Okay, so everybody should know the drill by now. Chapters with explicit content aren't really posted here. Just up to when the smut gets going.
If you want to read the story, it's over on Ao3. Replace the - with .
Archiveofourown-org/works/637909/chapters/1155977
Starcrossed 16: Joining the Underworld
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Drift worked not to pace or glare at his boss. He didn't like having nothing to do, especially not when his leader was around. It made him feel useless and he couldn't stand it. The knowing, amused way she kept looking at him now and then only deepened the sensation of annoyance. Most would be surprised that he didn't attack her, but few understood how Drift functioned. Engineer did. She'd won his loyalty back when she was a second lieutenant with a mixture of kindness, steady behavior, common sense and success. Though she was nothing like Gasket, she was everything like the long-gone guttersmech in all the ways that ways that mattered to Drift.
Right now, however, she was annoying him and seemed amused by it.
"He didn't seem anything spectacular," Drift grumbled, more to have something to complain about than anything else. He knew why his boss wanted this one who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but right now, he was just frustrated with her glances and the waiting. He never had waited well.
"Processors like his rarely do," the deep glossy green femme purred. Her relatively light frame hid a similar processor. It was her smarts, not her frame, that had gotten her where she was and kept her there. "I have no doubt that he was designed to be in the shadows, controlling the strings that allowed his master to do what he pleased. Did you learn anything of why he ran?"
"No," Drift said. "Said what you told me to, and it caught his attention, that's all." He shifted on his pedes, watching the same monitors as she was. "Called his mate simple and he barely reacted. He's agreeable to 'facing mecha he barely knows for fun. I'm not sure there's any leverage there."
"Perhaps," she hummed, watching as the dark mid-sized alt mode drove up. "Reports do say that he's quite protective of his mate. Or at least the creation his mate is carrying. Either way, threats are not the way to keep a mech as good as he is and able to run bound to you. Like you, he wants stability and strength to stand behind. I'm sure of it. I'll win him the same way I won you."
Drift huffed a bit. As much as he didn't want to think about it as being won over, that was what she'd done. And she'd done it expertly, too. "I still like to know leverage points," he said. He was here as a familiar face for the new potential processor and to guard his boss against the slim possibility that Sharp was law or an enemy.
That seemed like a very unlikely possibility, though. The pair had seemed honestly clueless in a way that was hard to fake when they'd first arrived. "Just in case," he added.
"Leverage is always a good thing," Engineer purred. "The bugs in their apartment will provide that soon enough."
"He doesn't look surprised he was tailed," Drift observed as they watched Prowl transform and turn to look at the mech he couldn't see. Prowl cocked his helm, waiting.
"No," Engineer hummed thoughtfully. ::Viper, show him in.::
::Sure thing Boss.::
They couldn't see Viper on the same screen as Prowl, but they could tell the moment Prowl saw the lithe guard, and as Engineer reached out to toggle the viewscreen, they both came into view.
Prowl followed Viper through the hallways of their minor intel center. Carefully chosen to be showy, but not to allow the grounder access to any location that could not be quickly wiped clean and abandoned without trouble. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking, other than he was taking in everything and not hiding that fact.
The door to the room slid open and Viper stepped aside so Prowl could look in.
"Do come in, Sharp," Engineer smiled at him. His wariness was a good thing, so long as it didn't create a problem. Some level of paranoia was a survival trait in the underworld. "I am Engineer, Drift's boss."
Prowl took them both in and she was pleased to note that he did not dismiss her for her small, light frame. Then he stepped inside and continued to look around even as he walked up to her, stopping outside easy teeking range but within reasonable speaking range.
"Drift indicated you are interested in hiring me," Prowl said simply, he focus on Engineer.
"Yes, more if you prove worth it," she nodded, easily rolling with the terms he used, even though they belong to another culture. "I know you can kill and break in without leaving much trace, but you don't want that kind of work." She paused when he nodded, accepting the confirmation. "What are your skills that would not be so risky to use?"
"I'm very good with credits, planning, organization, inventory," Prowl rattled off what he hoped were his useful skills.
"You were a high level manager," Engineer summarized, noting the tension hit and then leave him. "Security systems?"
"Easy enough," Prowl nodded.
"Sit, study, tell me what you think," she motioned to the station in the room and turned to settle in one of the plush chairs to watch.
Drift shifted to be between the newcomer and Engineer, getting a better look at him up close and in better light, confirming his suspicions. He couldn't understand a single glyph on the screens that Prowl was rapidly skimming through, but he understood strength and frames, and his suspicions were confirmed.
Prowl hid it well, but his frame was strong, good material. What Drift couldn't understand was how a combat class frame like that had ended up being overpowered in the middle of the street, and why he looked as drab as he did. One needed credits, or connections, and who would get a frame like that without getting the combat protocols that could have gotten them both out of there?
Drift scowled. He had only heard about that attack after the fact, when one of the gang members had been dragged in for Engineer to interrogate once she had heard about the odd newcomer in their territory, and he didn't know how reliable the report was.
If he could get this one into berth, it would give him a much better idea of how he moved and what kind of strength he had. Few mecha realized how much they gave away about themselves in that sort of activity.
"This looks like a credit cleaning system," the mech said, and next to him, Engineer purred with pleasure. Drift didn't know how the credits worked, but he knew from the outside, the system was designed to not look like what it was.
"What would you change in it?" Engineer asked, and the conversation abruptly went way over Drift's helm. Half the words they used he didn't even know, but the two of them did, and Engineer was pleased. Right now, all he could do was watch the newcomer, pretend he wasn't as annoyed as he was by not understanding what they were talking about, and wait. He hated guard duty.
Eventually, an eternity later to Drift, Engineer stood. "I am impressed, Sharp. Drift will pay you for the orn and entertain you until your mate finishes dancing. We will discuss the terms of your employment tomorrow."
Prowl nodded, standing from the station smoothly. "Agreed."
The two mechs watched her leave, then Prowl looked at Drift.
Drift grinned back at him. "So," he said. "Boss likes what she sees, which is good enough for me. We have high grade here, great quality, or I can always take you back to the club. I'd hate to do that, though."
Prowl chuckled. "High grade and pleasure is a more entertaining way to pass a couple joors."
"I always thought so," Drift said cheerfully. "Follow me, then," he said, and led Prowl back out into the hallways, sticking to the main routes as he made his way deeper into the building, deliberately leading Prowl past the slave storage rooms just to see his reaction.
Nothing.
Mech just didn't give anything. Drift hoped a few joors figuring his frame out would break some of that composure. At least it would be an entertaining way to spend the afternoon. One of the spare berthrooms was their destination. It was simple by Drift's current standard, but far nicer than the space Prowl was currently calling home. The berth was large and soft, with covers and pillows. Drift could feel Prowl look around, judging the place, but the mech gave no hint of what it thought of it.
"So tell me," Drift rumbled, coming up behind the smaller mech and running his hands down the frame, getting his first good feel of the construction. "Just between us, how do I know you aren't a threat?"
"You know I'm not worth much in a fight," Prowl answered simply, leaning willingly into the touch. It was a couple lifetimes ago since he'd had a lover other than Jazz. "Other than that, you don't. Just as I don't know if you intend anything other than what you stated."
"True," Drift said, and flexed claws out, pressing against the armor, testing its give as he pulled up along the sides. Barely a scratch with strength that should have buckled the plating of a mech of Prowl's status, and Prowl pressed into the touch with a pleasured sound. "You're not very good at not attracting attention, you know."
"Do you have any advice?" Prowl hummed, leaning back to press against Drift's chest. "I don't like drawing attention."
