Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: Crossover, Slash, 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 ./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 26: A Room of Their Own
Jazz was curled in Prowl's lap, content to lounge against the larger mech's chest while Prowl worked on his assignment from the Prime. It was more enjoyable than he'd thought possible to watch his lover work when Prowl was excited about that work. It made Jazz purr to feel Prowl so happy.
It wasn't enough to stop him from jumping half out of his armor when the door slid open and Black Echo snarled "Pack it up and move. Now."
The fear edged tension that filled Prowl and carried into his field didn't help matters as the Praxian froze momentarily from the dark mech's sudden appearance.
Regaining his composure, if not his comfort, Prowl gently shifted Jazz from his lap before gathering his datapads. Checking each of them before turning them off, Prowl stacked and subspaced them with the central storage unit.
Standing, he glanced around to make sure there was nothing he had missed and waited.
"Well come on," Black Echo ordered sharply as he turned around and stalked out. "If I find out you're a 'path you are a dead mech, no matter what I have to do."
Prowl glanced at Jazz, confused and wary as he moved to follow the SpecOps mech, Jazz all but magnetized to his side and looking equally confused. All three remained silent as they were guided out of the SpecOps sector and into the primary Autobot base in Iacon. They walked into open and well-lit corridors, gathering curious looks as they moved with a purposeful stride. Jazz had to almost run to keep up with the much longer sides of the larger mechs.
Out in the open Prowl relaxed enough to reach out and touch Jazz, though his sensors were still on high alert for even a hint of threat or aggression. It came, though it seemed to be rather random. It only took Prowl's tactical computer a few examples to work out that the aggressive mechs were ones who he had gotten close to on the battlefield and likely recognized him as a ranking Decepticon despite his current lack of insignia.
Well, they would get over it in time, or not. Prowl was used to a hostile environment where his continued functioning was under constant threat, and he knew how to deal with it. A sensor wing curled protectively around Jazz though, and the Praxian frowned. He would have to speak with the smaller mech once they were in private once more about the threat.
They worked their way deeper into the base, and it abruptly dawned on Prowl that they had entered the officer's barracks. He just managed to keep from twitching in surprise at the realization, even more confused. Officer's areas became commanding officer's areas and Black Echo came to a stop, punching in a code on the panel next to the door, then plugging in when a small panel slid back.
"Your quarters," he said gruffly as the door opened. "You," he looked pointedly at Prowl, "are restricted to quarters until further notice. "You," his gaze shifted to Jazz, "have your usual clearance and don't think I'm not tracking you both every nanoklik."
Questions tumbled through Prowl's processor in jumble, though all that made it out was "Understood."
He touched Jazz's shoulder gently, an invitation for the mech to join him as he made his way past the clearly displeased ops mech and into the quarters that were now apparently his.
The door shut and locked behind Prowl and Jazz and they both stopped to look around.
Jazz was the first to react with an impressed whistle. "Damn, whatever you said to the Prime must have made him happy. These are VIP quarters. Entry room, that door's going to be the berth room with a private wash rack. That door's your office. There's probably an energon dispenser somewhere, and that entertainment center's nice. It's going to take orns to properly initiate it all."
"Indeed..." Prowl agreed slowly stepping carefully deeper into the room, disbelief rolling off of him. This was even nicer what he had once shared with Soundwave, and something that Prowl never thought he would have as his own.
Despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of them Prowl still wasn't sure that someone hadn't made a mistake somewhere. He turned back to Jazz. "You think this is the Prime's doing?"
"Can you think of anyone else that can give Black Echo, the Autobot SIC, orders? That mech was furious. No way he was done with you." Jazz pointed out sensibly. "Godda be Prime."
Prowl's sensor panels drooped in relief at just the idea that the SIC might be done with him, that this apparent rise in favor might be an end to that."I hope you are right."
More curious now he touched door the room that Jazz had identified as his office, finding a functional room the size of his old personal quarters with a full workstation, a chair designed for extended use by someone of his frametype and an actual holotable positioned for him to be able to walk around.
