Demands of Life 11: How to End a War
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Prowl sipped on some of the best high grade Earth had yet produced. Part of a rare officially sanctioned batch because Perceptor had requested it. The scientist wanted to know if the magma generated energon that they were producing would retain its potency ration as it was condensed. Remembering Sideswipe's expression when he'd told the Ark's resident distiller brought a smile to Prowl's lip plates and amusement to his field.
Next to him his mate's field wrapped around him in a warm blanket of contentment and ease. Times like this, where they could relax for a few hours and not have to worry about their image or authority with other mecha present, were rare and treasured. It was good just to be able to get away sometimes, surely Prime's intention when he invited a few select mecha over for energon. Jazz already knew it was doing his mate some good and it earned the Prime a warm, thankful look for the effort.
"Sideswipe outdid himself this time. Perceptor might have to ask for another batch. Just to make sure the results are consistent, of course." Jazz suggested, expression one of pure innocence even if Prowl could read the hopeful, mischievous edge in his field.
"Of course," Optimus chuckled, his optics glittering at the relaxed set of his SIC's armor. They managed these get-togethers far too rarely and this one was well past needed. "Only the next batch should be medical grade."
"Absolutely," Ratchet barked a laughed and gulped a mouthful. "Let's see the little pit spawn manage that."
"You really planning to challenge him, Ratchet?" Jazz asked, visor going bright with interest. That little scenario could escalate into some serious entertainment, depending on how it played out.
The old medic grinned devilishly. "If I planned to challenge the little glitch, I'd challenge him to make jellies."
The sudden rev of Prowl's engine surprised everyone, including Prowl, who promptly hid behind his cube.
Jazz smirked and leaned against his mate, privately wondering if there was some way to find some of them anyway just to please Prowl.
"I'll look the other way." Optimus promised, the light in his optics saying that he would like some as well.
"Very well," Prowl managed to keep a steady expression despite how excited the idea made him. "I will challenge our resident distiller to make some jellies."
Jazz laughed, delighted at the change in his mate, stopping only when his comm went off.
::Omega Drone is rust.:: a heavily encrypted text appeared on his HUD.
"One down." He announced quietly as he looked around the room and helped himself to another gulp of high grade, knowing that they would know what he was talking about. Prowl purred and leaned against him. Optimus went quiet, his optics off as he grieved a lost spark. Ratchet simply nodded.
"The captures?" Prowl nuzzled him.
"Two down, one to go," Jazz leaned in to kiss him. "And however many of themselves they off before they decide who is in charge. It'll all be over except for the shouting by dawn."
Prowl welcomed the kiss, even pressing into it as a hand snaked up Jazz's back to strok his neck, holding him into it longer. They were both warming when Prowl finally let go. "Your agents deserve to be recognized for their action when they return, should they wish to accept it."
"Some of them might. Most of them won't." Jazz said quietly as he continued to hold Prowl close. He knew that most of them would simply want to vanish back into the shadows that they had come from, the ones that had functioned for so long in it. Shadows that were safe and comfortable. He also knew that the offer, and especially the phrasing, would make many of them feel good whether they accepted it or not.
"And once it is all over we can focus on the future. On turning all those plans you have been making into realities." Jazz murmured, ignoring their host and the other guest for a bit as he focused on Prowl. ::A home for us.::
"Yes," Prowl responded to both statements as he claimed another long, leisurely and mostly chaste kiss. "Within a vorn I will be myself again."
"Yes." Jazz agreed, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in to whisper. "Though I wouldn't object to this little bit of change hanging around."
"No." Ratchet groaned as Optimus laughed.
Prowl rumbled in an odd form of good humor. "You should not count on it. It is not natural for me."
"I know. But am I allowed to enjoy it while it is here?" Jazz asked innocently.
"Of course," Prowl stole another kiss. "I trust you," he murmured softly between their lips.
"Gawk, get a room you two," Ratchet huffed with a completely fake scowl.
Jazz hummed as a text comm came in. "The Nemesis job is done."
"They will be in chaos for several days sorting out the new command structure," Prowl sounded rather gleeful, and decidedly vindictively pleased.
"Indeed they will." Jazz purred. "Shall we do as Ratchet suggested and 'get a room' and celebrate?"
"Since they'd rather not watch us," Prowl chuckled, only slightly disoriented from the level of abnormal the statement implications were for him.
