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 17: Territorial Rights
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Jazz finished his shift, waved farewell to the night manager and security mecha, and headed outside to wait for Prowl after snagging a cube of high grade from the bar. His mate was running a little late to walk him home-something he would not allow Jazz to do on his own under any circumstance-and he was running hotter than usual from the dancing, and not at all from arousal. His frame was preparing to start the protoform construction, and he wanted to be outside in the cool air, away from the enclosed space filled with so many dozens of revving engines.

He went around to the privacy of the side of the building to wait and leaned against the wall, looking up at the moons and holding his hand over his spark for a moment before sipping at the high grade. It wasn't enough to get him overcharged, but it helped to cover for the fact that he consumed more energon than a mech his size normally would at this stage in an average carry. It was unlikely that anyone would notice, but they weren't taking chances with bounty hunters crawling the planet looking for any sign of a twin carrier.

He ignored the sounds coming from around the corner where the buymecha waited for customers. The owners of the club pretended they weren't there, and the buymecha kept the customers who couldn't afford the pleasurebot dancers sated and calm. It was a beneficial, unspoken arrangement between all parties involved.

He did pay attention when the noise turned into an unmistakably angry engine rev, a clatter, and a shout before a misshapen frame stumbled around the corner. The mech was growling and as he stepped forward into better light, Jazz thought he could see why. His frame was disgustingly dirty and his spike was still extended, credits in hand. Apparently no one had been willing to take this one, even for pay.

The mech's optics found Jazz and brightened, walking forward much faster, obviously thinking this was another chance. Jazz eyed him. He was strong enough to tear the mech apart if he needed to. He got close enough to teek, and the rank, unrestrained lust hit him strong and Jazz shifted uncomfortably, just watching, high grade forgotten as he came close enough to touch.

"Credits for a spike," the mech rattled.

Jazz frowned, revolted by the state of the frame, but found it hard to even shake his head, and when the mech stepped closer and he could feel the heat of the spike-

His valve cover opened immediately.

Jazz's optics spiraled wide. "I'm carrying," he managed to say, and Primus, why was even that so difficult? "Please-maybe later-"

"Then suck," the mech rumbled, shoving the credits in his hand forward. "Ah don' care."

"No," Prowl's distinctive voice carried the authority he had not used in a long time. "No one touches him but me."

Prowl's voice cut through the intense focus Jazz had on the mech's spike and he forced a step towards his mate, slower than he would have really liked but at least he was further away.

"He wan's it," the mech whined, gesturing at the open valve, having clearly heard it opening. "C'mon."

"I do not care," Prowl growled as he stepped forward, his armor flaring in warning and his field a riot of aggression and possessiveness that could have rivaled Drift. "He is mine. Do you understand?"

The mech hissed, but wasn't stupid enough to challenge that kind of display. "Fine, Ah got't," he muttered, and pushed past the pair to stalk away.

Jazz shuddered, watching until he was gone from sight, then cringed when he felt the lingering aggression in his mate's field. "Didn't want him influencing the protoform," he said, and even that sounded flimsy to his own audials.

With an effort Prowl dissipated his anger and put a gentle finger under Jazz's chin so their optics met. "I know. I know what you felt. Let's go home. I'm not angry with you."

Relief flooded through Jazz and he nodded, just wanting to be behind a locked door and in his mate's berth, frustrated and confused that what had kliks ago been a perfect, normal evening had turned so disquieting. "I wanted-" he started, then broke off and shook his head, because he wasn't sure he knew the rest of that sentence. Belatedly and as they took the first steps, he realized his valve cover was still open and closed it immediately.

The drive home was quiet and painfully introspective for Jazz as he tried to figure out why his reaction hadn't been to push the mech over and walk away, and why by Primus his valve cover had opened. It wasn't a reflex he had ingrained in him, had it?

It certainly wasn't any kind of installed program or some kind of dysfunctional glitch, because Prowl had been through his processors line by line, purging anything of the like when he'd removed every trace of the construct.

But it had to be a glitch, or a virus, or something, Jazz thought, frustrated. He'd seen a mech he didn't want, not under any circumstances, not even to take the symbolic revenge he'd grown to crave. But his frame, and even, if he was willing to admit it, his processor had wanted to please that spike.

That couldn't be reflex, it had to be a virus... didn't it?

By the time they were home, Jazz had run a routine anti-virus sweep, found nothing, and was by then more than happy to just forget the incident as soon as they were behind their locked door.

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

The next time Prowl was going to be late, Drift was waiting by the door, looking bored with his high grade until Jazz's shift was over.

"He'll be later than he thought," Drift said, greeting Jazz with a familiar engine rumble. "Wanna go home or wait for him there?"

"I'll wait for him there," Jazz said, which was what he usually did on evenings like this. He enjoyed the drive home with his mate.

Drift nodded and jerked his head towards the door, leading him out.

When they arrived at the main intel hub where Prowl worked, there was a femme waiting in the sitting room that Jazz spent his time in, holding a flute of light, bubbling high grade that Jazz had only ever seen his creators and other nobles indulge in, but had never tried himself.

