Fandom: Transformers Bayverse
Author: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ
Pairing: Jazz/Optimus Prime
Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech
Codes: Slash, Kinky, Sticky, PnP, Tactile
Summary: Jazz convinces his Prime that he needs a Chief of Security to protect him from mechs like himself.
Notes: Written for (community .livejournal .com/redxinferno)'s February challenge: Beginnings (community .livejournal .com/redxinferno/39491 .html). We didn't include this, the first chapter we wrote, in the challenge entry for obvious reasons (Jazz and Prime were angling for a story of their own)
Props to Borath for the cleansing merges idea.
~text~ spark or cable talk
::text:: comm chatter
Calming Fire Prequel: Point Taken
Optimus Prime onlined only to find himself in a situation he had long dreaded. His motor control was down, comms were disabled, and an energon blade was poised above his spark.
"Hello Jazz," he said quietly to the small silver mech who was straddling his waist.
"Hey Prime," the mech grinned down, his expression utterly at odds with the situation. "Believe us now?"
"I'm still not happy about the proposed solution, but I will admit you are correct. Is Ironhide's team disabled, or is he unaware that you are here?"
Prime allowed his optics to travel the length the SpecOps second in command, admiring the reflection of the illegal weapon on the polished silver armor before looking into the glowing purple visor.
"A bit 'o both," he chuckled, never moving the blade. "Th' Twins are out cold, Jackknife is stuck in that shielded storage locker that doesn't open from the inside, the rest are suitably clueless. Though I didn't need to take any of them down, and I could have easily taken them all, among others. Somehow I don't think anyone but me is all that keen on my boss becoming everybody's boss."
"I'm sure Hide will show suitable appreciation for your restraint, and the fact that you have shown the weaknesses in his arrangements," Prime said dryly, continuing to glance at the visor above him rather than the blade that could take him out at any moment. "How come you didn't do this when you were with the 'Cons?"
Finally, finally the weapon moved, disappearing so smoothly that even watching Prime had no clue where it was stored.
"Old Megs is funny that way," Jazz actually purred, shifting to slide slender, sharp-tipped fingers across the glass of Prime's upper chassis. "He wants you for himself. No other mech is allowed to touch you."
"Nice blade, by the way," Prime replied with nonchalance, inwardly struggling to keep his voice steady. His sensor net had obviously remained online. Had he been able to, he would have arched into the touch. "Prowl might send you to the brig for violating your Prime while his motor control is down, you know," he added.
"I'd like to see him try," Jazz purred in all his dangerous glory, sending a tremor of want through his Prime's field, a god made physical, and that flashed heat through every circuit in Jazz's frame. Despite the charge in both their frames, he leaned forward, close to Prime's battle mask. "You know you can say no," he barely let the sounds out. It was a break from control, from what both their systems were beginning to scream for, but he still wasn't comfortable enough in his rank and with his Prime not to reassure them both this was fully consensual.
"Jazz," Optimus practically growled, the designation an answer in itself. This was one of only a few mechs who would 'face him without a look of worship or awe in his optics. "I believe you have a point to prove about how inadequate my defenses are against a talented operative determined to gain entrance," he added with a smirk behind the mask he could not retract not matter how much he wanted to interrupt the easy smile above him with a claiming kiss.
The single word caused Jazz to shiver, his engine revving hard as he went to work exploring the much, much larger frame with reverence, but no more than he held for any lover. As powerful as the Prime still was, Jazz had walked too many paths in his functioning to be awed, worship - or fear him - for more than a few spark-beats at a time. But Jazz did treasure him greatly. He was awed by what Prime had done for him, the trust he had shown. And he worked tirelessly to remain worthy of that faith.
"I'm going to take your spark this orn, Prime," Jazz growled, his entire sensor net glowing with ghostly touches as Prime extended his EM field, pushing it deep into the smaller mech's systems.
Optimus chuckled, deliberately withdrawing his powerful field until it was tight against him, before pushing it hard through the saboteur's own once again. Even without motor control, he was a force to be reckoned with. His spark was lunging in its crystal casing in anticipation of merging with one that was strong enough to feel like an equal.
Jazz groaned and thrust his own field directly into Prime's core, the edge of it just brushing his spark chamber, as his claws dug into the transparent material of Prime's windshield.
Prime's optics flashed as his engine revved; there wasn't a doubt that had his motor function been online, the silver minibot would have found himself against the wall being thoroughly violated in all the best ways. He deliberately let his optics travel from the elegant sensory structures on the saboteur's helm to his cranial port. He turned his attention and allowed his field to teasingly graze the seam in Jazz's chest.
"Jazz," he said again, this time in the voice he used when he commanded.
The silver mech trembled in arousal, want and the effort it took to deny such a direct order.