"Take your high grade with you," Optimus chuckled, standing to collect the two additional cubes they each had coming from the pile.
Jazz laughed as he subspaced the cubes with a nod of thanks and offered his mate a hand. "Their loss."
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Silverbolt banked slowly, enjoying the feel of the sun on his plating. It was a normal patrol, not too high and in clear open sky, and a nice change since for the moment it was quiet and peaceful.
He could still feel his brothers over the gestalt bond, arguing among themselves and relaying whatever they saw by turn, but for once they were leaving him out of it, and he as taking full advantage of the rare occurrence.
Right until his comm pinged and the identification of the owner almost knocked him from the air.
~Bolt!~ the others were instantly focused on him at the burst of shock-panic-what-the-pit that slammed through the gestalt bond.
~Okay. I'm okay.~ Silverbolt responded as he leveled out, taking a shallow decent into an open field and opening the comm line as soon as he hit the ground and transformed. ::Yes?:: He demanded, the frown on his face carrying just as clearly through his voice over his comm to the mech contacting him.
::Deliver a message to Prime and Jazz. I command the Decepticons, and I am ready for peace talks.::
Thundercracker? Silverbolt's systems almost stuttered once more. Thundercracker was in charge of the Decepticons? What in Pit had happened?
::I will relay the message. I am sure one of them will be in contact with you soon. Is there anything else you wish me to communicate?:: Silverbolt asked, his voice far more steady than the rest of him in the moment. His brothers landed, gathered around him. The gestalt bond buzzed with concern and ready-to-fight-just-point-us-where but they kept their vocalizers mute.
There was a brief pause. ::I'd like Starscream's body returned.:: Thundercracker's voice was quieter, far less effort made to be commanding. ::I will be ready for comm contact.:: He added before the connection closed.
Silverbolt leaned into the freely offered support, accepting it as he took another entire klik to process all that he had just learned. Finally he opened another comm, this one to the Ark. ::I need to speak with Prime and Jazz urgently. ETA three kliks.::
::Understood, Silverbolt,:: Prowl's voice replied. ::Any damage?::
::Negative. Intel only.:: Silverbolt answered, unwilling to say more over the line he took one of the three kliks he has estimated to pull himself back together enough to fly once more, his brothers hovering like worried hens all around him as the made their way back. He never forgot that at least two of them were below him at any point, ready to catch him, to give him a solid surface under him if he needed it.
When they landed outside the main entrance, Jazz and Prowl were there to greet them.
Neither of them seemed surprised in the least at his current state, only stepping forward to escort him inside, Prowl facing down his brothers as he ordered them away to refuel, and then softening just a little as he promised that Silverbolt would be taken care of.
"It's okay, Bolt," Jazz patted his side soothingly as they walked to the main officers' meeting room. "Wasn't expecting you to be the contact point, but we were expecting a call," Jazz added while Silverbolt took in that he was facing far more than Prime and Jazz. It was a full officers' meeting and then some.
"At ease, Silverbolt," Prime's deep rumble went right to the gestalt leader's spark in the best ways. "Tell us what happened."
With a deep vent the large mech drew himself straight, addressing his Prime first and by default the others present.
"I received a comm from Thundercracker. He informed me that he was in charge of Deceptions, and wished to talk peace. He did not say anything else initially."
Silverbolt's optics dimmed just slightly as he continued. "When I asked if there was anything else he wanted me to relay, he requested that Starscream's frame be returned."
Prime's gaze sharpened and snapped to Jazz, who shrugged. "We couldn't leave wiped mecha there. They're safe and well cared for Prime. We put a lot of work into not killing 'm."
Silverbolt eased some at the information. The connection between fliers meant much more to him than it ever could to a natural grounder, and he had sensed the underlying distress when Thundercracker had made the request. While he had little personal love for the Decepticon Air Commander, he found it hard to wish the loss of a wingmate on anyone. "He thinks him deactivated, Prime. The news that he is not will be a great relief and..." as much as it pained to point this out, "it might be a bargaining strength in your favor."
"I know," Prime said kindly.
"We aren't expecting to need much," Jazz grinned at Silverbolt. "Not with the rest of the Decepticon officers either deactivated in their berth or wiped clean and MIA as far as Thunder's concerned. If he contacts you again, you delivered your message well. We can handle it from here."
