Fandom: Transformers G1
Author: gatekat and starshield on LJ
Pairing: Jazz(Sirenis)/Prowl
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 (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 = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycles
~text~ bond/hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter
All or Nothing 12: Relief
Warnings and messages demanded his attention as he cycled back on line, some of them coded so that they were to be viewed before he completely onlined and would interfere with the process until they were obeyed. With no reason to not obey that his still hazy processor could recall Jazz complied, going through them in the order they were stacked.
He was not to move until he was cleared to do so. He was not to try and rush the start up cycle- he was in no danger. Except that the next one held a more threatening note- he was not to use his vocalizer until instructed to do so, under pain of some yet unspecified consequences.
The haze began to settle; disjointed memories were called upon in an attempt to make sense of his current condition.
A consultation with an unfamiliar medic, creators present.
Prowl, holding him close, field surrounding him with love and hope but laced with concern all the same.
Voluntarily going into deep induced stasis so that the alterations could be performed. Alterations that hopefully would allow the two of them to have a normal life together.
Shoving the rest of the messages aside, none of them tagged urgent, he came online. He wanted to see Prowl.
"Don't you dare do so much as twitch," an unfamiliar voice growled at him as his optics powered up. White with red focused into a large, boxy mech with severe features and a black chevron. "Your Praxian is just fine. I didn't even sedate him." The mech seemed somehow quite impressed by that.
Jazz obeyed, for the moment. The mech was familiar, the medic who had performed the procedure, nameless for the moment as more memories slowly became available.
Ratchet.
The medic was Ratchet, physician to the Prime.
"Do you know who I am?" Ratchet asked.
He was under order not to move. He was under orders not to speak. There was irony in there somewhere.
Well, it had always been safe before. He opened a comm line. ::Ratchet. Prime's physician.::
The mech actually smiled. Sort of. It was more of a smirk.
"A patient with a memory," Ratchet chuckled. "How nice. You can move now. Your systems are registering as stable."
Jazz sat up slowly. He'd enough experience, small as it was, to know that he needed to let his equilibrium systems recalibrate before attempting any serious movement. He watched the medic, a burning question he was afraid to ask eating at him.
"Oh ask already," Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the young black and white Protihexian.
Jazz reached up, fingers brushing at his neck. ::Did it work?::
"The installation went well," Ratchet's voice gentled. "Why don't you try it. Just a few simple words. Tell me how different you sound to yourself."
Jazz hesitated, irrational fear rippling through him for a moment. "Not much, I hope."
He looked back to the medic, visor brightening. It was...he could hear the difference, the small shift in the tone, like some of his natural inflection and resonance was missing, but he still sounded like himself.
The test would be trying it on someone who knew him, one of his brothers maybe, and the real test would of course be Prowl, to know if the changes he could detect were enough.
"I take that as it sounds close enough that you recognize it," Ratchet huffed, but he sounded decidedly pleased. "Your creators would like to see you first. Then I'll turn you loose for the night with Prowl. You can report to me in the morning if everything worked. Look for the protocols to activate your original vocalizer settings while I let them in."
Jazz settled on the berth, obediently sorting through the coding as he waited for his creators. It didn't take much to find them. Top level vocalizer protocols were a small, simple group. Most mechs just had on or off. Jazz now had 'on', 'off', 'original' and 'default'.
Lady Sweetsong was ahead of Ratchet and rushed to check on her second youngest creation while her bonded and ruler talked quietly with Ratchet as they approached more slowly.
"Let me hear you," Sweetsong demanded, worried and excited.
"Not so different, but enough, I'm hopin'." Jazz answered, smiling at her and waiting for her reaction, wondering if she would notice the change.
His carrier nodded, smiling brightly. "You still sound like you," she almost melted in relief and pulled him into an embrace that ended up with him on his feet, her slightly smaller form tucked against his.
"It is good to hear you," Rilla smiled warmly as she joined in the embrace. "I hope this works."
"Does your real voice still work?" Sweetsong asked as she reluctantly stepped back, giving her creation space along with her mate.
