Starcrossed

by Gatekat

G1 AU, Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Vortex Jazz is the second creation of a Noble House that's fallen on hard times. He's promised as the subordinate mate to a wealthy commoner in exchange for a great deal of credits. It's only when he meets his future mate that things get bad.

2. Before the Bonding

For those who enjoy such things art/If-It-Looks-Like-a-Duck-338135889 is the inspiration for Jazz's look as a noble.
New warning: Past child snuff (sexual murder)

Starcrossed 2: Before the Bonding
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Jazz watched idly out the window of the transport he was in, reclined back in his seat with his pedes pressed up against the back of the chair in front of him, helm pressed to the glass as he watched Kaon roll past.

It was nothing like Central City. Jazz's home was full of artisans and scientists who filled the city with breathtaking art and innovative technology. Mecha came from everywhere to visit, to learn about the history of one of the most influential cultural cities on the planet. Everything about Central City was built to cater and impress. His home was stunning, an architectural and technological wonder.

Kaon... was not. This city certainly wasn't built to impress, and Jazz doubted very much that it was inclined to cater, either. In fact, it seemed specifically designed to repulse.

He'd learned about Kaon's history and knew it was an industrial city, but that had done little to prepare him for what that would look like. It was...drab, Jazz finally decided, trying to be positive as he looking at the smog-hazed cityscape. And lifeless. There were no street performers on the corners, and the mecha he did see were larger and bulkier than he was accustomed to. He'd even seen several war builds, something he had never encountered outside of the guard his family employed, and they hadn't looked nearly this dangerous. His creators' guards were neatly polished and disciplined. They were heavily armored, but in a way that still allowed them to show a certain grace of form.

These mecha were heavy, bulky, looked designed to withstand almost anything. More than a few looked like they knew they could from first-hand experience.

Jazz shifted his optics down to look over his own body. He was finally feeling settled in his adult frame, though it had taken a little getting used to. That first look in a reflective glass…

He had gleaming white, delicate armor that hugged his slender protoform, but that was the same as it had always been. His helm had been upgraded, with another decorative chevron placed behind the first with a golden jewel placed in the middle. The sides had delicate trimming and were now etched with ornate symbols of his class and new House.

He held an arm out, looking at the bright blue and gold highlights that trimmed his armor and decorated his entire frame. Swirling patterns had been painted around his optics and down the sides of his face, accenting the delicate features. His lips were a pale gold, so pale it could hardly be seen against the white unless the light caught it just the right way. His mouth curved up in a private smile. He liked the way he looked, and Prowl had liked it too.

The seneschal hadn't said as much, but it wasn't hard to tell, especially now that Jazz knew his affection was returned. He offlined his optics and rested his helm back.

Just over a metacycle had passed since he'd snuck into Prowl's quarters, excited and impulsive, desperate for a taste of the older mech and unwilling to give in. The blocks Prowl had coded into his processor that night had helped with the desperation and impatience, but hadn't changed how deeply he wanted the other.

The fact that Prowl absolutely returned that feeling...

Jazz shivered, looking forward to a future when he could claim the seneschal as his right.

"I wish it was you breaking my seals," Jazz had whispered one day in Prowl's office. Forbidden words, from a noble to a servant, but he'd meant them. "If I could, it would be you."

Prowl had shivered, his engine giving a sharp whine of want. His reply still whispered through Jazz's processor, "It would have been my greatest honor."

After that night, Jazz had continued his visits to Prowl's office as always, talking with him about his day, his interests, whatever happened to cross through his processor. Sometimes, though, the talk had shifted to their future, full of soft exchanges of mutual desire, promises, shy admittances of how they'd both fantasized about this and what they imagined.

Jazz onlined his optics and looked back out the window. They were getting close to the new compounds. In the time it had taken him to fully mature, his Intended had gained his own grounds and palace. Jazz would bond to him, create with him, start his own House.

He was excited. Nervous, yes, and not sure about this city, but he was sure he could grow to enjoy life here.

And Prowl would be there with him.

There may have been many things he would have preferred to be different right now, but the future looked bright in the long run.