"Drift, would you please ask for another sent down?" she asked, then turned her smile on Jazz. "Hello Strata, I'm Engineer."

Jazz nodded once in greeting, smiling back easily as he chose a seat on the long, cushioned lounge next to her, reclining out. "It is nice to finally meet you," he said.

"I would have liked to sooner, but business comes first," she smiled warmly. "Your mate is quite valuable to me. I like to get to know those who are important to those I value."

The door opened and a black, glossy minibot stepped in carrying a flute identical to the one Engineer was holding. Jazz accepted it with a smile, waiting until the mech had left again before turning back to Engineer. "I'm just a dancer," he said, with a small shrug before taking a sip, and immediately gave a hum of delight at the bright, clear taste. .

"Oh, you undervalue yourself," she smiled warmly. "You have captured Sharp's spark, you carry his creation. A creation that I hope is as smart as he is. And from Drift's accounts, you are a fine dancer and good student of violence. I am sure you could be far more than a dancer if you wished to be."

"Perhaps," Jazz said, then laughed softly. "Though I really can't imagine what, I don't have a processor like Sharp's." He gave a small, thoughtful hum. "And he likes watching me, I would never deprive him of that."

"Very few have a processor like Sharp," Engineer agreed easily. "How long have you known him?"

Jazz smiled and closed his eyes, resting his head back. "Feels like my whole life," he said. "Like I wasn't even living until he was there."

She smiled softly at the love-struck answer. "You are very sweet together," she sipped her energon. "Are you enjoying being a carrier?"

"Mm, yes," Jazz said, his free hand coming up absentmindedly to linger over his spark and where he could feel the bright warmth of the twin sparks. They had felt so much healthier and vibrant since he and Prowl had found stability in Simfur. "Not excited to lose my frame, though. Have you ever carried?"

"No, I've never liked anyone enough to bond," she shook her helm. "It's such a large step, and you seem so young."

"I got lucky," Jazz said, perfectly honest in that. "And truthfully, the newspark might not have been entirely planned," he chuckled. "But I couldn't stop myself from wanting his creation."

"Do your creators approve of him?" she asked, a probing question, but still a normal one. "I would think he was quite the catch."

"They would if we were still on speaking terms," Jazz shrugged. "Business mecha, they never approved of my desire to be a performer. Actually," he said, "I'm sure they would rather have Sharp as a creation than me."

A frown crossed Engineer's features. "That attitude causes so much harm in this world. What are your hopes for your creation? Beyond being healthy and strong."

Jazz paused to think about that for a moment, something he actually hadn't ever really considered before. So much of their focus had been on surviving and creating a safe, stable life for their sparklings, what came after hadn't even occurred to him. "I suppose..." he said, trying to imagine what life was like for commoner sparklings, and having a bit of a hard time of it. "To be safe, and find love... and have a processor like Sharp's," he added with a laugh. "And maybe even enjoy dancing, though if not, I won't act like my creators did."

Engineer smiled again, a mixture of understanding and sadness. "It wasn't easy for you, the metacycles before I hired Sharp. Are you going to dance again, when you get your frame back in shape?"

"Maybe," Jazz hummed, slowly sipping his high grade. "Not at the same place, if I do. Sharp doesn't like that one."

"Yet he allows you to dance there," she cocked her helm. "Why?"

"I like it there," Jazz said simply. "We agreed until I start building the protoform, but now that it isn't necessary..." He shrugged.

"It is because you like it there," she summarized with a gentle hum. "When you came to Simfur you were running from something. What?"

Jazz lifted his head to look at her, frowning, unprepared for the shift in topic. There was no point in denying they had been running, any glitch with a set of simple circuits could figure that out. "I was in trouble," he finally said, very slowly. "I stole something. Sharp got me out."

That raised an optic ridge. "That must have been an impressive theft. Leaving a city for almost getting caught. Who am I protecting you from?"

"You aren't," Jazz said coldly. "You are employing my mate and giving him the means to protect me, and your protection from the dangers in this city is appreciated, but unrelated."

"Then if anyone comes looking for you, you are on your own," she told him as a caution. "I am not keen on loosing Sharp's skills."

"If anyone comes looking for me, you will lose his skills," Jazz said, and shrugged, relaxing back down, looking completely casual again. "His ultimate loyalty is to me. But I think you know that."

"Yes, I worked that out," she nodded and sipped her energon. "Do you like it here, now that you have enough credits to live?"

"It is likable as anywhere I have ever lived," Jazz said, swirling his flute and looking into it, then shot her a smirk. "Anywhere with a door and a berth meets my standards."

Engineer laughed lightly. "Though I'm sure the nicer the berth the better it is," she winked. "Credits can buy wonderful things that make existence better. Your mate is well on his way to a promotion. I'm sure you'll enjoy the results. Perhaps an addition to your private washroom."

"Perhaps," Jazz agreed. "He enjoys spoiling me. I enjoy thanking him."

