Chapter specific warning: Carrier Snuff
Starcrossed 8: Learning to Kill
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It wasn't hard to watch, Jazz had seen far worse by now. When he had asked Vortex almost a vorn ago to teach him everything he enjoyed, Jazz could have never imagined the amount of technique and procedure involved in what the rotor did for pleasure.
He'd been shocked, horrified, repulsed, sick ... he had looked away knowing what the punishment for doing so was, and he'd lost almost his entire frame for it, had it flayed away with an electro-whip with the masochism protocols disengaged.
He hadn't looked away after that, but he'd been tempted, the first time he'd seen what Vortex was doing right now. He'd pulled this mech from the gutters and tortured him until he was almost deactivated before tearing his spark chamber open, cracking open the inner iris and laying it bare.
After that...
Jazz watched calmly, mostly through the mask he wore. The secondary personality profile, he mentally corrected himself. He'd read enough about it and now knew that was what he'd created while hiding from Vortex in those early orns. He had more control over it now, bringing it forward was less instinct and more choice. Prowl sent him a link about once every other orn to documents about it, accounts of subordinate personalities generated by adaptive coding becoming the primary profile. Jazz had memorized the process after the first reading, but dutifully opened them every time. He could understand Prowl's focus. They all said the same thing. The stronger the difference between the two profiles, the more likely the subordinate would become dominant if it was in control too often.
The mask, the adaptive construct, was happy to watch whatever Vortex enjoyed, so Jazz was happy to settle back and watch through its optics as Vortex drove his spike into the guttering spark. He didn't even find it hard to watch anymore, as Vortex overloaded and the spark flared and vanished
Vortex dropped the graying frame and looked up at Jazz with a savage grin. "Your turn."
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Jazz walked back to their quarters unescorted - though he knew Vortex watched him the entire time through surveillance cameras - and entered, not even pausing when he heard the mag-lock engage behind him. Prowl was in his usual place next to the berth and Jazz didn't look at him as he settled into his normal position
Vortex had never questioned this ritual, and Jazz doubted if he had ever even taken notice of it. He x-vented slowly, settling himself down into his memory, engaged his motion alerts, and prepared to relive the entire experience. First, though...
I was able to dull what went over the bond.
Excellent. Prowl single glyph response was woven with modifiers for pride, relief and hopeful anticipation. Despite all that was written into the small message, his frame did not twitch, not even his optics. Part of that, Jazz knew, was a lack of energon. Prowl had to conserve every drop he could to maintain even the limited awareness he had for long.
Jazz was working on a way to get more energon to him. Vortex kept a constant watch on the cameras overseeing their quarters, but with time, his attention had grown less strict. He still kept the feed up, but only focused on it if there was significant movement.
Which meant he wouldn't notice a loop, if Jazz could figure out how to play one. He'd need access to the raw feed, and for that, he'd need the pathway. He'd been working on gaining Vortex's trust enough for just that. The rotor was paranoid. He'd never forgotten Jazz's resistance to him in the first orns. But what Vortex had been showing lately, and the things Jazz had felt coming over the bond while Jazz had obediently mimicked ... he thought he might have enough trust with one more demonstration.
I'm going to ask for a guttersmech to kill.
You can go through with it? Concern for Jazz, not his kill, laced through the glyphs.
I just did. I can do it again.
Prowl was quiet for almost too long. Jazz waited for the argument, the cautioning, the reminder that every time he'd done this, it had been with the understood threat of punishment if he didn't comply. This would be Jazz initiating, condemning a spark as soon as he spoke. But it didn't come.
Be careful. was Prowl's eventual reply.
Jazz glanced over at him. I will. he sent, then dropped inwards and initiated the memory replay.
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Jazz waited in the playroom, walking around the walls, looking at all the tools that would be at his disposal. He planned to use very few of them, and he was trying to calculate which would gain him the most approval in Vortex's optics. Everything needed to be planned and perfectly executed, or this demonstration would mean nothing. He was this close to breaking through the mistrust Vortex still held for him, and he didn't dare ask for any of the numerous favors he would need to help Prowl until he had it.
With luck, asking to kill in his bonded's name, for his bonded's pleasure, would be the extra push he needed. If the shine Vortex's optics had taken on when Jazz had asked was any indication, as long as Jazz performed well, he would have that and more.
Jazz's gaze wandered to the center of the room where the kill would happen. He'd killed already, but never on his own, never by request. Whoever Vortex brought in, the death would be on Jazz, and Jazz alone. Prowl hadn't stopped worrying on that point.
Jazz steeled himself. He could do this. He would do this, and if it meant helping Prowl, he would enjoy it. His gaze sharpened and he watched the door, waiting, anticipating. He could feel the construction stir inside his processors, eager to be called on, eager for this and the approval it meant. Unlike Jazz, it had no morals that did not come from its bonded and it did not care.