"He is expecting you to contact him." Silverbolt informed them, openly pinging the comm frequency that he had been contacted on among those who needed to know. "I took the liberty of telling him that I did not think he would have to wait long for a response."
"You assumed correctly," Prime said gravely, but with sub harmonics of approval.
With that Silverbolt left, grateful that he was returning to his brothers and trying not to think about what had happened in the Nemesis.
"Is there anything to discuss before we hail the Nemesis?" Prowl asked calmly.
"I would like to know what the intended use for the wiped mecha is." Prime said, looking around but his attention finally settling on Prowl and Jazz.
"Cosmetic refit so they are harder to ID by enemies and treat them as the sparklings they are," Jazz shrugged. "As of now, they're effectively newly sparked mecha from Vector Sigma and in stasis. I figured when things settle a bit, we'll recruit a few volunteers to act as creators for them."
"And they will just be left in stasis until the time is right to wake them. With the possible exception of Starscream." Optimus nodded, clearly pleased with the results. "Ratchet, I want you to check on them. I know Ops doesn't have a full medic anymore."
The CMO grunted and nodded. Jazz made no objection.
"If we are ready then?" Prowl looked at Prime.
"So long as everything else in place, I believe delaying any longer than we must will only make things more difficult." Optimus said with a nod that doubled as permission for Prowl to continue. In less than a klik Thundercracker's grim visage appeared on the main screen.
"Optimus Prime," the Seeker greeted stiffly. "I take it your Aerial delivered the message." Deep red optics flicked around the mechs visible beyond the Prime and locked onto Jazz. "I've confirmed seven targets. Were there any more?"
"That's it, m' mech," Jazz said cheerfully.
The seeker relaxed a fraction, the change still visible over the screen. Relief that he needed to fear no more deactivations that were not the doing of the Decepticons among their own number.
"Then you are ready to speak terms of peace?" The Prime inquired, voice calm but authoritative.
"Yes," Thundercracker nodded. His wings, only partially visible, flared up in a reflexive effort to reinforce his own status and authority. "You know you will not get everything you want."
"As I am sure you are aware of the same thing." Optimus answered in the same tone, with no visible reaction to the display. He knew that the display wasn't really towards him, but for the Decepticons in the command center beyond the Seeker. Mecha that Thundercracker only had the most tenuous of control over.
There was a brief hesitation as Thundercracker realized that Prime had finished. "State your initial terms."
"You will immediately cease all hostile activities against any Neutrals, Autobots, and any of our allies." Optimus stated. "You will release any prisoners of war that you are holding. You will relinquish control of all weapons and ammunition. You will also hand over all stockpiles of supplies and energon in your possession.
"Fine, fine, not a chance in the Pit, and are you kidding?" Thundercracker's flared wings were most definitely directed at Prime this time. "I'm willing to talk peace, not absolute surrender!"
"I am not kidding on any level." Optimus replied. "You would be allowed access to the materials and energon."
"But not control any of it or able to defend ourselves," the Seeker hissed angrily. "We'd be completely dependant on you for our survival. No. I'm offering to end the war, end the fighting, the killing, return our prisoners to you as healthy as they are right now, to work with you for something we can both accept. What are you going to offer for my cooperation?"
"Any medical assistance you require. A pooling of resources." Optimus glanced at his officers. "A compromise on the weapons- you will surrender all large assault weapons and ammunition, and any weapons of mass destruction in your possession. In return you would be allowed to retain all personal arms."
Thundercracker snarled something incomprehensible to most in the room and killed the connection.
"That went well," Jazz quipped, relaxed along with his mate.
"Now is not the time for joking," Ultra Magnus rumbled at him.
"He wasn't joking," Prowl said evenly, then glanced at his mate. "Or possibly he was. He is not incorrect, however. That was quite successful for the initial exchange."
"It has at least opened the door to discussion, and we have the promise of the end of hostilities, at least for a little while. There is no need to rush if haste is going to cause more harm than good now." Optimus mused, stretching carefully.
"It has been a very long, very damaging war," Prowl agreed. "He must ensure he is not perceived as weak by his own troops or anything he agrees to will only be binding for a few." He smiled slightly at the Prime. "Do not be surprised or bothered when he reacts like that. It is expected."
"Seekers," someone muttered.