"What other ways do you enjoy being spoiled?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"Nice washracks, comfortable berth..." Jazz trailed off for a moment. "Anything he gives me, it doesn't matter what it is."

"Better energon?" she suggested. "Have you tried flavored drinks?"

Jazz had, frequently, his entire life before running with Prowl, but Engineer didn't need to know that. "Just high grade at clubs, if that even counts," he said, and held up the flute. "This is delicious, whatever it is."

"It doesn't," she chuckled. "And that is hydro-fission energon. It's low energy but very high in hydrogen and oxygen molecules. A mech by the designation Mucit developed it. It still has only one supplier. The next time you come by, try out some of the additives with your energon," she motioned to the small table that always contained a few things to snack on and a small energon dispenser that only offered low-grade. Good quality, but low in energy. Perfect as a snack and to entertain.

"I will," Jazz said, pretending to be interested as he looked at the dispenser. He took another sip, tasting the mix more carefully, and smiling as he imagined Mucit and Wheeljack enjoying the same concoction.

"Do you have a medic?" Engineer's tone shifted to a slightly more serious tone. "Most carries and separations go smoothly and don't really need one, but if something goes wrong, it can often kill both quickly."

"Not right now." And oh, did Jazz know about everything that could go wrong and how much higher the odds were with twins. "We'll find one if we need one."

She gave a hum of acceptance, but also hinted that she intended to speak to Prowl about it. "Are you going to have the separation in your own berth, or go to a hospital?"

"We decided we want to be alone," Jazz said, and gave a rueful smile. "We've been the only ones there for each other for a long time, we want this to be just us."

"Soon to be just the three of you," she chuckled, the tone a mixture of understanding and softness at the romance of it. "Do you know his designation yet?"

"Mm, no. He hasn't started speaking to me yet," Jazz explained. He finished his energon and looked at the empty flute for a moment, tilting it in the light, then back up at Engineer. "Sharp had a lot to do this orn?"

"There was an attempt to hack in. It caused extra work for him," she shrugged. "How did you meet him?"

Jazz gave a long, drawn-out sigh as he resigned himself to the wait. "I ran away, sort of, but I had no idea what I was doing. Freshly upgraded mechling," he explained with a wry grin. "All that new coding gives you some pretty stupid ideas. I wasn't about to go back to my creators, thought I would join some street performers...but, you probably know what happens to new mechlings who have no idea what they're doing. I didn't. Started getting followed and I ran into the nearest shop I could find, and Sharp was there. He bought me energon and we talked and he convinced me to go back home, but I got his comm frequency and we kept meeting, and when I got kicked out, I moved in with him."

"What was he doing for credits back then?" she was curious, even if it was really just to keep Jazz talking about the past.

"Pit if I know," Jazz said with a shrug. "He didn't talk about it, I didn't ask. At the time, he was fueling me, and that was really all I cared about."

"You didn't share his berth at first?" an optic ridge rose in distinct surprise.

"Primus no," Jazz laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I wanted to, more than anything, but he thought he was too old for me, that I should be with age-mates. He was probably right," he added with a half-shrug. "So no matter what I did, he behaved perfectly polite and kept his distance, the slagger. Spent more than a few vorns doing everything I could think of to get him interested. And, well," Jazz's grin was huge, "Turns out he wanted me just as badly the entire time. And oh was it marvelous learning how to please him after that."

Though he didn't react to it, Jazz did note the slightly startled look Drift quickly hid.

"It sounds like he's been very good to you," Engineer hummed softly. "He never displayed jealousy towards your other lovers? Not even after you bonded?"

"No," Jazz shook his head. "Not that there have been many, and only for pay when we needed it."

"Does it bother you that he's not as loyal?" Drift suddenly asked from the background.

Jazz tilted his head back. "Why should it?" he asked, quite honestly. "I belong to him, he does as he pleases."

The fighter grunted with a nod, understanding that easily.

"Has he taken you to many cities before you got here?" Engineer worked her back to more useful intel.

Jazz frowned and made himself look uneasy. "A few. Crystal, Central... I would have liked to stay in Central."

"What did you like about Central City?" Engineer asked gently. "Some things aren't exclusive to one city."

"The artisan quarter," Jazz said. "I'd never seen art like that before, everywhere you looked. Even the buildings looked like sculptures. And paintings that made your spark ache just to look at them."

Engineer smiled warmly. "Every city has an artisan quarter. Perhaps you can talk you mate into taking you to some of the others. Iacon and Praxus are amazing, and the Helix Garden is something every mecha should witness at least once."

"I will ask him," Jazz said, giving another impatient glance at the door.

"He's likely to be a couple joors," Engineer said gently as she stood. "You can watch a vid if you want," she motioned to the screen normally covered by an abstract painting. "It gets most channels and VOD. I'm afraid I have to go and check in on a warehouse."

Jazz sighed and nodded, accepting the link-in to the building's entertainment system, ignored Drift and Engineer as they left together, and settled in for the wait.

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

Jazz was most of the way into a good recharge nap when the door sliding open brought him online fast, startling him upright with a disoriented lurch and a flare of alarm.

