Fandom: Transformers G1/Bayverse
Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/Soundwave
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: 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 .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 39: Moving Forward

A soft sigh as Prowl laid aside the last datapad, stretching sensor wings to work the accumulated stiffness from them before checking the time. Jazz would be done with his shift and returned soon, the minibot wasting little time returning to his mate still, after recent events.

It had taken another orn after they were pulled from stasis before Ratchet and Keepsafe had released them from medical, and several more orns before Jazz would consent to leave Prowl alone in their quarters. The first shift alone had been tense. The second one stressful. This one much more tolerable.

He knew that it was little better for Jazz, though for very different reasons. Now that Jazz was the Autobot TIC and Prowl SIC, Jazz could no longer function openly as a pleasurebot. He simply had far too much rank and too many duties. In private, he'd told Prowl he was grooming both Mirage and Back Shadow to take over as soon as possible, but it would be at least half a vorn before one of them was ready.

They were both looking forward to that transition. Prowl knew Jazz would be much happier and that meant he would be much happier.

In the meantime, they did their best to perform their duties. Duties which now had them working closely together more often than not. Jazz brought the intel that Prowl used to plan.

Over their bond, which had remained wide open since their first post-stasis merge, Prowl felt a cautious spike of excitement-unease. He reached back with a gentle curious prodding, but no real concern. There was no panic or fear accompanying the unease, more the sense that Prowl had learned over time meant that Jazz was unsure whether what had just been learned was going to turn into a good thing or bad, but at the moment was neither.

Jazz brushed back with affection and assurance. ~I'll bring it by shortly. You need to know this, CTO,~ he used Prowl's title teasingly.

~I am now properly concerned.~ Prowl pushed back playfully, thankful for whatever amusement they could find during all of the changes. ~I'll see you soon.~

~Won't be soon enough,~ Jazz purred before turning his focus to his much-despised work that took him so far from his function.

With a final brush of affection and support Prowl turned to his work, only his was work he adored. While he had never aspired to high rank, he was as good at this level of management as he was lower down. It felt good to work at something that made his core coding so content.

Such thoughts were still drifting through Prowl's processor when Jazz pinged that he was coming in.

Prowl settled for sending amused thanks along the bond for the 'warning' as he rose to welcome him mate, his contentedness from his work and the very recent orns of relative quiet carrying over to the rest of his functioning for once.

"Was it bad today then?" He asked once Jazz was inside, offering the silver minibot a chance to vent his frustrations at having to perform duties he was never intended for and had no desire to do.

The fact that Jazz pushed him, abet gently, to sit in his chair and climbed onto his lap for a long, need filled kiss before he spoke was all the real answer he needed.

"Different kind of bad," Jazz murmured as he let Prowl's mouth go and snuggled against his chest tightly. "It's good news for you." He put on a brave smile. "If the reports I'm getting are accurate, we should be hearing from Soundwave within the decaorn."

Prowl wrapped his mate in a tight hug, field expanding and beginning to weave into Jazz's, echoing the assurance, love and comfort that flowed across the bond, reminder that Jazz owned a part of Prowl's spark that was the minibot's, and his alone. It was enough to sooth Jazz's unease and relax him.

~Sorry, love. I know. Sometimes...~

~I know,~ Prowl stroked Jazz's back. ~You haven't had to share my attention in a long time.~

~Yeah,~ Jazz sighed and lifted his face for a gentle kiss.

"The takeover is going well then." Prowl finally murmured once they were settled again. "Or at least whatever chaos it is creating has been contained so far."

"It seems to be going well," Jazz snuggled in, his engine purring softly. "Starscream's been deactivated. Details are sketchy, but we both know it wasn't our doing. Not a battle and not a mission. The last base Megatron was known to be at is under a serious lockdown. Mirage couldn't even get in, and he said that they weren't trying to hit him when he was fired at."