Drift's engines rumbled. "Making a hot scene out of yourselves in a nicer washrack two orns after you were in the gutters is a good place to start," he said, rubbing up behind him, his spike cover unlatching with an audible click but not sliding away yet.
Prowl allowed a chuckle. "That orn did not go according to plan," he admitted with a rueful tone and reached back to rub Drift's hips before one slid inward and he turned to face the other mech. "What have you got?" he purred, his fingers teasing the spike cover.
It snapped back under the touch, the tip starting to slide out, large enough to fill Prowl's palm. "Sick of being on top?" Drift chuckled, and placed his hand right in the center of Prowl's chest, and shoved back, measuring how far the medium amount of force was able to push him. He felt the mass of the frame, the lock of tension that could have resisted the move completely before it relaxed and Prowl moved with the push, willingly taking a step back towards the berth. "I can help with that."
"I'm sure you can," Prowl rumbled, excited by the prospect of a relative equal that was willing to play rough. The spike he slid his palm along was long and thick, ridged with whorls and nodules. It would feel good, and nothing like what Jazz felt like inside him.
Drift tried another push, this one near the top of his strength, and couldn't tell how much Prowl's backwards step was him and how much was faked, something that was irritating to the large grounder but nowhere near a turn-off. This mech still had no idea how to handle himself in a fight, so if it ever came to that, Drift could take him down.
This kind of armor would be such a waste to keep untrained, though, if Engineer could indeed win him over. Drift still wasn't sure what Prowl wanted, other than credits and safety, but he was sure he would accept combat training if it meant keeping his mate and creation safe.
Only if he could be won over, though. Drift smirked to himself as he looked down over the frame, his fully extended spike nudging up against Prowl's abdomen. There would be time later to measure threat level, once he'd felt the frame all over. For now... he could feel safe enough to lose himself in the other's frame, and he truly hoped the valve was the same high quality as the rest of him.
Compliant so far, it caught Drift a bit by surprise when Prowl moved to reverse their positions and gave Drift a light shove to the berth. Not even an effort to knock him down, just a pointed statement that he wanted Drift on his back. All right, he was willing to play. He sat and relaxed back, patting his thigh in invitation for Prowl to hop on if that was what he wanted, not bothering to tone down his leer. "Or maybe not so sick of being on top?" he chuckled.
Prowl returned the look with a bit of a smirk and straddled Drift's hips. "I got enough of being still and taking it when I got paid to." He stretched out, bracing his hands against Drift's shoulders and rubbed his platelets and valve rim along the deliciously large spike. "I know I can get off this way. It's not nearly as easy with you on top."
It felt good, but it also told Drift just how much mass was under that armor. It was definitely war-frame grade all the way down. The mech was heavy for his size, and unnaturally silent. He tensed the hydraulics in his hips, lifting himself just a fraction off the berth, pressing in, eager for a taste of something as high-quality as the rest of the frame. "So you go for what you want," he rumbled. "Good trait to have."
"Only reason I've lasted this long," Prowl rumbled, shifting and lifting his hips up before sliding down and back, nudging the large head of the spike against his valve rim before sinking down with a pleasured moan. He kept his valve relaxed, allowing the large spike to penetrate him uncontested, simply enjoying it for that first rush of sensation.
Drift held quiet and still while he moved, his frame only giving the smallest of shivers in response to being sheathed. "How long is that?" he purred once Prowl had settled himself down in his lap, twitching his hips up ever so slightly.
Prowl bought himself a moment by cycling his valve, rubbing the calipers along the complex shaft and squeezing the lining tight before continuing the cycle as he lifted up, still braced forward and fully on Drift's shoulders. It was a small act of dominance, but he was being allowed it so he took it.
"Too long," Prowl finally answered about halfway through his upward motion. "Long enough to outlast dozens of others."
Drift just relaxed and enjoyed his revving engines and the unquestionably talented valve. Reclining on one arm, he lifted his other hand and curled it around Prowl's waist, squeezing until he felt the plating dent, just barely. "You're a survivor then," he said, then groaned as Prowl paused to flex his rim right around the sensor-heavy tip of his spike. He tightened his grip, sinking claws in, testing the other's resilience to a small amount of pain in a sensitive area of his frame.
"I don't appreciate pain," Prowl's response came smoothly, without so much as a flicker in his voice, field or actions. He continued to move smoothly, his charge rising as he ensured Drift's spike rubbed him the right way.
"But you can handle it, clearly," Drift said, fighting against the desire to test that theory further. Engineer had been very clear, this one was to be wooed. He relaxed the claws, but kept his hands tight around the hips as he thrust up. "So tell me about yourself," he groaned, head falling back a little. "You know, the fun bits," he added with a smirk and a rapid upwards roll.
Prowl stilled, Drift's spike deep inside him as he regarded the mech under him for almost too long. He began to move again, still silent before he found the answer. "There are no fun bits. I don't anticipate there will be for a long time."
"I'd say this is pretty fun," Drift rumbled, tucking the unusual pause away to show Engineer later. "You certainly know what you're doing with this, at least," he said as he took a moment to enjoy the intricate rippling and the way it was pushing his charge up. "You could rival a pleasurebot with that."
"I think that says more of your existence than mine," Prowl said quietly, annoyed by this talk, but having expected it, it didn't show. "It only takes a few tries to learn, so long as you have someone you want to please."
Drift paused for a moment, the words feeling oddly like pity, something he did not enjoy. "You'll find someone like that is a liability out here," he growled. "A good first lesson. Strip yourself of weakness."
"That mech is long gone," Prowl shrugged. "It is a liability anywhere."
Not a flicker of change in the field or composure, Drift noted. So either the mate didn't matter, or the mech was a damn good liar. Or both. Engineer wanted to know which one, but this obviously wasn't the way to find out.
Of course, it was all a moot point if their interests all aligned and the mech worked for them willingly, which seemed likely at this point, but Drift still liked to know anyone's weak points. He gave another quick thrust upwards. "At least you're not totally clueless," he said, more than happy at this point to just enjoy the physical sensations. He shifted experimentally, seeing if the other would be easy to roll into his back or if he would resist the move.
He was half surprised when Prowl didn't. The movement was fairly smooth, assisted by a mech who'd done it more than a few times. For his part Prowl was more than willing to go silent and simply allow Drift to get off. His spark was no longer in this any more than when he was paid. An overload was to be accepted, but not expected.
Drift settled in above him, clearly more at ease with being the one in control, judging from the way his frame started rocking harder almost as soon as Prowl was on his back. One hand stayed on Prowl's hip, holding for leverage, and the other came up to curl around his helm as Drift's taller frame brought Prowl's face level with the other mech's neck. "Much better," Drift groaned, keeping the thrusts slow but strong.
It was a rhythm Prowl relaxed into, easily accepting the submissive position and lowered expectations that came with it. Jazz could overload him in kliks like this. With Drift, he accepted the pleasure he received and held no expectations for the end.
And kliks, it seemed, were all it was going to take Drift, who was panting heavily by the end of just a few, easy and simple to overload the way any spike-focused mecha who didn't care about the frame they buried into tended to be. His overload came with a roar and a full-frame shudder as heat flooded into Prowl's valve.
It felt good, but not enough for an overload. Not enough for Prowl to even try to claim one. So he relaxed, accepted the heat, the charge, the pleasure for what it was and let go of any need to continue.
Drift shivered through the shocks, gripping the frame beneath him tightly until they had faded away before he lifted up, slid his arms around under Prowl, and rolled onto his back, bringing Prowl over him. "Sorry," he grinned, and lifted his knees, bringing them up for Prowl to lean against. He patted his hip invitingly. "I'm told I have an enjoyable spike, why don't you relax and enjoy it? That could be hot to watch."