"Supposed to," Jazz answered, finding the commands and glancing at the medic before initiating the change. "Easy enough to move between them." He continued, this time with the original setting, fear he hadn't noticed before fading when he sounded completely normal to his own audios.
"Good," Sweetsong brightened considerably. "I'd hate to loose your lovely voice forever, even if I will only hear it when Prowl is elsewhere."
The laugh was easy, happy. That was one of the details that still needed to be worked out between him and Prowl, but at least his creators seemed pleased with the results. "You won't."
She hugged him again. "Good. Switch back so Prowl can see you. He's been remarkably composed the entire time. I'm starting to become very fond of him."
No second prompting was required as Jazz hugged her back and made the switch, his desire to Prowl very strong. "Done."
"All right, you," Ratchet called out to the waiting room and stepped aside in time for Prowl to sweep in, his doorwings high and tight and features tense.
"Jazz?" Prowl asked, a universe of questions held in the designation as he came to a step an arm's length away from his lover.
"Prowl?" Question for question and so much hope in the response as Jazz focused completely on the Praxian, the rest of the room's occupants forgotten.
Prowl's smile lit up the room and drained every bit of tension in it.
"It worked," Prowl's smile warmed as he stepped forward and drew Jazz close. "You still sound like yourself too."
"That was the goal." Jazz answered, melting against Prowl and still not quite believing that he was speaking to Prowl normally. "Happy?"
"Yes," Prowl's engine purred softly. "I'll be even happier if your original voice works as well, in private."
Jazz smirked, nuzzling against him. "It does." Which was going to result in a discussion of when Jazz was going to be able to use it in public, but that was a topic that could wait.
"Not in my clinic," Ratchet growled at them. "Scoot. You're clear to go to your quarters and enjoy the night. I'll see you midmorning."
Jolted back to reality, Jazz got the impression that excuses were not going to be tolerated. Instead he looked at Prowl. "Sounds like I'm clear to go."
"Good," the Praxian purred before inclining his head and doorwings to Jazz's creators, then drew Jazz from the room, almost tucking him under one doorwing as they walked through the grand palace of the Prime to the lavish guest quarters they had been granted.
Jazz didn't fight it, in fact he reveled in the closeness and possessiveness Prowl was displaying. Especially now, when they both knew his voice wasn't a factor. Prowl was doing this for Jazz. No matter what had brought them together, it was no longer the defining factor.
When the door shut the rest of the universe out, Prowl turned Jazz around to face him and kissed him, his glossa ghosting across Jazz's lips for admittance.
The response was instant, willing and eager. Giving and taking, sharing and owning. They moaned into each other's mouths, glossa gliding across glossa.
Almost reluctantly Prowl broke the kiss and guided Jazz back, pinning him lightly against the wall as he kissed his way along Jazz's jaw, then down his throat.
The smaller mech shivered at the familiar sensation over new components, deep as they were. Knowing hands traced over the Praxian frame he had come to know so well, seeking for anything new amid what he already knew as effective. He flared his field, silently asking his lover to join him and weave them together.
Prowl smiled against Jazz's throat, his glossa playing at the tubing as he responded, pushing his field deep into Jazz before focusing on weaving them together to share sensations.
"I want to hear this new voice of yours thick with pleasure," Prowl growled, his engine revving hard against Jazz's chassis. His hands moved down Jazz's sides, teasing seams.
Jazz moaned, the vibrations and the hands on his sides were wonderful, but the pure bliss of the sharing was his focus, laid before Prowl as offering and request for more. "Won't have to wait long, if ya keep that up."
"Good," he purred as he began to kiss his way down Jazz's chassis, his fingers working Jazz's sides while his glossa found one of Jazz's headlights. With their fields so well merged Jazz felt how hot, how good this felt for Prowl. Physical pleasure might be minimal, but the arousal was intense.
Part of him felt that he should be giving something in return, but it was so nice to simply be the cause of that arousal. Especially like this, where he was able to feel so much. "Feels so good when ya do that."
"This?" Prowl teasingly licked the other headlight. "Or this?" his fingers dug into Jazz's side seams. "Or is this better?" he whispered as he slipped lower, kneeling so he could kiss his way down Jazz's abdominal armor.
