UEON

It had been decades since he felt such a strong itch. Normally he'd just ignore it or channel the stress and frustration into a new project, but after over a year of holding back, everything finally came to a head.

So when he got a few hours of free time (a rare reprieve from his post and his far less professional arrangement with a certain Decepticon), Pharma downed a cube of high-grade, flushed his systems with a dose of antifreeze, and took off.

The outpost was old, a bar that existed long before the war and somehow remained neutral through the millennia. Pharma made sure to land a short distance away, activating a custom holoform he'd created just for the occasion. Instantly, his wings, cockpit, and Autobrand disappeared, his paint changing from blue, red, and white to orange with purple accents, his optics flipping yellow.

He checked himself over, confirming that he appeared as a virtually unrecognizable monoformer before making his way toward the bar.

A few mechs glanced up when he entered, but quickly went back to their drinks and conversation upon confirming he was badgeless. There were a few mechs openly wearing their brands, but most had covered them up with a piece of tape, understanding that this was not a place for war and politics.

Pharma played it casual, ordering a drink and nursing it for an appropriate length of time before finishing it off and making his way to the oil-change station in the back, ensuring that his invisible wings didn't knock into anything or anyone as he passed.

There were only five stalls, but two were discreetly marked with familiar sigils. Pharma checked them for occupants before slipping inside and locking the door, muffled music from the bar filling the silence that swallowed him.

His optics flickered down to the line of metal irises installed in the door, starting at the height of an average minibot all the way up to the tallest war-builds. The floor was relatively clean, though given what most mechs were doing in here, there was really only so much sterilization to be bothered with.

Venting, he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he waited.

Thankfully, it didn't take long. Pharma had barely been there for more than a handful of minutes before he heard the door open and someone enter the stall next to him. There was a knock on the wall and he raised a hand to repeat the motion.

His optics then dropped to the line of irises expectantly and sure enough, one of them opened and a red spike expanded into it.

For a moment, Pharma stared, hesitant. He hadn't done this in years. What was he even thinking? He wasn't some young med-student fooling around with his peers anymore. He was a respected doctor with a reputation to consider.

But as he dropped down to his knees and wrapped a hand around the base, his worries were pushed to the back of his processor.

No one knew who he was here and no one would ever know. Just like the mech on the other side of the wall, he was here for one thing: stress relief.

The kind that required a level of self-debasement he'd never be able to indulge in with anyone he knew, lest they judge him for it.

Stroking over the other mech's spike, Pharma was surprised at how familiar it all felt despite how many years had passed. It shouldn't be so easy to slip back into his old disgusting habits and yet here he was, rotating his wrist around, making the mech on the other side of the wall hiss as he tightened his grip.

He leaned in, flicking his tongue over the tip and sighed, optics closing as he dragged his fist back and forth.

The fantasy was always that one day it would be Ratchet. That one of the many students who came through would be the mech he really wanted. It was a dream that would never come to be, but Pharma liked to pretend anyway, if only to make it all feel a touch less-

-pathetic.

Sucking at the head, Pharma began to bob his head in tandem with his wrist, smearing oral lubricant down the length of the throbbing shaft until it gleamed in the overhead lamp.

There was always strangely something meditative with the act of giving head. He didn't have to focus like in surgery, he could just throw himself to the natural rhythm of his own body and the light thrusting of the other mech into his mouth. The taste was the only thing that he generally noticed, but thankfully while this mech was oily and slightly acidic, they were otherwise clean.

He'd barely begun to sink when suddenly the spike in his mouth was stuttering and kicking against his palette, spilling transfluid in thick messy spurts. Pharma pouted around the spike and slowly pulled off, turning his head to spit out the mess as the mech retracted, the iris quickly closing behind him.

He heard a muffled thanks as the door opened again before the mech's footsteps faded behind the pulse of the bar's distant radio. Pharma just huffed and sat back on his calves, barely charged and frustrated.

Hopefully the next one would have a bit more staying power.

---

The next three mechs were enough to finally get a decent charge going, but the lack of stamina consistently left Pharma feeling annoyed as he spit out each load onto the floor. His jaw was starting to get a little sore, but he hadn't even bothered to pop his panels open.

The itch remained unsatisfied.

Lifting his helm as the door opened again, Pharma vented and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, staring at the grimy wall.

A few moments passed before one loud knock was given. Pharma paused. Based on the reverb, whoever was on the other side was big or...was compensating heavily.

Pharma just vented and rapped his knuckles against the wall in turn, one brow raising as an iris opened.