"Both interesting bits of information, even if they actually tell us very little that we did not already know." Prowl commented, hands moving to run down's Jazz's back, gliding over sleek armor as he processed all that he knew and projected possible scenarios.

"It will be interesting to see who is appointed as the next Air Commander. Starscream's loss alone would have created a great deal of upset."

Jazz hummed. "If Megatron is down too, we've won. That was the plan, and one of the few reasons they lock down a base like that."

He refused to say what his Ops training made him think: if Soundwave is still on our side.

"Then if we what you have heard it true, it is merely a consolidation of power before shaking everything up again. There have been so signs of attack or intended aggression, beyond those few that we have already confirmed as rouge factions anyway."

Hidden deep in Prowl was the barest hint of new hope coming to life that the war was finally over.

"Won't be soon enough for me," Jazz purred and stretched to wrap his arms around Prowl's neck and nuzzle his lover in the sensitive cords before giving one a playful lick. ~Feel like celebrating a bit?~

A shiver ran through Prowl. ~With you?~ He nudged at Jazz's helm until he could claim the smaller mech in a deep kiss. ~Yes.~

A burst of love/arousal/excitement rolled into Prowl's spark as their glossa dueled with no true interest in winning, only in enjoying the presence of the other.

When Prowl let him go, Jazz scooted off his lap to kneel between spread knees. His hands found the seams in Prowl's upper legs while his glossa traced a tingling, erotic path around the edge of Prowl's spike cover.

"Jazz." It came out far more like a whine, optics brightening as his lover's intentions became clear.

"Yes love?" Jazz purred, adding vibration to the touch. ~Want to taste you so bad. Want ... please be okay with this.~

The cover slid away. "More than okay." Prowl told him, field and bond link reflecting the truth in the words. ~Love you.~

The relief-need that washed over Prowl from Jazz was almost too much as Prowl comprehended just how much Jazz had held back for his sake, waiting for him to be ready for physical intimacy again. Then the hot mouth closed around the exposed tip and a knowing glossa swirled around the sensor rich cone and most of Prowl's ability to think was stolen by the demand to feel.

A brief moment of sorry and apology from Prowl, a struggle for him for Jazz's sake before his focus was redirected, hands coming around to tease sensor horns and silver helm as his spike pressurized eagerly in response to such need.

Jazz was the first to moan in pleasure, open and unadulterated at the slide of a pressurizing spike past his glossa and down his intake. Beyond how giving pleasure made his deepest core code thrum in pleasure, this was an act that Jazz was utterly and unrepentantly addicted to. Second in desire-satisfaction only to being pinned and spiked hard until hot transfluid filled his valve to overflowing.

~Jazz...~ Willingness, pleasure, a want to make his mate happy while enjoying what was being given. ~Love you. Want this. Please.~

Happiness burst across the bond, pure and full of pleasure. Then that familiar feeling when Jazz fully focused on what he was doing. Every touch was enjoyed, but the greatest pleasure was anticipating the rush of transfluid into his mouth and the storm surge of energy and sensation Prowl's overload would bring him.

Every sensor node and point was explored, treated and treasured as much as the first time Prowl had allowed him to do this.

It was everything that made Jazz truly happy.

And everything that made Prowl happy was the feelings that filtered back through the connection, that it was Jazz, who Prowl loved, that was doing this.

Prowl enjoyed the physical pleasure, responded to it and shared it, but what meant most to him was the connection above and beyond that to the one who was doing it.

~For you.~ Prowl whimpered, hips rolling into the pleasure as it rose and pulled at him. ~Because of you. Love you.~

It was a dance and exchange they'd shared countless times over the vorns, both before and after bonding. Every time the high they reached amazed them both and the love and amazement they felt at having each other never lessened. Jazz was past words, lost in a desire no less intense than the physical pleasure he was creating. He didn't try to understand why he enjoyed doing this so much, why the feeling of a thick spike sliding against his intake, his glossa, his lip plates, was so intensely erotic and satisfying to him. It simply was and Jazz was content that the mech he loved enjoyed it as well.

