Hi guys and gals, so, I'm not really going to apologize for being late this time. There was a promotion that opened up at work and I wanted it, so to be in the running I had to devote all my spare time to training for it. I still managed to sneak in a moment here and there to write so this chapter was able to happen. I hope you all enjoy it. Its NaNoWriMo too, but I'm doing that differently, in that I am not hand writing all my stuff like I normally do, and am writing it on the computer. This means you all should see a few chapters pop up over the course of the month, as opposed to waiting until December.
Now, on with the show.
Chapter 4:
Bluestreak jumped up and down excitedly as two land gliders entered the underground hanger bay. The two sentient ground transports, Dune and Sandslider, were good acquaintances of the littlest Praxian as the two had been tasked to the team getting the refugee Polyhexians out. This made them prime sources for updates on Prowl and Jazz. That they thought the tiny mechling was adorable in his insatiable quest to keep an optic on his absent brother meant they always tried to bring back at least one tidbit of information.
To this end, they were therefore expecting it when Bluestreak dashed down from the observation overlook and among their cooling and decompressing hover coils. Dune popped a panel loose to shield the bitlet when he came too close to a superheated thruster in his excitement and lit up a line of biolights to show him which exit hatch would yield the mecha he wanted.
When Bluestreak noticed this he stopped and giggled, then began to stealth his way along using newly instilled skills from Sideswipe. When he got to the ramp he stayed out of sight behind it and waited for the correct color legs to pass him by.
-.''.-.''.-.''.-
Jazz strode down the boarding ramp joking with his brother about finally getting to tour the world like they once dreamed of. He happened to look down as he left the shuttle and noticed something odd about Dune's shadow. A quick passive scan and the picture became quite clear. He gave props to the mechling for staying so silent and still, but without the necessary ops-grade dampeners, he still showed up on scans very clearly.
Jazz stopped his brother's forward progress under the pretense of telling a juicy tidbit about an unclaimed prank that had occurred in the hanger. This allowed Prowl to get ahead of them in the line. When the older Praxian got to the bottom Jazz shushed his brother and motioned for him to pay attention to the epic thing about to happen.
-.''.-.''.-.''.-
Blue legs.
Brown legs.
Blue and brown legs.
Yellow legs.
Green legs.
Bluestreak struggled to hold in a sigh. It was taking soooo long for his brother to pass by!
Finally he saws black and white limbs and leapt!
-.''.-.''.-.''.-
Jazz knew that Prowl knew Bluestreak was there. Jazz also knew that Prowl was feigning ignorance, which in his opinion made it even more cute.
The tiny Praxian leapt from behind the ramp and tackled Prowl's legs. The elder Praxian rocked forward with the sudden weight, then stared downward at his newest lump with servos on his hip-gimbals.
"Oh dear." Prowl said, completely deadpan. "It seems I have picked up a spaceleech."
Bluestreak giggled and scrambled up his brother's frame until he faceplate level with him. "I missed you." He breathed softly.
Prowl let a genuine smile tip over his faceplates and swept him into the best of hugs. "I have missed you too. Have you been making sure our brother behaved while I was gone?"
Bluestreak nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I tol' him no gambling an' no betting. Raj and TB helped me."
"They did?" Prowl considered he might have to give the other mechs a reward for their responsible behavior, but he suspected the fun of 'policing' Smokescreen had been its own reward.
While they were greeting one another, Jazz and his twin approached the bottom of the ramp. Bluestreak spied them and lunged out of Prowl's arms at the saboteur. "Jazz!"
Jazz caught the youngling and immediately tossed him up into the air. Bluestreak came down shrieking in laughter and reached up to try and hug the saboteur as he was caught. Jazz, however, spun as the youngling landed and flipped him so he could tickle Bluestreak's sensitive abdominal seams.
Bluestreak giggled uncontrollably and flailed his limbs. "Jazz… stop! No fair!"
"Not fair, not fair! Ah'll show you not fair!" Jazz replied playfully.
The saboteur then shifted the youngling to hang over his shoulder and began running back up the gangplank. "Ah'm'a mechnap ya n' highjack dis transport so we c'n travel Cyba'tron as Pirate Jazz and his trusteh Cabinsparklin'! All tha world'll be at our digit tips."
"No! No Jazz!" Bluestreak mock-wailed with a huge grin. "Prowl save me!"
Prowl, who had been watching in calm bemusement, hunched over and flared his plating out. Beautifully sharp retractable claws popped out of the Praxian's digits and wings flared forward in a threat gesture. He looked like a weremech from the fairytales.
"Jaaaazz." Prowl growled breathily.
Jazz looked back at the effigy of death and shivered in arousal. He debated his choices and weighed the outcomes.
Then suddenly, "Catch meh if ya can Prowler!"
The Polyhexian leapt to the roof of the transport and launched his grapplers at the railing of the overlook. Jazz magnetized Blue to his chassis and shoulder, and shimmied up the line. It was a good thing too, because Prowl was right behind him.
As Praxian and Polyhexian continued their game of chase out into the base proper, Ricochet was left behind surrounded by strangers.