Then a massive black spike emerged, purple biolights lining the turgid length. Pharma blinked, both impressed and slightly intimidated. Well, this would definitely be one of the larger ones he'd serviced, but the size difference wasn't impossible.

He could only hope that this mech would have some level of staying power.

Spitting a mouthful of lubricant onto the flared head, Pharma smeared it down the thick spike, watching the shaft twitch in response to his ministrations. It was widest at the base and part of him couldn't help but squeeze, fighting to close the gap between his fingers and thumb. That earned him a throaty rumble and Pharma smirked, leaning in and dragging his tongue back and forth against the glowing plates.

"You have a talented set of hands."

Pharma almost froze in place, not expecting to be talked to. Most mechs were silent, maybe thanking him at the end if anything, but on rare occasion he got a talker, someone who wanted to yap their way through the whole thing.

Nothing was a faster turn off than bad dirty talk.

Venting through his nose, Pharma just closed his eyes and got to work. Hopefully this mech wouldn't be obnoxious, but it was always a coin toss. Some mechs knew what to say to get his processor spinning with charge and others were practically verbal surge protectors.

"Slow. I'm in no rush."

Pharma hummed around the head in acknowledgement. At least this mech intended to take his time. Maybe he could just turn off his audials and enjoy the process.

Then again, some mechs got annoyed when they knew they were being ignored. The last thing he needed was to get an angry (and horny) mech trying to break down the stall door.

And given the size of the spike in his mouth, that was a very real possibility.

He swallowed around the head, flicking his tongue along the underside as he continued to pump the base in tandem. Of course, due to the sheer size, Pharma quickly found himself unconsciously drooling, lips stretching wider as he pushed forward.

"You won't fit it all. But I greatly appreciate your determination."

Pharma almost choked, lubricant dribbling down his chin as the other mech surged forward, pressing a few more inches into his mouth. It was almost too much and yet that made it easier to sink, to lose himself to the physical pulse of his own sensornet.

Groaning, his free hand slipped down to rub over the seams of his thighs, stroking the warm exposed mesh.

Yes, this...this was what he missed.

"Mmmm, is that as deep as you can take it?" the voice purred. "Impressive."

Pharma growled. A challenge, open and obvious. Yet he found himself shifting forward anyway, unhinging his jaw as he held that thick spike in place. He choked, gurgling wetly as he managed to get halfway down the shaft before the head was finally pressing into the shuddering vice of his throat.

He held there for a few beats, swallowing with difficulty as his own fuel tank pumped loudly in his audials. Then Pharma pulled off with a hoarse cough, a thick line of lubricant trailing from the edge of his swollen lips.

On the other side of the stall, he heard a deep groan as the wall shook. "Frag, you really know what you're doing."

Despite himself, Pharma laughed, the sound breathy as it tickled its way out of his strained vocalizer. He certainly hoped so given how many times he'd done this. Sure, it had been years, but it was like replacing a broken suspension. You never truly forgot.

"Are you...touching yourself?" the other mech huffed. "Touch yourself. I want you to touch yourself."

He snorted, wings flicking on either side of him. Normally Pharma didn't like taking orders, but being asked to join in was hardly a chore.

So he retracted his own plates as he sank back down, tongue and lips dragging back and forth across the warm segmented metal. His spike instantly pressurized and Pharma groaned, optics flickering as he began to bob his head back and forth.

The other mech started to thrust as well and they easily synced, pressing forward in unison to sandwich the wall between them. Ever so slowly, the filthy stall melted away as did the background music and the buzz of the dim light flickering overhead.

Instead, Pharma's head was full of static and the pulse of their charged frames, the taste of oil on his tongue, the wet drip of his own lubricant between his thighs as he enthusiastically stripped his spike. He moaned around the thick shaft, occasionally pulling back to lave along the sides in a worshipful glide.

This was what he was looking for. This was what he'd needed.

The itch in the back of his processor melted down to slag, replaced by the warm charge ignited in his array until his thoughts were nothing but meaningless binary.

"Close," the voice grunted. "Will you...swallow?"

Normally the answer would be a firm no, but at this point, Pharma didn't care. He was mindlessly bobbing with a desperate vigor, his own hips thrusting in time with the echo of the other mech's groans.

Guttural, base, and messy. Everything he wasn't allowed to be.

Then he felt the spike swell and stiffen, practically lock down before spasming. Pharma couldn't even attempt to pull off as a gush of warm transfluid spilled down his intake, nearly choking him as he fucked up into his own fist.

He instinctively swallowed, desperately chasing his own end even as the other mech wheezed and vented loudly on the other side of the wall. Charge surged through his lines and suddenly all Pharma could hear was his own needy moans, muffled by the thick shaft still leaking into his mouth.