Enjoyed it to the point that already the Praxian was reduced to a quivering mass of need and want and pleasure, calling his bonded's name as he lost himself in the pleasure and overload.

Jazz moaned as the feedback and loose charge jumped to him and danced down his frame, enticing his systems to cycle up fully. The rush of hot, viscous transfluid into his mouth, across his glossa where he could taste the distinct chemical makeup of Prowl was nearly enough to drive Jazz to his own overload. Close, but not quite. His valve cycled, the calipers and cabling tightening and loosened, wanting something to hold onto and rub against.

"Jazz." The tone was awed, almost reverent as Prowl recovered quickly, reaching out across the bond and shuddering as he was struck by Jazz's need.

A vibrating rumble passed through the Praxian, full of desire and lust for his bonded. Gentle hands tugged at Jazz's frame in suggestion until Jazz pulled back and Prowl lifted the smaller mech up and onto his lap, mouth claiming and tasting as his hand brushed over valve cover.

~Yespleaseyesyesplease~ Jazz could only keen his need as the cover slid open, spilling lubricant over Prowl's fingers and driving his valve to new levels of desperate signaling for something, anything to fill it.

Gentle fingers tested the valve for only a second before Prowl lifted him, claiming the silver mech's mouth in another kiss as thrust up. Sharp claws dug into Prowl's shoulders as Jazz cried out into his mouth and trembled.

Unabashed by his desires or his frame's desperate response to finally having a full valve, Jazz clung to Prowl and keened. His valve tightened and relaxed around the perfect slide of the spike as he was driven right to the edge of overload, only to hold himself back to enjoy the moment.

Strong hands dug into his hips, driving him down into each thrust, all of Prowl's attention focused completely on his lover, on his bonded, on the light in his spark.

~Love you. Yours. Forgive me.~ Prowl begged quietly, wanting to drive Jazz to bliss, to soothe that need, to be worth all that Jazz had suffered for him.

~Always,~ Jazz arched as he keened, surrendering to his bonded's efforts with a wash of affection just ahead of the blinding pleasure that tore through him and arced into Prowl's frame at every contact point.

Prowl's cries rose to join him, the affection and the pleasure from providing Jazz what he needed, washing over him and washing away so much of his pain and fear. He held Jazz tight as a shudder ran through his frame and he overloaded into his bonded.

Prowl set his sensor wings and his faceplates in the professionally neutral set he was infamous for even as internally he was twisted in knots. Only Jazz could make him do this. Only love of Jazz could make him challenge the Lord Prime without even being asked too. A decaorn and a half and he knew he had to do something to protect his bonded. Jazz might be a good leader, might be skilled at inspiring mechs and getting them to do things, but his status as TIC was killing him, slowly and painfully. Jazz was simply not designed for administrative work as Prowl was, and the limitations on who he interfaced with brought the silver mech to a sobbing distress in Prowl's arms too often.

This meeting ... went against everything in his programming that ordered him to please his superiors, that demanded his obedience and compliance with their wishes. In the past it was the sort of thing that he needed orders to make it so that his spark could handle it.

But there was something stronger than programming driving him now.

Love.

Checking his reasons, his arguments one more time, he requested permission to enter the office of his Prime.

As expected, the door opened immediately, for not only was Prowl second only in rank to Prime, but he was a friend in Optimus' words.

"Prowl." Optimus inclined his head in greeting. "What brings you?"

Prowl stepped inside, formal as the door slid closed behind him and sensor wings dropping respectfully. "Sir."

He looked into the optics of his Prime, and found himself answering the question honestly, just as he had every question since that first meeting. "Jazz."

Optimus leaned back before standing and motioning Prowl to join him in a less formal sitting area of his office. He remained silent as he offered a cube of good mid-grade to Prowl while taking one for himself.

"What about Jazz?" He asked smoothly as that sat down.

