Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Prowl/Starwing
Rating: NC-17 mech/femme
Codes: Crossover, Het, Sticky
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page ( gatekat-fics .livejournal .com/290 .html ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: klik = 1 minute; breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 6.3 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter
At All Costs 14: Pleasure of a Different Kind
Prowl's sensor wings twitched in excitement. He'd been held a joor late in his office, which meant that Jazz should be waiting and ready in his quarters.
Forcing himself to regain control, Prowl merely hurried a little faster through the halls, spark already singing. This time he would have his full time with Jazz, where he could let go and enjoy himself, experiencing and giving pleasure until they were tired enough to recharge and he could rest peacefully, the smaller mech recharging in his arms so perfectly.
There was no hesitation when he reached his quarters- they were his and no one should be in there save those he had invited and the list of those with a standing invitation was few. Sweeping inside he barely checked to make sure the door was closing before looking up, frame and greeting freezing in a nanosecond.
"Who are you?" he demanded of the slender flight frame of gleaming black with silver highlights and golden optics sprawled invitingly on his berth. He was already pinging the system for information.
"Starwing," a feminine voice purred as she slid from the berth and strode to him, stopping just outside easy striking range. "I'm your pleasurebot for the evening," she explained smoothly, extending a delicately fingered hand that he knew was still going to be at least as strong as his own because of her frametype.
At this range he had a good look at her, at her frame language, even a taste of her EM field. Every hint of it screamed 'ready to interface' and the database confirmed her statements and that she held the same class five status as Jazz. He continued to study her, no longer doubting who she said she was or her intentions, but trying to determine his own. If his own field had been anything but held close and tight the distress and confusion rippling through him would have been clearly evident.
It was Jazz was who supposed to have been waiting here for him. Jazz he was looking forward to spending his entire recharge cycle and then some with. Not this stranger, as optic catching as she was, that stood before him now. It was ... Soundwave made his appointments for him.
But Soundwave had said nothing to Prowl about not wishing him to spend time with Jazz.
Jazz had been called away ... maybe he had not yet returned?
Prowl latched on to that answer, insisting his processor accept it despite the fear and doubt that ran far deeper than what thought could soothe away.
Finally he focused his attention on the femme. "I am sorry for keeping you waiting. I was expecting someone else."
"I know," she smiled in understanding before stepping forward to caress his chest plates and extended her field to caress him, encouraging him to relax. "I hold the same rank as Jazz, as I'm sure you know from the database. Would you like some high grade?" She asked, purring her shoulder turbines.
He did know, and as tempting as the offer was he knew that high grade was a bad idea. Some of his tension drained away at the touch, though his emotions were still held close and tightly in check. "I think not this cycle."
Warm, soft lips brushed against his as she pressed forward, bringing their chassis together. Her hands moved from his chest to his sensor wings, her touch far more sure and knowledgeable than Jazz's.
Almost reluctantly Prowl allowed more of the tension to fade, the hands on his sensor panels wonderfully distracting, and he finally contemplated allowing himself to enjoy his evening.
Soundwave apparently approved and Jazz would forgive him.
Or so he hoped as he pressed into the kiss, wondering if it would be anything like either of his lovers. Her touch was enticing, her field encouraging and her manner far more dominant than even Soundwave. Everything he felt from her told him to relax and comply to enjoy himself.
As she brushed her glossa along his lips her touch on his sensor wings shifted, pulling him forward towards the berth. It was dominating enough that Prowl's need to be control faded as well, and he followed along, if not fully participating at least not resisting.
Her shoulder turbines revved again as she drew him down to sit on the berth and her hands went back to building his charge. "You are a very lovely Praxian," she murmured before kissing him again, gently encouraging him to rest against her chassis so he could overload sitting up.
Prowl hummed into the compliment, having accepted that many seemed to find his frame very attractive and finally accepting it as at least true in the optics of others.
He gave into the gentle urging, enjoying the hands on his frame. This...this he would allow himself to enjoy, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, he hoped. She'd been honest with him so far, her function implying honesty in her intentions to pleasure his frame and little more.
