Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: R mech/mech
Codes: Crossover, Slash, Tactile, Torture
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (anhrefn-hyfryd .livejournal .com/22919 .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 25: Prime Entry
Optimus Prime strode down the corridors of the SpecOps base with far more confidence than he felt in his spark. Yes, he was the Prime, and with the Senate gone he was in charge of everything, not just what previous Primes did. A dockworker turned Autobot frontliner turned Prime. What the Matrix saw in him he still did not understand. He was still learning to read more than Autobot basic. He was still getting used to his new frame for that matter.
But here and now he had a goal. He wanted to catch his SIC and Special Operations commander at least slightly off guard.
SpecOps was SpecOps, as he was constantly reminded, but there were things about the SIC that still troubled him, things that he was never going to find out if he confronted the mech directly.
A sudden rumble of thunder from behind him, and then the sound of what was becoming very familiar grumbling and cursing as the thunder revealed itself to be a large black mech.
"For the last time, wait on me for Primus sake. Ya can't go charging off alone like that now." Ironhide. Personal bodyguard and watchdog of the new Prime. And currently one very irritated large black mech. "Especially here." He added in a softer growl.
"Do you truly believe I am in danger in the heart of an Autobot stronghold?" Optimus looked back at his guardian, the mech now charged with ensuring he survived.
"At least for now you're in danger anywhere." Ironhide grumbled, though the bite was mostly gone from his voice. He wasn't going to point out that the last Prime had been murdered in the Palace, where he should have been guarded and safe. It was hard to stay irritated with Optimus long, especially when the mech was trying to do what everyone was pushing him to do and be a strong leader.
He was well aware of how completely unprepared the mech was for the duties of Prime. He hadn't even become a squad leader yet, though both Ironhide and Kup agreed he'd have been ready soon. He had shown leadership potential under stress and a willingness to follow his instincts.
But it was still deeply ingrained in Ironhide to protect, and his spark was still hurting from his failure. He couldn't trust Optimus with anyone.
Then a door opened to the Prime's override command and Ironhide got a glimpse of a mostly white and black Praxian with three full sensor panels on each wing trembling uncontrollably on the berth. His frame was curled tightly to try to protect his spark, but it wasn't a physical attack that he was suffering. It was Black Echo plugged into him.
They were currently the only two occupants of the rather oddly furnished room, Ironhide noted, just as he noted anything that could be of threat to his Prime. The instant this was confirmed in his processor he turned his attention back to the Praxian and the SIC, and to his Prime.
The SpecOps mech was caught off guard enough that his surprise showed for just an instant, then melted into clear displeasure at being interrupted, not twitching when his current victim jerked violently on the berth.
"Prime," Black Echo said calmly. "He's not ready to speak yet."
"What, exactly, are you looking for?" Optimus demanded even as he stepped into the room, his optics focused on the twitching Praxian. He scowled when a small whimper reached his audios.
"Why he defected, in full," Black Echo said, suddenly distracted. "Have a seat, Prime. We'll be done soon."
With a look that was half fascinated and a lot disturbed, Optimus sat down in the largest chair and watched.
Ironhide moved with him, a quiet shadow that for once was holding his own opinion on the issue to himself as he took up a silent watch behind his Prime.
With his audience settled Black Echo returned to his work, the Praxian on the berth reacting to whatever he was doing by managing to curl in on himself even more, optics dark and sensor panels hugged close to his frame, trembling with strain.
It was disturbing to watch, but even more disturbing to catch the occasional signs that Black Echo was seriously getting off on it. Ironhide had always known SpecOps mechs were a bit twisted; the nature of their function saw to that, but to watch it inflicted on a mech who would potentially be an Autobot officer ... the big mech suppressed a shudder.
Three breems of relative silence, the only sounds that of internals working and the Praxian's occasional whimper or small cry, and suddenly the Praxian went limp, exhausted and barely able to twitch now that he wasn't fighting anymore.
Black Echo unplugged himself, stored his cables away and turned to Prime. "All yours, though I'd give him a breem and that energon on the table before expecting him to be remotely coherent."
