Title: ...and don't let Ratchet choose the stakes

'Verse: Post '07movie

Characters: Ironhide/Ratchet

Summary: The stakes of the bet were getting to see Ironhide as a femme holoform. And whether the bet was fair or not, Ratchet won. Despite all of Ironhide's growling, Ratch can't resist his mate, no matter what form Ironhide is in.

Rating: NC-17

Stuff you'll read: Profanity, smut, holo/mech, human male holo/human female holo, gender-bending of one character (personality has a he-pronoun, but the holoform has a she-pronoun)... "pronoun abuse" ;)

AN: Though I'm fairly sure this could stand alone, this follows and vaguely references the cracky Don't Make Bets with Wheeljack... This pr0nz idea came first and the truck pull humor was (not-so-secretly) a means to the end. I wanted to play with what holos are, how they interact with the mechs, and letting Cybertronians totally throw "gender" out the window; it makes this a rather an experimental story, so I'm pretty open to critique.

Ratchet finally tracked the weapons specialist to their quarters. "What the frag have you been doing?" he asked, exasperated.

The truck's engine rumbled, if a vehicle could look like it was seething and sulking at the same time, the TopKick was managing. "Damned bet…" 'Hide groused.

Stepping in from the doorway and allowing the door to slide closed behind him, the CMO fought the chuckle that threatened to sneak through. "Your own fault for being such a smug idiot and falling for it."

The pickup dropped on its shocks with a low engine growl.

"Come on, boltbucket, lemme see," Ratchet prompted, stroking the roof of Ironhide's cab like he was soothing a cranky animal. "It is your turn to try being the femme."

There was a pause then the crackle of an appearing holoform. A deep chested Rottweiler flickered and solidified in front of the black mech's grill. Lean muscle under black and tan fur stalked towards the massive booted feet of the CMO with hackles raised.

Ratchet humored the weapons specialist enough to take a single half-step back. "While amusing, and upholding the bet in technicality-" The Hummer cocked a hip and optic ridge at the cab of Ironhide's alt, "Do you really want to walk into the setup of being 'my bitch'?" he asked, smug cat-and-cream look plastered back across his faceplates.

She growled nearly as loudly as the truck, barked once then shimmered and faded. The light bounced and shifted, coalescing into a human woman in a crouch. The 'form was a soldier through and through, boots, camouflage pants and a sleeveless t-shirt; though the cut of her clothes emphasized the being within was female, they also showed she could kick your aft. 'Hide stood, feet apart, shoulders squared and hands on her hips, glaring up at Ratchet with the weapons specialist's same deep blue eyes.

"You realize your 'form is higher in muscle mass than the average human female."

Ironhide rolled her eyes before moving to close the distance and glare up at the CMO. "So?"

The rules of decorum had settled that it was only polite to kneel down when speaking with the humans in very close quarters, and 'Hide had walked up nearly to Ratchet's feet. Rather than towering over the 'form, he huffed and dropped to a knee beside the TopKick. "You're also in the top tenth percentile for height," the medic observed.

The woman peered up at the mass of metal caging her near the pickup's driver door. She tossed her head, brushing long black hair out of the way. Ratchet smirked as the motion showed sinuous muscle flowing under skin and it arched a fine neck. He rested the fingertips of his left hand on the floor beside the human female, settling the other on his thigh.

'Hide simply pursed her lips, so obviously unfazed by the size difference that Ratchet could not help but find it in some way comical. But when Ratch made a mechanical snicker, the truck engine snarled and Ironhide's 'form looked significantly less than amused. She snorted and moved to slouch her back against the chartreuse wrist. "Deal was a femme," she grumbled, fuming with arms crossed. "Unless I still misunderstand this species, it's a femme. Am I done?" Ironhide hunched, blue eyes flicking aside in annoyance as she ran a hand over her cannonless, organic-seeming forearm.

"'Hide," the medical officer smirked, nudging his field against the truck.

Ironhide growled from deep in her throat. While Ratchet understood why the old soldier was particularly cranky about being the brunt of a joke, this embodiment of that sentience was just too intriguing.

"Don't get your servos in a twist," Ratchet muttered, looking back down to the bristling female against his arm. He lifted his hand enough to turn it and cup her back, running his thumb along her flank and hip.