Prowl debated for a few nanokliks. "Is the questioning over with?"
"It's over with," Drift assured him. "You want some high grade or something first?"
"No need," Prowl settled himself into a processor set he had little use for but was still glad he'd learned. He'd been very young the last time he'd performed, but he remembered how to give a good show. It was easier to do that than anything else he could think of doing right now, and left him plenty of free processor space to think and analyze.
SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS
Jazz noticed as soon as Prowl and the same larger mech from the night before came into the club. He watched for a moment before settling back into the rhythm of the music, trying to ignore the mental images of his lover in the other's berth. He paid little attention to them until Drift had bought high grade for Prowl, bid him farewell, and left. His shift was only a few kliks from officially ending, but...
::You're late. Want a better dance?:: he asked.
::If it's in private,:: Prowl purred in reply. ::I've had quite enough of general mecha for company for one orn.::
::That sounds so much better,:: Jazz said, more than happy to get off the stage and into his lover's arms. Joors of dancing with nothing to think about but what Prowl was doing had been an uncomfortable mix of distressing, frustrating, and arousing. ::End of this song and I'm done.::
::Good,:: Prowl's soft rumble spoke of intense eagerness to be with his mate in the relative privacy of their small apartment. ::Soon you'll be able to dance where there is less risk of being grabbed.::
::You'll still come watch me, though,:: Jazz said. ::Even if I don't need you to beat the hoards off.:: He grinned playfully as he bent backwards, putting his hands on the stage and looking right at Prowl.
::Of course,:: Prowl's engine revved. ::I never get enough of watching you enjoy yourself.::
Jazz smirked and sent his lover a series of images of them in a richly furnished room with himself on his back, one hand wrapped around his spike and the other pushing his fingers into his valve. ::Like that?:: he asked, straightening on the stage and taking his dance partner's leg in hand, bending the other mech over backwards, pressing down over him.
Prowl nearly choked on the energon he was drinking as his entire frame gave a shudder. ::You're trying to get me to make a scene again,:: he growled, though he didn't manage to sound as reprimanding as he wanted to. The image was simply too good.
::Oh, that was too much fun not to try again,:: Jazz said, completely unintimidated. ::And don't even try to tell me you didn't enjoy yourself.:: He helped his partner back up, spun him, and ran his leg up along the other mech's while he was pushed down in turn. ::Imagine what I could have done with an entire song,:: he said as they froze together in the seductive finish pose, Jazz bent over backwards, hips thrust up flush against the other's.
::I'm sure I won't have to for long,:: Prowl's optics were locked on his lover's form. ::You'll make sure of that.::
Jazz shivered, entirely aware that the entire room was watching him and his partner, but only concerned with keeping Prowl's gaze. ::You wanna find a dark corner?:: he asked as he straightened, carefully untangling from the other. ::Get me on my knees for you? Hold my head and use my mouth?:: He slipped off the stage and went straight to his mate, who was staring at him with huge optics, and climbed into his lap. "Pretend like we can't see everyone watching when we know they all are?"
Prowl's vents stuttered. Yes, he absolutely wanted to. He wanted the entire universe to know that this mech was his, but Drift's words came back to him. "Perhaps another orn," he murmured, claiming a heated kiss anyway before giving his barely-touched drink to his lover. "I'd rather enjoy you in private tonight."
"Even better," Jazz said, then tipped his head back to take a long swallow, exposing his neck while he drank. Then, cube empty, he set it on the table and nuzzled his helm to Prowl's. "Need a berth to spread my legs as wide as I want to, anyway," he said in a deep purr, well aware that he had the attention of everyone in audio range.
"Such a tease," Prowl rumbled, sliding his hands along his lover's back. "Up. The sooner we're home, the sooner I can indulge you."
Jazz grinned and leaned in to nip at Prowl's mouth. "Are you sure you don't want to just spike me right here?" he murmured, twitching his hips forward just a touch, rubbing their plating together. "No one would be able to see anything..." And almost as if to prove that point, he slid his valve cover back.
Prowl shuddered, his ventilations picking up rapidly enough to draw even more attention to them. It was an effort to keep his panel closed and he knew his love could feel it. "Strata." Warning and plea all at once even as his hands closed around Jazz's hips and he pressed forward to claim a real kiss, demanding and full of the fire Jazz invoked in him.
Jazz hummed back against his mouth as he slid back off his lover's lap, far too turned on to care about the looks they were getting. He stood, drawing Prowl up with him without breaking the kiss. "You're right," he purred once they were both standing. "I'm being inappropriate, let's go home and have a quiet, polite evening."
"Home yes," Prowl rumbled, arm around Jazz's waist as he guided his lover out. "Quiet and polite, no."
"If you insist," Jazz said, grinning, and leaned against Prowl as the over-energized buzz from downing the cube of high grade sank in. He stayed quiet while they walked, and then drove, and managed to refrain from jumping his lover in the hallways, but once through the door, he had Prowl down on his back on the berth and was pressing a clashing kiss against his mouth. "So how was he?" he asked, grinding their hips together. "Drift, what did you do with him?"
"Spike-centric, self-centered," Prowl grumbled between kisses, his spike already pressurizing between them. "Not a berth I'm keen on returning to, though he wasn't mean."
"Aw," Jazz pouted. "That's no fun." He nipped his way down Prowl's jaw and neck, then snaked down his body, sliding backwards until he was crouched between his legs, taking his spike in hand and running his glossa up along the extended length and circling around the tip.
Prowl moaned, his time with Drift long gone from his cares now. He reached down to stroke Jazz's helm. "But you are. Always the one others have to strive to match."
Jazz pressed his lips against his lover and hummed, smiling. "No one's come close, have they," he said, x-venting hot air over the spike, caressing it with his mouth.
"No," Prowl shivered and moaned. One hand dropped to the berth to have something to grab while the other continued to stroke Jazz's helm. "No one turns me on like you do. No one's like my Strata."
Jazz gave a delighted purr. "You wouldn't believe how much it turns me on just thinking about this," he said, pulling another long lick up the underside. "Gets me so slick. Tell me you're going to spike until I can't see anymore, Sharp, please," he moaned.
"Oh much more than that," Prowl's growl was full of promise as he rocked his hips up. "You're going to need painkillers to dance tomorrow night. First you're going to swallow for me. Then I'll reward that tight valve of yours."
Jazz groaned with a full-framed shiver at the words and his fingers tightened. "Promise," he breathed, mouthing his way up to the tip. "Promise you'll use me like the slut I am," he said, before dipping his head down, filling his mouth completely with his lover's spike, pushing until it hit his intake.
"My slut, and only mine," Prowl growled into a deep moan of pleasure. "You do as I please, spread you legs only for me. Oh, yes. Love that mouth of yours. You learned so quickly to be so good."
Jazz whined softly in honest joy at the praise, swallowing down around the spike and rubbing his glossa against the underside, and reached between Prowl's legs to press a hand over the valve cover, palming at it. He raised his head slowly, and gasped as he lifted off the spike for a moment. "For you," he managed, shivering when the cover slid away and his fingers slipped over lubricated platelets. "To pleasure you," he said, before he dropped his head again.
Any response beyond a deep moan and wildly pleasured field was lost to the combined sensations. Prowl's hips rolled up, pressing deeper into the willing intake and trying to capture the fingers teasing his entrance. He'd cleaned up, there wasn't a trace of Drift in there, but despite the mild soreness the mech's girth had created any attention from Jazz left him wanting more.
Jazz redoubled his efforts, pressing his fingers in deeper in response to the encouraging sounds his lover was making, spreading them apart once they were inside and twisting his wrist while he hummed around the spike. Every movement, every hum, designed to drive his lover to ecstasy that Jazz took completely and utter joy in giving. True to Prowl's words, it didn't take long before they both felt him lose the fight with self-control and buck up sharply into Jazz's mouth with a moaning keen.