There was moment of silence. "You got what you were after then?"
"Enough of it, yes," Black Echo nodded before he left the room, leaving Prime alone with the still quivering Praxian and a bodyguard that was struggling with conflicting protocols.
Optimus waited until the door closed before glancing up. "Ironhide?"
"War is dirty, Optimus, and SpecOps is the blackest side of it. But-." He moved for the energon on the table, clearly unhappy. Ironhide was willing to fight, willing to do what was necessary to win the war and protect his Prime, but he preferred to meet his opponents on the battlefield.
"Black Echo goes as far as he needs to. He does his job well. But I don't have to like anyone who likes doin' this," he indicated the drained Praxian on the berth. "Ta others. Especially ones who are potential allies."
Energon in hand he approached the berth, freezing when his mere approach made the Praxian flinch back weakly, the reaction clearly instinctual.
With a deep intake of air, Optimus activated the special addition to his vocalizer and hummed, filling the room with a soothing energy that reacted directly with the spark of those present.
Ironhide waited, watching and still amazed at the effect even after all this time.
A small shiver from the Praxian, optics coming online slowly, unfocused and clearly confused as he looked around weakly. Ironhide came into view again, only adding to the confusion.
Prowl wanted to move away but lacked the strength, and beyond that his spark was insisting that he was in no danger. He wanted Jazz, wanted an explanation, wanted the confusion and pain in his processor to go away, and his vocalizer crackled with static as he tried to speak.
"Drink, Prowl," Optimus ordered gently. "It will clear your processors."
Ironhide moved again when it was clear the Praxian wasn't going to be able to move on his own, supporting the mech and holding the energon so that Prowl could obey.
The Praxian still wasn't sure what was going on, but as soon as he tasted the energon his systems responded automatically, taking it in as quickly he was allowed. The words started to make sense as his energy levels rose and could finally be put towards something besides basic survival functioning.
Ironhide relinquished the rest of the cube and moved away to a more comfortable distance as soon as it was obvious that Prowl had the strength to finally support himself, observing the Praxian just as the Praxian was clearly studying them.
Optimus gave the Praxian as much time as he needed, waiting until his movements steadied and optics focused before speaking.
"I apologize for the welcome you have received, Prowl," Optimus began somewhat formally.
Sensor wings folded in acknowledgment and submission as Prowl managed to force himself into something of an upright position. "It was anticipated...sir."
In his spark he was sure he knew who this mech was, but after that he was going to err on the side of caution of for a bit.
"It is still regrettable. I am Optimus Prime. My shadow is Ironhide," he said with a teasing tone for the large black mech. "Do you feel up to speaking with me?"
"Of course, my Prime." Necessity and the energon he had been given were bringing his processor back to full functioning, attention flickering to the door before returning to focus fully on the mech.
Optimus nodded. "Tell me, in your own words, why you are here. All the reasons."
Prowl's processor stuttered for a moment as he tried to organize all of that back into some coherent order after having his well organized processor shredded against his will.
Finally he vented, optics focusing once more. "I am here because this war needs to end. I am here because things need to change, but not at the cost of innocent lives." He wished it could be at the cost of no lives, but he also knew that to be a hopeless wish.
"I am here because I no longer wish to serve someone who only wishes to serve himself. And I am here..." Prowl stopped, considering his words carefully. "I am here because I had to make a choice."
Optimus nodded, listening with more than his audio receptors. "What did you have to choose between, Prowl?"
"I had to choose between what my spark wanted and what needed to be done so that someday I might have what my spark wants." He would not lie to this mech. He had not wanted to leave Soundwave, and only by ending this war with a true leader ready to make changes would he finally be able to rejoin his love and have his family together and safe.
Optimus leaned back, reading between the spoken words in a way that still confounded him but he was becoming accustomed to. He knew it was something he'd always had, social connectivity programming that made him a natural leader, but when the Matrix entered him it had become a thousand times more powerful and utterly dominated his processor more often than not.