"I'm in charge, Prime," Jazz hissed under the strain, thrusting his field in deep again. "My desires, my timing. Not yours."
"Then take charge, Jazz," Prime growled, unable to hide the sound of his fans kicking in. "You are trembling," the large mech noted, and would have smirked if he could.
With a hard push of his field directly into Prime's spark, Jazz grinned up at him, his visor glinting. "I know."
There was no missing the pleasure and desire in the simple reply. Just as clear to Prime was the darkness - the part of Jazz cultivated by a long life, focused on violence, and still struggling to find the balance demanded of him by his current functioning. The part of him that he literally didn't dare show around even long-time lovers and friends.
That he would show it to his Prime whom he served out of choice rather than duty or core coding felt like a triumph to Optimus. He had never regretted his own choice to trust the mech.
A magnetic pulse set a tormenting charge running through Prime's systems, dragging a moan from him that vibrated the mech still straddling his slender waist.
Sharp claws dug into his armor, a reminder of just how deadly the minibot was, even unarmed. Prime never saw the hardline connection being made, only became aware that Jazz was suddenly in his systems, pushing them hard as he actually hacked his way in while shielding himself from any returned connection.
It was no easy task. Prime pushed back, hard, while simultaneously throwing up a dozen firewalls that were stronger than nearly anything Jazz had come up against. He coupled it with another sharp thrust of his field into Jazz's own spark, a reminder of just how powerful the spark was the Jazz intended to merge with.
~Convince me to lower my firewalls, and I will,~ Optimus purred through their connection, with a subtle hint that there were far more effective ways of doing so than force.
It was enough to startle Jazz, draw a resonant moan of raw need from him as his determination to dominate his lover faltered along with his effort to force his way in. For the briefest of nanokliks, Jazz let slip that as much as he desired to overcome Prime, he had equal desire not to be the one in charge, showing Optimus through the connection how badly he wanted to be taken by a mech worthy of doing so.
Then the moment was over. Jazz growled, feeling honestly threatened for a faint moment now that Prime knew, as they both stilled their processors in an effort to settle into the pleasure once more.
~There is something especially sexy about seeing you uncertain for a nanoklik. Almost as erotic as how certain you are the rest of the time, Jazz.~
Every time Prime said the designation, he could feel the effect it had on his fourth-in-command who had been elevated so quickly to that rank that many gossiped it was because of exactly what they were doing at the moment, unaware of how rarely the two of them had crossed this particular line.
He tried to send a tendril of pleasure through Jazz's systems, only to be deflected by the powerful, adaptive firewalls that were as classically Jazz as his visor and smirk.
"Open," Jazz suddenly growled, as commanding as Prime had ever heard.
Optimus actually chuckled. "Give me back some motor control, and I will. Otherwise, you'll have to access that system."
Prime felt the desire behind Jazz's shields shift from sensual to needy of comfort as he hacked into systems, claws, moving with far too much familiarity in forcing other's chests open, working their magic as well.
Prime let out a low moan as his casing moved up and forward even as his chest plates moved to the side with a hiss of hydraulics. He wanted to pull the smaller mech down, to bite on the cables of his neck and hold him so close that his large hands would dent the saboteur's armor.
"Please," the giant mech quietly rumbled, even as a burst of pleasure finally made it past Jazz's firewalls to ricochet through the former 'Cons's systems.
Jazz keened sharply before falling into a warble of distress, his chest opening as well to bring his spark case forward, the prismatic hues of the Prime's spark shattering what self-control he had left.
Prime found himself free to move, Jazz's visor locked on his optics as the minibot trembled in a need very different than he'd expected. Optimus lost control, roared in desire, pulling Jazz's much smaller torso into his own, no desire or need to take the merge slow as the tendrils from their coronas twined around one another in something that was equal parts battle and intimate caress, surface emotions of desire, need, trepidation and excitement quickly giving way to far deeper feelings.
There was no hiding that Optimus desired this particular mech far more than any other. Jazz was assaulted by Prime's fear of rejection, the pain and loneliness of command without someone who could truly be a partner, an equal, at least in private.
It took a moment longer for Jazz to open up, but when he did, nothing of importance to him was held back: Desperate loneliness so old, only recognized when Prime had forced his healing spark into him long ago; Desire to be treasured for something other than his ability to kill without being seen or drag information out of well-protected processors and sparks; Passion for every moment of functioning, whether it brought pain, pleasure or boredom; a niggling that he should feel less comfortable with his duties and the pleasure he derived from the most cruel of them.
Beyond all that, the last thing Jazz allowed to come to light was his desire to be more than an occasional lover to the mech with him, recognition that he'd finally met his equal, not just in strength, but in passion. Optimus was his balance, that thing he'd been searching nearly his entire functioning for. All of this was held within the sad resignation of just how unlikely they were to move beyond this.