Soft lips trailed down his jaw to his neck and slender, delicate fingers began to stroke the complex joints to a sensor wing while the other hand splayed out to stimulate as many sensors as possible.
The skilled touch on his wings was shooting his charge higher, more effective than any touch he had ever felt on his wings and surely the result of Starwing being intimately familiar with what worked.
He splayed his wings fully, pushing them into her touch as he recalled his first lesson with Jazz and let go, following where she was leading. A low moan rumbled up from his chest as she played his arousal and wing-sensors with intent for slow arousal and a sweet release.
It was a wonderful slow climb as Prowl's hands started to wander over the femme's frame, gentle and searching for something to do as the first flickers of charge started to show on his frame. She trilled in pleasure, encouraging him in both his arousal and his touching.
"Yesss," a soft moan whispered in Prowl's audio when a wandering hand caressed her upper codpiece.
Prowl smiled, tracing the area with his fingers before pressing his palm against it, teasing in a motion that had been used most effectively on him in the past. Another moan and both panels snapped open, allowing her spike, larger than Prowl's own, to begin to extend against his palm.
At no point did her attention falter on his wings, however.
The mech rumbled appreciatively, fingers ghosting along her spike to tease as it began to pressurize. He tilted his head. "On my neck was wonderful."
Lips and glossa immediately returned to the offered cables, kissing, stroking and nibbling lightly while her hands continued to work his wings. Her unrestrained moans added vibration to her touch, much as her growing charge added to his own.
"Good. Very good." Prowl praised, pressing his frame against hers as the charge began to flicker between them. Then her wings pressed forward and she guided his a little more forward, and suddenly he felt her charge and then some zap directly into the sensor nodes across the entire surface of both wings from hers.
For a moment Prowl's frame locked up, overwhelmed by the sudden charge across his wings and what it did to him. He vented sharply, optics snapped to full brightness. "That was..."
"Just the beginning," she promised with a shiver of arousal and another play of energy between their wings, this one beginning at the tips with a bare tingle and ending near the joints with a strong crackle.
He had no idea how she was doing and determined that he was going to figure it out later, but for now he just wanted to feel what she was doing. "What should I do?"
"Enjoy," she shivered in her own arousal. "It's as good for me as for you." She moaned against his throat as another ripple of energy passed between their wings. "Keep stroking me if you want. Feels really good too."
Enjoy...Prowl could do that. Easily, with the charge dancing along his wings and frame and the skillful mouth on his throat. If his pleasure pleased her, giving in return, even what little she would allow, pleased him.
His fingers worked along her spike, smooth pressure along the length, wanting to pull the same kinds of sounds from her that she was bringing from him. It didn't take much, she was willing with her voice, and soon he felt energy crackle from her spike into his palm and fingers.
One more wave of energy into his sensor wings and thought was no longer an option. Bliss was the only thing he was aware of. His bliss and the cries of the femme against him.
This overload drew on, pleasure upon pleasure until he collapsed against the femme, frame going completely relaxed as the energy died away to the occasional mild reminder of he had just enjoyed.
"That was very pleasant." He said, smiling when he managed to get his vocalizer working again.
"Good," she purred, stroking his back. Her warm frame telling Prowl that she'd shared in overloading, but her coding and systems finely tuned to handle the rush and crash. His hand was dry however, and the spike within his fingers was still full and hard.
"Good." He agreed, then squeezed lightly. "I would think that something needs to be done about this though."
"Mmm," she shifted to kiss him, gradually deepening it until he was panting when she finally pulled away. "I would enjoy that," she leaned in to nibble on his neck. "May I feel your valve around it?"
"A nice solution." Prowl agreed, valve cover sliding away, moaning at the attention on his neck.
Starwing purred, revving her turbines as she judged him, soon fairly confident he was submissive by nature, at least in the berth. With the thoughtless care for his wings only those created with them had, she rolled to lay him on his back. With a kiss to his mouth before returning to his neck, she pressed into his slick valve, stretching it almost as much as Soundwave's spike did.
Prowl moaned, helm falling back as he savored the stretch in his valve, clamping down to increase the contact as she pressed all the way in, only stopping when their arrays clanked together. He felt the tip of her spike stretch the top of his valve, sending the most delicious shivers into his internals.