His HUD flashed as his own spike spat long lines of transfluid against the wall and floor, a release of stress that had been building up for over a year all concentrated into a small series of glowing stains. Pharma shuddered, his shoulder stacks venting out clouds of steam as he sagged, pulling off the spent spike with a weak rasp as his jaw hinge clicked back into place.

For a few moments, the dead air between them was filled with the hiss of steam and deafened music from the bar, an oblivious chorus to his shameful need.

When his optics flickered back up, Pharma fully expected to see the other mech retract through the iris, but instead, the spike remained, surprisingly solid despite its recent release. He frowned. They must have a mod installed to keep from softening post-overload.

Pharma sighed and knocked his knuckles against the wall, earning a nervous cough from the stranger. "Do you have time...for another round?" they asked, almost shy, and Pharma furrowed his brow in thought.

Well...if he was going to double-dip, it might as well be with the only mech who'd managed to satisfy the craving. Though his jaw needed a break, as did his knees.

Getting to his pedes, Pharma stretched, his weight shifting as his gyroscope whirled and settled. He vented and then turned, straddling the massive shaft. Of course, once he actually had the damn thing between his legs, he became acutely aware of just how big the damn thing actually was.

Ok...maybe a quickie wasn't feasible, but he could at least rub out another overload for them both. One last hurrah before he took his flight of shame back to Delphi.

Slowly, Pharma cupped the base of the shaft and rocked his hips down. The wet mesh of his exposed valve met the warm glowing segments and he sighed, resting his turbine against the wall.

"Is that your-" A gravelly groan echoed through the thin metal and the other mech began to thrust as well. "You're so wet."

Pharma grunted and just closed his eyes, focusing on the pressure and friction against his node. Fresh charge began to build up in his array, static prickling the hinges of his hips. He chased the angle, rubbing up and down the flared head as his free hand flattened against the wall.

Maybe...maybe he could take just the head. A nice stretch to his inner nodes.

Shifting his thighs open wider, Pharma sank down as he angled the head up, vents hitching as the damp mesh parted. Primus, when was the last time he'd had a good frag? When was the last time he'd actually had something other than just his own damn hands?

As the head began to press inside, Pharma heard and felt the wall behind him rattle. Of course, it was a tight fit, but the stretch itself was still rather nice. Pharma moaned as he sank down, only stopping once the head was fully engulfed, his lowest set of calipers flaring wide around the turgid metal.

Pharma bit his lip and began to languidly roll his hips in small tight circles. Yes, this was just what he needed; a little something extra to hit all the spots that he normally couldn't-

Suddenly the wall shuddered and Pharma's optics went wide as the spike thrust forward not once but twice, abruptly flaying his calipers to their widest setting. A sharp pulsing sting shot up his spinal struts and he almost yelped, gritting his teeth in pain. He immediately began to wriggle, attempting to pull off, only for that goddamn head to shift inside of him.

He froze as another jolt of charge electrified his sensornet, this time deeper and far less painful. Pharma shivered, legs shaking underneath him as he tentatively shifted back to that angle, only for the spike to brush his ceiling node for a second time.

His calipers reflexively clenched and the mech behind him let out a deep guttural groan. Meanwhile Pharma's hands scrabbled against the wall, trying to grab onto something for support, but he was helpless to do much more other than sink back onto the shaft that was currently impaling him up to the forge.

The pain was still there of course, but it had faded to a faint echo around his rippling calipers. Then once the mech began to thrust, all Pharma could focus on was that tight, wet press.

He didn't realize how loud he was being until he heard a breathy chuckle echo through the walls. "You sing..." A huff, "-beautifully."

Groaning, Pharma just thrust his hips back and rasped, "Shut up...and don't...overload in me." He didn't need to feel another mech's spend sitting in his forge on the flight back to Delphi.

The shame and ache in his valve would be memory enough.

The other mech laughed again, only to taper off into a sharp grunt as Pharma clenched around him, both of their arrays tingling with static. Lubricant trailed down his thighs as the clanking of his own frame against the wall drowned out most of the background noise. Pharma quickly found himself sinking again, losing himself to the pleasurable rhythm even as his frame felt like it was being stretched to its very limits.

Before long, his spike was hard again and Pharma desperately grabbed at it, squeezing the base every time the stranger bottomed out against his deepest nodes.

Frag, he was already so close.

Bending over, Pharma rutted back against the wall, fragging himself and chasing that coil of charge until it finally unraveled.