Jazz treasured these small moments of absolute peace when he allowed his Prime to comfort him more than Optimus had ever known.
It was all met with a 'yes' so profound it shook them both and their sparks seemed to lunge to complete the merge, to wipe out the vast loneliness of both sparks with a profound acceptance and welcome, taking them deeper than either had ever gone with the other, spark energy spilling into their systems in an overload as sweet as either had felt.
The rumbling roar and keening that filled Prime's berth chamber covered the sounds of a base-wide alarm, and it wasn't until the door slid open and Ironhide burst in with his cannons spinning backed up by a dozen other security mechs that Jazz or Prime had a sense that anything was happening beyond a merge that both had been craving for vorns.
Core coding kicked in, and Prime stood with a roar to guard his lover's spark, his sword pointed straight at Ironhide's chest before his own chestplates had even managed to close. It was more than enough to cover Jazz's own reaction, which was to all but meld into the shadows and come up on the nearest frontliner back-up and knock his motor controls out far more violently than he had Prime's.
"Stand down!" Came a shouted order from the front room of Prime's suite. A dull looking brown mech even smaller than Jazz was pushing his way through the bulky frontliners as a second frontliner fell into frozen surprise at Jazz's hand. If his face had not been so furiously energetic, Eclipse, Prime's SIC and head of SpecOps could have been mistaken for an empty, his frame seemed too ill-constructed and pieced together to be anything other but someone scavenging out a meager existence on spare parts and stolen energon.
Jazz reacted instantly, slipping to his commander's side, though he didn't exactly stand down.
"I said stand down, Ironhide!" Eclipse roared again until Ironhide slowly lowered his cannons. Only then did Optimus switch out of battle mode, his optics returning to their normal deep blue as he deactivated and withdrew his weapon to the holster in his forearm.
"Jazz disabled your team and gained entry on Prime's orders," Eclipse said with a smirk. "We were testing security against a possible 'Con assassination attempt. Though, I don't recall clanking bolts with the victim being a part of the plan, Jazz," the small mech added with a chuckle.
"Though it is certainly a pleasant way to be assassinated," Optimus added.
"And was never not an option," Jazz snickered.
Ironhide's optics flashed dangerously; he looked torn between storming from the room and tearing the smirks off the two SpecOps mechs' faceplates.
He settled on an uncharacteristic show of humility before the mech he was charged with protecting. He lowered himself to his knees, his arms spread in the ritual posture of offering his spark for his failure.
"I have failed you, Prime. I am no longer fit to be your guardian."
With a soft venting, Optimus put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Stand Ironhide, my friend, you will always be my guardian. They have, regrettably, proven their point that we need a security specialist to fill in the gasps in our preparations."
Ironhide slowly stood, moving to take his place to the side and slightly in front of his Prime.
"That's a bunch of slag and you know it, Ironhide," Eclipse stepped forward and looked up at the mech fully twice his height, and by far his elder, as though he were dressing down a youngling. "Prime needs a guardian and dedicated warrior-guards against assaults. But he needs ... we all need someone more skilled in guarding against possible infiltration and espionage. My unit has its hands full trying to do just that to the other side, and our security division, while having plenty of former enforcers, does not have someone with counterintelligence expertise."
"You are not going to get an argument from me," Prime added. "While I am quite certain a 'Con agent would not be as adept at slipping in as Jazz or his former team, I will not underestimate who Soundwave has trained in the meantime." Prime knew full well that Jazz had only used a portion of his skill in the mock assassination attempt, simply to prove the point. There was no need to humiliate Ironhide any further with that particular fact.
"Ironhide, Eclipse, I want to meet with both of you, as well as Ratchet, Prowl and Circuitbreak at second watch. Jazz will join us as well. Jazz, you stay here. Everyone else is dismissed." Optimus ordered sternly, but not before clasping his guardian on the shoulder.
The room had barely cleared before a dangerous, if small, silver mech found himself up against the wall, his mouth crushed in a kiss that was eagerly, needily returned with all the fire and passion that Jazz was so well known for in everything he did.
"Please," Jazz begged shamelessly as their mouths parted briefly. "Just for the rest of the shift, be lovers."
"Only for the rest of the shift?" Optimus asked softely before his glossa once more invaded the saboteur's mouth and he pressed him even harder against the wall. The hand that wasn't holding Jazz's aft ran down the silver mech's side before cupping his interface panel, sending a magnetic pulse purposefully at what was underneath. He broke off for a moment and mouthed Jazz's sensory structures, murmuring, "I think you should break into my quarters every recharge cycle, Jazz."
"Anytime I can," he cried out, trembling at the pulse and opening the panel. "Didn't want to presume."
Prime's cables snaked out of his neck, shoulder and thigh, caressing the matching ports on the smaller mech and found them already open and waiting for him.
