crying in front of Pharma, and I'm talking the intense, UGLY kind of crying. And then Tarn starts begging Pharma to interface with him, because every time he closes his optics he feels his rapist's touch, and he wants something to overwrite it, to have some memory of sex in his processor that isn't that.

Not that he tells any of this to Pharma. From Pharma's perspective, this is all coming completely out of nowhere. One minute Tarn is menacing him as usual, and the next he's on his knees crying and begging to be fucked. So now Pharma is very confused and also paralyzed with fear and indecision because on the one hand it's not like he can exactly say no to anything Tarn wants, but on the other hand Tarn clearly isn't in his right state of mind right now, and what will happen if and when he comes to his senses after Pharma has "taken advantage" of him during his little bout of madness?

Ultimately Pharma does end up interfacing with Tarn, and decides to be real nice and gentle about it, because maybe if he shows Tarn a really good time, Tarn won't kill Pharma later on when his madness is over with. But no matter what Pharma does, Tarn won't stop crying.

swerve is happy to keep giving him free samples and discounts because he gets a show in return; the captain's face gets increasingly flushed with alcohol and charge, breathily thanking swerve with a wobbly smile for each drink. he takes a long time to finish his drinks because he's too busy shuttering his optics and biting his bottom lip when he finds a good spot to grind the false spike into. shifting his hips to indulgently massage his ceiling node and let out soft moans and pants, lost to the surrounding noise of the bar. eventually he's bracing his hands against the counter and lifting and dropping himself on the dildo. moaning softly when he takes it to the hilt, hanging his head and biting his lip as he grinds down on it, his wet valve making lewd and sloppy noises with every movement.

a few brave mechs come up behind him to press close to his warm frame, wrap their arms around him, murmur in his audial and ask if he needs any assistance. reaching around him to dip their hands between his legs and feel the stretched rim of his valve over the false spike, the wet mess he's making of the bar stool, the throbbing of his neglected, swollen node. they get to whisper about all the things they want to do to him while they stroke his clit and enjoy the way he whimpers and tenses against them when he cums. they can only imagine how well his valve must be milking that dildo...

later in the night he's tipsy and cushioning his helm in his arms on top of the bar, making all kinds of quiet noises into his plating and humping the false spike steadily. his optics are half-lidded and hazy when he isn't burying his face in his arms. he still looks gorgeous even when he's debauching himself in public and slumped gracelessly over the bartop. it helps that he's trembling cutely with charge, chasing another overload. every time he drops his hips onto the dildo his array meets the soaked barstool with a wet slap.

he ends up so lost in his pleasure that he's the last one left in the bar while swerve cleans up. swerve has been extra slow with closing tonight... he's too busy watching rodimus' flushed face and parted lips, listening to him fuck himself on a huge false spike. shivering and trying not to pop his panels every time the captain cums and shudders atop his stool, drooling onto his bartop, enjoying his drinks... if only rodimus were riding his spike. he's spent his whole shift charged up and imagining how rodimus' hot, rippling valve would feel around him...

swerve comes around the bar eventually to touch rodimus' shoulder and tell him he's got to close up. rodimus jolts a little, a bit too preoccupied with riding the false spike to notice that he was being talked to. he leans back into swerve's touch, stretching to show off his sinuous, pretty frame before propping his upper half on the bartop again. then he's lifting himself up off the false spike, leaning on the counter alluringly as the head pops out of his valve with a wet slurp. he looks over his shoulder with half-lidded optics and waves his aft at swerve, showing off his messy array. "will you give me one last free drink if i ride you instead?" rodimus teases. his sloppy valve clenches on nothing and his node pulses with charge... swerve can't resist that offer at all.

My headcanon is that Ratchet generally suggests the kinky stuff, but he is famously bad at communicating. So the upshot of this is that Ratchet will sheepishly stutter out whatever kink he wants to try and Pharma will be like "I'll get back to you" and look up videos of the kink on BotPornhub, then tell Ratchet yea or nay.

So Ratchet mumbles out that he wants to try verbal humiliation, only if Pharma wants to of course, and he wouldn't mean any of the mean things he'd be saying about Pharma, ramble ramble, and Pharma goes off and casually sips his energon tea while he watches 480p videos of bots banging while one of them calls the other a cheap frag toy, etc. Pharma finds it all rather silly but not objectionable and he tells Ratchet, "Sure, let's do it."

So Ratchet starts out slow, he's still very self-conscious about even suggesting this, but as per usual Pharma starts Getting Into It because his kink is having Ratchet's attention wholly focused on him. So when Ratchet calls him overpolished shareware? Pharma loves it. When Ratchet calls him a slutty little jet whose wings aren't even that aerodynamic? That makes Pharma so wet.

But then it happens. Ratchet calls Pharma "a third rate doctor who slept his way through medical school."

And Pharma slowly rises to his feet and asks, in an ever-so-calm voice, what exactly Ratchet means by that. And Ratchet's like "I didn't mean anything--" and Pharma's like "OH it didn't mean ANYTHING, those words that rolled so naturally off your tongue!" and he grabs a pillow and stalks out to sleep on the couch.

Then as Ratchet is standing there, dick out, trying to process wtf just happened Pharma stalks back in, shoves the pillow into Ratchet's arms, and demands that Ratchet sleep on the couch. And Ratchet slinks off to the living room.

Then in the middle of the night Pharma shakes Ratchet awake, thrusts his vorns-old final exams into his face, and demands to know Ratchet's scores, so they can compare. Ratchet literally has no idea, his med school experience is one big drunken blur, so he says he got a C and Pharma is like "Okay, well next let's call all my former teachers and you can ask them if I 'slept my way through school', I have their comm numbers right here--"

And Ratchet, both dreading this and foreseeing that this is something Pharma would deeply regret in the morning, asks if Pharma would like to try the verbal humiliation thing on Ratchet? This successfully distracts Pharma, who hems and haws a bit before agreeing to give it a go.

Ignore the errors, unbetaed.

My part of a art/fic trade with Cataradical