The confinement of close industry suddenly disappeared outside the window and Jazz sat up, watching as the grounds came into view. They were massive, with gardens that stretched out past the palace that sat in the middle. It was giant. Jazz tried to calm his pulsing spark as he stared at it. This was going to be his House. His creations would have those entire grounds to play and grow in. And if everything went well, as soon as his Intended had verified that he was untouched and had enjoyed Jazz's newness, he would be able to take lovers as he pleased.

Yes, definitely bright in the long run.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

A different transport and what might as well have been a world away, Prowl also watched the grounds of his new House coming into view. Unlike Jazz, his thoughts were centered around what it would be like to run this compound, the new tasks and regulations he would be learning, but he was also considering his future with the young noble. Although not more than being his lover, Prowl was looking forward to securing opportune futures for Jazz's creations. His relationship with the young noble was different from what he'd had with his creators, and he knew that any advice offered would be happily accepted.

Prowl was good with numbers and making credits grow. He'd discovered a natural talent for it in helping other servants save as much as they could that seemed beyond what any of them were capable of. He'd watched his last House's finances decrease with completely unnecessary losses, leading them to the final desperate act of all but selling their second creation. Even though Prowl was the highest of his class, he was still too many steps below nobility to offer unsolicited advice on such a private matter.

They passed through the grounds and arrived at the front gates, and then the front entrance, where a small group of mecha was waiting. In the middle, a mid-sized mech, an ornately decorated rotor frame, surrounded by what looked like other members of the House.

Jazz's Intended.

Vortex.

Lord Vortex to the likes of Prowl.

He did not like what he'd learned of the rotor, his kin or acquaintances, professionally or privately. He'd made inquiries about his future lord, routine ones, and when the replies had been concerning, he'd pressed deeper through the ties he had in his class.

This House was one that lower class servants were warned to avoid. There were also more than a few suspicious incidents involving other commoners, and Vortex had been blacklisted by almost every courtesan who had financial records linking to him and by many of the pleasurebot houses as well. It just made Prowl all the more determined to watch out for Jazz and his creations.

The two transports landed in front of the gathering and Prowl disembarked, getting a good look at the mech in question, whose gaze swept over him and the rest of the servants who were gathering without a single pause before focusing on the first transport, without so much as a gesture of welcome or acknowledgement. Acceptable behavior from a lord in his House, though not something Prowl or the others were accustomed to. Prowl bowed his head subserviently nevertheless.

Vortex didn't even look. He was much too focused on the young noble who had just emerged.

Jazz was breathtaking in the sunlight, and Vortex was definitely taking notice of the slender frame, smaller than his in both height and mass. Jazz held his arms out and dipped his head while bringing his hands in over his spark in a perfectly-executed formal greeting, one that seemed specifically designed to highlight his grace and form. Jazz held in position while Vortex looked him up and down in a way that made Prowl's spark clench.

This wasn't the way one looked at one's Intended when first meeting him. It wasn't right on so many levels. Even the lowest servant knew how to behave better. Though he kept still and kept silent, there was no way those who knew him, which was the entire contingent that came in the two shuttles, could miss the tension and disapproval he was radiating.

If Prowl had the rank to do so, Vortex would have been on his knees, his rotors being twisted until he recited everything he'd done wrong. Brutal but efficient, it was a training method Prowl knew and used very well to instill discipline in rebellious youths. Only Vortex was not a youth and not of a rank that Prowl could discipline.

So he waited and watched with growing unease as Vortex's gaze turned decidedly pleased and downright greedy. This far away and from this angle, it was impossible to get a good read of Jazz's reaction, but the noble's frame was starting to tense as the silence dragged on and Vortex didn't answer the greeting with the appropriate words or movements.

"Welcome, I suppose," the rotor finally said. He didn't look like he was going to do more than that, and it was with some confusion and much hesitation that Jazz finally relaxed out of the pose.

"Intended," Jazz murmured, at least keeping up his half of the formalities.

"Sure," Vortex said, and then leered, optics focusing everywhere but Jazz's face as he continued to take in the shining frame. "And I'm sure I'll enjoy getting to know you." He waved a hand dismissively. "Someone will show you to the quarters you will use tonight. You can clean yourself up there." That same leer. "See you at the ceremony."

Vortex turned around and walked back inside while most of the mecha with him. Two remained, both servants, and one came up to Jazz with a warm smile. "If you will follow me, Lord Jazz," he said, bowing.