Pharma whimpered, static rippling through his entire frame as the other mech continued to thrust, bouncing the aerial's limp wings from the sheer force. Transfluid spilled over the tight clench of his fist as he vented hoarsely, physically and mentally-

Distantly, he felt a warm gush, followed by a whimpering moan and Pharma's optics immediately flickered back on. Did...did they just-?

Then the thrusting slowed, only stopping when the other mech bottomed out one last time. Pharma hissed as his ceiling node brushed, the sensor sharp and overwhelmed from charge.

But the heat and static dissipated quickly, leaving Pharma distinctly aware of the aching pulse of his calipers and the wet slide of condensation misting through his steaming vents. He groaned and tiredly dragged himself off, wincing as soon as the softening spike flopped loose, leaving him gaping...and dripping.

Stumbling forward, Pharma did his best to avoid stepping in the puddle of his own transfluid before resting his palms against the opposite wall. He shuddered and then glared at the wet spike over one shoulder as it retracted through the iris. "I told you not to-"

"My apologies," the stranger said, strangely quiet. "It was...impossible to stop."

Pharma rolled his optics. Impossible. What a fat load of slag. "Whatever..." he muttered, shaking his head before grabbing a few polishing clothes from the oil dispenser to wipe himself down. He'd need to wait until he got back to Delphi to wash up, but he refused to walk out into the bar looking like he'd just been fragged to within an inch of his life.

"Are you...are you alright?"

Frowning, Pharma swiped the cloth through his abused mesh, plates snapping back into place over his throbbing array. "Fine," he assured. "You didn't break me."

Though he certainly had come close. His calipers had never been stretched quite so wide.

And his ceiling node had never been so battered.

A few seconds passed before the door to the adjacent stall opened. "Thank you," the mech murmured, giving a small sheepish knock to his door. "Have...have a nice night."

Pharma just pursed his mouth and waited until the heavy pedesteps left before emerging from the stall. Unsurprisingly, his gait was slightly off-kilter, but after making a few quick adjustments, Pharma was easily pacing back and forth without any noticeable limping.

Of course, his valve was still throbbing under his plates, but he didn't let it show, briefly checking over his holoform disguise in the mirror before slipping out of the oil change. The bar was still bustling, which made it easy for him to blend into the other barflies though he didn't linger for long, knowing that he still stunk of ozone and musky lubricant. Thankfully most mechs by this point were a few drinks in and not particularly observant.

The snow of Messatine was almost a balm against his overheated frame and Pharma couldn't help but take a deep breath through his shoulder stacks as he stepped into the frosty night air. A few other mechs were smoking and chatting against the side of the building so he bummed a cy-garette off them and lit up as he walked, leaving the bar's bright lights behind him as he headed toward the woods.

Once he was far enough away, he dropped his holoform and transformed, taking off and speeding back toward Delphi.

He didn't truly relax again until he stepped into the base's communal washracks, hitting the panel and stepping under the warm spray of solvent.

Home sweet home: itch scratched, and none the wiser.

Retracting his plates, Pharma vented and began to clean out his valve, wincing as he rinsed over the tender mesh.

Though...as sore as he was, admittedly it had been a pretty nice frag. He'd never seen the appeal of significantly larger partners before (and Pharma was far too used to being the tallest mech in the room at any given point), but after getting his nodes battered to the Pit and back-

He sighed and closed his plates, turning off the solvent. Maybe he should buy a toy. That would give him more control and be far less risky than seeking out random partners at a neutral base...

And yet...and the risk and lack of control was the whole damn point, wasn't it?

Pharma huffed and shook his head. Rather than dissect his own strange and twisted kinks, he dried off and snuck his way into the staff barracks. Once under the insulation sheets, clean and warm (relative to Delphi's eternal chill), he offlined his optics and let the pleasant soreness drift to the back of his processor.

Unfortunately, any relief he gleaned was short lived as less than two days later, his comm lit up with a familiar frequency. Pharma was in the middle of surgery when he got the notification, calmly dismissing it from his HUD even as his spark began to pound in his chest.

Why now? Tarn had just picked up his latest batch of cogs not even two weeks prior.

Still, Pharma waited until his break to go outside with a cy-garette, irritably opening the missive.

"Are you available tonight, doctor?"

Pharma sighed and shot back: "Available for what?"

A pause, then: "Yes or no, doctor?"

Resisting the urge to growl, Pharma instead took a long pull on his cy-garette, venting out the smoke through his olfactory. "Come by the usual time. Any later and you're not getting treatment."

That garnered no response and in truth, Pharma didn't expect it to. Instead, he mentally prepared himself, all while hiding his internal panic behind his usual stoic professionalism.