The door opened with the movement of heavy plates and two guards stalked in, pulling as much as carrying the struggling victim between them. Non-descript and boxy as well as dirty and with the abused finish of one who hadn't seen a washrack in ages, and Jazz was grateful for it. It would have been so much harder if he'd managed a properly detailed Praxian. Jazz could see the golden optics of his bonded beyond them.
Jazz trilled a soft greeting to him as he watched the victim dragged across the room, expecting to see him strung up as Vortex preferred his kills to be, but the guards simply stopped and looked at him. Jazz stared back for a moment, then realized they were awaiting his instruction. A quick glance at Vortex showed he was being watched closely.
"By his wrists," Jazz said, gesturing carelessly.
The instruction was obeyed quickly and efficiently, and too soon, Jazz found himself locked in with Vortex and the victim, who was trashing against the chains with an energy that Jazz found surprising. The kills he'd seen, while not being without their desperation and pleading, hadn't been this spirited.
Vortex purred as he watched the struggling, but stepped up to Jazz and kissed him with all the possessive passion in his frame until the slender noble all but melted in his grip. "All yours, bonded," he purred as he released Jazz. "Show me what you've learned."
Jazz hummed as Vortex stepped back and he turned to consider the victim. He already had a plan in mind, something that would take time and little physical effort on his part, cause excessive pain, and hopefully be symbolic enough for his bonded to enjoy. His optics found the wide, panicked stare, almost too white to tell their normal color was some shade of blue, but not quite. Jazz held them for a moment, reconciling himself with the fact that this creature, but for his asking, would have still been alive tomorrow.
"Flatline has prepared him?" he asked as he broke the gaze and strolled to the wall.
"He will remain aware," Vortex answered.
Jazz nodded once and selected his tool of choice. As soon as his fingers closed around the handle, he felt the bond surge with anticipation. He tossed a grin over to his bonded, and flicked the torch on as he turned back to the strung-up mech and held the flame up for him to see.
"Please-no!" the mech pleaded as his field flared out in a panic. "My-my sparkling, I'll lose him!"
Because he was paying attention, Jazz caught a tiny flicker of surprise from Vortex before it was washed away in the savage joy of how much harder that would make this mech fight.
"Sparkling," Jazz repeated, staring, and didn't take his next step as creator-carrier coding flared up. Both the victim and Vortex focused in on his obvious pause.
"I'm carrying," the victim pleaded. "Five metacycles along. His designation is Skywatch. He loves it when I can see the moons."
Jazz felt frozen at the words, and he was intensely aware of the golden optics watching every move, and the looming threat that echoed over the sparkbond. He opened his mouth, tried to get something to come out, and met the victim's optics again as his resolve started to crumble.
White with terror.
Like Prowl's, when Vortex raped him, tortured him, mutilated him. Like Prowl's when he watched Jazz screaming in ecstasy to the sound of his pain. Like's Prowl's when Vortex offered him Jazz's frame as he struggled to say no, again and again.
Jazz's optics refocused and he took another step. Who was this mech to try to stop him from taking what he needed? He needed this kill to save Prowl, and this creature dared beg him to spare him? Dared to presume his sparkling's life was worth more than Prowl's?
A snarl rose up in Jazz's throat as he made his slow approach. He couldn't stop, not now, and the carrier was trying to make it harder on him. Jazz wasn't going to let the efforts stop him. Too much rode on this kill. Prowl's life rode on this kill, and the carrier would have Jazz sacrifice Prowl to save his sparkling.
"Then he will burn as well," Jazz said in a low voice as he grabbed the mech's collar and held the flame at full intensity up to his neck.
The mech screamed until his vocalizer melted, leaving only his engine to scream for him. His field lashed out, desperate and panicking to try and draw out whatever mercy or sparking-protection protocols Jazz had.
Survival instinct and innate desire to please his bonded easily crushed any resistance those protocols might have offered and Jazz found it easier than he'd thought it would be to watch armor and exposed wiring melt away. He kept Prowl's face in his mind, basked in Vortex's heady approval, and took his time ruining the carrier's frame. Longer than he'd intended to, fueled by the rage that his kill had presumed to place its creation's worth above Prowl's.
Almost nothing visibly recognizable as a mech was left when Vortex finally stepped forward. The spark chamber was visible through the melted, mangled chassis, the light flickering dimly. That and the optics, which had long ago grown unfocused with pain and ceased to display sanity, were the only signs of life.
"Tear the armor away, expose his spark," the rotor purred, lust a blinding heat in his field. "Close your fist inside, feel the rush as it gives up."