"Being Third is tearing him apart." And that was it felt like to Prowl over the bond, every time that Jazz chose the duty of his position over the desires of his coding and spark.

It was hurting Prowl too, Jazz's distress going beyond even what Prowl could smooth over, and suddenly the Praxian was stuck watching his bonded suffer because Prowl wasn't enough to counter it any more.

"He hides it well," Optimus considered his Second carefully. Prowl was the only mech that Jazz couldn't hide such things from, and if it was bad enough for Prowl to come to him ... "What do you suggest?"

"Replace him. Demote him. He won't fight it." Prowl sighed. "Spec Ops Commander he can handle, at least until there is someone better suited to the position that they will follow as well. I will help him."

Golden optics locked on his Prime, pleading. "But the limitations being Third puts on him...he wasn't called for that job, and it's breaking him."

There was none of Prowl's logical reason that he had prepared in the plea. None of the argument he had put together to convince Optimus that he should listen. Instead he was sitting there spilling his spark to his Prime and praying.

"Who should I promote?" Optimus asked, more than half hoping that somewhere was the kind of plan that Prowl had for everything. "The Special Operations commander has always been either Second or Third."

"Blaster could handle the paperwork and balance the social. Ultra Magnus, if Blaster will not accept. It would not need to be a long term appointment- Jazz is already grooming a replacement. It is just going to be longer than he will be able to handle it before Mirage is ready." Prowl vented softly. "He is looking for another Commander as well, but until then...he is my bonded and I am Second, by your appointment."

Optimus leaned back and considered the words, the offer, over several sips of energon.

"You are suggesting I officially do without a Third until Jazz finishes training his replacement?" Optimus asked thoughtfully. With almost anyone else, he'd be skeptical of the proposal. With any other timing he'd be worried. But he had it on good authority that the war was effectively over and the formalities would be settled soon.

There were good odds he wouldn't actually need a Third.

"Do without." Prowl agreed, something he had not actually considered but an idea that had potential. "Or demote Jazz and make it a temporary appointment, acting TIC, for someone else."

Sensor panels twitched as Prowl continued. "The paperwork, the forms and files and simple organizing, I could do that for him, without any of the strain he seems to believe it will place on me. It is the other facets of being TIC, the social restrictions it is placing on his functioning, that are wearing on him the most by preventing him from being himself."

Optimus hummed, thoughtful. He understood the pain of having to perform a function that was a poor match. He valued Jazz as a friend, yet he also knew that the war came first.

"Have your heard from Soundwave yet?" He asked gently. "I would be happy to free Jazz of his non-primary function duties other than training a new Head of Special Operations, however, I must know that I will not need his skills again soon."

Prowl flinched, not quite managing to hide the motion. "We are waiting-," He could bring himself to admit in Jazz's case doubting, "But there has been no word yet. There has been little activity at all that we have been able to observe."

Optimus nodded, fully aware of the quiet on the Decepticon front and Jazz's take on the reason.

"His skills would be yours as needed- missions, planning, executing runs- it's not that position that is hurting him," Prowl added.

"How long does he believe it will take to train his replacement?"

"A vorn at most. The replacements he has in mind are already competent, just without the fine tuning and 'extra' the position requires. And he does not intend to simply dump them into the role as he was."

His bonded's distress at waking to find himself the new commander of Special Operations, and then being promoted to a position of high command several orns afterward, had shaken Jazz's world far more than he let on to the outside world and in ways that still haunted Prowl on occasion.

Optimus frowned. "I was under the impression that Black Echo had finished his training and upgrades."

"He did, sir," Prowl consented immediately. "It was just sudden."

Another nod. "I'll do what I can, and speak with Jazz," he stood and put a large hand on the Praxian's shoulder. "Thank you for bringing this to me. I knew Jazz hated admin work, but I did not know just how badly this change hurt him."

"I do not think anyone did." Not even Prowl, who had thought he knew him best. "Thank you."

