Noblesse Oblige

Chapter Eleven

This close, the frantic sparking of Jazz's optics was so bright that it hurt Mirage's, so he offlined his own. Now he didn't have anything other than Jazz's mouth under his to concentrate on. It felt nice…good…but Mirage had a hunch it could be better. He moved his mouth, adjusting positions…better…was it his imagination, or was Jazz's mouth moving too? He focused on the lower lip, nipping and tugging at it. What is the acceptable time limit for a kiss? He had no idea, but it wouldn't do to overstay his welcome. Rude guests don't get invited back. Reluctantly, he pulled away, flicking his optics back online.

When their faces were a little way apart, Jazz shoved him. Not hard, no intention to hurt, he just used the hands that were already on Mirage's chest to put an arm's length or so of distance between them. His optics flickered as he gaped at Mirage.

"What was that?" he demanded. He sounded shocked, but not angry, Mirage noted. At least he didn't think that was anger…

"Um, it was…well, you seemed to know." Mirage sounded lame, even to himself.

"Yeah, I kind of figured it out." Was sarcasm a good sign or a bad sign? "But, Primus, Mirage, why?"

"I – You – I felt…" Mirage gave up on the 'why'. "It didn't seem like you minded too much," he said tentatively instead.

Jazz shut off his optics for a moment as if everything was too much. When he turned them on again, he said, "Well, no, I didn't. But that's not what matters. You – I don't think you're thinking this through."

"I've thought about it. I'm done thinking." Mirage hadn't meant that to sound as…predatory as it did.

"Not to bring up bad memories, but I can't help being reminded of a certain hunting speeder crash."

"What about it?" Mirage was impatient; trying not to show it.

"I wasn't sure that was a good idea either." Jazz pointed out.

"This is different." Is it?

"I'm not so sure it is. Mirage, I feel strange being the one to say this, but do you remember who – what I am? Who you are?"

"You're not a 'what'." Mirage took a small step forward.

"Uh-huh. Right." Jazz was giving him a dubious look, but he didn't back up. "Okay, even if we leave that…" He sighed. "Mirage, I know what you want, and it's not me. You want Torchlight, remember?"

"Um, that's…" Had he really talked that much about Torchlight? Guess so. "Well, yes. But you…" He wasn't sure how to continue.

"I think I get it." Jazz nodded slowly.

"You do?" Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

"I'm a practice run." Jazz said simply.

"A practice run?" Mirage echoed dumbly.

"Yeah. You've been feeling…like this…for awhile now. But you haven't yet. Interfaced, I mean. You want to, especially with Torchlight, but you're nervous. You're afraid you'll screw up and embarrass yourself and your friends won't let you live it down. And thus…" he gave a little bow, indicating himself. "…practice."

Mirage would have liked to deny it, but Jazz had managed to pinpoint his thoughts exactly. That uncanny perception of his seemed even more inconvenient than usual. And when it was said out loud like that, it sounded a lot like he was callously using his attendant. And it wasn't as simple as that. Or at least, it felt more complicated.

"It's…it's not exactly like that," was what he managed to say. "It's…right now it's about you, too. I wouldn't use you."

"Use me?" Jazz sounded amused. "Of course you would use me. You use me all the time. I'm your servant. That's what I'm for."

"That's not…" Mirage had no idea what to say. And what was with that weird guilty feeling?

"Relax." Mirage glanced at Jazz and was shocked to find a sincere smile on the smaller 'bot's face. "I didn't say I minded. I'm used to it. Besides, what's a bit of using between….well, us?"

"What are you saying?" That had sounded almost like agreement, but Mirage wanted to make sure.

"I'm saying…" Jazz took a step forward. "…if this is really something you want to do, then…I'm in."

"Wait, what about you? What do you want?" Now that Mirage had the go-ahead, he was suddenly unsure.

Jazz laughed as if that was the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "What I want? We both know this isn't about what I want." Then he seemed to relent, and in a softer voice he said, "But if it did matter, then yeah. I want this too."

They stood there for a moment, and then both mechs laughed nervously. "Have you…done this before?" Mirage asked.