The woman jumped at the sudden shift in her support, but then slowly relaxed into Ratchet's hand. The black TopKick likewise stopped vibrating in irritation and went most contentedly quiet. She let the Hummer stroke her flank for a few minutes, then an evil smirk drew across her lips.

Ratchet chirruped, confused when 'Hide turned and gripped at the bars circling his wrist. The holo chuckled, stroking over the plating concealing a deadly rotary saw. Slowly, Ratchet began flexing his hand and purring like a giant mechanical cougar cub.

Once Ironhide had gotten the mech squirming and could hear the tense scraping of sawblades shifting underneath plating, she scaled Ratchet's arm to climb between shoulder lights and guards. Ratchet craned his neck, glancing from the human female to the truck and back.

It would have been simpler for Ironhide to simply flick off the holomatter then online it again on the shoulder, but that would have lost her the chance to explore Ratchet's frame on the human scale. She leaned her hip against the smooth chartreuse plating of Ratchet's helm, slipping her fingers along his neck and audio. Ratchet whined softly, shivering with the small holoform fingers teasing along components.

'Hide chuckled, oddly enjoying herself perched up on her medic as she was. The soft noises and little mewls Ratchet made vibrated very pleasantly through her simulated flesh and bone. Ironhide set about finding every portion of Ratchet's shoulders that the blunt fingertips of her true form were incapable of accessing. After wringing another low purr from her beloved medical officer, she moved to up the ante. She scratched over the emergency lights arcing above the Hummer's shoulders, then in the moment of bliss in which they flickered and Ratchet's helm tipped back, she reached lower, grabbed for bullbars, and twisted to swing down over his chest.

The choked sound that Ratchet made was priceless.

A low diesel engine rev from the TopKick, and the female hung from the top bar, slowly scraping her boots as she carefully worked her way to sitting on the bottommost bar. Clinging to headlights and connections, the tips of her boots just tapped chestplating. So many cables, and the most delicate connections that were completely at the mercy of small human fingers. Ironhide stroked over lighting, reaching back as far as she could to stroke into the fine seams along collar and chest armor. The shivers of the much larger figure where magnified, making the experience a bit of a rush. When Ratchet's optics dimmed and his helm tipped forward, she purred, rocking her simulated weight back to reach for his jaw.

Ratchet mewled at the sudden tug against hypersensitized components; a desperate whine and he bucked forward, one hand falling heavily on the edge of Ironhide's truckbed.

She was really only energy; if Ratchet damaged that in switching to his Hummer alt, that injury wasn't transferred to Ironhide, but until the warrior disengaged the program, the pain would be. The tradeoff of playing with feeling human pleasure, was the risk of human pain. Ratchet refused to transform with the holomatter female tangled smugly against his chest, and Ironhide knew it. But the medic was in no way above playing dirty, so Ratchet wrapped his free hand over the 'form and snuck the other along black quarterpaneling, trailing charge in his wake. Ironhide's alt rolled a few clicks on his drivetrain, nudging into Ratchet's touch. Meanwhile, Ironhide's 'form moaned and leaned back into the gentle hand cradling her in its palm. Ratchet's optics flickered with mischief, and he slipped fingertips beneath the Ironhide's undercarriage. The truck bucked on its suspension while the human arched with a cry, losing her grip on the maze of black bullbars and collapsing into Ratchet's hand. Once she was clear, Ratchet set her on unsteady legs, and rapidly twisted to collapse down into his Hummer alt.

Before fogged processors had a moment to get senses back in order, the Hummer had settled and Ratchet's red-haired paramedic holoform flicked into being before Ironhide's 'form. He quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed, looking down into deep blue eyes. She was just slightly shorter than Ratchet in this form, and it was much easier to study a human on human scale. Instead of the square, hard jaw of Ironhide's usual holoform, hers was tapered to a softer chin. Her lips had more of a pout that her male version's usual scowl. A wing of black hair had fallen over her brow and Ratchet reached up to brush it aside, trailing his fingers over her temple and tucking the hair behind her ear.

Ironhide closed her eyes, leaning into the caress.