"So tight," Starwing moaned, rocking her hips to move just a little bit, testing out his response to the teasing.
The teasing earned her a moan and a rise of his hips, encouraging and eager. He liked this feel, the physical sensation of being filled and pushed to the limit as he grabbed on to the berth, using it as an anchor. She responded immediately, eagerly, pulling almost all the way out before driving in a little harder than before.
"Yes." Prowl whimpered, hips rolling up to meet the thrust. "More. Please." He could enjoy this, would enjoy this, optics dimming as he focused on the pleasure radiating through his entire frame as she picked up the pace, thrusting deep and hard with a steady rhythm.
Her moans grew in volume as his did, their hips working in concert to draw their pleasure out and spiral it higher with each thrust. For the second time that evening energy began to spark between the two frames, drawing small cries from Prowl each time a surge connected with his already sensitive frame.
His valve tightened around her spike, drawing even more current between them as she moaned and arched her wings, instinctively making a display of herself as her pleasure crested. Only core coding held her back, but it couldn't stop her thrusts from becoming almost desperate.
The mech beneath her was not so far gone that he failed to notice and remember. His field rippled out, promising release for them both. "Neck." He prompted quietly, so very close to the charge crackling across his frame reaching a critical level.
Starwing complied immediately, laving the cables with her glossa before nipping on a major one and running her denta down the length.
The last bit of attention was the trick, static cry of bliss torn from Prowl as energy exploded across his plating. He held onto just enough awareness to feel her overload only nanokliks after him. To feel her hot transfluid splash against the top of his valve as electricity jumped from the lining to her spike and back.
Between keens and moans, Starwing continued to lavish attention on his neck and throat. The angle of her hips changed, but the thrusts only slowed to a more languid pace.
Prowl moaned, first in contentment as his systems worked to bleed off the rest of his second overload, then in pleasure as his processor caught up with the continual slide of Starwing's spike in his valve.
Golden optics remained dim as he hummed, the attention on his neck pleasant, and after a moment he reached up to run a hand over one of her wings, gliding across the smooth expanse. The moaning against his neck intensified as the wing pressed into the touch and her field reached into him to share the pleasure of his touch.
Pleased and not over distracted at the moment, Prowl devoted a part of his processor to the sharing, using it to find the areas that were most sensitive, the touches that brought her the most pleasure, testing each thoroughly before moving on to another. She trilled and arched, pressing into the touches eagerly.
"A fantasy, Prowl?" she asked.
He looked at her blankly, trying to think of anything that didn't involve Jazz.
"You don't have to say it," she trilled softly, offering a data cable. "Just let me in."
Prowl vented softly but allowed her access without hesitation, allowing memories of his other lovers to rise to the surface, what had felt good and what he had enjoyed doing to them.
It was two almost distinct sets.
Soundwave, considerate but dominating, gentle but firm. Possessive, protective, and processor blowing when all he focused on was overloading the Praxian. Perfectly balancing ends of an equation.
Jazz...was Jazz. Somehow the mech just seemed to pull a willingness to try anything and everything new out of Prowl. Submissive but guiding, affectionate and...Prowl gave up trying to categorize what the silver mech was to him and what he did to him.
~Would you like him?~ she offered without hesitation, implying it was possible right then.
~You have been most pleasant company but...~ For Prowl it was more than just the physical pleasure. It was the emotional attachment that came with his lovers that he was truly looking for when he was with them. ~I'm sorry.~
~Don't be,~ she smiled and kissed him gently as she began to weave into his processors, focusing on sensory input and memory. Vision shifted first, her elegant Vosian frame melting into the silver minibot's.
Prowl shivered, startled until he got himself under control since this had not been what he was expecting. He blanked for a moment before coming back to focus on what had been her.
~Relax,~ Jazz's processor-voice caressed him as the rest of the physical clues fell into place to be a very convincing illusion of the other pleasurebot sinking onto his spike. He knew it was an illusion and that she allowed, or perhaps ensured that he was aware of that, at least in the background tags of the memory that was forming. Otherwise, it was flawless and he felt his chassis respond to Jazz.