"Have I…" Jazz was incredulous. "Mirage, I'm blind. I live in a two-bedroom apartment with my sires. I can't go anywhere. You're the only person my age I know. And I spend ninety-eight per cent of my waking life with you. So, have I done this before? What do you think?"

"Oh." There was another pause. "I'm not sure how to start this." Mirage admitted.

"You know," Jazz said, sounding as if he was talking to a very stupid sparkling, "I bet you could start by kissing me like that again, and we can figure it out from there."

Implied insult aside, it was a very good suggestion. Mirage leaned down, offlining his optics, and Jazz met him halfway. It was even better this time, maybe because this time, he knew it was mutual. He moved his mouth, and Jazz's moved with it. He went for the lower lip again, but Jazz beat him to it. He marveled at the feel of the smaller mech's dental plates nibbling and tugging at him. He moaned a little into the kiss, and Jazz answered him with a hum that sounded almost like a growl.

He felt Jazz start to pull away. Both mechs turned their optics back online and stood apart. Mirage could hear Jazz's vents frantically cycling air. Just like his own.

"My berth?" Mirage gasped.

"I think that's a very good idea," agreed Jazz. And then Mirage grabbed the smaller 'bot's hand and they were scrambling ungracefully together toward their goal.

"Lights at one quarter," Mirage choked out, and the lights dimmed as he and Jazz flung themselves onto the berth side by side. He grabbed Jazz's face again and kissed him, amazed that something so simple could feel so good. He felt Jazz's hands on his chassis, smoothing down the front of his chest. Somehow the gesture went straight to Mirage's processor, made him feel strong and powerful. His engine revved loudly. Stay in control. He broke the kiss and leapt forward, rolling Jazz onto his back as Mirage straddled him.

"Ah - !" The noise Jazz made was of surprise, not protest. He reached up and pulled Mirage down for another hungry, demanding kiss. His hands were on Mirage's head for the first time, and after he was satisfied that the blue 'bot wasn't going anywhere, he loosened his hold and let his hands explore. At the feel of fingers delicately stroking the ridges of the crests on the sides of his face, Mirage nearly lost it. He'd never thought of his crests as particularly sensitive, but now – Primus! Each fluttering touch ignited nerve endings that made his head swim with the sensation. His systems flashed a warning. No, not now. He pulled out of the kiss, frantically rerouting systems. He couldn't overload so soon, that would be humiliating. Jazz's hands stayed on his crests, stroking and teasing. To keep himself from screaming in pleasure, Mirage leaned down and bit Jazz on the shoulder. Hard.

Jazz yowled and tensed. When he arched up his body to meet Mirage's, the blue mech grinned, sensing opportunity. He blew a puff of heated air down onto the spot where he'd bitten the small mech, as if to heal it. Then he nuzzled his way along the shoulder line and bit down again. He was rewarded with a strangled yelp. Jazz rolled his head back and forth, his optics wide and sparking wildly. He reached up unconsciously to stroke one of the hornlike antennae protruding from his helmet. Mirage took the hint and knocked Jazz's hands away, replacing then with his own.

At the feel of Mirage's hands on his antennae, Jazz shivered and purred. He reached up to reciprocate, tracing the details of his master's face crests as Mirage moaned in appreciation. Mirage could feel his fuel pump beating fast and hard, and when he spared a hand from Jazz's helm and dropped it to the black-and-white mech's chest, he could feel the other's fuel pump too. It was a wild sensation – he'd never felt so in touch with his own body, let alone someone else's. It was all so new.

Mirage realized they could probably overload this way, just pressing their bodies together and stimulating each other's overly sensitive headsculpts. But he wanted more. He knew that he wasn't going to get to try every technique in the 'tracks this first time out, but he was going to experiment while he could. What to do? It was hard to think. Wait – he had it! Something that had felt good to him, just a short time before. He eased down Jazz's body, abandoning his horns. Before Jazz got off much more than a small whimper of protest, he slid one of his hands between the black-and-white mech's thighs, and started to stroke.