The paramedic stilled, and 'Hide snapped open her eyes, concern coloring her look. Ratch snickered, cupping her cheek and peering at a shock of white and faint scarring which cut through her right brow. The weapons specialist had incorporated the mark into his male 'form as well; a badge of honor earned early in the war, something he refused to forget. Ratchet shook his head slightly when 'Hide made a questioning hum, leaning in to press a kiss to the holomatter reflection of that old battle scar.

She dipped her head, nuzzling her forehead against his chin.

Ratchet slid his hands back around the soldier's waist, tracing curves of her hipbones and the soft hollow along her spine. He pulled her flush against his chest, hitching her shirt higher to expose her back.

'Hide moaned softly, melting against the male 'form and fisting her hands in the cloth at his collar. The medic massaged over her back, soothing tired muscles that corresponded to the aches in a very burnt-out TopKick. She buried her face against Ratchet's throat, feeling his sultry rumble carry through simulated skin.

Sneaky medic, he continued to stroke and slowly hitch the tank up over Ironhide's torso. A tap to an exposed shoulder blade requested she let him pull the shirt over her head.

A soft whine at the loss of contact, but Ironhide pulled away enough to let the shirt come free. It shimmered out of existence where Ratchet dropped it. The paramedic pulled her back to him, comforting with a deep kiss and tasting her mouth.

Soon enough Ironhide broke away to paw the shirt hem from Ratchet's pants. The paramedic chuckled and arched his back to watch her growing frustration with the buttons, his fingers idly tracing over her sensitive hips.

"Do something, Ratch, dammit," Ironhide's 'form pleaded roughly.

Lighter blue eyes laughed down at her, then Ratchet took pity and dispatched the final button, shrugging from the workshirt. The Hummer engine nearby rumbled amusement as Ratchet slipped 'Hide back into his arms.

Ironhide could feel the strong bands of muscle rubbing against her belly, more angular male hips grinding into her own softer ones. Ratchet circled her ribs, teasing the globe of her breast with sure, dexterous fingers and she bucked.

"Frag… fuck, Ratch... Primus," 'Hide moaned, she clung to his shoulder, slipping her fingers along the male holo's neck and just into the hairline at the base of his skull.

"See why I like it?" Ratchet purred into her ear, lightly suckling on the earlobe.

The answer might not have been words, but was definitely an affirmative, shifting into touch and shuddering when skilled fingers teased over the stiffening bud of a nipple. "Pit…" she mewled against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sinking teeth carefully into simulated muscle.

Ratchet hissed, nuzzling at her ear then drifting kisses and lips down Ironhide's neck and shoulder. He palmed her breasts and nudged her back into the Hummer that conveniently shifted forward.

Ironhide's holo' whimpered, spearing her fingers through red hair when Ratch leaned down to lavish attention over her chest. She gasped, arching up into lips and tongue tracing each rise of flesh.

Energy fields flickered in a heated spar. The Hummer blanketed the pickup with charge, and Ironhide groaned, nearly going limp in the arms of Ratchet's paramedic holoform.

"Dammit medic… ya' don't fuck me already - I'm gonna kill you," she hooked fingertips under his jaw and dragged him up for a kiss.

Ratch made a breathy chuckle, nipping her sweet lower lip then tugging. Ironhide gasped and Ratchet took that brief moment to spin her around.

Blue eyes flashed back at him over her shoulder, but Ironhide leaned forward to grip at black Hummer bull bars, letting the pants slowly dissolve from her 'form. There was a low growl from man and mech as Ratchet ground his hips against her delightfully firm, round ass.

"You're damn sexy like this, 'Hide," Ratchet taunted, sliding a finger into moist folds then drawing it back out when she gasped and rode his hand.

"Ratch…" Ironhide snapped her hips back against his, approaching the line of actually begging.

He smirked and purred low, dematerializing the rest of his uniform. The paramedic took a few moments, running his hands down her back then gripping her hips as he rocked into her, hissing at the feeling like slick velvet sliding over him. Simulated muscles fluttered and contracted around his erection. Ratchet ground his jaw, waiting until the female seemed to grow used to the feeling of him inside her, and then he slowly started to move.

Ironhide bent forward and scrabbled against the grill of Ratchet's Hummer alt, moaning at the sensation of the redheaded holo thrusting steadily against her. She arched her back, rocking into the familiar motions. It was similar enough to the feelings in the male 'form, but at the same time so, so very different. Holo-play had been awkward at first with the shift in pleasure, down from the chest and spark to the groin. But this, bliss and an exquisite tightening wound up the soldier's belly and lower back. 'Hide dropped her head to black caging, gripping to Ratchet's true form for an anchor.

