Title: Stereo Hearts
Chapter: 2
Author: SomethingIDontknow
Rating: M (For Master complexes, rape, abuse, mechs-without-gender romancing and getting it on, and some other stuff I haven't thought of yet.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, that's Hasbro's. Luckies.
Author's Note: I know there wasn't much to review last time, but I'm grateful to the ones that did! And for all your interest. I was shocked by the favorites and alerts! To answer a review, yes, I have heart of the song Stereo Hearts. I'd had this concept in mind for a while, but the song did help kick start the production.
Warning!: There's non-consensual oral, unwanted touching, and abusive language ahead, if you're easily triggered, I recommend another story.
Jazz woke a few klicks before his alarm sounded the next morning. He shut it off before it could ring. He hated that blasted thing. Rolling out of his small berth, the black and white yawned and stretched easily. It was still dark out, but he needed to start now if he wanted to be ready by the time Prowl got up.
He stopped by the wash racks, getting in a quick shower before making his way to the kitchen. Setting another container of energon to begin heating, Jazz opened the back door to let in the cooler morning air as the room warmed up. Saved on cooling and it was refreshing so early.
He stirred the container a few times, adding some sweet tasting powders to the solution before smacking himself in the face with the heel of his hand. He hadn't taken out the trash the night before! Damn it, Prowl was gonna flip. He was such a neat freak. Hefting the big plastic bin of garbage, Jazz staggered out the open doorway.
The back yard of Prowl's big house was a wide, empty space of concrete. Along the west wall, there was a small crystal garden that Jazz loved like his own sparkling. Smiling at the glowing display as he passed by, he gave up carrying the bin and turned to dragging it across the yard. Behind the tall metal fence, there were several large bins for trash and Jazz took a good few breem trying to get the smaller one high enough to empty. Curse his small height. He paused, panting a bit as his fans whirred softly. One chore down. Two thousand, four hundred and fifty eight to go.
As the small mech turned to head back in, something unusual caught his eye. At the base of the fence gate, there was a small package leaning against the concrete border. Plain brown paper tied with white string. Jazz stooped to pick it up cautiously. As Chief Enforcer Prowl had received more than his fair share of packages and letters rigged to blow. Those had usually come through the front mail though… Jazz's spark fluttered when he read the label.
To Shades
From Your Favorite Mixmaster
Oh. Primus. Without regard to possible danger, he ripped the package open. Inside, was a plain white box that lost its lid in less than a klick. Nestled in an abundance of white tissue paper, was a comm link instillation. Beside it, barely visible, was a small data chip marked with a small music note. The note beside the comm link was written in a scrawl that looked forcedly neat:
Im worried about ya, Shades. I asked around and found out about your living arrangements. I still wanna get ta know ya. If ya decide to keep the instillation, there's a friend of mine in the plaza where ya shop that can get it running in just a few breem. Just ask for Ratchet at the clinic. Give me a call, anytime ya like. Please, don't keep me waiting.
It was signed, Wishing I was your stereo.
Jazz covered his mouth with a hand, fighting back coolant tears behind his visor. Two fingers stroked over the smooth metal edges of the shiny new comm link, a rare sensation of freedom flitting across his frame just looking at it. Prowl had long banned Jazz from getting a comm link installed. He said it was distractive when Jazz had work to do.
Damn him, but he was falling harder for that DJ every second. He knew about Jazz's living and he still wanted to get to know the black and white. (Well, maybe not all about it, but Jazz didn't particularly want anyone to find out about that.) Jazz wiped at his visor and faceplates. He couldn't wait to call Blaster.
The black and white returned to the kitchen, trash bin dragging in one hand, the other clutching the open package to his chest plates. He felt like he was floating. Unfortunately, he crashed as soon as he hit the open door.
The container of energon had over heated and boiled over. The residue was baking onto the stovetop, and hissing and smoking terribly. Jazz gaped for half a klick, dropping the trash bin with a bang. Then he was in motion. He set the open package on the counter with one hand and picked up the burning contain with the other. Chucking it to the sink, he started hot water rushing over the scorching container. In no time, he was swiping up spilt energon and tossing a new container on the heat.
It was going to take days of cutting his own ration to cover up the loss of a whole cube of midgrade. And Prowl would be up in just a few minutes. Jazz swallowed his panic. Panic would do him no good. The thought of the gift on the counter flashed across his processor, sending a jolt of warmth though him. Blaster. He had to do good, to get free time, to see Blaster again. Suddenly, the whole ordeal didn't seem so irreparable.
With a determined line to his mouth, he began cooking the energon over again, cleaning the counter and cook top with renewed intensity.
"What's got you all worked up this morning?"
Jazz's spark stuttered.
"N-nothing." The smaller mech stuttered, backing against the counter. Prowl stepped up, looking down at him appraisingly. "I came to see if you needed some help, but I see you have it under control." he glanced to the scorched container in the sink, "are you feeling well?" Jazz looked up into icy blue optics. "I've been feeling a little out of it lately." he admitted softly. The Enforcer smiled down at him, brushing the backs of his fingers over Jazz's faceplates. "you feel a little over warm. Perhaps you should visit the clinic?"
The smaller mech struggled to contain a yelp of joy. He coughed instead. "maybe I should." Prowl nodded, resting a hand on Jazz's shoulder. The smaller mech struggled not to react to the unnecessary touching.
"go on this afternoon, get a check over. I've been called to Vos to deal with some minor uprising. I'll be gone for a few days and I don't want to have to worry any more than usual." Prowl's smile was sweet. It was hard to believe he had so much evil inside him when he smiled like that. Jazz risked a weak smile back.