Jazz obeyed automatically, setting the torch aside and reaching in, prying open warped plating that was still malleable from the heat. He ripped away the wiring surrounding the chamber and sank his fingers in, tearing what little protection the carrier's frame still offered away.
The spark shone in front of him, soft and weak, and Jazz felt his vents stall as he looked at it, transfixed. A hard surge from the field behind him struck out, shaking him from his stillness, and he pressed his hand into the light.
Energy rippled over his fingers as he closed them around the center and Jazz leaned forward, shivering as it washed over him. He looked up into the carrier's optics, saw them staring back with naked, uncontrolled horror, and he grinned.
The entire frame gave a hard shudder as the helm lolled back and Jazz started as the wash of energy over his hand increased in strength, then gasped when it flooded up through him. The light that had previously been so weak to the point of fading flared sharply and with a hard crack the delicate inner plating of the chamber warped and shattered, and the energy ricocheted back out, consuming Jazz's vision completely as it flooded through him.
He couldn't have stopped the moan if he'd tried. It was almost enough to overload him on the spot when combined with Vortex's lust against his back.
"Good show," Vortex growled against his audial before pushing Jazz to the floor, his spike hard and hot against Jazz's valve cover. "You're so hot to watch. Most erotic thing ever."
Jazz lifted his hips up and snapped the cover back, pressing his helm to the ground and crying out as Vortex slammed in. The single thrust in was all it took to push Jazz completely over the edge and he screamed with his overload, writhing in Vortex's grip. His bonded was still thrusting into him when the overload faded enough for him to feel it, and the lust, desire and approval pouring over the bond was enough to quickly push Jazz's charge up again.
Primus that combination felt good. Jazz whined and arched into the driving spike as the relentless pounding from behind made everything else fade away until he was too far gone to even think.
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When Jazz rebooted, the first thing he was alerted to was a scrolling list of repairs for injuries he didn't remember receiving. New valve, repaired hip joints, replaced pelvic plates... the last thing he could remember was being held up from behind while Vortex... ah.
His external sensors finished booting up and he onlined his optics to see Prowl's darkened frame kneeling across from the berth and felt the deep rumbling from the rotor frame pressed up against his back. An arm was wrapped around his middle, with claws curled possessively around him. Jazz shifted back, curling against Vortex. The construct was purring, ecstatic at the response to its efforts and Jazz had to admit that it felt good to have the bond humming with such pleasure, approval and enjoyment.
He didn't keep tabs on how long Vortex recharged against him, but it wasn't that long before the rotor began to boot, pulling Jazz close and nuzzling him even before he was fully aware.
Jazz hummed, letting the vibrations ripple through him, and turned his helm to nuzzle in response as he murmured a soft greeting. The construct had him opening his valve cover, knowing how much Vortex liked it when he had a seal to break, and pushing his hips back.
"My pretty slut," Vortex mumbled, still half in recharge as his spike extended, and his boot sequence sped up so he could fully enjoy the pain and break and enjoyment the lovely creature with him had for it. He lifted himself and pushed Jazz to his back before claiming a kiss and driving forward, enjoying the resistance before it tore to his will.
Jazz tensed as he was filled and the new valve cycled eagerly around his bonded, then groaned as Vortex drew out, feeling the first of the injuries to the lining turn into a blissful heat. "My bonded," he murmured, pulsing soothing affection across the bond. "My only..." Jazz whimpered softly at the next roll of the rotor's hips into his.
"Your only anything," Vortex moaned as he thrust in, relishing the way the mech under him responded even more than the ones who screamed and begged. "Your reason to exist."
"Yesss," Jazz hissed, fingers coming up to Vortex's chest, running over it, touching and stroking every surface while he lifting his frame into the rotor's. "Yours, yours, only yours, always yours."
Vortex moaned, thrusting harder, faster, as the bond backed up those words. It felt amazing and he didn't hold himself back from the pleasure coiling and spreading through him to crackle over his frame and spill from his spike, deep inside the willing frame under him.
It made the white noble whine and shudder, triggered into his own overload from everything pushing over the sparkbond and through his valve. He held tightly to Vortex while they rode the waves out together, and as soon as it faded, was limp and purring on the berth. "Bonded," he murmured quietly, looking contentedly sated.
"You are learning," Vortex purred, the simple statement significant praise from him. He pulled out and reached for a cloth to clean up with rather than using Jazz. "I have meetings until late tonight. Entertain yourself. I'll watch the good bits when I have time."
Jazz stretched out under him and pushed his excitement at the thought of performing to the camera through the bond. "If you give me access to the cameras, I can make sure they're all good bits," he said, engines giving a soft rev as he dropped his voice to a husky whisper. "I want to know you can see everything when I'm playing."