"Ya asking me to pick?" Jazz gasped, pushing into the touch on his side as a hand came around to stroke Prowl's helm.
"Just asking you to enjoy," Prowl purred as he moved lower, gradually finding his way to slide his glossa along the seams of Jazz's upper interface panel.
The teasing touch pulled whimpers from Jazz, just how much he was enjoying everything that Prowl was doing shining clear and bright through their twined fields. "Enjoying... so much. And you."
"Good," Prowl purred deeply, thrusting his field deep into Jazz before going back to teasing the panel. "Open for me, lover."
Even if he wanted to Jazz couldn't have resisted the command. Prowl knew him too well, knew just how to make his circuits sing as the panel slid away. That sinfully skilled mouth was over his spike housing before it could even begin to slip free. A glossa that knew entirely too much teased the tip, lavishing attention on the sensitive head.
"Prowl..." If the mech was expecting him to talk he was doing a damn good job of robbing him of all ability to speak. For a moment all Jazz could do was moan as he struggled for some sort of control.
::Moaning is just fine, my Jazz,:: Prowl cooed over their private comm as he coaxed Jazz's spike to extend and pressurize into his mouth. ::No need to hold back,:: he added, thrusting his field deep into his lover even as he pushed how good it felt to have the mech's spike in his mouth and under his glossa into it.
If pulling a sound of pure pleasure from Jazz was the Praxian's goal he was well rewarded as Jazz welcomed the field mixed with his own as much as the sensation around his spike. It felt so good to please Prowl and let his voice show how good it felt without driving the Praxian out of his mind with need.
Then strong white fingers stroked the edges of his valve cover, teasing, asking.
Jazz managed to regain some sort of control, a loving smile appearing as he looked down at the beautiful mech that belonged to him.
"Only if I get to have these." He bargained playfully, fingertips running over the top edge of Prowl's doorwings, cover sliding away to expose the valve without waiting for an answer. Two fingers slid inside him slowly as doorwings pressed upwards into his hands, excitement and intense pleasure rippling from one field to the next and back as the pair worked to push each other higher, over the edge.
Jazz quivered and moaned, leaning more against the wall for support but never taking his hands off those beautiful doorwings. It was different, being able to let go at the intense sensations, waves of pleasure flowing back with the sounds escaping him that had nothing to do with any special affect his voice had other than Prowl's personal enjoyment of getting him worked up. This was what lovers should be and he had it.
He was not going to give it up for anything either.
His entire chassis trembling, Jazz let out a long, low moan at the dual assault to his interface array. He wasn't going to be able to hold off much longer. Possessive desire and an awareness of the charge building in his systems and tickling over his plating filled him, spilling over to Prowl.
"Together." Question statement, knowing what he wanted but wanting to please Prowl at the same time. To share pleasure simply because they wanted to.
Jazz moved his hands, fingers pressing on the sensor rich side of the doorwings and sweeping out to the edges with just the right amount of pressure so that Prowl moaned around his spike, his field rushing with pleasure.
::Together,:: Prowl agreed, loosening his doorwing joints to flare them outward, giving Jazz even more access as his fingers found one of the major node clusters in Jazz's valve and rubbed against it. ::Overload for me, Jazz. I'm close.::
A few more sweeps over the doorwings, even as close as he was so Prowl knew how much it all meant, before he lost control and fell, the rush of energy pulling Prowl's name from him shamelessly. He only kept enough awareness in those first few nanokliks to feel Prowl cry out around his spike before the Praxian's overload thrust enough through their entwined fields to white out Jazz's processor.
The Protihexian drifted back to consciousness on his back, on a very soft berth, with a warm, purring chassis curled around him.
Jazz shifted and nuzzled at the Praxians neck. "Mine."
"Yours," Prowl purred and drew Jazz closer. "Mine. I think I love your new voice as much as your original one."
Jazz clung to him, thankfulness filling him as the pale ghost of fear that Prowl would leave him after an answer was found was laid to rest.