"Relax, Strata," Prowl's voice was smooth and comforting, but it did little to hide how tired he was from the mech who knew him well.

Jazz settled with a slow x-vent, rising from the couch and shaking his head to clear his processor of the split moment of panic, having been suddenly and vividly back in Vortex's berth, waiting for the rotor to return. "Engineer said someone tried to hack in, are you all right?" he asked, touching their helms together and running his hands over his mate's frame.

"I'm fine," Prowl promised, relaxing into the intimate contact and sliding his arms around Jazz's waist. "Just tired. Good energon and recharge with you will fix it."

"Recharge with me?" Jazz repeated, field flickering with fond, loving amusement as he reached up to tap Prowl's helm. "Well now I know something is wrong. Do you need a virus scan?"

Prowl chuckled lightly. "You can scan me if it will make you feel better, but I know a much more enjoyable way to convince you I'm fine." His engine gave a deep rumble and he pulled Jazz close for a kiss. "Energon first. I'm in the mood for the warmed cyanide brew they serve at the cafe in our complex."

Jazz hummed happily against him. "Should be empty this time of night, too," he said, and linked their arms together as they started the walk out of the compound. "Engineer gave me something delicious, hydro-fission energon. We'll have to find some, I think she said Mucit was the supplier's designation."

Prowl froze, shock written openly on his features and frame for a moment before he managed to relax and continue walking to the road. "Generous of her. Did she ask anything unreasonable?"

Jazz frowned at him but didn't question. "No, if my entire life's story isn't unreasonable. She asked why we ran."

Prowl hummed in understanding and transformed for the drive home. ::She wants to know how much risk there is in trusting me to stay,:: he explained gently. ::How much did you tell her?::

Jazz pinged him with a file in response, a recording of the entire conversation, both auditory and visual. ::I told her the truth, though in not so many words,:: he said. ::As little as I could where possible.::

::Good,:: Prowl's harmonics were rich with approval. Navigating the late night traffic required little attention so he could give more to the file, though even after he finished with it they allowed a comfortable silence to settle until they reached the complex and transformed. "What would you like at the cafe?"

Jazz glanced at his levels. "Just high grade," he said, not in the mood for anything fancy, and much more interested in the fuel content.

"All right," Prowl leaned in to kiss him, his field rich with affection, privately showing what he was displaying publicly in the close contact. "Have you gotten the notice to begin taking mineral supplements yet?" Excitement flickered in his field and voice.

"Sharp, you will know the instant that happens," Jazz purred, wrapping arms around Prowl's waist, the feel of his mate's excited anticipation for their creations making him fall just that much more in love with him, if it was even possible.

"It should be any orn now," Prowl's anticipation was very real as they walked into the cafe, got their order and found a seat at a small table with a nice view of the street below. "I'm looking forward to seeing your shape when construction is underway and you have a little factory inside you."

"Mm, that makes one of us," Jazz said, teasing, before taking a deep swallow of the high grade, then glanced back at Prowl almost shyly. "As long as you still find me desirable."

"How could I not, when you are building my heir?" Prowl purred. "I will desire you more than ever. Especially desire to fill you with my nanites to help build him."

Jazz shivered. "That I am looking forward to," he said, looking out over the street and the few mecha who were visible. "Engineer suggested Iacon or Praxus, as places to visit. Maybe when he separates?"

"If she is agreeable to the time off, or a short transfer," Prowl nodded. "They both have amazing artist quarters and sights."

Jazz just nodded in response, watching a lone vehicle form drive by. They both settled into a content silence, their fields twined as they finished their drinks. The walk to the lift and to their apartment was much the same. They both still enjoyed the peace of being able to be close without fear of retribution.

Once inside the relative privacy of the space that was slowly starting to look more like a home, they settled next to each other on their berth, legs entwined and helms touching, silent as they set up the safety of the hardline.

~Why were you so surprised to hear Mucit?~ Jazz asked, the question that had been on his mind the entire time.

Prowl chuckled and shook his helm before drawing his love into a long kiss. ~It wasn't Mucit, it was the hydro-fission energon. A cube is worth as much as I earn in a vorn.~

Jazz's optics widened. ~Primus. So much for finding some. Leave it to those two.~

~I won't be procuring it for you anytime soon,~ Prowl kissed him, a hint of regret crossing the hardline along with something good. ~It does mean that she's very serious about trying to court you to ensure she keeps me. I must be more valuable to her than I estimated. That's a good thing.~

~Yes, but how are we going to hide twins from her?~ Jazz asked. ~She was prying, and we can't just keep one in storage all the time. It's kind of hard to explain the extra one running around.~

Prowl x-vented quietly. ~We don't. A calculated risk that I'm worth more to her than what Vortex is offering to get you back. Publicly, we'll need to move around a bit or not be seen, but either we carried at the same time, or you carried them both very close together.~

Jazz grip on Prowl's arm tightened almost painfully. ~Prowl!~ he protested. ~If she tells him-if she betrays you-or anyone else who works for her who finds out-he will come for them and kill them!~

Even before Jazz finished he was on his back, pinned under his mate while that powerful mind tried to force calm through the hardline. ~If she betrays me, we run again. There is little danger. We will be ready. The alternative is to leave her employ before they separate and try to find employment in yet another city. We got lucky here.~

Jazz stared up at him, fighting against the panic that was trying to take over, finding comfort he couldn't explain in the pin. ~How will we know if he's coming?~ he finally asked, once he felt steadier.