Vortex's engine gave a hard rev and Jazz knew that he'd won. It didn't matter that Vortex had doubts on the wisdom of it. He'd worded it perfectly to get the rotor to comply. It was the first time he understood the concept that the subordinate mate could be the one actually in control at home. He'd long been told his carrier was the ruler, but he could never see it. Now, maybe, he understood a bit of why.
Instead of a verbal answer, Jazz was pinged with a set of codes and links.
He shifted up to press himself flush to Vortex and brush his mouth over the rotor's audial. "I'll put on such a good show, just you wait," he breathed, already running his fingers down his front to curl between his legs and touch his dripping valve that he'd never closed. He pushed them in and they came back glistening with lubricant and transfluid, and well aware that he had Vortex's rapt attention, settled himself back onto the berth and slipped just one finger between his lips, sucking it clean, never breaking optic contact.
"Yes, you will," Vortex rumbled, only barely able to tear his optics away so he could leave. It could have been a threat. With anyone else it would have been. But to Jazz, at least here and now, it was more a statement of belief than warning that he had better do so.
Jazz grinned as he watched the difficulty with which his bonded left the room, then rolled over enough to reach the box of toys next to the berth, and quickly accessed the cameras and adjusted the angle of his frame in accordance with the multiple feeds that covered every part of the berthroom.
Before anything else, he had to give the show as promised. He slipped the largest spike between his legs and moaned, giving physical control up to the secondary profile while his primary attention shifted back to start carefully examining the feeds for access points. Heavily encrypted, and with the tamper proofing of the truly paranoid, they were going to take a long time to figure out.
It was a good thing he had the entire day to work while his frame performed for Vortex.
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It was joors later when Jazz finally collapsed down onto the soiled berth and couldn't even summon the energy to refuel. He whimpered as he pulled the toy from his sore valve and slumped right there, exhausted from doing everything he could think of to stimulate himself for the cameras. He didn't know how many overloads, just that he'd been determined not to stop.
A little while later, he rolled onto his side, recovered enough to think about getting up and going to the energon dispenser but still not quite enough to get there. His processor was similarly spent and it was with reluctance that he backed away from the camera feeds. He'd stared at the coding for a long time, seeing only an indecipherable mess, before he'd shifted his mindset to look at it from a different perspective. That one had seemed more promising, but he was stuck again, so he was taking a break. He looked through one of the cameras at Prowl, not moving.
I got the camera access.
Physically there was no reaction, but the reply came immediately.
Good. Can you hack the feed?
Working on it. I.
Jazz shuddered suddenly, the rest of the message forgotten. The overload bliss was fading, and with it gone, his memory was returning and analyzing. With the pleasure-haze he'd been in since the moment the carrier's spark had gone out under his fingers, and with his attention on hacking the camera feeds, he hadn't had time to think about...
The memory of the carrier's voice was loud and clear enough that Jazz could have believed he was standing right next to the berth. "His designation is Skywatch. He loves it when I can see the moons."
Jazz pressed his helm into the berth. "Primus," he whispered, prayed.
Jazz. What is wrong? Prowl's message pinged for his attention.
Jazz moaned and shook his head. "Hate me," he gasped, "Myself-I-" He cut himself off, remembering at the last moment that Vortex might hear everything he was saying, hoping none of it had been clear enough to understand, long past the point of worrying about the pain the rotor had to be feeling over the bond. He couldn't have controlled it even if he'd wanted to. His field flared out, distressed and chaotic, and he somehow managed to string together the glyphs for a single message.
I killed a carrier.
I am sorry. Prowl's reply was simple but full of grief and understanding, and something Jazz wasn't expecting: taking much of the blame for himself.
Jazz shook his head again and curled with his arms around himself, sobbing into the berth. Enjoyed it.
Prowl shivered very faintly. Vortex must approve of your performance. You did well.
Jazz didn't-couldn't-answer after that as he shook and wept on the berth. He would hack the camera feeds, he would block the bond, he had to. Using energy he didn't have, he turned back to the feeds, desperate to focus on anything, anything else.
He didn't remember going offline, and he was only just barely aware of energon being tipped into his mouth as a much larger frame held him up, and by the time he returned to full awareness, Vortex was already filling him. He was on his side, one strong arm wrapped around him and holding him up, another keeping his leg pulled back while the rotor grunted behind him, rumbling his pleasure with Jazz, his kill, his display for the cameras. He didn't mention the breakdown he had to have felt over the bond, and it hadn't dulled his enthusiasm in the least, for which Jazz was grateful. He couldn't lose the progress he'd made with that kill, couldn't let the carrier's spark go to waste.
Jazz let his awareness drift blissfully away after Vortex's third overload, more than happy to let the secondary profile take complete control while he faded back, trying to stop hearing the carrier's voice and seeing a sparkling looking at moons.