A/N: Sorry for delay folks, I'm not dead. Just moving (again) and changing jobs etc and holiday. :) Enjoy
Warnings: mech/mech, sticky, sexual content.
Thanks to antepathy for beta'ing this chapter for me.
Bond speak
Jazz was an overly observant mech. He saw most things others tended to turn a blind optic to and he noticed when Springer and Hot Rod disappeared into the woods. Normally, he wouldn't think anything of it but given the circumstances and that Springer was currently borderline insubordinate, he was suspicious. Nudging Chromia he tilted his helm in the direction they'd left and murmured something in her audio. Scowling beneath his visor, he activated his private comm. channel to his special ops mechs and ordered them to meet him Sky Lynx momentarily.
"What's this about, Jazz?" Mirage canted his helm curiously, his optics briefly meeting Bumblebee's at Jazz's dark look.
"I know you hear and see pretty much everything that goes on around here and I also know that you've been keeping an optic on the Ark. Now, I know whatever you went through with Prowl has made you sympathetic, but… it's time to start talking. And fast."
Shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, Mirage averted his gaze from his superior. "Jazz, I don't think that's a good idea—"
"—What isn't a good idea, is you keeping information from me. Now as your commanding officer, please don't make me order you."
Mirage hesitated, his optics meeting Jazz's hard glare. His training told him that Jazz was now compromised and was a liability but his spark was screaming at him to tell him everything, to tell him about Prowl, what the mech had been going through, that he didn't, couldn't believe Prowl was a traitor.
"'Raj…" Jazz spoke softly, his voice tinged with warning.
Looking back to his commander after a lingering glance at Bumblebee who nodded almost imperceptibly, he sighed. "Where do you want me to start?"
"The beginning would be nice." Jazz folded his arms and waited for the former noble to begin, his optics narrowing behind his visor as the spy and the minibot shared a knowing look. Keeping secrets from each other was a bad sign in Jazz's view. It meant that everything was falling apart and they were losing control.
"Go on." Bumblebee urged gently. "He deserves to know everything."
Nodding, Mirage detailed the events following the Decepticons' victory. He described how he had sneaked out of the Ark after finding Jazz there and how he'd found Prowl half dead in the desert. Bumblebee jumped in and told Jazz about what Prowl had spoken about during his brief time with them, how he had acted and how he had been worrying constantly about everyone's fate.
Jazz listened in silence, taking it all in, his processor spinning at the contradictory information. Prowl had been silent through the bond since he'd hacked into his processors. There was nothing, not even emotion; it was like he'd been erased. Jazz knew that he couldn't be offline, they'd surely know if Prowl had been terminated, they would feel it deep in their sparks. The bond was still complete but there was something wrong, something else was trying to bleed in, it was insidious and slow and sinister and the fact that all of Jazz's rage and hurt and pleas for help had gone unanswered from Prowl had left him with a very sick feeling in his tank.
Mirage stopped talking and regarded Jazz curiously. "Do you think he's a traitor?"
Visor flickering at the question, knowing it was one that needed asking, Jazz shook his helm just once. "Truth is, can't know for sure. I can't reach him." Even as he spoke the words, Jazz wanted to take them back. This was Prowl for Primus's sake. How could he ever even suspect Prowl to be a traitor, the very concept to him was surreal. He'd known the mech for longer than most and more intimately than most and if there was one word to describe Prowl, it would be loyal. Fraggin' mech was loyal to a fault. Yet the evidence was steeped against him. If it was anyone else, Jazz wouldn't have hesitated to be suspicious but this was Prowl. A mech he'd shown his spark to, a mech who'd saved his life, a mech who had accepted Prime as his bondmate. He couldn't bear to consider the possibility. Processor reeling, Jazz almost didn't hear Bumblebee as the minibot replied.
Bumblebee frowned. "But the bond..?"
"Don't know how to explain it, 'Bee. It's like Prowl's been erased but he's not dead. I don't feel the emptiness you're supposed to get when your bondmate is off lined. I think he's still there; he's just blocked the bond somehow."
