This chapter contains graphic smut (I dare you to be surprised)
Head to Ao3 for the full entry
archiveofourown dot org/works/637909/chapters/1204552
Starcrossed 6: Party Animals
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Jazz followed Vortex through the hallways of the estate, not meeting the optics of any of the mecha they passed by, mostly servants, a few relations of his bonded who also inhabited the large grounds. He was the Lord's bonded, a Lord himself, he was more than any of them. That was what Vortex wanted him to be, and so he was.
Right now he was going with Vortex to attend one of the rotor's gatherings. This one was being described as a post-bonding celebration, with the same mecha who attended the normal get togethers that Vortex hosted, for a small but dedicated community that was similarly inclined.
Sadists, and Vortex was at the center of it. Quickturn hadn't wanted to tell Jazz anything when he'd asked, and only answered when Jazz had pushed the questions as commands. Jazz knew the aide had been the "centerpiece" of one of these gatherings before, and as one of Vortex's personal aides, was one of his better sources of information.
Quickturn hadn't been happy to remember.
Jazz felt his spark flutter anxiously when they reached the door and he quickly calmed it back down before following in. Calming himself was getting easier to do with practice, but it happened more often than he would have liked.
The room was massive, a dungeon, lined on all sides with frightening looking tools. A variety of chairs and berths were strewn about, and several different energon dispensers, some that were designed to produce solid confections of the user's choosing. On the far wall was a screen, and in the middle, Prowl hung from his wrists, chin against his chest, pedes brushing against the floor.
Jazz's spark clenched. It had only been three orns since Vortex had first raped the Praxian and forced Jazz to overload from it, and Jazz hadn't been able to communicate with Prowl since. Vortex had barely left their quarters, and when he did, he'd brought Jazz with, making sure he was never alone. He'd taken Jazz enthusiastically at every chance, and had started talking about teaching Jazz to enjoy the things he did.
Jazz shuddered internally. No amount of coding could make him take the kind of joy Vortex did at another creature's pain. He would have to learn and pretend.
"Who is coming?" he asked, deliberately loud, wanting to let Prowl know he was there, desperate for any sign of life or communication from him. He didn't know if Prowl despised him now, or even if Prowl was even still himself. The wingless Praxian frame didn't so much as twitch, its optics still dark.
"Onslaught, Brawl, and Lockpick," Vortex answered.
They weren't designations Jazz knew on his own, though Quickturn had whispered them fearfully.
Jazz watched as Vortex frowned and he walked up to Prowl and grabbed the mech's chin, forcing him to look up. Pale optics flickered on, the expression behind them blank, almost empty. "Pathetic thing. I really expected you to last longer."
A low sound something like a rumbling growl echoed up from Prowl's chassis. His vocalizer was limited, but his frame-sounds, his engine, hadn't changed.
He was angry. Hurting, helpless, submissive, but angry.
Jazz tried to meet his gaze, not even sure if he wanted Prowl to acknowledge him. He felt guilty, and ugly, for the good repair he was in when Prowl was hurt and starving. Jazz had free access to energon, Prowl usually subsided on only as much was needed to keep him alive, poured down his throat through a tube shoved into his intake. For this particular occasion, he'd been given more than double what he usually received, in anticipation of the strain it would put him through.
Vortex liked having Prowl to play with, liked what it still did to Jazz when he tortured and raped him, loved how Prowl cried when Jazz overloaded to his screams. Jazz hadn't figured out how to stop Vortex from sending his lust over the bond, hadn't even figured out how to start. He'd been trying as hard as he could, with no results.
He stepped forward, hoping the movement might catch Prowl's optic. He was given no such response. Prowl's focus was completely on Vortex. Before he could think of whether to try again, the door opened to a boisterous and very low-caste drawl.
Vortex glanced over, though he knew full well who it was without looking. "Brawl. It's good to see you. This pathetic creature needs to know how much worse it could be than as my toy."
"Does he now," Brawl said, walking forward. He stopped when he saw Jazz and eyed him up and down, engines rumbling appreciatively. "That's your noble, then?" he asked.