Hot, thick, charged fluid pumped into Jazz's intake, causing all the sensors there to tingle as he swallowed easily, holding around the spike until the hardest charges had faded before pulling up and off, glancing up at Prowl with a pleading whine.
Prowl gave him a lust-filled look and pulled him forward before rolling to his side and pressing Jazz's shoulders to the berth. One hand reached back to pull his aft up, hand dipping suggestively between his legs.
"Now that's a good look for you too," he kissed his lover's cheek and allowed his hands to roam while he worked his way to kneeling between Jazz's spread knees. "Aft up, ready to take every spike, just wanting to be filled up." His voice continued to roll over Jazz as he thrust forward, sinking into the valve he so enjoyed filling with a deep moan. "So tight despite all the use." He pulled out and drove forward again. "Frag you're good."
Jazz fisted at the berth, helm lowered against it, pushed forward with every hard drive from behind. "Anything for you," he moaned. "Anything, always, Sharp, you're so good to me."
"Because you earn it," Prowl growled, grinding against Jazz's aft as he leaned further forward, covering his lover. "You please me. You do well. You earn your rewards," he panted near Jazz's audial. "You feel so good."
Jazz arched up against him, moaning, closer to overload than he ever should have been by this point, but the entire evening spent imagining Prowl in another's berth had left him with a persistent, stubborn charge that was all too ready to explode with just the barest push.
"Sharp," he gasped, holding on as long as he could, "Ah-Sharp-so close, lover, please-" He broke off with a shuddering keen when Prowl grabbed him and slammed forward, striking the back of his valve with perfect precision, and with sensory stimulation like that, Jazz lasted less than a dozen more strokes before screaming into the berth as overload washed over him.
He was only dimly aware that his lover didn't even slow down through it, and was still driving into him when he recovered, the slide and pressure driving his charge up before the overload even fully faded, but this time, with the lingering arousal from earlier washed out, he was much more in control of what he was doing. He cycled his valve, shifting his focus back to pleasuring the spike filling him. "Sharp," he moaned. "Just like that, yes, yes!"
The rumble of approval from above rewarded his efforts as it was Prowl's turn to struggle not to overload as he continued the deep, pounding rhythm into his lover's tight, rippling, massaging valve.
Jazz moaned and gasped beneath him, his frame rolling with Prowl's, moving in a way that pushed his aft up into every thrust. His fingers dug into the thin padding of the berth for leverage and his pedes hooked around the backs of Prowl's legs, holding him tight. "Spike me so well," he moaned, almost incoherent again after just a matter of kliks. "Fill me so hot-deep-"
"Love how you react, such a wanton little whore for me," Prowl growled, barely audible over his fans vents. He groaned and shuddered, his rhythm breaking slightly. Denta bit into Jazz's back collar armor, sending the next growl vibrating through Jazz's entire frame.
Three more hard thrusts and Prowl roared against him, grinding their interface arrays together with each thick burst of transfluid he pumped into quivering, overloading valve that gripped around him. Jazz seized beneath him, jerking with each rush of fluid, his sobs muffled against the berth that he bit down on, tearing through the lining.
They slumped down within nanokliks of each other, panting heavily and armor loose to help expel the heat. Jazz gave a shuddering whine as Prowl pulled out, his valve still tight around his lover, protesting the absence but needing to disconnect in order for him to roll onto his back, where he all but collapsed.
"Love it so much when you use me," Jazz whispered, voice still fuzzy with static. "Like it should have always been."
"Yes," Prowl purred deeply, pressed as close as he could to his lover while they cooled down. "It's worth all the risk."
Jazz hummed contentedly, fingers up against Prowl's dataport. ~This job, this...whatever it is, is it safe?~ he asked as soon as he plugged in.
~As far as underworld jobs go, yes,~ Prowl sighed, relaxing as he cooled off. ~The risk relative to the reward is very low given our current options. Engineer is the local underworld boss. She has the rank to protect us quite well, and pay even better. She wants me for my processor, so the work I'm doing isn't going to risk me directly like working the streets. It will also make me valuable. It's easy to replace muscle. Replacing the mech who designed your credit cleaning system is much more difficult.~
~How do we know they don't work for him and are just going to trap us?~ Jazz asked. ~It seems too easy.~
~I have found no connection between him and Engineer,~ Prowl said with honest certainty. ~If they figure it out and turn on us, we'll have credits and can run again.~
Jazz nodded. It wasn't legal, and that was more of a risk than he wanted to take, but he also knew they needed credits, and badly. His income was just barely enough to cover rent and the supplements that the twins needed, which they couldn't even buy in bulk to help with the cost lest they risk attracting attention that way. Once he started actively building the protoforms, the cost would go up again.
~Prowl?~ he murmured, tracing his fingers up and down Prowl's chassis. He received a pulse of love and reassurance across the hardline, encouraging him to speak. ~I'd like to live in Praxus, after the twins separate,~ Jazz said. ~If it's possible. I want them to know you in Praxian form, your form. I miss that form.~
~I can't take that look again,~ Prowl warned him. ~Praxian yes, but not my original design. We can work on that. Perhaps a transfer, perhaps a long vacation. Possibly by leaving her employ completely. I will keep that in mind.~
~I know,~ Jazz sighed, then smiled wistfully. ~Your original frame would have looked so beautiful sprawled out beneath mine.~
Prowl shivered. ~I would have enjoyed that. I will enjoy that. After we rid the world of him, we can be ourselves again.~ He shifted to display himself, his legs spread and valve cover open. ~For now, would my Lord still enjoy my frame?~
Jazz groaned and gave a hard shudder as the heat and scent of a lubricated valve hit him, setting circuits and sensors deep in his frame alight with desire. ~More than anything,~ he whispered as he lifted himself up. ~My beautiful, blissful seneschal,~ he crooned, bringing their hips together, his spike extending out to nudge at the slick opening before he pressed in. ~So perfect for me, such a willing frame for me,~ Jazz purred over the hardline as their vocalizers moaned in unison, and as Jazz seated himself completely inside, they were lost to the world for the precious joors when everything could be perfect and right and complete.
SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS
Jazz was a combination of anticipation and anxiety, half excited for this orn and half dreading it. Two decaorns into working for Engineer and Prowl had gotten Drift to spar with him a few times. Now he was flat-out paying the mech to train him. Those lessons were then passed on to Jazz, which made for some very interesting foreplay.
Today, however, Jazz was to watch a match between Drift and Prowl, so he could see some of the trickier moves performed by someone who really knew how to use them, and had. And as much as he knew Prowl did not enjoy Drift's berth, the few times he'd been in it, Jazz couldn't stop his engines from revving whenever he pictured the larger mech over his lover.
He felt bad, he really did, but every time he imagined it Prowl was enjoying himself immensely, and that... Jazz shivered from where he watched from the wall. It really was too bad the mech wasn't a good lover.
"Ready?" Drift rumbled at Prowl as he stalked to the center of the room.
"Yes," Prowl sank into a defensive crouch, his full attention on his opponent and on recording every possible detail of what was happening.
For once Jazz watched without trying to catch Prowl's attention at all as the match began and the two mecha moved and dodged around each other, Drift pressing a hard offensive that was just barely more than Prowl could handle without trouble. Prowl had spoken of Drift as not terribly bright in most things, simple and uneducated as well, but when it came to this, he was a master. Intuitive, with an understanding of frames and how they worked based entirely on hard-learned experience that had only been strengthened since coming to work for Engineer.