"Decepticons," another shrugged back.
"A noble," Mirage said simply, drawing all attention to himself.
"And as long as it is expected it can be planned for and worked around." Optimus said, looking around at his command, at the officers that had worked with him and stood beside him. "A hard copy of terms needs to be laid out in a form that both sides can review easily, and prioritized on what is negotiable and what is not."
Prowl simply offered him a datapad to the snickers of more than a few in the room.
Optimus took it graciously, well aware that he had walked into that one, but also glad that he had. The easy laughter at his expense was something that had been missing far too often during the looming tension of the war. The thought of peace, while difficult in its own right, was at least hope compared to the bleak landscape of war.
"Is there anything else that needs to be addressed while I look this over and use my spare time to invent things to keep you all busy?" He was clearly not asking enough of his mecha if they were all one step ahead of him.
"Keeping this lot and the other in one piece when they don't have anything else to do will keep me busy," Ratchet huffed, but the hope was making it hard for even him to be grouchy.
"No," Prowl said firmly, that he had plans for his time was easy to see and easier to teek.
"Then dismissed." Optimus announced, knowing that the Ark was probably going to explode somewhat once word got out, and not terribly upset about it.
Prowl did walk out at something resembling his normal posture and speed, but the firm grip he had on his mate's hand and the silly grin Jazz was wearing looked very much out of place. It still managed to bring a smile to everyone who saw it, and then another when it sank in that Prowl didn't care that they'd seen.
The intense desire in his in mate's field had Jazz excited and curious. He hadn't been kidding about this part of Prowl hanging around after the sparkling had separated and Prowl had his processors all back in place. It was nice, fun, to be claimed like this, openly and publicly, even if it wasn't a normal thing for his mate to do.
"I think you managed to startle some mecha there love." Jazz purred as they reached their quarters and the door closed.
Prowl simply silenced him with a kiss and growled "don't care" as his hands worked along Jazz's sides and undercarriage. His mate shuddered and gasped, melting into the touches and the kiss with a moan.
"Not that I am protesting at all love, but what-?" Jazz was interrupted by another kiss, glossa tangling aggressively with his love's as his hands found Prowl's frame.
"Want your spike, now." Prowl growled, shameless and demanding when he finally let Jazz's mouth go. "Want to feel you fill me, again and again, until there's no room left and it can only pour out."
Jazz growled at the challenge, a hand grasping Prowl's helm to claim another deep kiss before pulling his mate the short distance to the berth. "As you command, my love."
Prowl went along willingly, happy to submit while his lover had such eagerness. He always enjoyed Jazz riled like this, but this time it had an ulterior motive. He needed his mate to be worn out enough that he'd lay still for what Prowl had in mind.
Jazz guided his mate onto the berth, turning Prowl so the Praxian was on his hands and knees. Demanding fingers played over Prowl's valve cover as the other hand rose to tease at a sensor wing. "Want your wings first, want to play with them as you cry out my designation. Then you on your back, spread under me, open to me so I can look down and see your pleasure."
A shudder and excited ripple caressed Prowl's entire frame as his valve cover slid open to the probing fingers, offering the slick, hot passage for Jazz to explore. He was very ready, willing and eager. His doorwings pressed into the touch, knowing just how good it would feel.
"Primus, Prowl." Jazz groaned, his spike extending and pressurizing quickly as his fingers caressed and teased the smooth, slick valve. "So good, my love, your pleasure." He moaned as he buried himself in his mate, panting at the tight, slick heat surrounding him. He knew he was in a losing battle when Prowl's considerable ability to focus centered on manipulating his valve structures, from calipers to cabling to lining, to draw out the most intense pleasure possible from his mate.
"Love the way you make me feel," Prowl moved back, shivering as he rocked into Jazz's thrusts, all his effort on drawing out that first of many overloads he intended tonight.
It was a battle that he knew he would never win, but that didn't stop Jazz from trying as his hands played along his mate's wings and he forced himself to focus for just a klik, locking Prowl's request in his processor before surrendering to the pleasure spreading through him. Warning of his first overload, driven desire and pleasure came in for the form of tight hands on Prowl's hips, immobilizing the Praxian as Jazz spilled into his mate with a keen. He felt Prowl's pleasure, the enjoyment his mate got even without an overload, and shuddered with hiccupping vents as he came down from the rolling high to the sensation of Prowl's valve squeezing and rippling around him, working the charged transfluid into them both as Prowl moaned in pleasure.