"Do you want to talk, now that we actually can?" Prowl asked softly, his touches light and soothing more than arousing.
"Yes." From a functional level a comm was just as efficient as using his voice to communicate, but there was something about hearing and speaking actual words that Jazz had missed terribly. A thought occurred to him, slipping out without real consideration. "Sideswipe will be pleased, at least."
"That it worked?" Prowl arched an optic ridge.
Jazz laughed softly, happy as he realized he could do that again too, and explained. "That I can talk again. He has informed me that the trick was usually getting me to shut up. He was disturbed by how quiet I was, even after you left. Especially after you left."
"I'm looking forward to hearing your voice, both of them, often," Prowl's engine purred. "Have you thought of how you wish to handle Sirenis?"
The smaller mech shifted, thoughtful. "I've thought about it, but a lot of it comes down to what your comfortable with an willin' to tolerate."
Prowl hummed softly. "Do you share much as Sirenis?"
"No. I do my best to avoid it. It cuts down on problems."
"And you get those chits for every city you visit?" Prowl asked. He was fairly sure he already knew the answer, but this was too important to go on second hand information when he had the source right here with him.
"Every city, every time, any more." Jazz confirmed. That was one lesson he had learned the hard way and had no desire to repeat.
"Then as long as you don't miss important events with me, I cannot think of a reason for you to cut back," he leaned over for a soft kiss. "You enjoy it."
He had enjoyed it. Performing as Sirenis was a rush, a thrill, his high before he had met and fallen in love Prowl. "I'll run any offers past ya before I accept." That should keep him out of trouble, and he had other things to distract him now.
"A fair arrangement," Prowl murmured, his field conveying his contentment as effectively as his chassis and voice. "Who knows you are Sirenis among your family?"
"My creators. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they know pretty much everything. Skygrace probably knows, but he's never mentioned anything one way or the other. Willow and Serenity simply believe I like to travel."
"Do you intend to tell them, since my entire family knows?" Prowl asked gently, his fingers stroking Jazz's arm. "It would make things less awkward if both families know."
"Skygrace and Willow should know. I'll only tell Serenity if we no longer want it to be a secret- she couldn't keep one to save her spark right now." He leaned against Prowl, seeking more contact then the soothing touch on his arm. "I might be better off just retiring Sirenis."
"You could perform as yourself," Prowl suggested, hoping Jazz would continue to do something that pleased him. "What harm would come if you were outed, rather than retire him?
"Probably not much." Jazz admitted. "Ya said yourself that stage names are common with performers, and it would just be another noble playing a game, from most points of view. It would mostly be things I've come to appreciate missin', I think. Honest feedback. Things are different when you are royal."
Prowl nodded and tipped Jazz's chin up to kiss him. "Then don't retire him. You enjoy singing and it will give you something to do that you enjoy while I work. I have a duty to my city, and my own desires in the enforcers. I will never have the amount of free time you have."
Jazz's field brushed against Prowl's, summing up what sometimes there were no words for. Contentment. Thanks. Love. "We'll see. I have no commitments, except the one."
"Me?" Prowl sounded hopeful but not sure.
"For you, anytime." Jazz brushed his lips softly over Prowl's as the Praxian relaxed. "Just say when, anything. Perhaps I should have said Sirenis has a performance commitment."
"Ah," Prowl hummed in contentment. "The solar festival." He ran his fingers down Jazz's side. "I'm looking forward to when your commitments there are done to ravish you."
"You really need to wait that long?" The smaller mech teased, understanding but unable to resist.
"I have no intention of it," he laughed easily before claiming Jazz's mouth once more. "But I am looking forward to the intensity of listening, having to wait, then having my way with you when duties are final over."
"Oh dear." Jazz purred softly, reigning in the desire that raced through him at the suggestion before frowning, reaching up to stroke Prowl's face. "Ya don't have to come to the performance, ya know."
"I know," Prowl assured him. "My creators made sure I understood I would not be expected at any performance Sirenis gave. I want to listen, to get that charged up, to indulge afterwards."
Jazz shook his head in amused affection. Who was he to deny the mech? "Just give me time to get off the stage. And change."