"Your best advantages are your frames, both of you," Drift said as Prowl lifted his hand to block a stroke towards his face but an instant later had to stumble away from the kick. "However you got them, they're top grade. Sturdy, strong, resilient, and most importantly, silent. Listen when I move, you can hear the hydraulics that indicate where I'm going next."
Jazz tried, but all he could hear was indiscriminate noise. Prowl, however, was nodding, optics focused sharply.
"With time you learn how to predict movement with sound as much as sight and teek," Drift said. He caught Prowl by surprise with an undercut that forced the smaller mech three steps back, and in the middle of one of them, Drift crouched and lashed out with his feet, swiping Prowl's legs out from under him.
As he picked himself up, Drift lifted his arm over his head, mimicking a forward thrown punch, then repeated the same undercut. "Hear the difference?"
Jazz couldn't from where he was, but Prowl was concentrating intensely as Drift repeated the movements.
"You will in time," Drift assured him.
Prowl nodded as he settled into a defensive stance once more. "I believe I heard it. It will be time. I will learn."
Drift grinned at him. "That I believe. You're no natural fighter, but you've got the spark and focus."
This time Prowl struck, aiming squarely for over Drift's spark. It was a blow that with Prowl's strength would likely crush, or at least crack the chamber of the average street mecha if it connected. It wasn't about technique, but a practical strike that would end most fights quickly.
Drift's hands shot up just in time, catching the fist before it could connect, microns away from his armor, grinning. "Good placement," he said, just before he twisted and pulled, aiming to drag Prowl to the floor and get the advantage.
Prowl went, but at the last moment, pulled up with the strength that his frame gave him and performed a twist of his own, hooking around Drift's leg and yanking, sending them both toppling down in a heap. Drift aimed with his elbow, connecting with Prowl's neck in a blow that made Jazz wince sympathetically. That had to hurt. Yet they knew what Drift didn't, and wouldn't, and that was just what pain meant to the pair.
Prowl didn't so much as react, beyond the shift the kinetic force put on his frame. He cared about minimizing damage to himself. Pain was irrelevant.
So was anything remotely resembling honor or fair play.
With his position halfway on top of Drift and their limbs tangled up, Prowl used the opening to drive his full strength up into Drift's interface panels. The mech winced and let out a startled grunt while Jazz smirked at the way his frame curled ever so slightly.
"Frag," Drift half-laughed, half-groaned, then the noise shifted into a growl as the match became less of that and more of an all out brawl between the two as they struggled together, each trying to pin the other. It was never a question of who'd win, or even by now much, but about how long Drift would remember that he was teaching and not fighting. Prowl had once said that the less it took him to induce a brawl and be pinned, the better he was getting. It meant that he was reaching the point of threatening Drift that much faster.
Jazz wasn't sure if a breem and a half was good, but the genuinely triumphant look Drift had when he got Prowl pinned told Jazz that Prowl hadn't been kidding. That last half klik had been a real fight to Drift. He shifted his weight, waiting for Drift to release his lover from the pin, growing more concerned about the savage growl that was rising in the fighter's chassis and the increasingly predatory look he was giving his pin. Jazz frowned. He knew that look, intimately.
He took a step forward, his own engines beginning to growl. He knew he was no match for this one, but if he got too interested in Prowl, he was going to do what he could. He recognized the sudden shift in his mate from accepting the pin to tensing for a fight.
The sound and warning from under him put a grin on Drift's face and he lifted his head, then released the pin. "I've seen you dance, you move well," he said. "You'll both be excellent once you're trained."
"Thank you," Prowl said as they stood. "It's fine if he wants to frag me, Strata," his voice held an approving and pleased sub-harmonic but the tone of a command. "It will be neither first nor last time."
"An enjoyable form of payment," Drift rumbled. He eyed Jazz. "Wouldn't mind more of it if you'd like more direct lessons."
Jazz hummed thoughtfully. "I've been fragged for worse reasons," he said. "Training us together would be more efficient."
Prowl growled deeply, but he throttled his engine back and really looked at Drift in a way that made the fighter uncomfortable. When Prowl moved to stalk around him in a full circle in silent judgment Drift had to work not to squirm.
"We could do worse, much worse, but not while he's building the protoform unless you're trying to court us for a triad. I can teach you how to be a lover, even if it takes a while," Prowl decided.
Drift scoffed. "Pit no," he said. "Like I'd want a slagging triad or a sparkling. Fine, only credits while he's building the protoform, and I'm not taking lessons on how to frag."
"You don't need any lessons on how to frag," Prowl's harmonics made a clear difference between that and lover clear. "I get to watch when you're with him."
Jazz had trouble keeping the rev of his engine down. Prowl finished his stalk around Drift and stepped back, and Jazz came up behind him, resting his chin on his mate's shoulder as they both looked at Drift, who looked skeptically back.
"Fine," the bigger mech finally said, waving a hand carelessly. "But no lover lessons," he added, spitting the glyph out disdainfully.
"I'm agreeable," Jazz murmured against Prowl's audial.
"Then agreed," Prowl nodded, turning his helm to claim a strut-melting kiss from Jazz.
Jazz pushed back into it with a delighted shudder and heard Drift's engines start to rumble.
"First payment in advance?" Drift said, voice a deep growl.
Prowl gave Jazz a look and got a grin for it. "Agreed," he told Drift. "Do you want his mouth or valve? I get the other."
"Valve," Drift said immediately. "Been wondering about those other uses he has that you like so much." He frowned at Prowl. "Thought you were just going to watch."
"I can, but then you end up watching us and you don't get a second round," Prowl offered the choice.
Drift just shrugged, because didn't that sound like an exercise in self-control that wasn't worth having. "Fine, you take his mouth," he said, walking around behind them, wasting no time in reaching between Jazz's legs to rub at his cover, which slid away at the first brush of contact. "Eager," he rumbled approvingly.
Jazz just hummed as he pressed his face against Prowl's neck and nuzzled. ::You are all right with this?:: he commed.
::For now, with Drift,:: Prowl responded as he stepped away, allowing Jazz to get on all fours. Prowl's spike cover snapped open as he knelt in front of his lover, his spike already half pressurized. ::I don't expect it will hold true with many. Not while our creations are potentially at stake. If they have a little of Drift in them, I can live with that. He's strong and attractive.::
::I am sure you will fill me so often while the protoforms are building that any influence he manages to pass on will not be noticeable,:: Jazz said as he pressed his lips to Prowl's spike, as eager as always to enjoy what was, for him, a truly euphoric act of worship. "He loves me on my knees," Jazz purred to Drift, happily keeping up their charade that Prowl was largely interested in him for his frame and abilities.
Drift's engines gave a hard rev and in the next moment, the new spike was nudging up against his valve, pressing eagerly forward without testing for lubrication, which there was thankfully plenty of.
"And he loves being filled, and to hear me talk to him," Prowl rumbled. ::Are you okay?:: he asked, internally wincing at the size of the spike going into his mate. It left Prowl sore, but he never lubricated quite like Jazz did.
::How much worse have I learned to enjoy?:: Jazz answered, squirming his hips down, pushing back against Drift with a low groan. This valve had been specifically designed and sized for Prowl, but that didn't mean it couldn't stretch, and there was something truly satisfying about feeling another violating a space that Vortex had been so absolutely possessive over.
"So I see," Drift said, now doing a hands-on workover of Jazz's frame the way he had with Prowl's, testing the give of the armor, and carefully, watching for the reactions of both parties, digging his claws into the hips to pull himself forward. Jazz shivered and frowned, but didn't so much as pause in his attention to Prowl's spike. He swallowed it easily, working his intake around the textured length he loved so much.
Prowl growled at Drift though, when the claws dug in. "No damage." He didn't stop thrusting into Jazz's mouth, his optics half-shuttered in pleasure.