Still in awe he moved on to the berthroom and found a much larger space, a deeply padded berth large enough for Prime ... which made it more than large enough for Prowl, Jazz and one or two others.
"Oh wow!" Jazz broke Prowl's stunned state by taking a flying leap onto the berth and bouncing several times like a playful sparkling. "Prowl, you have got to feel this! It's awesome!"
The larger mech couldn't help but laugh at Jazz antics, the playfulness and excitement infectious as he crossed the room at a more controlled pace and obediently took seat on the berth.
Jazz was right. From the way his frame sank into the padding Prowl was sure that cramped sensor wings were a thing of the past. He pressed a hand into it, testing it again and still stunned that someone had gone through the apparent trouble of tailoring quarters to meet his specific needs.
No, even more than his needs, going clear past his needs to his actual comfort.
Jazz bounced over and settled on his knees next to Prowl to pull him into a happy, playful kiss. "This place is incredible. If you have to be under home arrest, you have to admit this place is the way to do it. Who needs to leave?"
"You'll get restless soon enough, I'm sure." Prowl answered with a smile and a kiss of his own as he pulled Jazz against him. "But if I am to stay somewhere, so long as you return, I believe I will be quite content here."
"I'll always return," Jazz promised, his visor dimming in desire as he leaned closer for a kiss. "I'll always be driven to wander, but I will always come back to you," he murmured, something in his manner making it an oath.
A shared kiss before Prowl held him close, stroking the silver mech's back as he took a moment to think about what he needed to say. "You know I love you. Love having you with me. But here..."
"Mmm?" Jazz prompted him to continue as he enjoyed being close to the same height as Prowl with the larger mech sitting.
Prowl nuzzled at him gently, affectionately. "I do not know that I will ever be accepted here. There are those who I am sure recognized me as we passed through the base. Many who I am sure want revenge. I do not want you hurt because of me."
"I'm fast and I can defend myself if it comes to it," Jazz murmured assurances. "Prowl," he made sure the larger mech met his optics. "I gave up my livelihood and made myself a major target for any Decepticon wanting to get in Soundwave's good graces - which would be nearly all of them - just to follow you here. If you think a few Autobots who might be willing to break the laws of hospitality are going to chase me off you need your logic chips checked."
When it came to Jazz Prowl was sure he needed his logic inspected, because logic rarely played into anything where the silver minibot was concerned.
"When you put it that way I have little room to talk." He conceded. "But from what you have told me of your functioning you are going to have a hard time here if no one wants anything to do with you. Or is your role among the Autobots different?"
"I've got a very big city out there, even if half of it is in ruins," Jazz kissed him gently then rested their forehelms together. "Yes, I sold them intel too. Did a few other things for Black Echo when he paid that I'm not real proud of. But ... when it comes right down to it, my code only demands one paid basic contract an orn over the decaorn. It might not pay for much, but here I don't have to pay for my energon or housing. I can get enough action for my code to be content."
"That still isn't all you do for them, is it?" It wasn't an accusation, but an observation as Prowl continued to run his hands over silver armor. "You are far more than you care to have known."
"Keeps me safe," Jazz murmured. "I do what I'm paid to do, when it comes down to it. Some folks get real creative with what my talents can do. Black Echo likes me, and not just in his berth. He finds all kinds of weird and creepy uses for me."
"Talk?" It was a question to know more, and an offer to listen if Jazz wanted. Prowl would force nothing from him, but he would be there for him.
"Seems to a Ops mech, a talent for reading and manipulating mechs has a lot of uses," Jazz pressed close and shivered, all sensualness drained from them both. "I always used it to please my clients. It's all I thought it was meant for. Then Black Echo decided to put me in a room with a Decepticon prisoner and told me to break him, turn him. I found out much later that he'd been trying for metacycles to accomplish what I did in a dozen orns. I got paid a small fortune for it, but existence was never quite the same after that," Jazz lowered his forehelm to Prowl's shoulder and trembled. "I've never been able to forget how close pleasing and breaking are to each other, from a skill point of view. In a lot of ways, it was the end of my innocence, the end of my existence as 'just' a pleasurebot. I can't forget what he's taught me about the other uses of my core programming. How little difference there is between reading and manipulating a mech to please them and doing it to hurt them."