"May I use your comm to make an appointment?" he asked softly. Prowl reached past him to give the energon a stir and turn off the heat. "I'll make you one while I get my gear together. Get your chores done and have a half cube, I'll let you know when it is." Jazz nodded and moved past the larger mech to get a cube for his Master.
Jazz repressed a shiver as Prowl leaned in to nuzzle his neck and shoulder joint as the smaller mech reached up into the cabinet overhead. As he turned with a forced smile and two empty cubes in hand, his spark stopped. "what's this?" Prowl asked, noticing the opened package on the counter.
"oh um-" Jazz stuttered, reaching to cover it before the Enforcer realized what it was. Unfortunately, there was a slick patch of scorched energon just underpede as he leaned a little too far over. "Ah!" Both cubes were flung across the room as Jazz scrabbled for a handhold. The delicate structures shattered loudly against the wall and Jazz shuttered his optics, preparing for impact.
He needn't have worried. He was captured by strong arms and pulled tight against Prowl's taller frame. "Careful there." The words were breathed hotly over Jazz's audial. "s-sorry, Sir, I… I must have missed a patch while cleaning up." Jazz stammered, pressing flat palms to Prowl's chest plates, trying to push away without seeming to reject the advance too overtly. "it's alright Jazz, you've said you weren't feeling well. It's understandable if you're a little unsteady." Prowl helped right him gently, turning to scoop up shards of empty cube. With his back turned, Jazz swept up the comm link and subspaced it quickly. "Here, I'll help."
They swept up the cube shards in a few minutes and Prowl took a cube upstairs to pack his gear. Jazz settled at the kitchen table, sipping his three-quarters cube. (Prowl took mercy on his sickness.) His circuits were practically vibrating with excitement. Prowl would be gone for a few days and had ordered Jazz to go to the clinic. Things never went this well for Jazz! He finished his cube with glee, and cleaned the kitchen with an absolute spring in his step.
Of course, it didn't last long.
Jazz was washing a tall window upstairs, overlooking the backyard. The plate-glass was usually covered by thick velvet curtains, but Prowl liked to have the glass spotless regardless. Leaning up, he was stretched to his full, meager height, rubbing the white foam from the sparkling glass. He was humming softly to himself, thinking only about how his call with Blaster would go. So focused, he didn't hear the soft pedesteps. Quite suddenly, he was pulled down to settle back against a taller body, hands holding on his hips.
"you look so beautiful in the light like that." Jazz gasped a thoughts, too frightened to be sure what to say. "I thought you were packing, Sir." he whispered. His body and helm were chilled as they were pressed to the glass. "I was. Now that that's all done, I'm thinking a little going away present is in order, don't you, Jazz?"
"S-Sir, I-I was going to-"
"Jazz, do I need to say it again?"
The low, dangerous tone nearly locked the smaller mech up with fear. He shook his helm as best he could and said in a small voice, "y-you're right, S-sir." "Much better." Prowl nuzzled the base of Jazz's neck as he purred, "What do you think would be best, Jazz?" Shuttering his optics, Jazz took a long, slow breath. Prowl released him, remaining close enough that he could feel the heat of exvents on his plating. Slowly, the burn of humiliation heating his faceplates, Jazz knelt.
Prowl's hands settled on his helm. He stroked over sensitive sensory horns, humming his pleasure with the turn of events. Leaning in, Jazz lapped slowly around the edges of the Enforcer's interface panel. He kept his optics shuttered tightly, trying not to breathe too much. The heat and the musky smell of lubricant made Jazz's tanks roll. Just get it over with. He told himself, Do it, and he'll go away and you can see Blaster again.
The thought did little to improve the situation, but made Jazz feel just a touch better. The overheated panel slid aside with a click, though Prowl's spike remained in it's housing. Jazz glanced up, and Prowl smirked. "work for it." Gritting his denta, Jazz fixed his mouth over the housing, suckling gently, laving the exposed head with his glossa. The lubricant beading the rim was bitter and stained Jazz's mouth a lilac purple.
Prowl groaned softly, his hand closing firmly over the back of the kneeling bot's helm. The taller mech's spike pressurized suddenly, filling Jazz's mouth suddenly. He gagged and barely refrained from pushing against pristine white thighs. Coolant tears pooled in his hidden optics as he fixed his mouth around the silver shaft and began bobbing his helm slowly. Shame and humiliation warred with hatred and anger. Serving the mech stroking his helm wouldn't be so bad if he didn't insist on proving his control like this. Damnit, when Jazz thought about it, he could have liked Prowl, maybe loved him. But not when the mech forced himself on Jazz. Not when he degraded Jazz so thoroughly. Hurt him so terribly.
It was just a short while before Prowl gripped Jazz's helm and cried out softly, overloading hard. The visored mech tightened his throat, unwilling to swallow the mouthful of transfluid. He was pulled upright by the upper arm as Prowl's spike returned to it's housing and his panel snicking into place. Prowl pushed their faces unbearably close together. Hot breath was panted against Jazz's face as it was tipped up with a white fingertip. "Swallow." The command was low and sharp and made Jazz shudder. Coolant tears finally slipped past his visor as he swallowed the bitter fluid. Prowl watched as sobs began to tear across Jazz's frame. "good bot." he said, petting Jazz's helm as he turned and walked away.
Jazz collapsed straight to the floor, pulling his legs up to cry into his knees. Coolant ran down his face in thick rivulets, staining his hands and knees joints. His tanks felt like they were about to purge. His mouth felt disgusting. His entire frame felt dirty.
Oh Primus, why him?