More than officer to commander, it was the thanks of a friend who knew that someone was going out of their way to help. "If there is something-." Prowl stopped in mid sentence as his comm line when off, the tag urgent enough to get his immediate attention.

He could tell from the shift in frame of the mech beside him that Optimus was getting the same, or at least a very similarly tagged, call.

::Prowl here. What is it?::

::We have received a comm from the Decepticon Commander,:: Blaster's familiar voice rolled back along with his uncertainty at the change in title. ::He wants to speak with Prime, Prowl and Jazz.::

::Details?:: Prowl inquired, already getting to his feet to join Optimus in a swift walk from the Prime's office to the control center.

::None, sir. No visual, just a comm ping.::

Not surprising, but not informative either, as Prowl reached out to his bonded. ~Jazz?~

~On my way,~ the mech sounded a bit harried. ~I hope that's Soundwave to surrender and not Megatron to gloat.~

It was an option that Prowl had not consciously considered, and one that caused his spark to twist as he did. ~As do I. You had no word of this before hand?~

~Base is still under lockdown,~ Jazz said reluctantly as he transformed on the move just outside the command center door to walk in with them. ~I knew something was up, but nothing of what.~

Blaster was waiting for them, obviously very unsure of what was going on as Prime and his officers approached, all of them serious. The others on duty were similarly uneasy.

"Open the channel," Optimus ordered.

With a nod Blaster complied, nodding again to indicate that the channel was open and that the connection was reading both ways. The main screen flickered, then cleared to Soundwave's features, mask and visor in place.

"Optimus Prime: greetings. Soundwave: controls the Decepticon army. Soundwave: would meet with Prowl to end hostilities."

The ripple of surprise that went through the rest of those on duty in the command center was obvious, not so much at the fact that Soundwave in charge but at the idea that he wanted to end the fighting and that he wished to speak with Prowl instead of the Prime himself.

Prowl waited, careful to have a mask of control firmly in place to deal with whatever had appeared on the screen. Now he waited for his Prime to decide how to proceed.

Optimus inclined his helm in understanding. "It is good to have you back, old friend," his voice rumbled through the room with the resonant power that was more Matrix than Optimus. "You have done far more than we had any right to ask of you, and performed well." He took a step back. "Make what arrangements you wish with Prowl."

Permission, acceptance, and no reason to care at the surprise that filled the command center still, Prowl stepped forward. "Soundwave."

"Prowl," Soundwave's voice faltered very slightly before settling once more. "Soundwave: would meet the Lord Prime and Prowl outside the gates of Praxus to settle the terms of peace."

::Is that acceptable, sir?:: Prowl asked quickly, not even trying to hide from Optimus how badly he wanted to see the host again.

::Yes,:: Prime smiled behind his battle mask as the Matrix gave a thrum of pleasure. They were an odd group, his most trusted officers, but no stranger than he was.

A dock worker made Prime.
A low-level city planner now Second in Command of the Autobots.
A pleasurebot now the Chief of Special Operations and Third in Command of the Autobots.
A host who became a High Priest, then the deepest undercover agent ever.

Every single one of them sparked, not kindled. Every single one of them called forth to be nothing more than they'd been sparked as, yet each had risen to greatness without any desire for it.

"The location is acceptable. When do you wish to meet?" Soon was the answer that Prowl's spark wanted. It would have been much happier with 'now', but that was impossible, so it would have to settle for second best. "And what others terms are there?"

"Time: In three orns 07:00. Soundwave: would bring Decepticon Air Commander and witness. Prowl: would bring witness. Soundwave: requests that quarters be made available for six mechs for the negotiations in addition to Autobot needs." He paused slightly. "Soundwave: has missed Prowl greatly."

A shiver ran through Prowl and he felt Jazz brush against his spark with a warm support tinged with nervousness. "It will be done. Arrangements will be made." He promised quietly, confident that he could manage something, despite the fits Red Alert was sure to have over the whole situation.