"What if the fact you're in a trine bond is affecting it somehow?" Mirage asked, his brow creased in concern. "I am not aware of any method that allows a complete blocking of a spark bond."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Jazz sighed, perching against a nearby seat. "He's got a lot of history with Shockwave… that mech messed him up, killed his creators, experimented on his processor—"
"—Why didn't Prowl say anything!" Bumblebee exclaimed in horror.
"Not that easy 'Bee. Prowl just thought he was getting standard upgrades. He was a youngling when Shockwave did most of his work on him for frag's sake. How was he supposed to know what that pit spawned slagger was doing to him?"
The mech's fell silent, nobody really knowing what could be said. "Do you think… do you think he's betrayed us, Jazz?" Bumblebee finally asked softly.
Meeting the minibot's earnest optics, Jazz exhaled and shuttered his optics. "I really don't know. For all I know he is really dead and that's that. It was all a rouse but on the other hand… he could be being manipulated by Shockwave but then again he could have willingly chosen to defect given his history." He shrugged in defeat. "Really don't have any certain answers."
"Well, I do."
The three mechs snapped their helms around in the direction of the hard voice. The tension thickened considerably as Springer and Hot Rod marched onto the shuttle. The 'copter's optics were fixed on Jazz as he approached. "And if you give a slag about whether any of us survive," he jabbed a finger into Jazz's chest. "You're going to listen to what I have to say."
Prowl had been right when he'd surmised he wasn't going to like Shockwave's plan for gaining favour with Megatron. His entire being was suffused with insult at being offered as a common pleasurebot to the Decepticon warlord. He had protested and offered many other ways of currying the despot's confidence but Shockwave remained unmoved. Seething Prowl had stormed through the Ark and had focused his anger on the first mechs that fell into his radar, who just so happened to be beating an Autobot. Vortex had done the smart thing and had backed off, recognising the warning signs but Swindle...
Well, Swindle just had to be Swindle.
The mech had been dragged from the rec' room roughly, cutting off his argument, his loud protests drawing attention from the other 'cons in the room, not to mention their respective Autobot prisoners. All watched with wide optics as the impassive black and white used brutal efficiency in quieting the 'con before dragging the whimpering mech by his collar fairing out of the door. No one spoke for a good few moments as the scene replayed in their processors.
Prowl attacking a 'con raised a lot of questions in many of the Autobots' processors. To the 'cons, it was mundane: there was a scuffle between 'cons every other cycle. There were a few disgruntled growls however. Not all of the 'cons had accepted Prowl as Shockwave's lackey or whatever the twisted scientist wanted to call him. To the majority of the 'cons he was still an Autobot, one responsible for many an Autobot victory and even more 'con deaths. Prowl was disliked by ninety percent of the Ark's current inhabitants but the mech was quite frankly too dangerous to approach.
Some had tried and had ended up under Hook's less than vigilant care or in the hands of the current Autobot medic being forced to tend to their wounded. Even the few Autobots who had made an attempt on Prowl's life had not long after regretted trying. Prowl was ruthless and cold to an extent that even unnerved most of the 'cons. It was unsurprising then, when Swindle was dragged out by the Praxian that nobody lifted a finger to help him. Such had become the law of the land across the Ark.
Shrewd optics watched the scene take place from the darkened monitor room. He came here regularly now; he could see almost every room, every corridor. The Autobot who had set the system up had been more than just paranoid and it suited Megatron just fine to be able to keep a watchful optic on the goings on of his mechs without actually having to leave the room. No wonder they'd never been able to sneak inside and sabotage the Ark successfully before.
Shockwave had accepted his proposal – it had been more of a command really – but unlike the scientist, he hadn't argued. He had nodded, stating it would be beneficial for their mutual goals and had left it at that. Starscream, as always had questioned Shockwave's motives. He would be a sloppy second if he wasn't dubious about other members of Megatron's command staff. Megatron however, was no fool. He had always been well aware of Shockwave's ambitions; he had known the mech for a very long time.