"More," Prowl purred, shivering with the sensations of being filled. "Make me scream your designation."
"Challenge love?" Jazz rumbled as he started to thrust once more, angling his hips to drive deeper into his lover as his hands moved over Prowl's, seeking the points that he knew created the most pleasure in his mate. "You are going to scream it loud enough for the entire base to hear. Begging for me before I am done with you. So that everyone will know who you belong to, who claims you."
"Jazz!" Prowl willingly cried out, pressing into every touch and each thrust that drove his sluggishly building charge higher. "Only you. Only ever you."
"Yes. Mine. My love." Jazz purred, adding the magnets in his hands to the touches on Prowl's wings and reveling in the way his mate bucked and howled. "Come with me this time, love. Share the pleasure with me."
"Yes, please, want to, want you, want to be together," Prowl didn't even try to stop the words from spilling from his vocalizer, not even checking for what he was saying. Jazz had earned his trust not to use any of it against him so Prowl could let go and simply enjoy. It still felt odd, not-right, to part of him that he couldn't be bothered to listen to anymore. "Love you, fill me - oohhhh - yes!"
In a surprising short time Jazz felt his charge peaking again, his thrust falling out of time as he panted and moaned. "Let go love, let go. Please."
"Close," Prowl shivered, moaning shamelessly as he thrust back against his mate's motions, his valve clenched tight and rippling, milking the spike inside him, trying to draw it deeper. He fluttered his doorwings, asking for a little attention to help him out.
Jazz focused for a moment, upping the charge in his hands and moving the motions closer into the base of the wings, arching over his mate's frame to hum and mouth the housing there in response. The hum became a moan when Prowl keened loudly, the charge licking over his frame to dance against Jazz's as Prowl surrendered willingly to the rush of bliss and energy of his overload, trembling at the strength of its grip.
Jazz forced himself to hold out just a few nanokliks longer, trembling as Prowl's pleasure washed over him, before he was swallowed up in his own pleasure. A blinding wave that washed through him and left him panting and limp against his mate's back as he came down from the high. He could feel Prowl's hum of enjoyment and pleasure as the Praxian settled under him.
"Got more in you?" Prowl purred, a deep rumble of desire.
"Not even close to done with you." Jazz purred as he nuzzled Prowl's helm.
"Good," Prowl cycled his valve around his mate's spike, teasing as much as encouraging.
With a soft moan Jazz gathered himself and pulled out of his mate, settling back on the berth. "Over." He ordered, his visor bright as he watched Prowl make a show of his dripping valve and fluttering doorwings as he rolled smoothly to his back.
Doorwings splayed to rub against the soft berth covering, Prowl spread his legs, knees bent, and gaze locked on Jazz. "Come here and fill me," he trilled, tone as sultry as Jazz had ever heard from his mate.
"Gladly, my love." Jazz purred as he shifted over his mate, leaning down to kiss Prowl passionately. His glossa was welcomed by Prowl's, stroked and sucked until Jazz moaned and pulled back from the kiss. He shifted to sink slowly into Prowl's hungry slick valve, gaze locked on Prowl's pleasure-filled face as his own field flared with the bliss of being with the mecha he loved.
Prowl's arms came up to hold him, stroking along his back as he rolled his hips into Jazz's and clenched his valve around the spike he so enjoyed, one that never hurt or used him.
"Love you." Jazz murmured as he started to thrust slowly into his love. "So proud. So perfect. My mate. My match."
"Yours," Prowl moaned, his optics dimming as he focused on the pleasure of his frame. "Always yours." The motions came naturally now after so long with this mech, a welcome familiarity in a time when so very little was predictable or understood. "Never wanted another. No one can make me feel like you."
"All yours, forever." Jazz promised, the words coming from his spark as he lost himself in pleasuring his mate. He lost track of how many times he cried out in bliss and spilled into Prowl and how many times Prowl keened his designation as a blessing. Only when it eventually ended he was too worn out and sated to move. Not even for a Decepticon attack.
Through a bleary awareness, he felt Prowl move, cycle his valve questioningly as he nuzzled.