The fits the security director was probably having already, Prowl amended to himself. "And ... I have missed you."

A confession in front of witnesses, but by now he was beyond caring.

Prime and Jazz were standing there, witnesses as well, and witness for everyone else that those who mattered did not see the declaration as a betrayal. Jazz tucked himself against Prowl's side and hummed his approval. Despite the unease lingering inside, his bonded was making a very public showing of support.

"Meeting: in three orns," Soundwave said before the connection closed.

"Well, that answered who won the throw down," Jazz murmured.

"The Matrix is pleased," Optimus soothed Jazz's reflexive thoughts of ways it could be other than what it appeared.

Prowl reached out to Jazz as well, trying to gauge his bonded's reactions and letting him know that even after all this time he still trusted the host with all of his spark. That same response came back: overt approval, private unease that was half training and half personal.

He also worked to ignore all of the optics still focused on them in open shock.

"Back to work," Prime got them focused on their duties before focusing on Prowl. "Make whatever arrangements need to be made. Does Soundwave have a favored symbiot to contact you with?"

The Praxian held Jazz against his side, acknowledging the unease with love and the knowledge that it would need to be addressed soon, but not so soon that it overrode their duties.

"Ravage or Laserbeak are the usual ones, for several reasons." Prowl answered. "The accommodations should not prove difficult, once something is arranged to Red Alert's tolerance. There is also the need to decide who will accompany me as witness."

"I believe Ratchet would feel slighted if he was not at least offered the chance," Prime smiled behind his mask and guided his two top officers from the control room. "Do you have any idea why he chose Praxus?"

"Officially Neutral and it is where Prowl came from," Jazz spoke up smoothly. "I don't know what the mech has in mind, but this isn't just going to be a surrender, I'm sure of it."

"And worried as well." Prowl prodded gently.

"I wouldn't be Ops if I didn't think of those things, and he's Ops too," Jazz pointed out uneasily. He didn't want to think these things of Prowl's love, but he had to. Programming literally gave him no choice. "That much Autobot brass out in the open ... it's a pit of a target to pass up."

He x-vented. "It's not like Soundwave to make a production out of things, and this is going to be a production."

"It is a target, but he is not above putting on a show to make a point." Prowl argued, vivid recollection of how Soundwave had initially started to court him with a possessive display in the officer's rec coming to mind. "And only Ratchet and I have to meet him in person."

"As if that's not enough," Jazz grumbled, then physically shook his frame out as he forced his processors out of Ops mode. "Red's paranoid enough for everyone, but I have every intention of taking a couple snipers for cover."

"Jazz," Optimus focused the silver mech's attention with difficulty and nearly resorting to his Prime voice to do it. "Get the latest reports and join us in my office."

"Yes sir," Jazz nodded and darted off.

"Prowl, make initial arrangements with Praxus. I will handle the meeting hall."

"Sir." Prowl answered, taking a moment to focus himself back to the work at hand as well, no matter how much he wanted to contemplate the idea of finally being reunited with his missing lover. "I will speak to Ratchet before the orn is out as well, unless you would prefer for me to see if he can join us now."

"Given how not-fond Jazz is of him, I believe it's best he stay out of the next meeting," Optimus chuckled. "Do what you can in two breems and come to my office. I should have Jazz's perspective back by then."

"Yes sir." With a nod Prowl set off down the hall, researching who he needed to speak with via access of the main database and opening a comm line to Ratchet requesting the medics attention when he had a moment to spare.

Exactly two breems later, Prowl found himself outside Prime's office door. He knew what was going on inside; his spark told him and so did common sense. Pleasure was the first language Jazz spoke. Whether you needed to settle him or get him to open up, a solid interface was how you did it.

He pinged, knowing neither particularly cared if he saw, and was a touch surprised when Optimus responded with 'wait'. Then the serge of a spark merge hit Prowl. He had long ago learned to ignore the effect, but it still made him want to grab Jazz at the first opportunity and bury his spark deep inside his mate's.