The mech was an opportunist and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. So far what he had wanted had been within Megatron's own ambitions but now, with their forces stagnating on Earth and with no feasible way of returning to Cybertron in the foreseeable future; Megatron suspected Shockwave's aspirations were exceeding his position. It was something he intended on stamping out as quickly as possible. First he had to work out what Shockwave's weaknesses were. Prowl, as seemingly controlled as he was, appeared to Megatron to hold the key to Shockwave's plans. And if the Autobot valued the lives of his former fellow Autobots come slaves; then he would be wise to do precisely what Megatron commanded him to do.
Prowl stood rigidly in Megatron's personal quarters. Quarters which had once been Prime's, quarters in which Prowl had shown the mech more than he'd ever shown anyone and had been intimate with him. The memory seemed so long ago now. Prowl was loathed to think that that berth was now occupied by Megatron and whichever victim he lured in with him. Sensing the Decepticon leader's presence, Prowl stiffened, stilling his door wings, pushing thoughts of his bond mates far from his processor.
"You are a strange one." Megatron uttered, circling him slowly. "I have watched you from the very beginning, seen you become the mech you are now, watched as you betrayed me, did you know that?"
Not one for mincing his words, Prowl met the leader's optics steadily. "I did not."
A small smile curled about Megatron's lip components. "Mm, Shockwave never told you, how interesting."
"Shockwave does not consider me privy to all information. I am perfectly capable of performing my duties without unnecessary detail." He stated blandly.
Megatron hummed softly and circled Prowl once more, predatorily, his optics studying him closely before coming to a stop in front of him. "And what are those duties, Prowl? What is it that Shockwave has you doing?"
"You would have to ask Shockwave." Prowl replied calmly. "I can only presume that whatever my duties entail, the command comes directly from you, my Lord," he added for good measure, noting the distinctive flicker in Megatron's optics at the formal address.
"You have been causing trouble on this ship, creating tensions between my Decepticons." Megatron stated, folding his arms as he changed his line of questioning.
"They are fools who persist in fighting amongst themselves and lack appropriate discipline." Prowl replied. "And beating Autobots is an inefficient waste of energy on a planet that is not limitless in it's resources."
Chuckling darkly, Megatron turned and sat on his berth. "How very logical of you." He smiled at Prowl, a smile devoid of any warmth or humour. "Tell me something else, Prowl. What is it like to be bonded to Prime himself. Was it hard to betray him?"
Not liking this line of questioning nor the way Megatron's optics were roaming over his frame, Prowl suppressed the low growl threatening to escape. "No. Thanks to my programming." He stated. "Which was what you and Shockwave intended was it not?"
"Indeed." Megatron purred and patted the padding of the berth beside him.
Optics flickering at the gesture and looking away quickly, Prowl glared at the 'con. "May I ask what it is you want from me?"
"Loyalty, Prowl. You betrayed me once and joined Prime. Now you are quite literally joined to Prime and I have this desire to see him suffer for all that he's put us through in this self righteous war of his."
Biting his glossa, Prowl didn't respond, he couldn't risk Megatron finding out he was in more or less in full control of his faculties thanks to some clever work by Ratchet via a brave First Aid. Part of him still felt detached from the rest of the Autobots, unsympathetic to their plight. Shockwave had almost succeeded in destroying his individuality, but Prowl was not about to risk everything by acting in anger now. "How can I prove my loyalty to you?" He asked tersely, loathing the bitter taste of the words in his mouth.
Megatron's smile widened and he flicked a control beside him and pointed towards the screen of his console.
Turning Prowl stifled the soft gasp of shock as his optics fell onto the bound form of Optimus in Shockwave's lab. His frame was strapped to the unpadded berth one which Prowl had watched others being experimented on without any qualms but now, now with Optimus's chest forced open and wires trailing out from his chest, his proud, noble face contorted in unspoken pain and anguish at whatever the depraved scientist was doing to him; Prowl couldn't remain detached. His spark pounded hard in his chest at the sight and the urge to kill them all bubbled angrily up to the surface.
"To prove yourself, Prowl, you need only give yourself to me willingly. This way I can achieve two goals. Optimus's suffering and your unquestionable loyalty. Shockwave is monitoring his spark and doing whatever he does… he has requested that you open the bond fully so Optimus can feel every klik of your betrayal to him, he has allowed you to do this, no?"