"Fine," Drift rumbled, easing his hips slightly from side to side as he worked his way in, then stopped with a chassis-filling groan when his pelvis finally came flush to Jazz's aft. He held there to watch the carrier pleasing his mate, using a mix of his fingers, lips, glossa and intake in motions so fluid and easy they had to be well-practiced. And the look of open bliss on Jazz's face was telling enough. "Slagger loves it," he chuckled, starting in on shallow thrusts.
"Oh he does. He's my little slut. Utterly perfect for what he is," Prowl said, his voice deepening from his pleasure and because he knew the exact pitch that made Jazz shiver. "He gets off on pleasing me, pleasuring me, anywhere, any way."
Drift grinned. "Knew about the anywhere part," he said, as Jazz moaned around his mate's spike while pushing his aft back against the larger one. "Frag, must be nice, knows what he's doing, too."
Privately, Jazz smirked and rippled his valve with half the attention he would normally pay to Prowl, far more focused on the mental arousal of swallowing his lover and feeling the pleasure in that field caressing his own. ::I'm going to take you good and hard later,:: he purred, confident that Drift had no idea how to hack a comm frequency. ::Show you who the real slut is.::
"Oh yes," Prowl moaned, responding to them both. ::I'm going to worship your spike, your frame. Kneel and swallow and spread my legs and plead for more.::
::Shameless for me,:: Jazz crooned, barely noticing Drift anymore beyond the enjoyable stretch that stopped just short of being painful. He dipped his head, swallowing and humming with perfectly-pitched vibrations designed to both heighten the pleasure and hold Prowl where he was, using the pitch to prevent him from overloading too quickly.
Prowl moaned, his hands on Jazz's helm as he allowed his mate to do all the work. It was blissful, knowing this wasn't because Prowl was powerful, but because Jazz loved him enough that pleasuring him was a pleasure itself. Prowl only trusted that truth because it was true for him. He knew, and he did not question.
"So good, Strata," Prowl gasped. "Such a good pet. You exist to please me and you do it well."
Jazz pulled off the spike with a gasp and a full-framed shudder as the friction and pull in his valve started to work into the rest of his systems. He dragged his lips along the length in his hand, nuzzling his face against it, worshiping and loving in every touch. "Anything for you," he murmured before swallowing again.
"Frag," Drift gasped, watching the display, completely turned on by the dominance Prowl had over his mate, remembering all the times he had pushed that dominant mech down and fragged him into the ground. "Nn, yes," he moaned, his head falling back as the speed of his thrusts picked up, still worked up from the fight and eager for release.
"You want this on your face, don't you?" Prowl growled, shaking from the charge in him. "You want the whole city to see me on you. It turns you on, doesn't it, to show off that you're owned."
Jazz whined and dragged his glossa up the spike, pressing his mouth to the tip and massaging it. "Please yes," he gasped. "Overload on me, cover me, show everyone what a slut I am for you, master, yes."
Behind him, Drift pounded in as he watched, shaking as he tried to hold on long enough to watch, engines revving.
It was all Prowl could take and he roared as the overload crashed through him, rushing up from his spike, into his spark and then outward against to focus on the thin line of liquid heat that pumped through his spike to spray onto Jazz's lips.
Jazz tipped his face up, optics half shuttered but meeting Prowl's gaze. "Thank you," he moaned, and when Drift roared and slammed into his valve, shooting deep, shook in his own overload, optics flickering from the charge.
Jazz stayed as still as he could, trembling until the shocks faded, leaving him content but nowhere near as satisfied as Prowl could make him. When the movement behind him stopped, he licked his lips slowly, drawing the transfluid on them into his mouth.
"Slagging hot," Drift groaned as he slumped while the pair continued to look at each other with darkened optics.
"He is," Prowl continued to stroke the sides of Jazz's helm. He took a step back and guided Jazz forward, off Drift's spike and to his pedes in a single motion, only barely touching the mech. To Drift it was a show of power and dominance. For Jazz and Prowl, it was a mark of their love and understanding.
The kiss Prowl claimed was the same, absolutely domineering to Drift's optic, but a sign of his absolute devotion to Jazz.
"You do look good covered in my release," Prowl purred deeply. ::I look forward to being covered in yours, and licking mine off you.:: He looked up at Drift. "I think sparing is done for the orn."
Drift waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal as he stood up and retracted his spike, sated by the intense release and pleased with himself for all the times he'd taken the obvious top in this pair. "I think you'll be able to save your credits for a while," he chuckled. "His frag can count as your payment for this round, we'll start his training next time." He stalked off with a pleased rumbling in his engines, knowing Prowl knew the way out, and didn't need escorting from this part of the city.
::Covered, filled, and still begging me for more,:: Jazz said, looking lovingly up at his mate. ::Begging for me to use you.:: He slid his leg up along Prowl's. "Home, please?"
"If you think you can keep your cover closed that long," Prowl teased him and guided his mate out. ::Do you want to clean up first? A cloth and my office are on the way.::
::That sounds marvelous,:: Jazz said, nuzzling Prowl as they walked. ::Slagging uncreative brute, I see why you don't enjoy him. I'd like to be clean for you. And bonus,:: he added brightly, ::Your office has a locking door.::
Prowl laughed across the comm but kept his frame free of it. ::Yes. A big spike but very little else. I can suggest he'd enjoy you sucking him off, if you'd prefer that. Otherwise he'll be quite content with a basic repeat of today.::
There was a brief pause, long enough for Prowl to notice before Jazz answered. ::No, don't suggest that,:: he said, tone darker. ::I like to imagine the look on his face if he could see.::
::It feels good, to have what he valued so much used by another,:: Prowl said, sure of his assessment. The door to his office slid open, though it was no less private a place to talk than the hall.
::Yes,:: Jazz agreed, going for the cleaning supplies right away. ::One orn we'll have him and I'll show him, every single spike that wasn't his and how much better they all were. Even that gang of thugs was more welcome.::
::We will show him that, and how strong we've become, and what a couple should be,:: Prowl tried not to growl as he watched Jazz clean up. ::Then we'll remove his spark from the world and bond before his gray frame.::
Jazz shivered. ::Force him to watch our ecstasy while he suffers and gutters,:: he breathed, more turned on by the idea of Vortex in pain than he ever would have thought possible. He tossed the soiled rag away to be incinerated and moved gracefully over to his lover, his mate, his future bonded. ::Show him what we are,:: he said, pulling Prowl into a heated, claiming kiss.
::Again and again, until we've broken him, utterly and completely.:: Prowl's growl did surface this time as he kissed back just as fiercely. "Mine. You will always be mine."
"Always, even when we have returned to the Well, when our frames are no longer, I will find you," Jazz swore, pulling Prowl down on top of him. "Forever."
SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS
Prowl took a moment to skim the incoming credit reports that Engineer's street dealers uploaded at the end of the orn, detailing credits in and out, total inventory moved, and which cover business they would be "spending" the intake in before he went back to his ornly check of his cleaning system.
It was a complex network that had been mostly set up before he'd even arrived, but problems with the last mech to hold this position was still giving him a processor ache to untangle. The glitch thought he could skim off the top without Engineer noticing. It had created some awkward loopholes and snares to smooth out that he was still keeping an optic on, mostly to make sure the street dealers were depositing everything properly. Prowl had also made some system-wide adjustments that helped everything run smoother and with a much lower risk assessment. He could have stolen a good deal and disappeared without getting caught, but it wasn't worth it to upset the stability they were settling into.
Speaking of...