"I want you to presume," Optimus rumbled as he jacked in, the exact opposite of what Jazz had done earlier to him. "Just like I want all of you right now: ports, valve, and spark."
He truly hadn't expected the strength of his feelings that would arise being helpless under the dangerous mech earlier, the need for an equal like he hadn't had since he and his brother had parted ways. He needed soomeone who was bold enough to tell him off to his face, who wasn't afraid of him simply because of his spark and the matrix that rested beside it.
"Yesss," a low, hungry hiss escaped the saboteur as cables snaked out from him to jack into Prime's systems. "Take everything ya can. Ya already know the worst I've done."
"Take you, yes," Prime said in a whisper that still seemed to travel through the smaller mech. With a low rumble of sheer need, Optimus sheathed his large spike in Jazz's valve, feeling the burning stretch of the tight tight sheath through the hardline connection. At the same moment he bit down on one of Jazz's neck cables, lapping up the spots of energon that appeared.
They felt Jazz's shock in the same moment, then the smaller mech arched against Prime and pressed into both sources of pain-pleasure that just as quickly became pleasure-pain. Raw, unfiltered desire slammed into Prime's awareness from his lover, along with the familiarity of the pain and enjoyment of it, welcomed as a long lost friend.
It was a side of himself that Prime did not dare show any of his other lovers, who, no matter how close they were as friends, always were aware that they were interfacing with their Prime, with nobility, patience, and kindness personified.
Prime bit down again as he thrust in hard, hitting sensors that hadn't been lit inside Jazz since the mech had been with Seekers or Megatron as a lover.
Just that thought had him thrusting in harder, a hand clawing at Jazz's chestplates ready to rip them open if they didn't part fast enough. He had no doubt that Jazz wouldn't object, would relish the pain as much as the pleasure with the knowledge that Optimus was sharing something few others had ever experienced: The part of Prime that was more like his brother than he'd ever admit.
The burn and bite Jazz felt was passed without filtering to Prime, trusting the mech to take what he gave. Mingled in were small thought-images of what other times could be like. Prime bound tightly but fully in control of his frame as Jazz explored him and his limits in pleasure, pain and patience. Both of them stripped to their protoforms, tenderly bringing each other to overload in the hot oil bath Jazz knew was attached to Prime's quarters. Cycling up for duty shift pressed close together, a quick overload before they polished the evidence from their exoskeletons.
Their chambers were spiraling open, spilling multi-hued light into the room and against each other's frame. Their sparks were reaching for one another before Prime's chest plates had parted enough for Jazz to fit between.
Optimus met those images with a desire that would have knocked Jazz off of his pedes had he not already been pinned against the wall. It took every self-control protocol Prime had to keep from pulling Jazz's spark into his own with the same strength that he was claiming the minibot's valve.
Jazz wrapped his legs around Prime's hips as best he could, shifting the angle of penetration and dragging a raw scream from his vocalizer as the first wave of intense overload slammed through them, catching both mechs by surprise. All Jazz could do was grab hold of the frame pinning his and hold on tightly for dear functioning as they road out the crackling explosions of energy dancing between their circuits.
Their sparks were practically lunging from their casings to reach one another. Prime let out a feral growl and carried Jazz to the berth, his spike still buried deep, no longer trusting his own pedes to keep them upright.
Bracing himself on his elbow joints, he lowered himself over Jazz's spark, his systems still buzzing from the intense overload.
~I'm yours,~ Jazz's spark sang joyfully to Optimus the moment the first strands from their coronas made contact. ~You're mine,~ was hot, possessive, protective.
~Yes,~ Prime moaned aloud with the thoughts. As soon as the surface emotions and lust was brushed by, a single thought stood out above all the others: Prime had lost his Lord High Protector. In Jazz, he saw a mech who could be that for him. Optimus had shared the desire with him before, long ago, but it had been too much for Jazz to even contemplate at time with his entire functioning in turmoil due to his defection.
The silver form under him shuddered in surprise and a half-formed reflexive denial before his processors caught up and Jazz moaned, driving his claws deep into the thick, toughened armor above him. Programs central to infiltration and impersonation activated without actual thought and downloaded everything from Prime and the net about what he was being asked to become. Data streamed, cross-referenced, cross-checked and correlated.
~I will,~ Jazz responded, his processors completely clear of the distraction that his body and spark were under.
Prime shuddered in relief and longing, his own multi-colored, powerful spark literally pulling Jazz's into itself. His last coherent thought before losing himself in the merge was, ~I ask it purely selfishly. I don't want to take you away from your current functioning. It is too important to all of us. But privately ... I am so alone. And so are you. You know what my brother was to me, before. Your spark is stronger than his. I saw that the first time we merged.~
The only reply was a wash of affection, understanding and agreement before Jazz surrendered the last of his independent awareness to the forming unity.