"Nnnn." Jazz grunted, forcing himself back to awareness and pulling out slowly. "Sated, love?" He asked as he snuggled into Prowl.
"Enough," Prowl purred as he stroked along his mate's sides. "I want to try something new now."
"New? And you wait until I'm exhausted to suggest it?" Jazz asked, sounding slightly disappointed.
"Yes," Prowl brought a hand forward to caress Jazz's cheek as nervousness rose in his field. "I want ... I don't want you in any condition to move."
"Oh no." Jazz chuckled softly, turning his face to nuzzle into Prowl's hand. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Look at your spark," Prowl only just managed to get the glyphs out. "Maybe touch."
Jazz was quiet for a klik as he looked up at his mate, completely willing even though the concern in his field. "You know that it is yours, my love. Whenever you want. However you want."
"I want to merge with you, eventually." Prowl said firmly, determination in every line of his frame and field. "I can't allow what happened to set fully or I'll never be able to say yes."
"Nothing would make me happier then to be able to give that to you." Jazz said quietly, field reaching out to wrap Prowl in a warm blanket of love and support. With a final kiss to Prowl's hand Jazz eased back, relaxing fully on the berth and relinquishing all control to his love. "I am yours to command."
"Mine to love," Prowl murmured as he slid over to straddle his lover's hips, smearing transfluid everywhere. Not that either noticed. They were both far too focused on what was going to happen. They were focused on Prowl's tension, Jazz's passive support and love across their fields.
White hands moved to caress Jazz's chest plate, tracing the racing lines of blue and red, and the Autobot insignia there. Relaxing himself in increments so each jump in tension with the next stage would never exceed his ability to control.
Jazz sighed softly, visor dimming as he simply enjoyed the touch of his mate, the warmth of Prowl's frame over his, and the continuing sensation of how lucky and in love he was. Maybe he'd even feel his mate's spark by the time their creation was grown. He kept his focus on how Prowl was teeking, the level of tension as it gradually decreased.
"Unlock," Prowl said softly, his processors in an almost trance-like state. "Let me open them."
Jazz complied instantly, the soft click of his chest plates unlocking audible in the quiet room as he obeyed his mate's orders to the letter. A flicker of tension came from Prowl, but that nothing changed visually helped him a lot as he continued to touch, stroking along armor and color lines until a gentle pressure parted Jazz's chest plates just a bit.
Soft blue light flared through the slender opening, flaring for a moment before calming once more. Prowl's vents hitched sharply and everything froze. He didn't close the chest plates though, and neither did he move away.
Jazz lay still on the berth, watching his mate and praying silently to Primus. His spark knew the strength of his mate, believed in Prowl with all its power. This was something he had longed for since he had first laid optics on Prowl, even if he had not recognized the feelings for what they were then.
His spark wanted this mech, wanted all of Prowl. Wanted to possess him and not share him with anyone else. And in exchange it wished to owned, to be claimed and desired and wanted until it pulsed its last and beyond.
For the first time, Jazz now knew that Prowl wished the same thing. He'd long known that Prowl did not wish to share his frame with another, but the way he guarded his spark had left doubts to the rest. Whatever had changed to bring Prowl to say it and move forward, Jazz was grateful to.
Very slowly, Prowl's fingers slid along the edges of Jazz's armor, allowing the spark light to dance over them. He felt the warmth and energy and for the first time he allowed himself to contemplate that this was a possibility. He wasn't ready to do more than look, but he was ready to work on it. The war was over, or nearly so. He could pay his contract off, even if he knew that Optimus Prime would give him that blank look over it, then be distressed. It didn't matter. Prowl needed the closure, the formality of that long-gone culture he'd been sparked into before he could do more than briefly contemplate what lay beyond his service.
So he accepted that the war was all but over, that soon he would insist that the Prime take his credits and free him, and then...
A deep gust of air escaped Prowl as his processors forcefully shut down the line of thought that was still considered mildly treasonous. Gently he closed Jazz's chest plates, the movements slow and controlled, and settled on his side against the mech he loved enough to push himself this hard. "Enough for one orn," he murmured.
"My love." Jazz purred, wrapping his arms around Prowl, pride rich in his field.
Prowl snuggled into the contact and allowed the pride and approval to wash through him and make it just a little bit more okay to be contemplating where this was going. There was now a lot more than his coding to deal with, but he could. Jazz was worth it.