"He has." Prowl uttered quietly, tearing his optics away from Optimus's frame on the screen. "And if I refuse?"
Not hesitating as he replied, his ruby optics flashing dangerously, Megatron held Prowl's hard glare. "You will die and he will watch."
Cycling air slowly through his vents, Prowl said nothing for a long moment. He had no way of knowing what impact his death would have on Optimus and Jazz. Their bond was unusual in the fact that it was a trine bond but Prowl knew that if his death caused either one of his bond mates to die with him, all hope for the Autobots would be lost. He didn't have a choice.
Jazz paced for a short while, before sitting down slowly, his face grim, his visor dimming. Bumblebee and Mirage watched him closely, worried about what the special ops commander's reaction was going to be given what Springer had just told them. The two spies were finding it hard to believe that Prowl was pre-programmed to be the Decepticon super soldier, never mind be related to the very mech that destroyed his whole family, his heritage and his individuality to do it. It all seemed far too surreal.
"I didn't know that about him." Jazz muttered his mouth pressing into a thin line. "Even when we… he always kept such a tight lid on everything, it's one of the reasons I left. I was such a hypocrite back then." Talking more to himself than the others, Jazz sighed and rubbed his helm, his visor glancing up at Springer. "So you're saying we can't trust him, that Shockwave has him under control and you think he always has… since Praxus?"
Springer stiffened, well aware of the weight of his words. "It's the only explanation I can think of."
Jazz got to his feet and headed towards the green mech. "Let me tell what I know, mech. I met Prowl on the day that Praxus fell. Mech doesn't know it and never will. That's my job. I watched him try to warn Prime, fight Prime's foot soldiers to try and get back there when he saw what was happening. I personally held him down while Ratchet had to sedate him because he got out of control at the destruction of his city, his people, his home and I was there when he regained consciousness almost two breems later. Whatever Shockwave did to him, Prowl beat it then, betrayed him then. He never came back because we wouldn't let him. He was trying to save you all but he was too late." Shaking his helm with a slow ex-vent of air, Jazz curled his upper lip at Springer. "As it stands, he only managed to save you and yours and as thanks for that, you distrust him, have made it your mission to make life difficult for him ever since you knew he was Prime's right hand. You wonder why he distanced himself from you? Do you really think he can stand looking at a reminder of what was, what Shockwave tried to make him be, what he's very likely fighting against right now?"
"The evidence speaks for itself." Springer muttered sullenly, suddenly feeling very outnumbered.
"The evidence doesn't say slag. Prowl is not a traitor until he's holding the gun to Prime's helm himself. You got that?" Jazz snarled roughly, jabbing a hard finger into Springer's chest.
Hot Rod stepped forward with a slight frown. "Hey come on, Jazz… Springer didn't have to come to you with this did he? We want to help Prowl as much as you do."
"I sincerely doubt that." Jazz snapped, glaring at the younger mech.
"He was my best friend and the first mech I…" Springer faltered his voice gruff. "You have no idea how much I want him to be one of us, how long it's hurt to see him sending Autobots to die and not truly knowing if we can trust him and being the only one who knows why we shouldn't."
"This can only help right? It's information we didn't have before?" Hot Rod interjected, stepping forward before Jazz could make a grab for Springer.
"I can infiltrate the base again, follow him, see what he's up to," Mirage offered diplomatically.
Seething quietly, Jazz turned away, sending a querying pulse through the bond as he felt a tug of guilt, anguish trickle through the connection followed by a faint pulse of warning to block the bond. Frowning Jazz's fingers brushed over his spark now fluttering in his chest as a growing feeling of dread he knew wasn't his own washed over him. Prowl… He whispered softly over the bond, knowing that the mech couldn't respond for whatever reason.
"Jazz…?" Bumblebee prompted gently.
Glancing over his shoulder, Jazz shot a dark glare at Springer. "Mirage, go. Find Prowl, but do not make yourself known to him." Looking to Bumblebee and Mirage he nodded. "It's time to take a stand and we need to know what side he's on."
Mirage nodded and vanished before their optics.
Looking back to Springer, Jazz pointed at him, his expression fierce, commanding. "We do things my way, you follow my orders and should it come to it; I'll deal with Prowl. Is that clear, Springer?"