The charge of Jazz's overload was still tingling through the bond when Prime signaled the door to open.

The sight of Jazz pinned to the wall, visor dim in post overload bliss, was enough to calm the desire that had risen in Prowl to claim his mate back then and there. Instead he stepped inside and made sure the door closed and locked behind him, reading Jazz's contented humming over the bond and in every line of the silver mech's frame.

If Jazz was content then Prowl could be as well, and he pushed aside too the desire to have Jazz in his arms now that Prime was done relaxing him. Instead he watched as Optimus gently withdrew his spike and set Jazz on his pedes. He steadied the silver mech, then looked at Prowl with a clear order to collect his mate.

"It seems Jazz had a visitor when he went to his office," Optimus rumbled, his tone pleased as well as relaxed. "Ravage came to deliver what could not be said over the comm."

The Praxian stepped in, simply lifting Jazz into his arms and carrying him to the nearest open seat that would accommodate them both, and doing nothing to hide the frown on his face. Why would Ravage have gone to Jazz instead of him? Even on the move as he had been it would have been easy for the symbiot to get his attention and get him alone for a conversation.

With a mental shake he calmed himself and settled on the chair, Jazz in his lap and against his chest in a very familiar arrangement. If there was some sort of bad news neither Jazz nor Optimus would have been calm, would they?

~Soundwave wanted me to feel involved,~ Jazz murmured, his spark content after the Prime's attentions. ~He's going to propose, so he's asked me to set the terms, set the tone, in teaching you what's going to happen.~

~Terms?~ Prowl echoed, focusing on Jazz while letting enough of his attention remain on his Prime that he would know in an instant if either of them were wanted. For the time being Optimus seemed content to let them snuggle while he cleaned himself up.

~Yeah, what you're going to demand of him to accept his courting proposal,~ Jazz hummed thoughtfully. ~As your bondmate, I guess it's traditionally my right to make it as difficult as I want to for him to win the right to ask you to bond. Ravage made it pretty clear that giving you authority over him in his realm, ya know, the Decepticons, is the term to end the war. The rest is up to me. You can put any terms you want on it too, but we all know you won't have any.~

~No, I do not think so.~ Prowl murmured, ~The terms to end the war I understand. They are reasonable, so long as Prime is in agreement. Your terms...~

Prowl let that hang, holding Jazz close.

~Still thinking,~ he admitted, snuggling close and gently running his hands over Prowl's chest plates, soothing himself as much as his mate. ~I'm not going to make him miserable or set unreasonable demands ... but he gave me this knowing I'm the one of us that has trouble sharing you like this. I'm going to use it.~

Prowl vented softly, but he trusted Jazz, and let that flow freely over the bond between them. He trusted Jazz to do what the silver mech needed to do. At the moment, he felt Jazz's desire to be reclaimed as knowing fingers played over Prowl's armor, teasing the large sweep of chest vents and shifting to rub their interface arrays together.

"Jazz." The silver mech's designation escaped his lover in a soft moan, the desire echoed in Prowl's own spark. Prowl spared a moment to look to his Prime, still conscious of their location and the reason for being there.

He wanted Jazz. Wanted to feel that spark against his own.

"Indulge," Optimus smiled with a low rumble of approval. "It does my spark good to be near bonds as strong and positive as yours."

~He's a voyeur, big time,~ Jazz giggled.

~Mine.~ Prowl purred as he captured Jazz's lips in a kiss, passionate and possessive. He would never deny Jazz his functioning, but he knew who the silver's mech's spark belonged to at the end of the orn.

~And he is my Prime, whose orders I obey.~ Prowl added, hands sliding down Jazz's back to work sensitive wiring buried in hip joints. ~I think I shall enjoy obeying this one.~

A moan and wiggle of pleasure was the most coherent reply Jazz cared to make as his valve, never completely dry to start with quickly began to ooze a fresh layer of lubricant. ~Love your touch,~ Jazz finally moaned as he managed to grip Prowl's shoulders and buried his face against Prowl's neck to lavish attention on the sensitive cables that did so much for his mate.