Prowl shuddered and held Jazz tight, kissing his helm gently, seeking anything to comfort the smaller mech that he could. "Jazz...no one should have to learn that. Wish you hadn't." Even if it was far to late to undo, Prowl could still mourn the fact that it caused Jazz pain.
"I'm good at it, hate doing it, but it pays so well I haven't been able to turn him down yet," Jazz murmured. "I'd much rather be in his berth for an orn than spend an orn breaking someone. But I can't say no to that many credits for so little work."
Prowl understood on a level beyond words as Jazz began to tremble against him, grief, self-hatred and anger rolling off the minibot in waves.
"It won't let you avoid him either, will it?" Prowl guessed quietly.
"You ever tried to avoid a mech like him?" Jazz shuddered and began to pull himself together. "He's made it clear that he's quite willing to label me a Decepticon and stick my ID as a high-value target if I try. I could hide from him ... but not from what he can do."
Prowl hummed soothingly, hating how everyone he cared about was suffering form this war. "Easy love. Easy. I am here." It was all he had to offer, and he knew it wasn't enough.
"Best thing that's happened to me since I bought myself," Jazz murmured, slowly packing away his pain and self-hatred so he could relax in the embrace and calm EM field that he admitted he was addicted to. "You really are."
Embarrassment flickered through Prowl at what to him was high praise. So happy that Jazz considered him so. "Love you. Here for you, whatever I can do."
"Being here is worth more than you can imagine," Jazz said, his tone low and as serious as it ever was. "First stable thing, really stable thing, I've had in a long time. Never knew how bad I wanted it until I got hooked on you. Everyone else who wanted to be my lover wanted me to change too, to give up being a pleasurebot ... like I was one of those poor mechs who was reduced to selling themselves. I'm proud of what I am, what I've accomplished. What I was sparked to excel at."
"And excel you do." Prowl said, completely honest. "Love you for who you are. You don't have to change for me. I wouldn't want you to, for the most part."
"What would you have change?" Jazz asked, hiding any trace of unease masterfully.
"Nothing that you can help." Prowl assured him. "I wish that you did not go into danger. I wish that you were not forced to do things you did not want to do. I wish I could give you the functioning you deserve."
Jazz hummed softly in understanding, acceptance, agreement.
"Love, I am rarely in danger," Jazz murmured, trying to reassure him. "I many be damaged, but I'm always repaired very well." He tipped Prowl's chin into a soft, tender kiss. "You'll get no argument about doing what I don't want to, but look," Jazz pulled back slightly, motioning around the quarters they now shared. "Look at where we live, Prowl. What more do you hope to give me?"
"Peace." Prowl murmured, deciding he was going to have to quit debating with the silver mech. He seemed to be loosing, in the broadest of terms, far more often then he was winning. "Want you to be happy."
Jazz hummed and leaned in to kiss him gently. "You come pretty close when it's just the two of us."
A soft kiss shared, full of affection, before Prowl tilted his helm, looking at Jazz questioning what more the silver mech desired from him.
"We'll end this war," Jazz murmured, more promise than request. "For tonight..." he hesitated, knowing what he wanted most was not an evening that would appeal to his lover. Knowing, too, that Prowl would do it if he asked. It was difficult, sometimes, when they were both such interfacing submissives. "Tonight ... just hold me and don't ask questions," he slid his fingers down Prowl's cheek as he asked for his second choice. It was one that was very dear to him, much more difficult to ask for, yet still not as fulfilling.
Prowl nodded, pulling him close again as he sank back on the berth, drawing the silver mech up to kiss and stroke him.
Soft, grateful sounds and flickers in Jazz's EM field wrapped around Prowl as Jazz sank against him, gradually relaxing. It was only when he'd cycled nearly halfway into recharge that the trembling began. A quiet sob followed as everything Jazz regretted doing began to surface, the silver mech finally feeling safe enough to start to processes and let go of regrets he had no real control over.
And in response to his pain came love and acceptance from the mech that held him, soothing touches and whispered nothings from one who loved him as he was, demons and all.