"Well Ah'll jus' stay here then?" he shouted after them.
Neither answered.
Ricochet huffed and threw up his servos. Now what was he supposed to do? No billeting, no friends, nowhere to go. The Polyhexian folded his arms and huffed.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Hi, you must be Ricochet?"
Ricochet turned around and about fell over. Standing before him with a mischievous grin was the most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, delectable mech Ric had ever seen. "Guh…"
The super-hot Praxian grinned bigger. "The feeling's mutual. Wouldja like to have a drink with me before I show you to your quarters?"
"Guh."
Smokescreen looped an arm around Ricochet's shoulders. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."
-.''.-.''.-.''.-
By the time Prowl made it to the corridor, Jazz had already hidden himself away. The black and white's wings flicked back and forth trying to pick up the saboteur's resonance in the area. Jazz must have convinced Bluestreak to be quiet, but silence would not help him against Prowl's powerful sensors. The corridor was a well-used one, so it took a few nano-kliks to sift through the miasma of residual EM waves before he found the faint resonance of an opsmech in stealth mode. Prowl's sensor suite was by far the most powerful of all the remaining Praxians, but when Praxus still stood, he would have been considered normal for an enforcer of the pursuit/tactical class, if still above normal for a regular Praxians. Megatron would never know what a resource he destroyed when he obliterated Praxus.
The average Praxian's sensors were more powerful than other cybertronians', were more sensitive to sound vibrations than even the most specialized audials, more attuned to other mecha's electromagnetic fields and spark resonance that any telepath. In short, it did not matter how many mods Jazz had, he did not stand a chance.
Prowl stalked along the hall, detecting the precise point where Jazz had been alone enough to switch to the 'ceiling highway' as the Polyhexian called it. Against any other tracker, this might have led to the opsmech's escape, but not so with Prowl. Very few of the opsmecha walked around using the ceiling, so there were perhaps three or four resonances to sort out as compared to the dozens on the ground.
Jazz's resonance still led him on a merry chase around the base and it was difficult at times to maintain a proper level of decorum when all he wanted was to race through like a cyberwolf on the hunt. Finally, finally! Prowl caught up with his elusive Polyhexian at the entrance to the Northward Commisary.
"Jazz." He growled. "You have someone who belongs to me."
Jazz grinned and held up Bluestreak like a shield. "Blue! Save meh!"
Bluestreak giggled and pacified the beast by snuggling into Prowl's opened arms. Then the devious mechling laid the final bait for the real trap. "Prowl, I'm hungry. Can we get somethin' to eat before you see Uncle Optimus?"
Prowl hesitated to give his stock response about responsibilities of command and, after Bluestreak pulled out the turbopuppy optics, commed Optimus. -:- Good evening sir, I have just arrived back in Iacon and was hoping, perhaps, that I might be permitted to delay our debrief so I can share dark-cycle energon with my family? -:-
-:- Think nothing of it Prowl, enjoy your meal. The war can wait until morning. -:- Optimus replied promptly.
Prowl signed off the comm call and smiled faintly at Bluestreak. "I do believe I have time to eat with you."
Blue grinned back, slid to the floor, and grabbed Prowl's servo to lead them in. Jazz stepped up behind them and triggered the door open.
"Surprise! Welcome home!"
-.''.-.''.-.''.-
A Praxian and a Polyhexian swayed down the corridor. Both mechs had attended the Welcome Back Celebration and been plied heavily with high grade by their friends and family despite not desiring to get overcharged. For this reason the Polyhexian found it acceptable to trail his pointer digit down the lower edge of the Praxian's doorwing. The Praxian would retaliate a few kliks later by trailing his servo down sensitive spinal struts to tweak the Polyhexian's very nice aft.
The salacious touches continued until they reached the officer's wing. Then the Praxian turned on the Polyhexian. Pressed him against the wall. And devoured his mouth. Their kiss was sloppy with their overcharge but neither cared. There was only the meta-less pursuit of more sensation, more pleasure. They brought one another to their first overload right there in the, thankfully empty, corridor. Unfortunately for both inebriated mechs, the on-duty Security Director witnessed the entire sordid liaison and added it to their respective blackmail files as tactile stimulation was not considered intimate enough to be excluded. The intertwined mechs finally burned off enough charge to realize they needed to move their activities to a more private venue. The Praxian reached up to enter his entry code, which was very difficult to do with the way the Polyhexian was sucking on his glossa and nibbling on his lips.
On the fourth try the door slid open and they tumbled inside and into the Praxian's berthroom. Compared to opening the door, finding and falling on the berth was easy. There they writhed together in pleasure as chestplates and the underlying interface panels were popped. Cables were exchanged and the atmosphere grew hot. Towards the end of their passion, just before climax struck, there was a flash of red sparklight behind opening containment shields, answered by turquoise. They both strained and called out as overload struck.
Then there was silence but for pinging metal.
kittykat010: an amica is a best-friend, but for transformers they only get to pick one for their whole life, so it is kind-of a big deal to be chosen and comes with all sorts of responsibilities.
zeth: no trine for them, but Ricochet will be getting teased for his own attractions soon enough.