Starcrossed

by Gatekat

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

24. Insanity Met

Starcrossed 24: Insanity Met
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Jazz got back from work and walked inside, then stopped and looked around their apartment, frowning. Prowl had left with the twins earlier that orn and wasn't going to be back for another four. He'd already gathered everything belonging to the sparklings, every small cube of energon, every blanket, every toy they hadn't taken with them, and donated what he could, incinerating the rest.

It was clean.

It was empty. He hadn't realized how much space the twins had taken up until every trace of them had been removed, driven by the frantic need to have reminders of them out of his life. The less he thought about them, the less guilty he felt, and the less his still-active creator protocols tore at him as a failure. It didn't seem fair, he thought with a bitter smirk, that Vortex could render him incapable of loving or accepting his own sparklings, without fully breaking his need to be a creator.

So he'd scoured the apartment of every trace of the sparklings. But this silent emptiness... it was louder than anything. The empty window seat, the missing toy bin, the walls that were stripped of the artwork Sunstreaker had so enjoyed creating for his creators, all of it screaming at him that he'd failed, utterly and completely. There was no way he was going to recharge in here tonight. He would find somewhere else, possibly see if he could track down Radiance or curl up in an alley if it came to that, but until Prowl was back, it was not going to be here.

His blaster was already in his subspace-that habit hadn't broken since Simfur-so there was nothing else he needed to grab once he had a few cubes tucked away as well. He looked over the empty walls once more, shook his head, and was gone.

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Jazz hadn't been able to find the SWAT commander and the night was almost halfway gone, leaving him wandering around through areas of the city he'd never been in before. Stupid, easily, but he wasn't in a mood to care. He paused at an alley and looked down, seeing the unmistakable shape and movement of a buymech on its knees in the filth, and his gaze sharpened. He couldn't reach Vortex, but he could do something else in the meantime. He'd been in alleys like this before, he knew just which mecha to look for.

They were easy to find, prowling the ways, looking into the dark corners for the optics that would brighten and look away at the same time. Jazz found his first within kliks.

"Lookin' for a 'face, darling?" he purred.

The mech stopped, looked at him, then snorted. "Ain't no way I can afford a frame like that," he grunted. "Prolly want a hundred, huh?"

Jazz just smiled sweetly. "What if I told you I'm free?"

"What's the catch?" The stranger was suspicious and very interested at the same time.

"No catch," Jazz said, and held his hands out disarmingly. "I want it for my own reasons. You obviously want it for yours. 'Face me as hard as you want-and I mean as hard as you want-and you're on your way."

Despite the lingering suspicion the big mech pushed Jazz against the wall and grabbed his hips to lift him, half surprised to find the valve cover open and ready, the scent of clean, fresh lubricant drifting upwards. Without any more hesitation he extended and slammed into that valve, moaning and grunting at how unusually good it felt.

Jazz gave a short, low groan, gripping the mech's shoulders for stability and held on, spreading his legs around the pushing hips and driving back onto the spike. "Just like that," he moaned, and let his head fall back, keeping Vortex in mind the entire time, recording the feel of the thick spike in the highest detail he was capable of.

It was vengeance, but he realized that his words were having an effect on the mech driving into him. He'd offered his valve for free, expecting nothing, and the spike was still trying to seek out his pleasure points. Apparently even in an ally, generosity sometimes meant something, as the big mech focused on his pleasure as well as he could, pushing and pulling with more intent than not.

It still took less than another klik before the low, rolling moan escaped and Jazz was flooded with thick, hot, charged transfluid.

The mech over him shuddered and Jazz held very still, enjoying the tingling charge it sent through him, cycling his valve in gradually slowing rhythms until the mech slumped and pulled out and lowered him to the ground.

Jazz regained his footing and relaxed back, looking up at the mech with half-shuttered optics as he reached between his legs, stroked his fingers through the mix of lubricant and leaking transfluid, and lifted them back up to his mouth, slowly licking them clean. "Got any friends, big guy?"

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He'd spent the first night in an alcove, crawling there when he couldn't find anyone else to take him, most of him sore, some of him bleeding, and with an odd, disquieting peace in his spark.

Public washracks got him looking fit enough for work and he hadn't even tried going home afterwards this time. He knew better. So the streets again, back to the nameless spikes and the poundings into the street, scraping plating down to the bare metal from the sheer weight of some of them alone. Every spike was recorded in the highest detail, one more chip tossed into the pile of what he would one orn show his bonded, and hope that it hurt that mech to see this valve he had once possessed as his own belonging to anyone and everyone who wanted it, down to the lowest, dirtiest Empty that Jazz rode after coaxing its spike out. Hope it hurt as much as Jazz had when he'd seen his sparklings' faces looking at him in terror. As much as feeling Prowl's agony orn after orn.

Something new to look forward to. A goal to work towards. But not the only activity that kept Jazz entertained all that night.