~To please you.~ Prowl answered, fingers reaching to tease at his bonded's valve, the sounds it earned him only serving to drive Prowl's own desire higher. ~Want you. Want your spark to be mine.~

Any shyness he might have felt at having an audience vanished with the touch to his neck, Jazz's ability to tease him just so a skill he swore was exclusive to the silver mech.

~Always yours,~ Jazz trembled at the touch, wanting more. He didn't hesitate to part his chest plates however, offering his spark it all its depth to Prowl, to the one mech who had earned it. ~Everything I am is yours.~

Strong hands moved back to Jazz's hips, lifting him as the Praxian's spike cover slid away and the spike pressurized into the smaller mech's valve. Their moans of pleasure mingled with Optimus' deeper rumble of a very different kind of pleasure, a cleaning pleasure as he and the Matrix absorbed the purity of the emotions in the spark and bond filling the room to soothe away the harshest edges that war, pain and early deactivation of so many in his presence had created.

"More," Optimus' optics turned off and shuttered as he basked in the peaceful bliss of everything that was still right and the soothing balm it was to the Matrix.

Prowl's processor noted the order, but he didn't the need the encouragement as lips traced down his bonded's neck, hands moving to support Jazz's frame as he kissed along the chest plates and spark chamber of his bondmate. Determined to please and pleasure Jazz before reclaiming all of his mate and reminding Jazz just how much he loved him.

Deep rumbling moans, sharp keens and words that none of them bothered to process filled Prime's office, all centered on the silver minibot and what his Praxian lover was doing to him.

A deep, sharp gasp of air and Jazz screamed his first overload, one driven by the touch to his spark chamber. He was well past thinking. Only desires and sensations flowed from him, silently begging Prowl to thrust into him deep and hard, to spill his transfluid into Jazz's valve to set off a second overload tied to Prowl's release.

Motion joined sound as Prowl obeyed, holding his bonded as he reclaimed his lovers valve, the feel of the slick tightness around his spike a secondary focus to the pleasure rolling off of Jazz. This was perhaps the greatest gift of their bond; the ability to feel the other on a level that made the physical secondary while enhancing it at the same time.

Neither of them cared that Prime had opened his chest plates or that he was stroking the Matrix of Leadership in his own kind of delirious bliss.

"So good," Optimus moaned through the waves of absolute loyalty-adoration-pleasure crashing into him from the couple he quite willingly admitted was one of the best things to happen for him since ... really, since he became Prime. Every other set of dedicated lovers were warriors to their spark. They were good, they helped, but there was always that edge of violence about them than the couple before him did not share. Despite the war, despite all they had done and been forced to become, both of these sparks, both mechs, were still inherently peaceful. Both were gentle with each other.

It was a bliss Optimus could so easily loose himself in.

The desire between them, desire for each other, was pure and unselfish wish for the other's happiness. Prowl's fingers wove their way into Jazz's hips, pushing him to overload so that Prowl could share in his pleasure.

A touch to Prowl's wings drove the Praxian to overload first, transfluid rushing into Jazz's valve and driving the pleasurebot into an overload of his own, one that made both his spark hum with contentment and his core code preen at the accomplishment.

All their concerns, from rank to existence, fell away as Prowl finally gave into his desire to blend their sparks, the Praxian initiating the merge with a moan of pleasure. After all this time both sparks were intimately familiar with the other, weaving together smoothly and elevating both mechs to a level of sharing and bliss reserved only for those bonded and in love.

Neither lover was aware of Prime's very different kind of overload as the Matrix purged a knot of pain older than Optimus and all three mechs sank into absolute contentment. Even as the merge ended Jazz and Prowl's sparks continued to dance and brush against each other, too pleased to separate completely and reflecting the desires of the mechs they gave life to.