"And down a couple cubes of high grade," Prowl purred teasingly, his fingers growing bold once more. "I don't want you to be worn out before I get to you."
"If I can change into Sirenis the orn before it won't be as bad. That time I transformed too close together. And I fear your sister too much to risk that again." The high grade would definitely help, though the rush from simply performing would make things fun.
"Mmm, as long as it's safe," Prowl hummed. "Knowing it's you I don't find Sirenis' form objectionable. You did have an attractive one designed for him."
"I'll change early enough that it shouldn't be a problem and you can decide if ya like it." He smirked a little. "Performer is as performer appears. That form was meant to be everything that I am not."
Prowl raised an optic ridge. "In what way?"
"Flashy. Optic catching. Attractive." Jazz listed, relaxing against the Praxian.
"I may be biased, but you are quite attractive," Prowl kissed him gently and pulled him a little closer. "I will grant you that his form is far flashier and optic catching."
"Which was the point. Not going to protest if ya are biased in my favor though." He cuddled, content. "So who all is attending the festival?"
"Mmm, it should be everyone," Prowl relaxed, his field so tightly entwined with Jazz's that they could feel the state of the other's processors in detail. "I was the only one given leave to be absent."
"I heard Springer was going to try and make it a date. Anything ever come of that?" Jazz was easy to read at the moment. Slightly playful. Wonder, still adjusting to the fact that he could talk to the mech in his arms and not worry about causing a scene. Content to be there with Prowl.
"He tried," Prowl shook his head. "Hot Rod's creator objected. Again. I don't know how long Lord Prime can keep them apart, but he's trying."
"Springer is that determined?"
"Oh yes," Prowl chuckled. "When he wants something, nothing stops him. Hot Rod likes him too. He's just too militant for Prime to be happy about it."
While Jazz could see the objections..."There are worse things Springer could be. And the mech would never be in any danger, with your brother watching out for him."
"Yes, but Springer would also encourage Hot Rod's more volatile nature, behavior that is not in the best interest of Cybertron considering that Hot Rod is expected to be our next Lord Prime," Prowl explained. "Politically and for Cybertron, Hot Rod should have a calm, politically minded and gentle mate. Someone to temper his nature, not encourage it."
Jazz hummed softly as he considered this, suddenly distracted. "Very true. I hadn't thought of that. Which means it's a good thing there are those who think like ya around."
"Is something wrong?" Prowl focused on him, on the ripple in his field.
"Ya know from that list your everything he needs." Jazz pointed out very quietly, distress growing despite his attempts to hide it. After all, what did the youngest son of a royal house, for all its prominence, have to offer compared to the creation and potential heir of the Lord Prime? Or to the will of the Prime himself?
"Perhaps, but Optimus Prime is unlikely to order it and Hot Rod even less likely to comply if he did," Prowl murmured. "I am far from the only one with those traits, and I am formally in a committed relationship now. It would be ... awkward ... for him."
Jazz nodded, relaxing some though not completely reassured.
"There is one way to make sure he can't call on me," Prowl offered.
Jazz tilted his head to looking into his lover optics, at a loss. "And how is that?"
"Once we bond, not even the Lord Prime can break it," Prowl smiled as he leaned in for a kiss.
Longing, excitement, and just a touch of fear at the unknown swept through Jazz and into Prowl as their lips met. It was true- a bond was sacred and not even the Prime himself would dare act against one. He moaned into the kiss as Prowl's field began to flicker with desire and his hands played along Jazz's sides. The desire was echoed and returned, and with it came a sense of question and searching for intent, tempered by complete trust.
"Did you want to talk about anything else?" Prowl asked with a teasing smile as he broke the kiss.
"Not after you start doing that." The teasing tone matched Prowl's, and the hands that were slowly creeping towards a couple of particularly sensitive spots on the Praxian's frame were suggestions themselves.
"Good," Prowl kissed him, his hands teasing side seams. "Because I haven't gotten enough of being with you." Another kiss. "As lovely as your new voice is, I like the pleasure more."