The response was immediate. Jazz screamed, and bucked up violently into his hand. Mirage smiled. Success. "You like that?" he purred, nuzzling Jazz's midsection.

"Yes! Yes! Primus, don't stop! Please…" Jazz threw his arms around Mirage and clung to him. Mirage could feel fingers digging into his back in a way that was almost painful and sure to leave a mark, but felt so damn good. He kept his own hand moving, tracing the inside of one thigh, then the other, and then hard up in the center in a way that made Jazz thrash. His other hand moved haphazardly, groping at whatever it could find on his companion's torso. It reached Jazz's face, and Mirage stroked it blindly until Jazz bit his finger.

Mirage gasped, and Jazz let go, replacing the bite of his dental plates with the caress of his mouth. He nuzzled and suckled at the injured digit until Mirage thought he wouldn't be able to stand it anymore, and then he moved on to the next one, biting down and repeating the treatment with the rest of the fingers on Mirage's hand. Mirage moaned into Jazz's chest. This wasn't in any of the datatracks, but it should be. He would never have guessed that such attention to his hands – ah! Another bite – would be so erotic.

He was going to have to end this. He was losing it, fast, and he'd be damned if he'd go into overload without Jazz. He rededicated himself to his efforts between the smaller bot's legs and Jazz screamed again, apparently forgetting his fingers. Mirage smiled in satisfaction. He had the smaller 'bot whipped into a frenzy. It was a wild ride, but he was in control. He –

Jazz's hands were suddenly at his sides, in his sides, alternately digging roughly and stroking tenderly at the delicate wiring underneath. Mirage found it hard to see, his vision blurring, warnings flashing and then Jazz's fingers found a dataport and teased it and it was all too much. Mirage's vision flashed white, then red. His body crackled with energy, and he could feel the energy from Jazz's body, arching up to meet him. He realized belatedly that the scream in his audios belonged to him, this time. No, wait, Jazz was screaming too, they were screaming and they were together and then everything went black.

When his optics flickered back online, Mirage had no idea how much time had passed while he was out. His systems were still fritzing from the overload. His first overload, he thought in awe. Wow.

A soft moan from underneath him reminded him that he hadn't been alone for the experience. He raised his head to look at Jazz, who was lying back with his mouth slightly open and his optics glowing with a soft but steady white light. "Are…you okay?" Mirage asked.

Jazz turned his face toward Mirage and chuckled softly. "Oh, I'm more than okay," he said. "Though, if your intention is to correct that by crushing me to death…"

"Oh! Sorry." Mirage hastily rolled off, sprawling on his belly at Jazz's side.

The attendant chuckled again. "I was mostly kidding," he admitted. "You're not that heavy. Though, this does make it a little easier on my cooling system." Mirage could hear the vents, both Jazz's and his own, cycling air to cool their systems. For awhile he listened in silence to the rhythm they made.

"I guess I'm grateful that this house is so big." Mirage said finally, "And that my rooms aren't anywhere near anything else."

"Ha! Tell me about it!" Jazz cackled. "Try living in a tiny apartment with a bonded pair. And those walls aren't exactly thick, either."

"Ugh." Mirage grimaced in sympathy, even though Jazz couldn't see it. "Your own sires? That must be…disturbing."

"Oh, they're not the only ones." Jazz was stretching, and it was very becoming. His voice held a note of 'I-know-something-that-you-don't-know'.

"Really? Who else?" It must be someone interesting, or Jazz wouldn't bring it up to tease him with.

"I'm not telling you."

"Really? Then I'm not doing this…" Mirage snaked a hand between Jazz's thighs for a gentle brush and pulled it back as Jazz gasped "…ever again."

"Okay, okay! You win! But it's a secret. You can't let anyone know I told you. Promise," Jazz surrendered.

"I promise." Mirage weakly held up his hand in salute.

"Warder and Sprocket."

"Warder and Sprocket? Really? For how long?" That was more of a surprise than it should have been, probably.

Jazz laughed. "For-slagging-ever. A long damn time. But it's supposed to be a secret, even though pretty much all of the servants know."

"They're not, you know, bonded or anything, are they?" Mirage asked.