~The same way we'd know if he found out by other means. They try to capture us. We don't know now if he's coming.~ Prowl's summery was grim but factual.

Jazz shuddered at the truth of it, turning his face away. ~I'm glad Drift is teaching us.~

~Yes, it is well worth the credits and sore valves.~ Prowl relaxed, leaning forward to turn Jazz's face back up and kiss him. ~We will continue to learn new ways to fight. Our advantage will always be that no one will know our full capabilities. We will always have a surprise. Remember, worst case, shift to a jet alt and fly away.~

Jazz nodded. ~When do we tell her?~

~Not soon. I'm still working on determining if that is the most tactical solution,~ Prowl said gently with another kiss. ~Let me worry about who to tell, and when.~

Jazz sighed with relief that was tangible over the hardline. ~I love you,~ he said softly, wrapping his hand around the back of Prowl's neck, pulling the kiss deeper.

~I love you,~ Prowl willingly melted into the kiss, allowing arousal to build within himself. ~Is there anything you desire, beyond me, safety, a berth and energon?~

~Prowl,~ Jazz sighed, slumping back. ~Beyond your spark? Beyond living openly and freely with you, not having to use cover designations?~ His optics unfocused for a moment. ~I grew wanting to run a House, I suppose... that's still what I want, even if I have to alter my definition of House.~

~I will do what I can to arrange that. It may not be a noble House, but a merchant clan can be just as powerful in its own way,~ Prowl purred, excited by the prospect of building something he understood that Jazz wanted. ~Is there anything else you with to discuss?~ he asked, seductive and hungry as his spike cover slid open and spike pressurized eagerly.

~No,~ Jazz whispered, his grip on his mate tight and the kiss he pulled him into a desperate kiss as he lifted his hips, bared and offering. ~Just need to feel you.~

~I love filling your needs, all of them,~ Prowl moaned as he pressed in, burying himself in a single smooth thrust as their mingled cries filled the otherwise silence of the room.

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

Jazz felt like his protoform was squirming in his armor in the crowded heat of the club. Prowl was late, delayed by a wreck on the roads, and Jazz was starting to find it intolerably hot inside, even standing right next to the open door. It had been his last orn, his last performance. Why did Prowl have to be late?

He squirmed again, plating itching, then huffed. He would go outside just for a few kliks, then go right back in as soon as his x-vents no longer felt sticky and warm. Maybe ten kliks at most.

The first intake of the outside air was a relief and Jazz hummed with contentment as he walked towards the back of the building, thinking to go sit with the buymecha, a few of whom he knew by designation by now and was friendly enough with to feel safe to sit with. They weren't going to hurt him, and now that he wasn't competition they were more friendly too. He rounded the corner and was just three steps in when a rattle behind him made him stop and turn. He hadn't seen anyone there, but as he looked closer, there was movement in what he'd mistaken for a pile of junk.

The pile uncurled and Jazz realized it was the mech that had tried to pay him right here, looking even more rusted than before if it was possible.

"S you 'gain," the mech rumbled, reeking of overcharge. "Th'ne wouldna let me spike 'im. But y'wanted it. Want't now?"

Jazz took a step back. "Not now," he said.

The pile of scrap stood, his spike fully pressurized by the time he was on his pedes. "Ey thin' ya do." He stalked forward, closing the distance while Jazz stared at his spike.

In the next moment, his valve cover slid away, the sound unmistakable. Another step, but this one froze halfway through and left his legs apart. He hadn't given this as much thought as it needed after the last time, about why it had been so hard to tell the mech no and walk away. Thought that the subject very obviously needed, and now Jazz was kicking himself. It had been too unsettling, and really, he never needed to say no, not in his life with Prowl.

He'd never needed to say no. He'd never been allowed to say no.

Why should that change now? some small part of his processor wondered as the mech shuffled forward. He was longing for his original function in life? He missed knowing what his purpose in this world was? Well, here it was, make the best of it. He'd been created to be a warm frame that supported a valve, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

"It's just-" Jazz tried to say, but the words came out stilted and lacking any kind of force. "I'm not-"

He felt a credit chip pressed into his hand as the filthy mech took the last step forward that pressed Jazz against the wall. With no other effort, he grabbed Jazz's hips and thrust his spike forward. It was an act his valve understood and responded to eagerly, even as his processors were trying to catch up with the fact that he was being spiked and his frame was ready to start using the transfluid it received for the creations he was building.

He could feel bits of rust scraping off onto his chassis and when an unpleasant, damp mouth was pressed against his he grimaced but didn't turn away. The mech groaned and rattled and humped unevenly against him and Jazz pressed his hands to the wall, fingers clawing back against it, and tried not to enjoy it.