"Which pleasure?" Fingers ghosted across Prowl's frame, just touching on points before moving on to the next and finally stopping to hover just shy of the Praxian's doorwings.
"All of it," he murmured. "Those you are always welcome to," he shivered and arched the doorwings forward, right into Jazz's hands. "I'd like to try spark play, a little ... if you're willing."
Knowing fingers worked over the doorwings, tempting and exciting without doing too much distracting as Jazz contemplated the idea. Lips brushed over Prowl's. "More than willing."
Prowl shivered, his engine roaring and field flooded with arousal at the memory of the one time he'd bared his spark chamber to a lover. It was still the most intense experience he'd had, but this might well be more. To touch Jazz's spark...
The Praxian's vents opened fully as fans kicked up a gear, his systems heating quickly just in anticipation.
Just feeling Prowl's arousal was enough to excite Jazz and focus him. He caught Prowl in a kiss, long and demanding, before asking firmly. "Pleasure?"
"Yes, just pleasure," Prowl trembled, his hand ghosting over Jazz's armor above his spark. Without any further prompting, Prowl unlocked his chest plates and began to slide them apart.
Jazz purred softly, in awe as he just admired his lover's brilliant icy-blue spark that glittered and pulsed between them for moment.
"Beautiful." he murmured, tracing the edges of Prowl's armor and sliding closer to the spark casing, his own chest plates sliding open in response, revealing his rich, almost electric blue spark to Prowl for the first time.
And suddenly Prowl was nervous. Arousal, want was still hot in his systems, but a flicker of uncertainty crossed his field as well.
Jazz paused, fingers stroking over Prowl's armor gently, making no attempt to hide his own desire. "Doubts, love?" His field flared stronger, leaving no question as to how much he was looking forward to feeling Prowl on an even deeper level.
"No doubts," Prowl assured him quickly. "I've ... never ... at the party was the first time I've bared my spark to anyone."
Jazz purred all the more, delighted at the thought that he was the only one to have viewed this amazing sight. "All mine. And so perfect."
"All yours," Prowl relaxed a little and reached out to caress the edge of Jazz's chamber.
The smaller mech quivered, spark leaping at the touch, wanting and hungry in a way that was contagious, rippling through him into Prowl.
"Have you touched sparks?" Prowl moaned at the intensity of the reaction and repeated the caress, enjoying the power he had to create such sensations.
"Once. A long time ago." Jazz answered, honest, and smiled a little in the next deep moan when he felt Prowl relax a lot more. That first time had been a mech carefully selected and tested by the twins before he was ever allowed near their little brother. It had been nice and decidedly educational, but that mech had not been Prowl. It hadn't been someone that Jazz wanted with all of his spark like he wanted the Praxian. "Nothing like this."
Prowl drew in a deep vent of air in a vain effort to cool himself. "Your twin brothers. To make sure you knew how."
"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have always looked out for me." Jazz agreed. He was going to have to thank them for that sometime. He reached out, running a finger lightly over the casing shielding the spark he so desired right now.
A low whimper escaped Prowl and he arched his chest into the contact. The chamber spiraled open without a conscious command, the spark inside reaching out tendrils for its mate. It settled on entangling Jazz's fingers instead, zapping the rich covering of pressure-sensitive sensors there.
Jazz stretched the moment, reveling in the sounds he pulled from Prowl before giving in and exposing his own spark and catching Prowl's helm, pulling him into a kiss as their sparks reached out. The first touch of tendrils caused both mechs to keen from the intensity that wasn't even a sensation with a name yet.
Prowl's hands found Jazz's hips and dragged him closer. His optics were off but his glossa active against Jazz's as their sparks demanded the frames move closer, allow them closer.
Attention shifted from the kiss to the pull in his spark, the need and want causing Jazz to grab Prowl's shoulders instead, melding their frames together and allowing their sparks true contact.
The two sparks crashed into each other, melding and sharing energy with an abandon that not even the deep pleasure merge Jazz had experienced could compare with. Prowl nearly screamed, half terrified by the intensity that took over his body, his processors, his very sense of self, but he didn't let go and his spark only dove deeper into Jazz's, uncaring of the state of the processor it powered.