He saw the truth, the motivations, of everyone around him. From little things he would eventually learn to ignore when not needed, to the big things, like now, with what Prowl wasn't saying without lying.
With a thoughtful hum Optimus regarded his opponent, a mech that screamed 'friend' to that programming.
"What is it your spark desires enough to changes sides and leave what you desire so much behind?"
"My family together and safe, in a world where we have a chance to be happy." He wanted Soundwave and the symbiots and Jazz all together with a chance for all of them to function and find joy in that functioning.
Prowl found joy in functioning when he was allowed to do as he had been programmed to do- organize and plan for the benefit and the protection of the masses.
Jazz should be able to find joy in his functioning without the fear that someone else could order the end to his functioning for a profit and be justified in doing so.
Soundwave deserved a chance to serve a Prime as he was meant to, not living the life he was now because his Prime had asked him to, and the symbiots able to live as something besides tools of war.
"Your family agrees with your choice, with your goal?" Optimus asked evenly.
"Yes." Of this at least, Prowl was sure. It had not been easy on any of them. He had spent the last recharge cycle he had playing games with the symbiots and recharging with Soundwave. The entire plan had been made between the two of them.
And Jazz was in on a great deal of the plan. The choice to stay if they all lived to see the end was his own, but Prowl was willing to fight just so he had the chance to make that decision.
A slow nod, almost regal, and fathomless blue optics locked on Prowl's yellow ones. "What is your goal, Prowl?"
"To see a Prime," he looked directly at Optimus, tired optics full of truth and the barest glint of hope, "set things right and lead Cybertron."
"Tell me the changes you wish to see happen," Optimus asked even as he unsubspaced a cube of energon and rose to take it to Prowl.
"Not total equality." Prowl clarified first. "That is not practical. But equal chance to choose their own fate, and to function as Primus intended. I- pre-programmed mechs have no rights. Cannot really fight anything done to them. I would see them treated as sparks, and not drones. To see any spark able to move beyond their 'given' function if they have the desire and the ability to do so. I-"
Prowl stopped, frame shaking some. The Senate had created so many wrongs in the name of making things 'right' that there was little that did not need to be changed.
"The end of the caste system in favor of a merit based one. That all mechs will have the freedom to pursue their dreams," Optimus summarized, regarding Prowl thoughtfully as he offered the energon - part of his own supply - to the trembling mech. "Perhaps that is closer to happening than anyone thought possible."
Prowl accepted it gratefully, looking up at the Prime in surprise and open curiosity. "How?"
"I was sparked a dock worker," he said simply as he returned to his seat. "Now I am Prime. Even if it is not a change I sought, I understand the lower castes and limits of this system better than most with in power."
Relief and understanding washed over Prowl, and true hope. His part in the plans might not be as difficult as he first feared. If he never made it into this Prime's confidences things still might change for the better. "Indeed you would."
"Now, what would you do for me to end this war?" Optimus asked.
"What would you have me do?" Prowl asked, perfectly reasonable. Prowl knew what his skills were, had an idea of where he would be of the most use, but he would do as the Prime asked if it was within his ability.
"What you would be of most benefit to my war efforts," Optimus answered without answering. "I know you are an exemplary tactician, but is that what you are best at?"
"Planning, organizing." Prowl replied instantly. "It was my original function. The battle and tactical computers that were installed tied into that programming easily. There was almost no integration process before they were fully functional."
He considered for a moment before adding. "I have developed acceptable combat and marksmanship skills since the start of the war, and I have seen combat, if that is how you would have me serve."
Optimus Prime hummed thoughtfully, his look setting Ironhide on edge.
::Prime, we don't even know if he's an infiltrator yet!::
::I am well aware of his status, Ironhide,:: Optimus replied. ::It is an excellent test for him.::
"I would have you begin by reviewing the governmental and military structure, distribution and supply lines for efficiency," Prime hid a smile behind his battle mask. "Present me with recommendations for improving them."
"Sir." Prowl straightened, a light appearing in his optics. Something to do besides sit around and wait for Black Echo to come and take information by force that for the most part the Praxian would have given him willingly? Prowl would have reviewed the waste disposal systems as an alternative if given the option.