After the shift ended and the ward was cleaned up for the night, Pharma went down into the morgue to wait. Within the hour, he heard the creak of the door grinding open, quickly followed by a shrill whistle as the wind outside swept through the opening. Pharma took a sharp vent and straightened, watching as Tarn's silhouette emerged from the shadows, only to engulf his own frame when the taller mech's broad shoulders blocked out the overhead light. "Doctor," Tarn greeted with a polite nod.

"What do you want?" Pharma snapped. "I already paid you, didn't I? We should be good for the quarter." Tarn's optics narrowed behind the mask and Pharma reflexively took a step back as the tank stepped forward.

"I don't remember you being this rude, doctor. Rough shift?" Tarn asked, tilting his head to one side. "Is the stress getting to you?"

Pharma swallowed. "I just...we have an arrangement and you're breaking it."

Tarn chuckled and took another step forward. "As is my right as the initiator," he said with a click of his tongue. "I can always raise the quota, demand more than you're able to give-"

Those red optics scanned down his frame before he added, "-or what you're willing to offer."

Silence stretched between them for a few beats before Pharma awkwardly smiled and said, "You're right, the stress is getting to me," as he tried his best to appear apologetic. "So, what can I do for you, Tarn?"

Tarn hummed and then murmured, "I'm not here for me, doctor. I'm here for you."

"For...me?" Pharma repeated with a nervous laugh. "How...thoughtful, but let me assure you I'm fine-" A claw tipped the underside of his chin, tracing the neck cables attached at the hinge.

"You just said you're stressed," Tarn reminded. "Perhaps I can help."

If he wasn't so terrified, Pharma would have burst out laughing. Instead, he just smiled and shook his head. "I have my own methods of stress relief. Besides, my job is stressful by default. It's just...how it is."

But Tarn didn't pull away, didn't look at all convinced. Instead, the tank just continued to stare at him, eyes focused even as the rest of his expression remained hidden behind the mask. Then, he opened his mouth as if to say something, only to pause as his comm beeped.

Pharma let loose a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, only to stiffen again as Tarn growled. Suddenly the tank's arm dropped and he was turning away. "Rather unfortunate timing, Kaon," he heard the tank mutter. "Are you sure?"

A pause and then Tarn was nodding. "Alright. I'll be there." With that, the tank glanced back at him over one shoulder and said, "We will need to revisit this conversation another time, it seems. Duty calls."

Pharma's smile tightened. "A shame..."

Tarn nodded. "Indeed," he said, only to walk back over and tap one claw against the jet's Autobrand. "In the meantime, take care of yourself, doctor. Don't neglect your own health."

With that, he pulled away and Pharma shrank back, holding still and stiff as the tank left the morgue. It was only when the heavy thunk of the door locking behind Tarn echoed through the morgue that Pharma finally let his frame slump.

He groaned and sank down onto one of the slabs, rubbing at his optics. Frag, if he wasn't stressed before, he certainly was now. What was Tarn even playing at? Was the tank just messing with him now for fun? Was he bored?

Well, hopefully whatever mission Tarn had just gotten would give him a nice long reprieve from whatever bullslag the tank was attempting to pull. Though knowing his luck, Tarn would be back on his doorsteps within the fortnight.

Locking down the morgue, Pharma headed back into the primary ward, dragging a hand down the side of his face. Maybe Tarn would drop whatever this was if he preemptively stockpiled with the next shipment? Either the tank would appreciate him taking the initiative...or make that the new normal and raise the quota (again).

Pharma vented and closed his eyes, leaning his chevron against the wall. He already had to spend every waking hour thinking and even off shift, Tarn refused to let him rest, constantly playing with him like this was all just some silly game rather than life or death.

He just wanted to flush all his responsibilities down the drain, take the weights from his shoulders and fling them over the side of the mountain.

But he couldn't. He was trapped.

With only one outlet.

Pursing his lips, Pharma opened up the shift schedule he'd made earlier in the week. No openings for a while...but he could make space if he swapped with Ambulon the week after next.

A risk, and a stupid one at that, but at this point, Pharma didn't care. He was already walking a goddamn tightrope with Tarn and he might as well get some reprieve while the stupid tank was off-world.

For now, he would just have to throw himself into his work, keep busy and pretend that nothing was wrong.

He could do that. He'd been doing it for the last year as the tank repeatedly pushed him to the limits of his own sanity, enabling Tarn's addiction to keep everyone else safe.

Though if Tarn kept pushing, kept upping the quota...he was going to have to start taking drastic measures.