A moan escaped him, hips moving up into the slick pressure of the valve around his spike, accepting the truth. This was not his lover, but for the moment he could pretend it was. His acceptance was rewarded with a lingering kiss and knowing hands on his sensor wings. Every movement, sight and sound intended to arouse him, to bring to mind the intensity he felt for Jazz.
"So beautiful," Jazz murmured against his mouth before claiming another kiss.
A whimper escaped Prowl, glossa gliding along the lips against his own, asking and being granted access. Sensor wings pressed into the touch as much as possible as the illusion wove into a version of reality.
Across the hardline he'd all but forgotten about a pulse of energy exploded into his systems, triggering pleasure he had no name for yet but causing his entire frame to react. Hips arched off the berth, driving into the mech seated on his spike as the surge pulled a cry of surprise and pleasure from him.
Above him Jazz moaned and squeezed down around Prowl's spike, then moved his attention to Prowl's neck, kissing, then nibbling the sensitive cables. "Yessss," he moaned, shuddering in pleasure as Prowl's hands found his hips and held on, guiding the silver mech into thrusts that were becoming more forceful with every pulse across the hardline.
Past words Prowl could only moan in pleasure as he tilted his head, exposing as much of his neck as possible, memories of exactly the pleasure that Jazz could cause with so much access very close to the surface. He wasn't sure what set of his overload a moment later; his spike, wings or neck, only that the pleasure he had no words for exploded across his systems in a cascade of bliss.
Right on the tail of the first sure of his overload Prowl felt Jazz's rush into him from the hardline, forming an all-encompassing crackle of energy and desire expressed in it's most pure form.
Sensory and input systems pushed hard, energy over his frame and through the hardline, Prowl keened long and hard before collapsing back on the berth, spent. The soft humming of high-performance systems warm next to him and the size differential between the hand stroking his chest plates and Jazz's was his first and best clue that the illusion had been dropped.
"You are incredible when you let go," Starwing's voice was gentle and approving next to his audio.
Prowl hummed softly, forcing himself to accept reality again, despite how badly his spark wanted it to be Jazz sprawled over him and not the pleasurebot against his side. Still, it was a sincere compliment, and she deserved a response.
"Thank you."
"Mmm, were you always a tactician?" she asked, her fingers still playing along his chest seam.
Prowl relaxed on the berth, surprised at the fact that she was asking questions more than at the question content. "No. My original programming was for city planning, functional low level. Mainly design and engineering for population management."
"At least it's related," she said with a thoughtful hum. "Was your battle commuter original, or one of Hooks upgrades?"
"Hook." Prowl shook his head. "My original programmers would never have allowed something like that to be installed, not for my intended purpose."
"He does amazing work, even if his berthside manner is terrible," she chuckled softly. "What convinced you to join the rebellion? City planner seems like a pretty cushy function."
A physical and mental flinch at things the Praxian wished he could forget most orns. "Low level." He repeated by way of explanation. Quality materials, quality programming, and orders that went against the very directives of his spark.
Starwing cocked her head and cooed soothingly, a vibration that made his wings relax without him thinking about it. "A spark too good for your own good," she murmured and nuzzled him gently. "I thought Praxus was pretty much one of the best cities for low corruption."
"Things change." Prowl replied softly, regretfully. "Things change. I serve, and so I function."
The mantra that had gotten him through all those vorns, even when the nature of the service had brought him personal pain. Megatron had promised him something more, a service worthy of his skill and ability, and one that would fulfill the desires of his spark as well.
Promises, and deep in Prowl the fear that those promises were empty was festering and fed by what he saw every orn.
"Surely there is more to your existence than to serve," she sounded ... bothered by it.
Prowl vented softly, considering and much less troubled than she seemed to be. With Soundwave and the symbiots, with Jazz..."Now...there is more to my functioning."
"Good," she gave him a gentle kiss. "What do you do for fun, now?"
"I read. I have-" Prowl considered for a moment, trying decide what word to use. "I have family I spend time with. And a friend."
She perked up slightly. "What kind of stories do you enjoy?"
"Thing that you would probably find dull and boring." Prowl admitted. "Histories, biographies. I do enjoy an occasional work of fiction." Those were usually brought to him by the symbiots with demands that he read something interesting for a change.