Jazz took a step forward, then paused as he turned around and sought out Prowl's gaze, looking uncertain of himself. The greeting had obviously thrown him.

Prowl did his best to give an encouraging wave of his doorwings before focusing on the servant before him. "I would have a brief tour of the estate, of what is not covered in the packet we received, before we are shown to our quarters."

After the tour of the areas of the estate that he would be primarily working in, Prowl was shown to his new quarters. They were simple and plain, and very small for a servant of his class, not that size was something Prowl cared about. His few personal belongings had already been delivered and he looked them over, making sure everything was accounted for, before heading to the servants' washracks. He could settle in later. Right now he wanted to heat away the ache of long travel.

There were several others already there. They weren't anyone Prowl had met personally, though he recognized one as the servant who had shown Jazz to his quarters. None of them were in the brief list he'd been given of mecha he would be working directly with.

Three were likely cleaners, from the looks of their frames, the personal aide who had shown Jazz in, and the last was definitely a hired pleasurebot.

"Did you see the new lord?" the aide asked, not concerned by Prowl's presence as the Praxian selected a showerhead and turned it on to a relatively high temperature.

"Shining bit of frame he's got," one of the cleaners grunted back. "You know how Lord Vortex likes that."

"And he's kind," the aide sighed. "Poor thing."

"Why?" Prowl asked politely, sure they were all aware he was there.

The pleasurebot glanced at the aide before looking back at Prowl. "The rumors are that he's untouched, yes? Still unbroken?"

"In other words, fresh energon for Master's berth," a different cleaner said, with an unpleasant grin.

"Yes, he is completely untouched," Prowl fixed the pleasurebot with a gaze that could make errant noble younglings quiet, then shifted it to the cleaner. "Do explain."

The grin didn't go away. "Well," he said, leaning his helm back under the water. "Put it this way... the entire estate can tell when Lord Vortex is breaking seals."

"And afterwards, how long does he keep a berthwarmer?" Prowl intentionally used the most degrading term he knew, just to see what kind of response it got. It should have caused a small verbal riot in any House that the servants cared about their Lord or his reputation.

The aide looked uncomfortable and glanced away while the cleaners snickered.

"It depends," the pleasurebot said, drawing Prowl's attention. "Most are lucky, and he'll only use for a short while, but the unbroken ones... it depends on how resilient they are."

"Then how long Lord Jazz appeals to him will depend on how long it takes to break his will," Prowl hummed. "What else does Lord Vortex like in his berth?"

The pleasurebot glanced at the aide again, not answering Prowl for a moment while their optics met. "You don't understand," she finally said, looking back. "It's not a matter of whether he still appeals to Lord Vortex, it's..." She trailed off, shifting her weight nervously.

The third in the group of cleaners snorted. "If they come in factory new, they don't leave until they're spare parts," he grunted. "Not a one. Lord Vortex likes 'em new, doesn't like to share."

"And as for what else Lord Vortex likes..." the pleasurebot said, and shuddered. "You would do well to not catch his attention, good or bad." She looked back at the aide, who was trembling and had backed himself against the wall. "It might be different for Lord Jazz, since they're to be bonded," she offered, before going to the aide and running familiar, calming hands over his frame.

Prowl's focus shifted to the aide and softened. "I suspect I have a reasonable estimation if the reports I have access to are true. What catches his attention?"

"Mistakes," the aide said, slowly relaxing as the pleasurebot comforted him, but the waver was still in his voice as he spoke. "Definitely mistakes. Or being too pretty. Being in the same room as him when he's in a bad mood, or a good one..." He hesitated for a moment. "And do your best to keep off active duty when he has a gathering planned. If they so much as see you..."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance of the answer and permission for the aide to stop. "What are his tastes in pretty?"

"Lord Jazz certainly applies," the pleasurebot said, pausing in her soft trilling to answer. "You're not bad yourself, though a little big. He goes for smaller frames, usually." She hummed thoughtfully. "If you're worried and want to give some of yours a fair warning, he keeps records of most everything. They'll show the berthwarmers."

"Can hardly call 'em that if they don't even make it to the berth," the first cleaner joked.

The pleasurebot shot a sharp look his way that made the mech practically cower.