Jazz laughed again. "No, you don't have to worry. My sires are the only throwback wierdos around. Everyone else's romantic affairs and sordid entanglements are just ordinary, run-of-the-mill screwed up."

There was a period of silence. Mirage tried to run over Oblique's rules. What had they been? No fingering of ports. Well, to the Pit with that. Crude or not, the feel of Jazz's fingers on his dataport… It was such a deliciously dirty thrill, Mirage knew there would be more of that in the future. Stay in control. Well, that was debatable. He'd been on top most of the time – did that count? Remember who you are. Um. He certainly was aware of who he was now – he was Mirage, princeling of the Towers, ruler of all he surveyed. During the actual interfacing, though, he suspected that if someone suggested he was Sentinel Prime or Unicron, he'd have readily agreed. Be careful during sparkplay. Hadn't come up. Mirage was pretty sure it wouldn't for awhile, either. They'd only just scratched the surface and just that had overwhelmed him. There was SO much to get through before one even got to any kind of sparkplay. No bonding. Ha. No fear there.

Don't interface with Jazz. …yeah. Technically, his sire had said not to let him catch Mirage interfacing with Jazz, but Mirage suspected this was definitely a case where Oblique wouldn't be interested in debating semantics. Outright disobedience of his sire was new to him; he'd never really understood the appeal of the rebellion that so many of his friends delighted in. Now, feeling the twinges of wicked excitement along with the lingering aftereffects of the overload, he thought he got it. Maybe a little rebellion now and again is good for a person.

Mirage offlined his optics and laughed a little; he couldn't help himself. "Primus, Oblique would be so mad if he found out about this," he said. He was amused at himself; at his new disobedient streak.

"What's that?"

"Oblique. He'd be furious," Mirage explained, relaxed. He kept his optics offline and spoke into the dark. "Just today, he specifically forbid me from interfacing with you."

"Oblique is a hypocrite." Jazz said flatly.

Mirage snapped his optics on and turned his head to look at Jazz. "What?"

Jazz lay serenely on his back, gazing up at the ceiling. "You heard me," he said evenly.

Mirage sat up a little. "Wait. What- Are you saying…my father…and Pacer…"

"Interfacing? Yes." Jazz said coolly.

"But- really? Since when?"

"Since forever, as far as I've been able to tell." How was Jazz sounding so casual about this?

"But…" Mirage was beyond confused. "Your sires are bonded."

"Yeah, I know." There it was. Finally there was an edge to Jazz's voice that betrayed the fact that he was bothered. "It makes things…awkward. Pacer and Swing fight about it all the time. Still. They think they're hiding it from me, but of course I know." Things were silent for a few moments.

"That's…weird." Mirage said at last, propping his head up with a bent arm.

Jazz turned to him, arching an optic ridge. "It's weird? What part is weird to you?" His voice was caustic. "The fact that it's Pacer? The fact that it's my father and your father? The fact that your father is sleeping with one half of a bonded couple? Or the fact that it's an aristocrat – like you – and a servant – like me?"

"No! No, it's not like that. I'm just surprised, that's all. I never thought of it before. I probably should have. I guess it's just strange because of the bonding, you know, with your parents." Mirage was tripping over himself, trying not to say the wrong thing. "It's not- It's not about the whole master and servant thing. I'm fine with that. Obviously." He reached out and touched Jazz's arm.

Jazz relented and smiled at him. "Obviously."

"I had fun," Mirage told him. "What about you?"

Jazz smirked. "I can tell you had fun. They can tell you had fun all the way in Kaon."

Mirage punched him lightly. "Hey, you were the one doing all the yelling."

"You helped, if I remember correctly." Jazz pointed out.

"I suppose I did." Mirage conceded the point.

"So………" Jazz drawled lazily, "What do you think? Do you think you have it all down? Are you good to go? Or do you think you'll be needing more…practice?"

"One can't underestimate the importance of regular practice sessions." Mirage did his best impression of their combat instructor.

Jazz gave him a sultry grin. "Mmmmmmm…I strive to serve you in any way I can."

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