It was hard, it was so hard. There was a calm, cruel clarity that said this was his purpose, his function, and that he was just lucky to have found a mech he loved to perform for most of the time. That didn't give him the right to say no to the others who wanted what he was for.

But that wasn't right, it wasn't right! His processor, his frame, they were both acting against his will, betraying him into taking this. Prowl thought he was more than a frame to bury in, Prowl loved him, he was worth more than this!

Sharp! he tried to comm, but it wouldn't engage, and in the time it took him to even begin to wrestle with the traitorous coding that was keeping him here and enjoying it, the mech had reached his overload. Hot, sludge-like transfluid filled his valve, sucked up by newly engaged equipment into a holding tank inside his abdominal cavity. In a horrifying moment Jazz comprehended that this was the first contribution to the twins he carried.

Then the mech moved away, so fast and directly back that the removal of his spike left a flare of pain, quickly forgotten as Jazz realized what had happened.

"You should invest in a better memory," Prowl's voice was a deep growl, furious on a level that Jazz had never heard.

He stared at his mate, whose optics had gone nearly white with rage, and felt himself slumping to the ground as he watched the mech's pointless struggling against the heavier, stronger frame. He was so overcharged Jazz doubted he fully understood what had happened so quickly, but from the wide-opticked terror on his face, he could feel the enraged intent that had to be pummeling him from behind.

As Jazz watched, Prowl grabbed the offending spike and tore it off with one clean twist, only to have the object stuffed into the mech's mouth and down his intake just as the scream began. The vocalizer went next, purely to silence him, ripped straight from his throat and thrown to the ground, where Prowl threw the mech in the next moment and lunged on him, snarling and tearing at the chest with one hand and sinking the other into the shoulder joint with the other and ripping the arm away.

The rusting frame was still strong enough to thrash from the pain, its spine arching up away from the ground as the helm tossed in terrified protest, but it had nowhere near the strength to dislodge the enraged Praxian who was working to tear off the other arm now. The joint separated with a sharp crack and Prowl grabbed the neck as soon as the limb had been thrown aside, crushing the intake and ripping easily through the crumbling chest plating, tearing the armor right off.

Energon spilled out into a pool beneath them as the attack continued, the horrified revving of the mech's engines and the sound of cables snapping and metal screeching in protest as the rest of the frame was savaged nowhere near as loud as the growling coming from Prowl's engines and vocalizer.

It lasted less than two kliks, and by the end, the mech couldn't be called that anymore. There was sparklight, indicated some lingering amount of life, but the pile of energon-soaked parts in the middle of the alley was not going to survive. There was a frustrated snarl as Prowl looked for something else to tear, rip, crush, destroy, and when he found it all already ruined, his head snapped up and the white optics pinned Jazz.

In the time it took Jazz to process that he was the next target of that rage, he watched Prowl hard reboot. Optics went black. Frame sagged. The entire control network for the mech turned off for a fraction of a nanoklik to reset.

Prowl's optics came back on their normal shade of ice blue and he straightened, a bewildered look on his face.

"Sharp..." Jazz whispered, staring at him, still not daring to move. His mate looked at him, at himself, at the flickering light at his pedes.

"What happened?" Prowl asked even as his processor clicked on the fact that the mech beneath him would not survive. He grabbed the biggest pieces and made quick work of checking for anything valuable while he arranged the parts to be lost in the junk and shadow.

"You don't...?" Jazz said, pushing himself more upright, watching his lover sifting through the pieces of frame with detached fascination. "You pulled him off me," he said, grimacing as he felt transfluid running down the inside of his leg from the burst that had come as Prowl had yanked the mech away, reaching down to wipe at it. "Sharp," he said again, voice cracking with a sharp burst of static as he stared at the smear on his fingertips. "I'm getting mineral supplement notices."

"The reboot locked the memory away," Prowl explained before he caught up with the rest of what Jazz said. That forced him to freeze and assess the situation again. Coding that he'd spent countless joors writing and integrating bloomed over his awareness, trying to consume him. His vents and engine stuttered before he forced himself to finish the task at hand. Only when his kill was reasonably well hidden did he turn on his mate, pulling Jazz upright against the wall and pinning him there with a hot frame and eager spike, his field a riot with a single demand.

"Mine," Prowl hissed, his spike already hard and extended between them as he caught one of Jazz's knees to angle him better for the thrust in.

Jazz gave a short, startled groan at how quickly he was filled, hands sliding under Prowl's arms and coming up to grip his shoulders from behind, pressing his face against his mate's neck and holding him tightly. "Yours," he managed. "I'm sorry-Sharp-I'm so, I'm-" He broke off with a sharp cry as Prowl's pelvis slammed into his.

"Mine," Prowl hissed again, demanding and claiming as much as his hard paced thrusting did. "Don't want sorry. Want you."