"It's Lord Jazz to you," Jazz snapped at him.
"Feisty," Brawl leered at him, completely unintimidated.
"Mine," Vortex hissed, rattling his rotor blades in warning.
Brawl cycled his optics in surprise, something that managed to make noise to Jazz's disbelief. Everything with this mech was loud. And annoying.
"Got it?" Vortex rumbled, rattling his rotors again in an effort to intimidate the larger, heavier and much meaner tank-former.
"I wouldn't let Brawl touch that one anyway. He'd never last an overload," a new voice rumbled as a convoy class mech entered with two heavy guns rising over his helm.
Primus, they were huge, Jazz thought, watching as Vortex stepped away from Prowl to join them. For the first time ever, and with the way Brawl kept glancing at him, he found himself grateful to have Vortex in the room. He shifted, putting the rotor frame in between himself and the tank, still watching the third addition, trying to decide about him.
"Oh, a new toy!" was the last joiner's greeting, and the door closed behind him, presumably by Vortex's command. A grounder, he was smaller than the others, somewhere between Jazz and Vortex in mass. He looked completely at ease to be in the company.
"Lockpick," Brawl rumbled. "Vortex won't let me play with the noble."
Lockpick threw a look Jazz's way, completely disinterested. "Who wants that?" he asked, his voice a high, grating sound, gaze sharpening on Prowl. "Not in chains, love a toy in chains."
"Vortex needs to keep the noble functional," Onslaught dismissed the tank's whining and zeroed in on Prowl, walking over. "At least for a few dozen vorns and a creation. But this one ... used to be Praxian?" he gave Vortex a glance even as his large hands ran along Prowl's frame, taking it in as a lover might, but with very different intent.
"And you got rid of his wings?" Lockpick pouted at Vortex after he nodded in confirmation to Onslaught. "But the wings are so fun to hurt!"
"The rest of him is fun to hurt too, I promise you," Vortex grinned, watching as the others stepped over to each get a feel of Prowl's frame. "Don't worry about being gentle, he's got an alert that'll summon Flatline if he's close to deactivating. No killing," he added, with a hard look at Brawl.
"Why?" Lockpick whined, his voice more grating than before if possible.
"Because he is mine," Vortex growled at the smaller mech as they all crowded around to paw at Prowl's frame, making the bound mech squirm and a small whine escape. "When you host, you can set the limits."
That cheered Lockpick up immensely, and Vortex was sure he would find some guttersmech for just that purpose very soon.
"So you'd like to see what it would be like belonging to someone else, huh?" Brawl said, taking Prowl's head in hand and turning it towards him. "We'll make Vortex look like a turbo puppy if that's what you're after."
Jazz's spark sank. He had shifted as the group moved, always keeping closer to Vortex than any of the others, moving as silently as he could. He didn't dare bring attention to himself, not with that tank. Vortex would certainly try to protect his noble possession, but there was no guarantee he would win. Silent and still was his best option here.
Silent, still and...watching. Vortex had made threats Jazz didn't want to risk by not watching.
"No one could make Vortex look like a turbo puppy," Onslaught was commenting, behind Prowl now, examining the simple plating on his back.
"What first, what first?" Lockpick asked, quivering in excitement as he pushed flush against the Praxian. "Ohh so many choices, too much to do to its frame..."
"Spit him," Onslaught grinned directly at Brawl, pulling on the chains that gave way to him smoothly enough. Prowl all but fell forward against the green tank, his hips pulled back by Onslaught. "I see he hasn't learned much." He pressed his fingers along the edges of Prowl's valve cover and crushed it to get a purchase to pull it away while Prowl screamed and thrashed.
"No fun for me," Lockpick sulked, but his optics were bright as he watched the two larger mecha move to their knees with Prowl held between them.
"Don't worry," Vortex purred, then looked around for Jazz. He crooked a finger. "Come here, pet," he said.
Jazz didn't hesitate. He knew that tone.
... And thus begins the smut. Head over to Ao3 for the full chapter.
archiveofourown dot org/works/637909/chapters/1204552