Purring low and snapping his hips against his mate, the paramedic leaned forward to rub over Ironhide's back and hips. She turned her head just enough to peer at him through deep blue eyes even darker with lust. Ratch smirked and placed a kiss on her shoulder, shifting his seductive glide to a more pounding pace.

"Ratch- nghh… Ratch…" she groaned, shuddering when little sparks crawled over the TopKick.

Ratchet glanced at the truck over his shoulder with a smug smirk; his mind was reeling, clouded by the slick heat and little contractions around his cock. "Come on," he growled, nipping at her shoulder. He slid a hand from clamped on a rounded hip, around her body where deft fingertips could slip between her thighs.

Unsure if she wanted to curse or praise her lover's medical knowledge, every muscle in Ironhide's body clenched when Ratchet found that little bundle of nerves unique to human females. 'Hide bucked, a high strangled cry pouring from her throat as she climaxed then everything vanished in a flash of white.

Ratchet felt her tense and muscles clamp around him, the 'form clinging to his alt, and the truck beside him emitting a sharp snap of electricity. He moaned, stiffening against her body while dragged up and over his own peak. The Hummer shuddered with the crackle of tiny lightning bolts skating over the plating. A quick scan flicked over Ironhide's true form, ensuring he was alright. The redhead chuckled when the results showed the mech struggling through a slow reboot.

Ironhide groaned and slumped against the Hummer's grill, shaking down from the high. She only remained upright by a combination of her arms tangled in the mech's bullbars and the 'form at her back.

Ratchet pulled her hair away, pressing his lips to the nape of her neck and smiling at her sudden unsteady gasp. He brushed his way down from her neck to between shoulder blades, where he could feel the flutter of simulated muscles. She made a sated sound and squirmed, shifting back into the embrace.

The paramedic palmed her belly, his other arm encircling holomatter ribs and pulled to disentangle her from his alt mode's grill. Ironhide made a soft mewl and went with the motion, slumping back against the supportive male chest.

"You realize how pathetic you are when you get really undercharged, 'Hide?"

She responded with little but an indelicate snort and turned to press her brow against the edge of his jawline.

He could feel her 'form starting to tremble, and as amusing as it would be to see her collapse on her ass, Ratch decided to beat her to the punch. The medic could already hear the cracky sizzle that indicated 'Hide did not have the energy left to keep the 'form online much longer. Sooner or later she was going to fade to a pure light holograph, no longer solid and then wink out, entirely. He tightened his arms around her, laughing when she stiffened at a gentle scan running over the quiet truck beside them.

"Idiot, you wore yourself out trying to go through with that little challenge."

"Challenge was rigged…" she murmured against the side of his throat.

"For the love of Primus, recharge, now. Stupid old boltbucket."

Ironhide made a show of pulling away, turning to look at Ratchet with all her proud glory.

Not that Ratchet didn't thoroughly enjoy the male soldier, but damned if the medic couldn't see the merits of this female holoform. Ratchet snickered and closed the distance, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling at her temple as she shimmered out. Ironhide transformed, then he followed suit. 'Hide might have submitted to designing a femme holo' to shut him up, but that backfired. Ratch fully intended to find out what else 'Hide was capable of with this form, and no amount of growling would convince him otherwise.

The old mech, meanwhile, had converted to his root bipedal mode, but was grousing that his transformation sequence left him on his knees when he was tired. Giving the weapons specialist a little hip check as he stood, Ratchet just smirked and let Ironhide collapse into his arms. After maneuvering 'Hide onto the berth, the medic stretched out beside his warrior. Ironhide made a quiet exhausted murmur, and pillowed his head against the Hummer's chest.

"You realize, 'Hide, that part of the stakes involved showing 'Jack that femme as well…"

"I hate you…" Ironhide replied, more static than speech at the moment. The weary mech betrayed the apparent ill will in his words by nuzzling his brow between black bars and tightening his arm around Ratchet's waist.

Ratchet purred softly, "I know." He made a soothing churr, rubbing gentle patterns around and under the crests adorning his mate's helm as the weapons specialist was quickly dragged down into recharge.