"Keeps the recordings for his parties," she said disdainfully. "They're in the public files, so visitors can access them. You don't want to watch more than a couple dozen nanokliks of any."

Prowl paused and filtered through the systems he was already logged into and found the public recordings. The first one looked like it was taken from a camera mounted high in the wall and showed a young servant, tied up and shivering on the floor. He was on his knees, helm to the floor, with his arms wrenched behind his back at an impossible looking angle that had almost certainly broken the shoulder joints. A bar connecting his ankles kept his legs spread wide.

Vortex appeared behind him and in moments, sank his claws into the mech's valve cover and ripped the piece completely off in a single tear, tossed it aside, then swung his hand back and slashed his claws over the exposed panel, shredding the softer metal.

It was all Prowl could take unprepared and he shut the recording off with a shudder. He'd known that Vortex was a sadist. It wasn't exactly a secret. But everyone had assumed that he was a sane one, a socially responsible one, the kind that took masochists, or at least paid very well for the services rendered. His gaze found the pleasurebot's. "Who do you serve here?"

"I am here for the pleasure of the servants," she murmured. "To help meet the needs of anyone who does not have another means of release."

Prowl inclined his helm to her, his doorwings giving respect to her profession and her duties. At least among the nobility, it was a respected function for the House to employ, a mark of wealth that they could afford to care for such needs of their servants. A quick search turned up her designation. "I am Prowl, Porcelain. If you would find the time to introduce yourself to those that came with me, I would appreciate it. None are currently mated."

Her optics brightened considerably and she inclined her helm. "I will be sure to do so, seneschal," she said, turning fully away from the calmed aide to face him. "And you? Shall I have the honor of your acquaintance?"

"Occasionally," Prowl decided. "Once I have settled and have time for diversions."

She smiled and settled back under the water. "I look forward to it." Her expression shifted and turned more serious. "Warn your mecha, do whatever possible to avoid attracting Lord Vortex's attention."

"I will. Thank you," he said as he began sending comm messages with the basics of what got the Lord's attention and links to the public files for what happened to those who failed. Then he pinged Jazz's comm with the special encryption he'd developed for them.

::Prowl,:: Jazz answered immediately, affection coming through strongly.

::We must meet, before the ceremony,:: Prowl replied, the strain and fear clear in his one as he finished his shower and began a walk of the grounds. ::Your Intended is not the mech we thought he was.::

There was a pause. ::Of course,:: Jazz said. ::These servants are not accustomed to keeping a watch on me, it will be easy to get past them.::

::Good,:: Prowl's relief was palatable even over the comm line. ::After midnight,:: he pinged a location, as well as the full security schematic of the estate. ::Be careful.::

::I will,:: Jazz promised, flickering with confusion and concern over Prowl's request. His voice softened. ::It has been too long since I've seen you.::

::I know,:: Prowl murmured. ::I will see you later.:: He added before closing the comm and working to make sure that what he had of the security network really was all of it.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The corner of the garden grotto that Prowl had found was out of the way, sheltered from above and did not have harmonics that carried sound well. It was an easy place to be trapped, but right now that was a secondary concern. He had to talk to Jazz first, and this time his presentation of an escape was not going to be an idle one to force the youth to think. It was a detailed plan meant to be acted on to save that youth's life.

Prowl lifted his head at a sound, alert, and moments later Jazz slipped into sight. He was decorated with symbols of his new House.

"Prowl," Jazz said, relieved to find him waiting, and closed the distance between them. He hadn't seen the seneschal in far too long and didn't hesitate to pull him into a kiss. Bonding be damned, he was at least going to have that much.

Prowl's vents hitched, nearly stalling, before he kissed back, hot and fiercely. White fingers rubbed against Jazz's dataport, asking for access. It spiraled open under his touch and Jazz made a quiet, surprised sound at the intensity coming off of Prowl. His hands came up to rest on the seneschal's chest. Prowl's focus was on the hardline connection, navigating the exchange of passwords and clearances until he felt secure.

His lips never leaving Jazz's while his hands moved along the beautiful chassis, Prowl uploaded several files for Jazz along with strong warnings of their contents.

~He'll never let another touch you,~ Prowl's pain was clear, but even more was his fear for Jazz over something that had nothing to do with them and everything to do with Vortex.