Not that all of the time with Jazz had been unpleasant. Jazz... Prowl's attention drifted to the door again, concern starting to surface at the mech's continued absence.
Prime pinged the base mainframe for Jazz location and found him in the private quarters of another mech.
"I believe Jazz is fine," Optimus offered. "He should be back within the joor. He is far more than a friend to you."
Prowl relaxed, already starting to trust this mech somewhat. "He is much more than a friend." He agreed quietly, part of what Prowl considered his family, though he never asked Jazz if the mech was interested in being a part of that unit. When the Prime reached into his subspace it caught Prowl's attention. His optics followed the data cube and half dozen datapads out as they were stacked on the table.
"This should be all you need to perform your analysis of what I inherited. The datapads are blank," Optimus smiled behind his mask as Prowl's optics lit up with anticipation. "I will see about having you assigned to proper temporary quarters."
"Thank you, sir." Prowl murmured, meaning it from his spark as he tore his optics from the offered data to focus on the mech who had given it to him.
In the background he could still see the large black mech, Ironhide, twitching at the fact that Prowl was being handed all of that information and being just left with it. Prowl spared a moment for him, determined as he had not been since he had walked through that door orns ago.
He would take what he had been given. He would take it apart and put it back together, improved. And when he was done...maybe he would at least be deemed worthy of being let out of this room as the Prime had hinted.
As Prowl took the final sips of his energon, belated realizing that it was much finer quality than what he'd had before, he watched the new Prime stand and leave, his unhappy and twitching bodyguard always between the leader and the defector.
Disposing of the cube Prowl stood carefully, checking his balance before crossing the room to check and sort all that he had been left with it.
The datapads were just as the Prime had said, blank and waiting to be filled with his work. The storage cube ... a shiver ran through Prowl as he accessed the initial data he was to look over. The bodyguard had been right to be hesitant to leave it in the presence of someone of supposedly questionable loyalty. Even though little if any was actually classified, Prowl could bring the entire army to its knees with concentration of information stored here.
Or he could fix it in such a way as to give the Autobots the advantage.
Choosing one of the larger chairs that gave him plenty of room to move sensor wings around, Prowl set up the first datapad to his preferred format and went to work.
He only glanced up when the door slid open and Jazz walked through, looking fairly scuffed up but smiling in a very self-satisfied, content that Prowl hadn't seen in a while.
Content himself, Prowl smiled as well, optics moving over his lover curiously. "You're back. I was starting to worry."
"Sorry, lover," Jazz draped himself over the edge of the chair and kissed him deeply, languidly. "Mmm, I was enjoying myself. It's a rarity for a masi to want me."
"Hmmm?" Prowl hummed quietly, still curious but not in any hurry now that Jazz was back and he knew that the mech had been enjoying himself.
"Masochist," Jazz chuckled and squirmed his way to straddle Prowl's lap. "I don't have a strong bent that way, but sometimes it feels good to get the frustration out."
Prowl shook his head, amused. "Just so long as you enjoyed yourself." He stated quietly, wrapping his arms around Jazz and holding him close. "He did say you were all right."
"Who?" Jazz pressed close, his engine purring.
"The Prime."
"Wha?" Jazz jerked his helm back to look Prowl in the optics, then pouted. "I missed seeing him?"
Prowl nodded, leaning forward to kiss Jazz lightly. "Sorry. I do not believe he was expected."
"Not your fault, babe," Jazz murmured into a kiss and snuggled against him again. "It's just not often you get a chance to meet the Prime, you know?"
"I suspect he will be back, at some point. He left me a project to work on. And...he mentioned the possibility that I might be out of here sooner than expected." Gentle hands started working over Jazz's armor, pausing at each scuff and scrape to feel for anything that might need more than cosmetic attention before moving on.
Jazz perked up with a delighted grin and kissed Prowl hard and eagerly in a mini celebration. "What is he having you work on?"