Jazz moaned and nodded, hiking his leg up as high as he could and just holding on, rocking under the drives that were scraping his back against the wall, pain that turned into a harsh, grounding distraction from everything else. It hurt so much less to just cling to his mate and not think, letting his frame and vocalizer react automatically as time rushed forward and he lost track of how many times Prowl had overloaded into him.

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Jazz's optics flickered on at the end of a groggy-feeling reboot that only initiated because of the fuel and supplement alerts. He was in his own berth-he had hazy, partial memories of making it back here the previous night and being thrown onto his back and pinned there-and he was registering a very sore valve, still full of thick, pressurized spike, and constriction from Prowl's arms wrapped tightly around him, the Praxian's engines still rumbling even in recharge.

"Sharp," Jazz said, very quietly, not daring to move. It was enough to rouse his mate, though it still took Prowl a klik to light his optics.

"Hungry?" Prowl's question was groggy, his systems sluggish and wanting energon themselves. But he was fully himself and focused on Jazz's needs.

"Yes," Jazz said, relieved to hear the sanity in his mate's voice.

A nuzzle and affection greeted the statement as Prowl gently untangled himself from his mate and kissed him softly before getting up to fetch two cubes of cheap but potent high grade they used for rapid energy recovery. A packet of supplement wafers also came with it.

"Did I hurt you?" Prowl asked solicitously as he offered the wafer packet and a cube.

"No," Jazz said, before pushing himself up enough to down the cube in a single tip and accepting the wafers. He slipped the first into his mouth, absently noting the unfamiliar sensation of the minerals being absorbed into his systems, his primary attention still focused on Prowl.

Prowl's cube went down just as fast and he dissipated it before snuggling up against Jazz, pulling him close, possessive in a way that still wasn't natural but was no longer threatening. "Energy levels?"

"Ninety-seven," Jazz answered, unresisting and wrapping his arms around his mate. "You're supposed to be at work?" he asked.

"I won't be going in today," Prowl said with finality as he claimed a kiss. "I have more important things to do right now."

Jazz nodded as he spread his legs open for his mate. Later, they would talk. Later he would think. Right now he wanted to do nothing more than lose himself to the sire of his creations and take as much of his spill as he could physically hold.

"Love you," Prowl moaned into another kiss as he covered his mate and sank into that welcoming valve. "Want you. Love you. Our creations are ours." Prowl's litany continued between kisses until he lost himself in the pleasure and the drive to imprint as much of himself on the protoforms now being constructed as he was physically able.

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It was another orn and a half before Prowl came out of his code-induced rutting, his systems demanding energon that he gave them and additives he wasn't expecting to need. It did clear his processors, though, as his systems refused to allow the sire code to continue having him produce the nanite rich transfluid until he was ready to. It was odd, knowing how much he'd pumped out and so little mess on the berth. Plenty of lubricant, but nothing from him.

He knelt on the berth and nudged Jazz to boot up, energon and wafers in hand. It was improbable in the extreme that Jazz didn't need them.

Jazz gave a groan of protest as his vocalizer came online, his entire frame sore in ways he'd never experienced before. His valve he was familiar with, but the aching from joints that had been jarred for nearly two straight orns, all told, even with the brief recharge breaks, was new.

He accepted the energon and supplements, ingested both, and then waited for Prowl to push him to the berth. When the movement didn't come, his optics flickered in faint surprise as he looked at his mate, questioning.

"I'm too low on the minerals to make the nanites quickly," Prowl explained with a gentle, light kiss. "So I'm mostly myself for a while, and I now know enough to control the length and timing of these encounters. You must be sore, given what my spike feels like."

Jazz shifted, getting a feel for what his valve felt like with movement, and winced a little. "Sore, but nothing is ripped or torn and the entire piece is intact so I'm not going to complain," he said as he sat the rest of the way up. "Are you going back to work?"

"I need to," Prowl shifted uneasily. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"Do you trust Drift to watch me?" Jazz asked, biting down on the response that he could take care of himself, because clearly, that was actually in question right now.

A deep growl came from Prowl's engine before he forced himself to calm down. "No. I don't trust him to keep his spike where it belongs. He's too used to fragging you." Prowl let out a gust of air and rested his forehelm against Jazz's. He definitely didn't trust the bigger mech. And truth be told, right now, he didn't trust his mate to keep his legs closed if Drift expressed interest, but he wasn't telling Jazz that part right now. "I want you where I can see you, at least for a few orns."

Jazz nuzzled back. "My manager knew I was done as soon as I started constructing, it's not like I have anywhere else to be. I'll come with you." He paused and glanced down at himself. "After I clean."

"After we both clean up," Prowl chuckled. "A rinse here and a proper stop in the washrack. We'll pick up replacement energon and the supplements I need after work. We can get a pain blocker on the way in, if you want. You shouldn't pay for my lack of control."

"No," Jazz said, standing and stretching, getting a better feel of his frame. "I like this."

"All right," Prowl kissed him softly. "You will let me know if it begins to bother you."

"I will," Jazz promised.