Jazz's vents stalled immediately and his focus on the kiss faltered, and he pulled back, optics widening. ~But...~ He opened the first file, a summary of the conversation Prowl had had in the washracks, and horrified realization swept over him as he focused in on one fact, skipping right past everything else.

He would never be allowed to have Prowl.

~You said-you said!~ he cried, hands shooting up to Prowl's shoulders and grabbing. ~Prowl-~ He pressed back into the kiss, frantic desperation and pure want consuming his field as the blocks shattered. Everything he'd craved poured back out, his longing and need for Prowl rushing forward.

With the hardline already open, the emotions slammed into him and Prowl could barely think past responding to Jazz's desires. They were on the ground with Jazz's frame covered by his larger servant, feeling the heat beginning to burn inside Prowl as white hands frantically tried to answer Jazz's need.

~Once, just once,~ Jazz was begging, already responding to Prowl's touches as he tried to mimic the movements, his own hands faltering and catching in the unfamiliar act of running them down another mecha's frame. ~I'm sorry, I don't know-I'm not sure...~

~Let me,~ Prowl moaned, breaking the kiss to run his lips down Jazz's neck, licking and kissing the sensitive cabling while his fingers sought out gaps in Jazz's armor. He didn't care about his own pleasure, though he was feeling a great deal in feedback and it felt good.

Jazz whimpered in compliance and tilted his head back, exposing his neck fully, and shifted his hands to settle on the edges of Prowl's doorwings. He stroked up and down the smooth surfaces, wanting to do at least something for Prowl and hoping the doorwings would be sensitive enough. Prowl's glossa on his cabling was making it hard to think, hard to remember to keep moving his hands, and he realized more than once that they had stopped when he was able to focus past the unfamiliar haze of pleasure.

~Yes, it feels very good, my lovely, beautiful Jazz,~ Prowl whispered through the hardline. His hands settled on Jazz's hips for a brief moment before pressing into the large gaps the joints made. He was aware that his spike had extended fully and was tingling, pleading for contact, as was his exposed valve, but was determined that he would ask nothing of his lover.

~Good,~ Jazz gasped, his vents stalling out at the end of almost every intake as he squirmed and arched beneath the seneschal. His grip tightened and he moaned, his processor racing incomprehensibly as Prowl's fingers danced in his hips and his glossa stroked over heating plating. ~Good, good, Prowl, Primus this is good, don't stop...~

~I won't,~ Prowl promised, though he made the extra effort to mute Jazz's vocalizer for him. Then one hand moved away from a hip to bury itself in a wheel well, teasing and tweaking the suspension that had seen little use.

Jazz's body jerked up at the touch and his mouth fell open silently as he shivered, small lines of charge starting to build and shine beneath his plating. ~Wanted you for so long,~ he sent, one of the few thoughts he was able to pull. ~Wanted this, never thought-~ His thoughts scattered when Prowl's fingers slid along a cable, then back down, and only the Praxian's firm hold on his voice kept him from crying out.

~It gets far better than this,~ Prowl's thought was a moan, his frame trembling with the building charge as he used everything he knew to draw out Jazz's bliss despite all the warnings that this was a bad idea, forbidden, would deactivate them both. ~Once a lover knows your frame. So much better.~ His thoughts swirled, carefully shielded from Jazz, about the difference between untouched and simply new to Vortex. The new eventually lost their luster and were left alone. He could make Jazz used goods in Vortex's optic. It would be the end of his spark, it might break the contract, shame the House his sparkline had served for generations, but it would save Jazz. Eventually.

~Better,~ Jazz echoed, all but lost and completely unaware of Prowl's thoughts as a surge of want pushed through the hardline, wanting Prowl to know his frame, wanting Prowl to be his lover, wanting a future he could never have with an intensity that made him sob at the next slide of glossa.

Above him Prowl shuddered and moaned. It was a cruel thing, but he began to pulse energy into Jazz's systems over the hardline. It wasn't the connection normally used for pleasurable interfacing, but as wound up as Jazz was it gave Prowl enough of an edge to push his lover to the crest of his first overload and somehow maintain his own self-awareness.