"He wants analysis and suggestions for that." He tilted his helm in the direction of the data storage cube. "Government and military structure, divisions of authority, command flow, resources and budgeting..." Prowl smiled a little. "Important data that most mechs don't want to have to deal with."
"But what you groove on," Jazz purred, nuzzling him. "So do you want to celebrate by working, or a processor blowing overload or six?"
"Your fun wasn't enough?" Prowl asked, tone making it perfectly clear that he was teasing. If Jazz wanted he wasn't going to object, having gotten the data organized enough so that when he did start in earnest it should flow relatively quickly.
"Enough I'm not fidgety, but I do enjoy interfacing with you much more," Jazz purred, his field rich with desire as it lapped at Prowl's. "I've gotten quite addicted to this pleasure without pay thing we have going."
Prowl let his own pleasure at that show, wrapping his field around the mech as he kissed him deeply and affectionately. "So have I. I can be done working for a while. And you know I enjoy simply having you here, whatever we are doing."
"Then indulge me?" Jazz asked, his voice low and seductive as he rubbed his chassis against Prowl's in an open display of desire. "Tell me a new fantasy to play out. Anything that makes you hot to think about."
Prowl hummed softly, optics growing dim as he thought about it, then kissed a sensor horn softly. "You were my first, you know."
"I know," Jazz moaned. "Soundwave made it very clear to me that I wasn't to slag it up. He didn't think it was right to approach you to share his berth when you didn't know what it meant yet."
Prowl had suspected something like that, though it had never meant enough to him to actually ask. Instead he kissed Jazz, asking softly. "Treat me like that again? Like I don't know anything and you are showing me how to enjoy pleasure?"
A tremor ran down Jazz's backstrut as his fans kicked in. "Oh, babe ... I'd love to." A low, deep thrum vibrated against Prowl's chest as Jazz leaned into a soft, chaste kiss. "Come to the berth. Let me show you what a lover can be."
Prowl let go of the silver mech, allowing Jazz to take the lead, following him across the room to the berth and stopping at the edge like he had before when he had no idea what Jazz was going to do to him. Only that it was supposed to feel good. He didn't hesitate when Jazz guided him to lay down, his vulnerable back and sensor wings expose but supported but the padded berth.
He felt Jazz's weight settle over his hips and it generated entirely different sensations then that first time, but the skills hands that swept along the panels of his sensor wings were very much the same.
"Relax and enjoy, Prowl," Jazz cooed. "Such a beautiful mech, you must be stunning lost in pleasure."
Giving in to the touch, his wings spreading and relaxing under the hands, a whimper escaping from him at the words and the encouragement. Ripples of pleasure ran through his frame, waves of sensation generated by each sweep of those wonderful hands. He felt the charge rise slowly as Jazz made no effort to hurry him, seemingly content to enjoy causing the small sounds and twitches.
It was so different than what they usually did. This slow buildup wasn't something they did often anymore, too enamored with the fast, intense and mutually satisfying overloads their PIMs provided.
A soft moan from Prowl, his sensor wings rising just a bit to press back into the touches as he did start to loose himself in the pleasure. There was something about the slow build-up that clouded his processor so that all he could do was feel what was happening and revel in it. He could hear Jazz talking, but recognized the tone and cadence as the silver mech encouraging him and didn't worry about the exact contents. Jazz loved to talk, to use words and voice as well as his frame to draw pleasure out of those he was with.
Prowl was only partially aware when Jazz's tone changed. The hitch and static in his voice that indicated his charge was growing impatient for release.
A whimper from Prowl at the change he could feel as well as hear, and his frame started to tremble underneath Jazz, a sign of how close he was. Close enough to fall into the abyss of bliss with the right kind of push, field flared already to drag his lover with him.
"Oh, Prowler," Jazz moaned, his field flaring in return, pushing hard and deep into Prowl's chassis to brush against his spark casing and the spark Jazz had grown dangerously fond of.
A wordless cry of pleasure from Prowl as overload charge flared through and over his frame as the brush so close to his spark. A sound of pure bliss that echoed in the room, signaling deep release that knocked the Praxian offline.