He'd noticed the pedefalls coming up the hallway but dismissed them a moment too soon, and a moment after they stopped there was a very excited mech jumping up onto his back, wrapping legs around his waist and purring into his neck. Prowl caught Jazz's legs reflexively-the physical training he'd started with Drift was already paying off-and revved his engine in greeting.
"All moved in, please tell me you can leave and come see," came Jazz's voice, laced with anticipation.
Prowl chuckled softly and turned his helm for a kiss even as he pulled his chair back enough for Jazz to fit on his lap. "Be non-distracting for two breems and yes."
"Two breems!" Jazz protested dramatically, but huffed in agreement. And made no move to move out of Prowl's lap. "Can I be non-distracting from here?"
"I invited you to sit, didn't I?" Prowl purred, his field reaching out to wrap his lover in a warm embrace as he moved the chair forward again and focused on his work for the few kliks it would take him. It didn't stop his arm from wrapping around his mate, who was only a metacycle away from being visibly marked as a carrier.
Jazz sat relatively still, nuzzling against Prowl's neck and enjoying his lover's field, but impatient with even a two breem wait, short as it was. He watched the nanokliks ticking down, and the moment the requested time had passed, he bit Prowl's neck, just hard enough to get himself noticed.
"Impatient little creature," Prowl chastised him with a chuckle and kiss. His fingers moved without needing to look at the screen as he closed thing down for the night. "All right, you can show me our new residence."
His lapful of purring carrier had bounded to its pedes before he even finished speaking, grabbing his hands and pulling. "I hope you like the one I picked," Jazz said, grinning at him. Prowl had worked with Engineer to find rooms for lease in a district in her control, and then given Jazz the final choice out of his preferred buildings. They had all been modest, but compared to how they'd been living since they'd started running, any one of them was a palace. Nothing like the estates Jazz had spent most of his life in, but his lover was insistent that all he cared about was a berth and a locking door that they had control over.
Prowl privately suspected that Jazz wasn't going to complain when he eventually got them well off enough to have a private residence with a hot oil pool on a balcony that overlooked a beautiful view, but that was going to take time. It was entirely probable that the twins would be in their final frames long before it happened.
Still, Prowl wasn't going to complain as Jazz lead them through the streets. It was safe here, the route between any of the choices and where Prowl worked all through areas where gang violence was largely absent. Jazz had argued to finish the pre-protoform construction time where he'd began dancing. They knew him there, they knew Prowl there, and they knew that Jazz was not available. He'd dance somewhere nicer after they separated and he had his dancing shape back. Reluctantly Prowl had agreed, so long as Jazz promised not to walk outside without either Prowl or one of Engineer's guards that they knew to escort him.
He idly crossed off choices as the turns Jazz made narrowed the options for where they could be heading until they final turn made Prowl's engines give a pleased purr when he realized that Jazz had chosen the building with a room that could be converted into a washrack, of sorts, if the tenants so chose. They would have to supply the equipment, but that wouldn't be a problem. Planet-wide investments were starting to pay off-not as quickly as he'd hoped, Cybertron's economy seemed to be in a slump everywhere-and while most of the returns were going straight to Mucit, Prowl kept enough for them to be comfortable and to have funds for small emergencies.
Jazz transformed once they were outside the building and held his arm out, gesturing up at it, giving his love a huge grin as he sent a databurst with the apartment number and lock encryptions for both the outer door and their own.
Prowl purred as he took his lover's hand and pulled him close. He knew many of the mecha who lived here, either in passing or from their files. It was a safe place. Engineer valued him. Engineer understood than Prowl valued Jazz. Which meant Engineer protected Jazz as one of her own. It wasn't perfect, but they were safer than the average middle-income mecha in the city and that was good enough. Prowl wanted perfect, but he understood the give and take that reality required, and he was lucky to have a mate who in the meantime was blissfully content with just recharging next to him every night.
Prowl's lips turned up in a small, private smile as he followed Jazz through the halls to their apartment. More like he had a mate who was blissfully content with everything that happened in their berth and was usually knocked into recharge by the end of it.
Jazz palmed open the door and led Prowl into the apartment, which opened up into a small room with a window on the far wall that was currently set to its most opaque setting. Jazz went straight to the center, where he'd adding a dancing pole, and grabbed it, spinning around once. "Ours," he said, as he stood back up, gesturing around.
Prowl, on pure instinct, took in everything, judging layout, quality, safety and needs, even though he was well aware of it all. He couldn't help his seneschal core coding. It was only a matter of nanokliks before he smiled and crossed the small distance to his love to embrace him. "I very much like this one," he purred, knowing Jazz wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it most likely. What little remained of Jazz's conformation coding still craved approval from the mech he had chosen as mate.
Jazz's engines gave a pleased hum as he pressed flush to Prowl. "I know it doesn't look like much right now," he murmured, "But we can add to it. Besides," he leaned back enough to flash Prowl a mischievous grin, "I fully expect to spend quite a lot of time looking at the ceiling."
"The ceiling, floor or wall," Prowl grinned and claimed a heated kiss, his fingers trailing down Jazz's side. He dropped his voice a full octave. "Why don't you give me a private preview of your next routine, if you've gotten everything set up."
"Someone's feeling patient," Jazz purred. "All right, but I'm going to do my best to make sure you regret asking, you tease," he said, stepping back, pushing off from Prowl with his fingertips and sauntering over to the sliding barrier that closed off the room they were standing in from the large berthroom. "Sit," Jazz commanded, pointing at the berth, which was covered with thick padding that had been an entire decaorn's salary.
That first touch of the padding and Prowl knew it was well worth it. Especially for how much they used their berth, and how roughly. "I'll never regret a reason to watch you move because you're enjoying it."
Jazz hummed and stretched, showing off his frame from the best angle he could. "Kind of like how you didn't regret taking me into a public no-'facing washracks that one time?" he asked, bending over backwards, grinning at his lover from the pose. "I certainly enjoyed that."
"It was very arousing," Prowl admitted with a rumble. "Even if I was hoping to enjoy the pool. You were far too hot. Especially your ultimatum."
"I do feel somewhat bad about that," Jazz admitted as he lowered his shoulders down to the ground and kept his hips pushed high, his spine perfectly straight. He wrapped his hands around one of his legs and pulled, lifting it up and pointing his pede towards the ceiling, carefully working the hip and ankle hydraulics for a moment before doing the same with the other leg. "The pool looked very nice." He lowered his leg, braced himself, and then leapt upright in a single, fluid motion, spinning on his heel and grabbing the pole, swinging around it again before hooking it with his knee and leaning back, optics fixed on his lover.
Those ice blue optics were fixed right back on him, hungry and admiring. "We'll have other opportunities now. She pays well. We'll be able to visit a nice washrack once a decaorn or so, though I'd like to time it to when you want to enjoy it rather than me."
"Blasphemy," Jazz declared, rocking his hips up against the pole, moving to a silent beat in his processor. "I'll just have to hardline you in the washracks. I bet we could get away with that. Or in the hot oil pool," he added, dipping his voice into a sultry purr. He finished a series of quick twirls that ended with his back pressed to the poll and one arm stretched up over his head, gripping tightly. He raised his knee up, then slid his free hand around under his leg, slowly pulling up until his ankle was nearly as high as his helm. "Imagine all that oil caressing your plating while I overload you in view of everyone as you try so hard to stay quiet and not give it all away."
Prowl shuddered, holding back a moan. "Or maybe I'll hunt down a nice one that doesn't have rules against interfacing," he suggested, his optics never leaving the lovely grace of his mate. It didn't matter what form Jazz wore, he would always be graceful. "Or you can. Tell me where you want me to take you, show off to everyone just how much you own me and I own you. I know you get off on being watched, on how jealous they all are that you're taken and how good you are. Find a place that's okay, and we'll do anything you want."