A push that was welcomed, the fear soothed by a wordless promise that all was right as the lines that defined that which was Prowl and the individual which was Jazz blurred. The sense of physical self dimmed, secondary to the soul sharing that was so much more intense than physical touch could ever be.
As suddenly as it came, Prowl's panic receded as he welcomed, embraced, all that was Jazz into himself and offered everything in return.
Snatches of memory drifted along lines of the pleasure. The intensity, the physical pleasure, of the first time Prowl had slid his mouth down around a spike. The matching pleasure kissing brought. The enjoyment of feeling a lover in his mouth, against his glossa. A half-flicker of it being as good as the best energon confection ... how incredibly erotic and pleasurable it was to paint and then lick a lover clean of energon gel.
Acceptance of what brought Prowl pleasure, and in return the pure joy that radiated from Jazz at being so close to someone. To feel and know someone completely, to be surrounded by someone who loved him and how much it worked for Jazz to just feel a through another when he brought them pleasure.
~My wings?~ Prowl murmured in an odd mixture of contentment and intense pleasure.
~Beautiful. Different.~ And then the sense of why they were so wonderful that was harder to put into words. They were something that Jazz didn't have. Something that allowed him to bring pleasure to Prowl in a way that Jazz enjoyed as well. And just the simple fact that they were part of Prowl, part of what made the Praxian so handsome and wonderful.
A low, throaty hum sounded between them as Prowl accepted it ... and let go of his awareness a bit more. Less agreeable memories flickered up. Prowl on his hands and knees, his legs spread, another mech behind him. Gently worded instructions to turn off the defective programming that made him slick, the sweetly voiced apologies as pain tore through his circuits from his valve as a spike pressed into the unprepared space. Encouragement to focus on his doorwings as they were stroked and manipulated by skilled hands until Prowl's moans were of pleasure instead of pain. The relief-pleasure when the other mech overloaded and slick fluid exploded into his valve.
A brief recoil of the other presence as that was processed and analyzed, then the rushing return of Jazz to wrap around Prowl, anger and disgust at what had been done to Prowl shoved aside in favor of assuring that would never be asked of him again, to voluntarily endure pain for the pleasure of another. That he was loved and wanted now for who he was, not just for what he could give.
There was sadness as well, at the idea that something he so loved and enjoyed had been used against the mech he loved and the wonder if he could do that again, knowing what he did now.
~You showed me how to enjoy it,~ Prowl's awareness drifted uneasily between regret for sharing and refusing to regret a memory that was a foundation of his desires.
Acceptance of that, of Prowl as he was, but unwilling to acknowledge that there was any rightness to what Prowl had been subjected to. ~Not defective.~
~It wasn't one way,~ Prowl tried to defend his first lover, his first love, the mech he'd expected to spend his functioning with until he was suddenly gone. ~He always insisted I take him, either before or after.~
For a moment Jazz still struggled, then backed away from that, but not from Prowl. Then from him the first hint of doubt that he would be enough for Prowl, despite the deep feelings that resided in his spark for the Praxian.
~Why?~ Prowl murmured, his spark snuggling closer against its counterpart, trying to coax an understanding from it. Causing Jazz to doubt had never been his intention. He just didn't want Crisp Wing to be reviled for something Prowl couldn't hate him for.
It wasn't hate, but knowledge that it was something he wasn't sure he could give Prowl, despite his desire to give Prowl everything the mech could need or want. It was fear of falling short.
~I love you.~
~You give me something different,~ Prowl caressed him tenderly. ~I don't want that from you. I don't want to hurt.~
For now, that was answer enough, the caress savored and returned. This was changing them both, and Jazz was willing to see it through, wanting to see it through.
Focusing on the sense that was Prowl, Jazz reached out, his spark pushing against Prowl's affectionately as the other mech surrendered his sense of self a little more to the pleasure and desire of their sparks.
A low moan rumbled up from one of them as their sparks had enough of thinking and talking and fully embraced each other, merging all the way to their cores as the chassis's they supported stiffened and lost all coherency to the exquisite ecstasy of a spark overload.