"Crystal."
Prowl bristled with barely contained rage. His fists clenched tightly as he walked slowly over to the berth and the patiently waiting Megatron. Truth be told his rage was just enough to hide a fairly substantial amount of growing dread. Prowl had heard horror stories regarding Megatron's berthing habits and how he treated his interface partners.
He'd seen it first hand when the Autobots had been forced to watch him take and seemingly kill Jazz before their optics. The memory caused the energon in his body to run cold. Spark pulsing hard in his chest he turned and sat slowly down on the berth already repulsed by the larger mech's nearness, the warmth of his frame. Over and over in his processor he repeated; he had no choice. He was doing this for his bond mates, for the Autobots, if his ability to break free from Shockwave's control was discovered now; all hope for the Autobots would be lost. As Ratchet had so eloquently warned him when 'fixing' the mess of programming Shockwave had installed in his processor, this was their last fighting chance, if Prowl fragged up, the medic had told him to blow the Ark and take every last spark with it.
Megatron reached out to stroke a large fingertip along the outer edge of Prowl's nearest sensor panel, causing it to twitch and Prowl to dig his hands into the berth padding with a soft hitch of his intakes. He could do this, he had to do this. Give Megatron precisely what he wanted; lull him into a false sense of security. Remaining still, mentally forcing himself not to pull away from the unwanted touches growing bolder on his door wing, Prowl waited for Megatron to make his move. The feeling in the pit of his tank however; was that the warlord was going to drag this out, get every enjoyment in watching him squirm, taking him willingly.
Megatron persisted with his teasing caresses of Prowl's sensor panels, enjoying the feel of the metal quivering beneath his fingers, fingers which could so easily crush the fragile panel and rip it from the Praxian's back without so much as a flicker of his optics. Empowered by this, Megatron shifted closer, both hands beginning to roam over the black and white's frame, absorbing every line, every seam, every hiccup in the stoic mech's intakes.
Despite his reputation, Megatron wasn't just a mech for rough interfacing, he liked to savour the moment, feel the mech or femme succumbing to the pleasure, giving themselves over to him. It wasn't enough to have Prowl simply cooperate willingly; Megatron was determined to make him enjoy it. Optimus would experience the pain of true betrayal, feel his bondmate being pleasured by his enemy and liking it. Sneering in delicious anticipation at the thought; Megatron pushed Prowl back onto the berth, relishing the freezing of the smaller mech's intakes, the brightening of his icy blue optics as he pinned him to the padding.
Maintaining a calm façade as much as possible, Prowl allowed himself to submit to Megatron's movements. His intakes hitched considerably as the warlord's warm mouth and glossa proceeded to lavish his plating, sending shivers through his circuitry and heat immediately pooling behind his panel as a large, powerful hand raked up the inner plating of his left thigh. All he had to do was lie there and let Megatron have his way, he fully expected there to be pain except the Decepticon leader was being painstakingly attentive to any part of his frame that elicited a treacherous gasp or whine from him.
If Prowl didn't know better he would have described the mech's ministrations as tender. For the briefest of kliks it almost became possible to forget their unsuspecting audience. That was until Prowl felt a querying tug on the bond from Jazz and panic began to bubble through his systems. Jazz was pushing past his block, fighting to reach him. Summoning all of his resolve, Prowl managed to push back, keep Jazz from finding out exactly what was going on. How could he possibly understand anything but the betrayal at this point when Prowl's entire frame was becoming suffused with growing pleasure and excitement in spite of himself?
Suppressing a moan threatening to escape, Prowl shuddered as Megatron impatiently pawed at his heated panel, the warlord was growing frustrated at Prowl's stubborn unwillingness to enjoy the moment.
It was nothing for Prowl to appear seemingly unfazed, he was a master of control over emotions but it was another thing to keep those sensations and feelings from bleeding into the bond. His exterior was a picture of indifference while beneath the surface was a raging torrent of unwanted desire and physical excitement from incessant erotic stimulation. Prowl was fighting both battles but he could only win one. Growling lowly, he gritted his denta and gave up the fight for his own dignity and self respect. Arching into Megatron with a wanton moan, Prowl focused his processor and spark on shielding his bondmates from what was happening as much as was physically possible all the while giving Megatron every reaction the Decepticon was searching for.