"You should know better than to make open-ended promises like that," Jazz said in a seductive trill. "But I'll see what I can find," he added, more seriously, as he lowered his leg and dipped into a crouch, knees spread wide, hands running up the insides of his thighs and tracing his fingers around first his valve and then his spike cover before sliding back up to his feet and spinning again, settling into a slow, careful dance.
With no doubt that he had his lover's optics fixed firmly on every move he was making, Jazz shifted through the graceful positions and moves of the dance, designed in every way to be a careful seduction to the viewer, no matter who that viewer was. But if that viewer happened to be the dancer's mate...well. Jazz smirked to himself halfway through a turn and abruptly changed the routine to bring him facing the pole while he knelt, then ran a long, slow lick up the side as he reached down to his pelvis to grip his spike as it extended into his hand.
Prowl's vents caught audibly as a small sound escaped his vocalizer.
"You know I'll do anything for you," Prowl panted, his own equipment burning hot enough that the panels automatically slid open. He leaned back on his hands and spread his knees, knowing full well the visual he was offering in return. "How much I get off on watching you ride my spike. Just as good as pinning and pounding into you so hard you walk funny the next orn. Just as good as feeling that amazing spike deep inside me as I work each and every micron until you scream."
"Gonna pound you so hard," Jazz moaned in reply, stroking himself in time with his dip down along the pole, finding it incredibly difficult to stay where he was and finish the routine. "Frag, how do I get myself into these situations?" he asked with a strained laugh, entirely aware that his plan was backfiring just as much as it was working.
"Because you're a very desirable mech with a high interface drive," Prowl moaned, his fingers playing along the rim of his valve, ignoring his hard spike for the time being. "You forget that you want me just as much as I want you."
Jazz chuckled. "So very true," he said, tossing Prowl an openly desiring look that shifted down to his valve. "Primus that looks delicious," he said, slowly licking his lips, and lifted his hand off his spike and wrapped his fingers around the pole. He pushed his aft up and back, sliding his valve cover away. "It is not fair that I can only do one thing with you at a time," he said. "Far too many choices."
"That is what energon and multiple rounds are for," Prowl chuckled, his tone deep with desire as his gaze moved from spike to valve. His fingers moved from his glistening valve to stroke his curvaceous and textured spike. "I can never decide which way I like you best. So glad you like using both."
"Both, slag," Jazz said, grinning. "I can think of more than a dozen ways to have you. How many surfaces do you think we can break in in an orn?"
Prowl laughed brightly. "All of them, if our energon supply is what I think it is."
"Excellent," Jazz said, and finished the dance with a final series of spins and dips, then froze in place, back against the pole, and lifted his hand, crooking a single finger. "Come here," he purred, and rested his other hand invitingly on the juncture between his hip and thigh, gesturing in. "I know where I want you to start."
"I like the idea," Prowl rumbled and stood, striding forward to kneel before his lover. He caught Jazz's right knee to nuzzle, kiss and lick his way up, taking his time and enjoying the heat and charge in his lover's field.
Jazz slid his fingers around Prowl's helm, smiling softly. "You are so lovely," he murmured, armor loosening just from the sight. "Primus blessed me when he made you mine."
"Just as he blessed me when he made you for me, no matter what it took to make that happen," Prowl purred deeply as he nuzzled and licked his way to Jazz's valve. His glossa teased the slick platelets there, swirling around the edge of the valve rim. "You're too perfect."
Jazz pulled his leg up, panting heavily as he offered his lover more room. "Oh right there," he moaned, pushing his hips out into the warm touch. "Nn... would do it all again just to have you," he said, and meant every word.
Prowl's glossa slid around the inside of his valve rim and he hummed, sending perfectly pitched vibrations into Jazz's valve, making the calipers cycle closed on empty air while his fingers worked Jazz's thighs. "Do you want to face the mirror?"
Jazz managed a grin through his shivers. "Sharp you licentious mech," he said, even as he lowered his leg and shifted, Prowl moving with him, so he was facing the mirror with a perfect view of his lover's kneeling form in front of him. "Leave it to you to suggest something like that, you know perfectly well that mirror is for practicing."
"Of course it is," Prowl chuckled a rumble against Jazz's valve and circled his glossa around the inner rim again before pressing inward. "But it's got better uses and you know it."
"I may have-ah-considered that when I bought it," Jazz said, torn between the view when he looked down and the one when he looked into the mirror, and settled on shifting between the two. His fingers curled around Prowl's helm as he relaxed into his lover's touches, caressing and stroking. "So, so lovely," he breathed, enraptured by the sight.
"You taste so good," Prowl purred, his glossa delving deeper, seeking out the nodes to lap against and rub. "Pure pleasure. That's what you are. Pure pleasure."
Jazz shivered and moaned softly. "I can't help it, never been able to help it around you, not since I was a mechling." His leg came up to rest against Prowl's shoulder and his other hand joined the first on Prowl's helm, gripping, trying not to pull him in too hard. "Pleasure from you is so sweet, so good, my perfect, beautiful, only..." He trailed off into another moan as he watched Prowl's hands stroking over his legs, the way his head was tilted up and back, the sight of his face between his thighs all serving to push his charge up faster than any other could have done with the same touches.
"Good, because you're mine," Prowl rumbled deeply, his glossa stroking and rubbing the nodes he could reach with relentless precision. "Never giving you up, my perfect whore. You're addictive in how much you want me."
Jazz whined as the words and the voice that spoke them went straight through him like pure, molten gold and he shook, unable to stop his fingers from tightening around his lover's helm and thrust his hips out, keeping Prowl pulled in. "Say it again," he gasped, pleaded. "Call me your whore, call me what I am."
"You are mine," Prowl snarled against his valve, lapping and rubbing without pause. "You are exactly what I want you to be. My whore. My slut. The carrier of my creations. You are mine."
Jazz shook and shouted, overload rushing through him before Prowl had even finished speaking the final glyph, centering in around his valve, which rippled and gripped at the slick intruder that was creating such perfect pleasure even as shallow as the reach was. The reach hardly mattered, it was Prowl touching him, worshiping his frame, and that would always be more than enough.
"Love you!" Jazz sobbed as the second surge of charge cycled through him, needing that much to clear his systems out, frame shuddering from the static shocks that danced over and under his armor. He slumped when they dissipated, still keeping Prowl's helm held tightly between his legs, quivering. That and Prowl's strong, supportive grip on his legs were the only reason he was still upright.
"You are delightful, my lovely Strata," Prowl purred from where he was kneeling, relaxed but very aroused. "And this is only round one."
Jazz hummed in blissful satisfaction as he very carefully lowered his leg down and loosened his grip from Prowl's helm, carefully putting his weight fully back onto his pedes. He stroked his fingers down the side of Prowl's face and under his chin, tilting his head up, optics flickering with pleasure at the sight of his lubricant all over his lover's mouth. "Come here," he purred, lifting his hand, bringing Prowl upright with just the gentle brush of his fingers. As soon as he was standing, Jazz pulled him into a deep, heated kiss, eagerly tasting himself in Prowl's mouth while he pressed his hips forward, rubbing their spikes together. "So how thorough should we be about this breaking in business?" he asked, optics darkening in renewed arousal.
"Very," Prowl panted when the kiss finally ended, his hips rocking back into the delightful contact. "I want to use and taste every part of you tonight."
"You will," Jazz promised, reaching down between them to wrap his fingers around their spikes, twisting his wrist in a smooth stroke that made both of them groan. "Just as I will use you," he gasped, "Over and over and...mmm...over."
"Yesss," Prowl shivered and pressed into the touch and another kiss, impatient as his lover was to fully break in their new home.