The charge skyrocketed in Jazz's system and his fingers clenched down as he instinctively tried to fight the unfamiliar release, sending his processors spinning as he did while his senses reeled. ~Prowl,~ he whimpered. ~Is-~

~Let go,~ Prowl crooned. ~Let it happen.~

Jazz's helm slammed back into the ground and his mouth opened in a silenced scream that he still heard in his processors. He was lost to the running charge as it crackled over and through his frame, burning through him, making his plating lock and his protoform shudder.

It burned out too quickly and he slumped down, cooling vents kicking up as he tried to put his processor back into working order.

Over him Prowl kissed him gently and tried to relax despite the level of current ricocheting through his systems. It would be so very easy to overload right now, but he needed to cool down and get them to both think again.

~Jazz?~ he lightly prodded his lover, checking for awareness.

Jazz flickered a dazed, unsteady affirmative and onlined his optics after several tries. He looked up at Prowl as his systems continued to settle, and with fingers still shaking from the overload, wrapped around the back of Prowl's neck and pulled him down into another soft kiss that was returned eagerly.

~We must escape. Run, hide, get away from here and that monster you're betrothed to,~ Prowl's tone was as firm as anything Jazz had ever heard.

Jazz pulled out of the kiss, his hazy post-overload bliss disappearing immediately. ~I can't,~ he said, despairing. ~You know the shame that would bring my family, they would lose everything.~

~Look at what he's going to do to you, never letting another touch you, until he gutters your spark,~ Prowl pushed towards the video clips and the links to the full events in the main system.

Jazz cringed away from them and Prowl, shaking his helm desperately. ~He wasn't bonded to any of those mecha, it might be different for me, he wouldn't break a sparkbond like that, no one would!~

~You don't understand. He would. He gets off on pain. There are other vids where he kills while hardlined, screaming as he overloads on the death,~ Prowl's absolute terror at what he was sure was Jazz's fate rode every glyph, every link and memory that he desperately wanted to scrub from his processors. ~Your status won't protect you once he has an heir from you.~

Jazz froze. ~My family,~ he protested, weakly, clinging to Prowl and shaking as Prowl pushed forward a single frame of exactly what he'd described, making Jazz sob when he saw it, terror spiking through him.

~Your spark, your creation being raised by that monster,~ Prowl was shaking, his charge still too high to be easily controlled. ~I can get us away, keep us safe. At least long enough for this to settle. If we're caught, you were mechanapped.~

Jazz's optics shot to Prowl as the image of Vortex raising and teaching his sparkling became all too vivid. It made him sick, and then the idea of carrying for him made it worse. His coding tangled in a deadlock-loyalty to his creators warring against protecting his creations. Prowl felt it, and with a decidedly guilty sensation, forced Jazz to look at another sequence. A small frame, screaming and thrashing as it was clawed apart, but that was just the setting. The warm-up. Suddenly it cut to Vortex driving his spike and overloading into the guttering spark chamber of the youngling.

Jazz choked in horror and his entire frame spasmed in pain just to see it, much less to imagine it as his own creation.

~I'll go with you,~ he whispered, shuddering, holding onto Prowl tightly.

A huge amount of tension unwound from Prowl's frame, which was all his arousal needed to push itself to the forefront of his awareness. Reluctantly he pushed himself up and moved to stand.

~Wait,~ Jazz said, grabbing his hand, making him pause. Decision made, the horror of what might have happened was starting to fade and he stared at Prowl with huge, bright optics. His processor was rapidly adapting to the sudden change and rewriting his expectancies for both the near and distant future. ~I'll go with you,~ he repeated, slowly, as the words solidified into a real, tangible idea. ~I can be your lover, I can carry for you, you can...~ He paused as his optics moved over Prowl's frame, looking at him in a completely different perspective. They froze on the still-extended spike and his vents hitched. ~You can break my seals,~ he breathed.

Prowl trembled and knelt next to Jazz, lowering his helm to rest their forehelms together. ~Once we are away from here. It takes time to do it right. Time we don't have.~

~At least let me...~ Jazz said, and reached out, touching a single finger to the tip of Prowl's spike, circling once. ~Please? I can feel you still need to.~ His other hand moved up to touch the other end of the hardline on Prowl's frame.

~Yessss,~ Prowl moaned deeply, his hips rolling into the touch.