Megatron's powerful engine revved hard as Prowl began to tremble and whimper beneath him, finally the mech had succumbed – they all did – growling in satisfaction, he raked his fingers over Prowl's interface panel his own swollen spike now pushing hard against his own, desperate for release as the Praxian writhed beneath him. "That's it…" He growled lowly. "Let go, let me see you beg for me."
Prowl's optics flickered at his words, shame, guilt, disgust rippling through him as he whispered pleas for Megatron to continue, both wanting it to just be over and wanting to achieve overload he knew now was inevitable. That wasn't something he was going to be able to hide from the bond, they would both feel it, they would both know.
Feeling his panel release automatically at the increased stimulation, Prowl moaned and gripped the berth tightly. Megatron shifted with a growl above him and parted his legs, keeping his hips pinned with a vice like grip. Prowl's optics flared bright and flickered, his mouth dropping open in a sharp cry as the warlord finally took him. Even though aware of the size difference between them, Prowl hadn't been fully prepared for the hard thrust, his valve stretched almost painfully, the lining pinging him with warning signals as Megatron's girth filled him completely. It was all he could do not to cry out again when the larger mech began to thrust into him over and over. His valve ached and throbbed, clenching about the thick spike as Megatron drove it home with every thrust, sinking as deep as he could go without causing damage.
Megatron growled and changed his rhythm, rolling his hips slowly to tease the already over stimulated valve. "Beg me," he commanded as Prowl gasped and clawed at the berth, his face contorted with feelings of pleasure and undoubtedly a small amount of pain given his much smaller size.
From the whimpers though, Megatron could tell when a mech was enjoying the interfacing, the way Prowl bit his lower lip, keened with almost every thrust, his control was admirable but Megatron was well aware of his own prowess. He'd reduced bigger, more controlled mechs to trembling masses of parts in ecstasy so he was under no delusions about what effect he was having on the obstinate Praxian. The smaller mech's energy field flared against his own, it was quivering with the build up of electrical energy, and it wouldn't take much more to have the black and white screaming his name in release. "Beg me…" He purred seductively against the mech's audio, running his glossa along the top edge of Prowl's striking chevron for extra incentive.
"Please…" Prowl whispered, his optics dimming, his body trembling as Megatron stilled his movements.
"Please what?"
"More…"
"Say it." The warlord demanded.
"Nngghh… frag…" Prowl breathed, his intakes shallow and rapid, his valve rippling about Megatron's hard spike every sensor node throbbing with need. "More, Megatron… please finish it…" He begged desperately, keening as the Decepticon laughed softly, the sound and movement vibrating right through his body, down into the depths of his valve.
"That's right. Let him feel everything." Megatron growled, picking up his pace once more until he was pounding the Praxian mercilessly into the berth, memorising every cry, every whimper as he fragged the black and white to within an inch of consciousness, his own spike swelling as heat and energy pooled rapidly in his components.
Prowl was a strutless mass of parts beneath the virile mech, the last of his composure was torn asunder and he only managed to keep some of the sensations from slipping into the bond. He could feel them both now, probing to get closer to him, concern, fear, worry suffusing all three of them as Prowl finally lost the last thread of control and toppled head first into an explosive overload, his pleasure heightened to impossible levels when he was filled with hot transfluid bursting from Megatron's length. He sobbed his release, senses fading to static as Megatron rode out his own overload with a long, rumbling growl of pleasure. Prowl knew he'd failed, as his senses slowly began to return, he'd been unable to keep the overload, the betrayal from exploding across the bond. This had been Megatron's plan all along and as he felt the confusion, the anguish wrapping around him from both sides, Prowl whimpered with shameful defeat, retreating from them both, their questions, their forgiveness. He fled from the bond once more, snapping it shut as quickly as possible before he drowned in the overwhelming rush of his bondmates' reactions and emotions to what they'd all just experienced.
No matter how this war turned out. How would he ever be able to face them again?