"And you?" He asked, deciding it was time that he showed some interest in his company.
"The kind that would make your logic center whimper," she chuckled lightly. "Half-cred romances. I read what I can of astrophysics and stellar science, but I don't have the processor to follow it much past the secondary education level."
"To each their own." The Praxian agreed, relaxing more as he settled into the conversation with someone new, a luxury he did not get to enjoy often. "Those are fields even I have to work to comprehend."
He considered. "And how did you come to work among us?"
"When you work out of Vos, it's hard not to have Decepticon clients, especially at my level," she told him. "Ever since Winglord Starscream joined Megatron, most of Vos has gone Con, at least on some level."
A fact Prowl knew to be true, and he nodded understand, studying her curiously. "You choose your clients though?"
"Yes and no," she shrugged one wing. "I have acts I won't do, so Soundwave doesn't send me to those Decepticons, and I can refuse any mech who asks me to as per my contract, but I don't really choose who I see."
He filed that away for consideration as he moved on to something he hoped would be more pleasant to discuss. "So what do you do to relax?"
She hummed thoughtfully. "I hang out with friends, go to vids, plays, dance clubs ... but mostly I fly. When I have enough extra credits I buy half a dozen cubes of really strong Vosian high grade and hire a lift into space. It's a hard trip, but it's worth it to dance in the star's corona."
"I have never had a reason to travel into space, but I would imagine that to be a most amazing experience." Prowl admitted. In truth, Prowl had no idea how it was to be able to fly under his own power, and he could only try to imagine what it was like to be able to touch a star.
"It is," her turbines revved. "Would you like to experience it? Flight under your own power."
Golden optics lit in excitement at the possibility. Even though he knew it wouldn't be for real, she would probably allow him as close as he was ever going to get. "Please?"
With a smile and nod she caught his attention across the hardline and drew his awareness into herself. A memory file was called up, an old one for her. The rush of potent fuel hit him first, the difference in how a Seeker-kin preparing for a hard flight processed it compared to his limited experience with the stuff as an intoxicant. There was no disorientation, no clouding of processors, no intoxicating effects at all.
It was immediately converted to energy for action, stored in systems he didn't have.
Then his/her engines ignited and he felt the rush of unbelievable power unfettered by an atmosphere or even gravity. The great star that helped power their world, a world that still glowed brightly with energy, burned intensely before him and he pushed his frame and engines to their limit to reach it.
Heat radiated out, reaching out to singe his plating, but there was no pain. The energy fueled him, energized him, and he knew no fear.
This was home.
Prowl came out of the memory slowly, coming back to his own systems where his sensor wings served only to inform him of his surroundings and the bulk of his energy under stress was directed to his battle computer.
His optics re-focused on the femme next to him.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiled gently and stroked his chest seam. "Do you have a special memory to share?"
"Nothing so wondrous. It wasn't until I arrived here that I found that I was capable of enjoying my functioning." Prowl admitted quietly.
Starwing hummed, then nuzzled him. "What about your first memory, when you were sparked?"
"It was not good for very long." He considered for a klik. "Do you have any weapons skills?"
"The basics," she nodded, curious where he was going. "Between Seeker heritage and pleasurebot function, it's pretty much required to know how to defend yourself."
"This is relaxing for me."
With that he opened a path in his thoughts, offering to show her if she wanted to see.
Sharp focus and the weight of the weapon in his hand. A pistol, not his sniper rifle. The pistol challenged him more, with additional variables that had to be accounted for because often he was in motion at the same time.
The motion of the target, the identification of the target as legitimate. The mathematical calculations, almost instantaneous, that allowed him to be that much more accurate than his comrades.
Satisfaction, when it was all said and done with a job well done. And the soothing relaxation of working with something methodical and measurable, something that he could make sense of.
Almost shyly Prowl backed away, feeling silly when it was so insignificant compared to what she had shared.
~Not insignificant,~ she brushed against his mind softly. ~Pleasure and joy come in many forms. None of them less significant than the others.~
~If you say so.~ Prowl agreed easily enough. ~Thank you.~