Jazz gave a soft, startled yelp at the reaction and quickly formed his fingers into a loose fist around the length, pushing himself up on his elbow. ~I-I don't know how,~ he stammered, apologetic, as he stroked once, optics darting back and forth between the spike and Prowl's face. The features he'd long considered beautiful were stunning now, relaxed in pleasure. Ice blue optics dimmed and shuttered, full lip plates parted.

~Won't take much,~ Prowl moaned, his engine revving higher as he leaned down to kiss Jazz, soft and supple, full of tender want and a promise for the future.

Jazz moaned in reply as Prowl's arousal and pleasure echoed back through to him and he repeated the motion while parting his lips for Prowl's gently prodding glossa, gasping softly when it met his and swirled, sending his processors spinning. With each stroke up and down, more of Prowl's enjoyment fed through the hardline and he sped up, encouraged, enjoying the way the warm metal tingled with charge under his fingers.

With a quiver and reluctant sound, Prowl disconnected the hardline pulled back, out of Jazz's hand and half turned away from him. "Against my back. Watch. You need to stay clean."

Jazz quickly shifted up to his knees and pressed his frame against Prowl's, chest to his back, and resting his chin on his shoulder while he brushed his fingers back and forth over the doorwings. Prowl's plating was hot and Jazz watched with bright optics, trembling and aroused just from the sight. Prowl shivered at the contact, the pleasure spiking just from the hands on his doorwings, before he remembered his spike.

A soft moan escaped the Praxian as he slid his hand down, rubbing his palm along the underside of his spike, before curling his fingers around the base and stroking upwards, then down. His hips rolled into his touch, the long-familiar pleasure-giver, and he gave himself over to the rising tide of the charge.

"You look incredible," Jazz whispered, one hand sliding down Prowl's back and slipping under the doorwing, stroking over Prowl's hip while the other continued to brush over the doorwing. His gaze never left Prowl's spike and the way the seneschal's hand moved over it, memorizing every stroke and movement as he pressed his lips to Prowl's neck and licked there.

It was more than Prowl could take and he moaned deeply, his frame stiffening as he arched back, pressing against Jazz as energy crackled across his frame, along his spike and through the thick, creamy-purple fluid that was ejected.

Jazz's optics focused sharply on the sight and he trembled as he felt the overload charge move over Prowl's frame. The sight kicked new coding to the front of his processor. "Want that," he moaned quietly. "Primus I want that, want you."

"Soon," Prowl whispered as he came down, still shaking. "I want to teach you about it all."

"Can't wait," Jazz murmured, lips still pressed to Prowl's neck. He exhaled shakily and drew more cool air in, moving away. "What do we do? How do we get out, just tell me what to do, I'll do it."

Prowl started to answer, but footfall from right behind them made their heads snap up and turn in time to see three estate guards come around the corner.

Jazz scrambled up, spark flaring in alarm and processor racing. He was a lord in this House, a noble by birth, and these mecha would-should-listen to him. They couldn't have seen anything. "On your way," he commanded, only long practice keeping his voice steady.

"Lord Vortex commands that you be escorted to your quarters and held there under guard," the large mech informed him even as the other two moved in on Prowl. While the Praxian had retracted and covered his spike, there was no denying the fresh transfluid evidence as they grabbed him.

"No!" Jazz gasped as they grabbed Prowl. He tried to step forward, but the guard who had spoken grabbed him from behind, gripping his upper arms and pulling back. "Release him!" Jazz said, struggling. "Let go!"

The guard growled and yanked him back, almost lifting him as he did. He was larger and easily stronger than Jazz and kept him restrained while they other two forced Prowl onto his knees and bound his wrists behind his back.

Jazz moaned as one of the guards drew a blaster from his subspace and held it to Prowl's helm.

"Let's go," the guard holding him said, and dragged Jazz away.

Jazz fought uselessly and was dragged around the corner, back into the gardens. "What are you going to do to him?"

"His fate will be Lord Vortex's pleasure," the guard said, and hefted Jazz up, slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him in.

::Jazz, this was my doing,:: Prowl's tone was firm, even an order, despite never having had close to that right. ::Remember that. I lured you. I did this. All of it.::

The comm line shut down before Jazz could respond and he slumped, not moving until he was tossed unceremoniously into his quarters and the doors shut with the click of a lock. He lay where he'd landed, shaking, as sobs started to escape him.