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Jazz was clean, refueled, and frustrated. Prowl had given him the access codes to the reading sources kept for those who worked here that covered a huge variety of topics and shown him where to access the logic puzzles some of the operatives trained on, but Jazz wasn't interested in those. Maybe later, but right now, he was on his back on a lounge that had been set up in the back of his mate's office, staring at the ceiling as he replayed the memory of the rusted mech over and over.

He'd given it very little thought after the first encounter and set it aside as an unsettling anomaly, but it was clearly more than that. There had been no desire there, none, he knew that much, and there should have been nothing keeping him from telling the mech to frag off and ignoring him. Jazz had the stronger frame, and was getting better at hand-to-hand combat and self-defense. It wasn't like the gang rape, when there had been little point in resisting.

Though, come to think of it, he hadn't made those mecha work very hard to get his valve, either.

So, what-he saw a spike and spread his legs? The thought was enough to make him scoff the first time he had it, but it was one he kept coming back to. Three times since running he'd been faced with an unwanted 'face, and all of them he'd opened. That last time, without any kind of fight, had felt-

Jazz quickly cut that line of thought iff and focused inward. He wasn't so desperate to 'face that he would take anything, he knew that. But the moment of calm clarity, of absolute rightness that he'd felt...

With a sigh, Jazz brought up his coding, searching for the scripts that been active during the event. He couldn't understand code the way Prowl could, but that wasn't going to stop him from scouring through it.

The clearest thought he could remember while having the glitch's spike in him had been that that was his purpose and function and he should be glad to be fulfilling it, but that wasn't right. His function had been to bond to a first creation and carry, run a House, but nothing in that should have forced him to accept rape. Subordinate bondeds were not pleasure slaves for their mates.

Vortex had forced him to act as one, though. Jazz couldn't remember a single time when he'd felt safe saying no to the rotor, it had literally been a matter of survival, and that...

That realization got him where he needed to be, and as soon as he saw the broken line of code and what it had been warped into, he snarled, and came up out of his processors cursing loudly.

"That fragging, glitch-addled Pit spawn!" he shouted, rising smoothly to his feet, looking for something, anything that he could tear apart if he couldn't have Vortex, hardly seeing the very bad start that his mate gave before spinning.

"Whoa!" Prowl was on his pedes, facing his mate with bright optics and combat-tightened armor. "Strata, calm down." He caught Jazz by the shoulders to still him, then shifted one hand down to a dataport by Jazz's collar armor.

Jazz snarled again, the sound directed not at Prowl but at the frustration of having nothing to grab hold of and wreck, fingers flexing around air. After a moment, the port spiraled open and it took everything he had to hold still enough for Prowl to plug in.

~My coding is fragging warped!~ Jazz yelled as soon as he felt Prowl's systems peripheral with his own. ~Saying no wasn't even an option-saying no could get one of us killed and it fragging wrecked my coding! That glitch-that sick-that twisted miswired pile of defected parts! I will kill him, I will KILL him!~

Prowl rocked slightly on his heel plates at the ferocity of his mate's rage even as part of him delighted that Jazz had that kind of fire in him. He didn't even try to interrupt the free-flow ranting until it seemed to have simmered down, listening quietly until Jazz apparently ran out of ideas for curses. ~So survival coding edited your options. You can't refuse to interface.~

Jazz hissed. ~Apparently. I swear if I see any influence from that 'face in the twins I'm going to melt his rotors off one by one and pour them down his intake!~

~You, we, will do far worse than that when we are finally in a position to destroy him,~ Prowl purred darkly, drawing his love close and trying to help bleed off the excess energy. ~Do you want me to help you change the coding so you can choose freely?~

~Yes!~ was the overwhelmingly loud response, followed by a quieter growl. ~Fragging going to peel his spike away wire by wire, file down all those ridges, melt whatever is left, and then have a dozen more to fix back on and destroy after that.~

~We will indulge in everything when he is ours,~ Prowl promised. ~The editing will take time, focus and energy. I will need to be rested and caught up here.~ He brushed a thumb over Jazz's cheek. ~No one will get close enough to you to try until then.~

Jazz flexed his fingers once more, hissed, then let the rest of the tension drain out of his frame. He nodded, then looked past Prowl at the chair that had actually toppled as he had leapt up. ~Ah...I think I interrupted you,~ he said, a small laugh rippling through him.

~You scared me,~ Prowl leaned in for a tender kiss. ~But I am glad to know that what happened was defective code.~

Jazz grabbed him and deepened the kiss with a very distracting swirl of his glossa and press of his frame. ~So am I. Go back to work. Are there games where I can blow things up?~

Prowl rumbled with desire, his honest response to attention from his mate, but managed to pull himself back when his vents opened up a notch. ~Yes.~ A short string of titles was sent with the glyph. Reluctantly he unplugged and stepped back to right his chair and go back to work.

Jazz smirked to himself as he started browsing the options. Today was not the right time to actively distract his mate from work. The missed orns had left Prowl with a huge amount to catch up on, and Jazz knew it was important that he finish as quickly as he could.

But if that sire coding kept him here for too long, he was definitely going to see what he could do about tempting his lover away from that desk.