The idea came to him midway through the night, when the same mech was still revved up enough after his first overload to keep ramming into him, and Jazz fought down the scoff of impatience from where he was saddled around the thick spike. He was bored with this one. His thoughts wandered along with his hands, and he brushed against subspace near the mech's hip. Instinct snatched his hand away-it was impolite to touch another's subspace-and then curiosity put it right back. The mech didn't react. Jazz slipped his fingers in, carefully monitoring, and pulled them back out, several credit sticks heavier. When the mech roared in overload, he got his entire hand in, groping deep enough to grab even more, and the mech still never felt a thing.

As Jazz staggered his way to his feet, gyros still a little tilted from the ride he'd just had, sticky heat flowing down his thighs from his still-open valve, he grinned.

Well now. Here was a fun game.

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The trend tonight so far had been on his hands and knees, which made it harder to reach back into a mech's subspace, but by arching his back and putting his weight forward onto his forearm while reaching his other back, he could just barely manage to get into their subspace without being noticed.

The mech behind him was gripping his hips and digging into the joints as he drove, and Jazz hissed quietly, pressing his helm against his arm, and waited. The brute would overload soon, and he'd see if he could get away with another theft before he found his next 'face.

Another grunt and low rumble and his valve was flooded with fluid once more, the mech behind him oblivious as Jazz slipped in, wrapped his fingers around the credit sticks there, and slipped back out in a quick, fluid motion.

The grip on his hips loosened, the frame sagged, and Jazz squirmed his frame. "Want more?" he asked.

"Hungry little slut," the mech rumbled and began thrusting again, eager to enjoy this fine piece of aft while he could.

"Uh huh, yes babe, yes like that, stretch me wide, that's right," Jazz moaned with no real feeling behind the words, but the mech didn't seem to mind. Third overload in, and this time he was taking longer to get revved back up, but Jazz has realized that the opportunity for a free frag worked better than anything else he did. The talking just made them hit harder and it felt good to be used like that. Good to feel like he was nothing, his worth only as high as he could spread his legs wide, and know that they didn't love him, because he certainly didn't feel like he deserved to be loved right now.

The third swipe into subspace as the mech overloaded for what Jazz could tell was the last he was getting out of him brought just a few more credit pieces back and he pulled off the spike and stood. Three overloads' worth of transfluid ran down the insides of his legs and Jazz looked at the panting, recovering tank. "Thanks," he purred, before he heard noise behind him and saw six mecha approaching.

"You the trick with the free 'faces?" one of them hissed when they were close.

Jazz shrugged. "Unless there are two going around," he said, looking the group over, having already forgotten about the mech behind him. "All of you?" he grinned. "Won't that be a workout."

"Oh, most definitely," the group leader, an unusually light mecha, some kind of racing frame femme, grinned and grabbed Jazz's arm. "Come on, we'll use you until you can't see straight."

She led him unprotestingly into the back room of a seedy looking club, dimly lit with a floor that might have been grimier than some of the alleys he'd been in, but Jazz still wasn't complaining. His inner thighs, chin, and throat were already caked with transfluid and probably worse, there was grime covering his knees, hands, arms, chest and back.

Dirty, useless failure.

"How?" he asked simply, directing the question at all of them.

"However we want, and when we're done with the, the entire club will want a turn or three," she grinned and tossed him on the sheet metal that passed for a berth. Her spike slid out, and it was large for her frame. Larger than Prowl's, though not the largest or cruelest he'd taken in the past few nights. As she got between his legs and thrust in, another of her crew grabbed his helm and press a textured spike designed to pleasure a lover into his mouth.

So no talking, then, but neither of them seemed to need any kind of motivation from him. He relaxed into it, cycling, swallowing, lifting his hips, rubbing with his glossa, and carefully moved his hands, feeling for the edges of their subspace, finding where he could slip into them when they overloaded.

The femme's took a bit longer, but once she leaned down over him, he could reach. The spike in his mouth was closer to overloading, so he focused on that as she pounded in, and easily swiped the few credit sticks mecha tended to keep handy and something unfamiliar feeling that quickly disappeared into his own pockets even as the next member stepped up and pushed down his intake.

Between his legs, the thrusts were speeding up and her panting moans were getting louder. "Shareware," she groaned. "Sweet shareware, this one."

Maybe it was the light in the room that made it easier to see his hands, maybe it was his unfamiliarity with typical femme builds, but when she shuddered and overloaded and he slipped his fingers in and then back out, holding a credit stick, he felt her hand suddenly tight around his wrist.

"You said free, shareware," she hissed, slapping his wrist down on the metal sheet of a berth and digging sharp claws into it. "You want pay, you ask for it first."

The spike in his mouth was suddenly gone as she reached down and grabbed his chin, turning his face up towards her. Jazz hissed softly, then smirked at her. "Who said anything about pay?" he asked. "That was supposed to be theft."

"Then you can find out what we do to thieves," she said simply. Her fingers reclaimed her credit stick as two mechs grabbed him to hold him still while she emptied his subspace, laying his haul of two orns of pick pocketing out next to him. "Even rather successful ones too."

Jazz glanced over the stack they'd taken from him uncaringly before he looked back at her. "Apparently not successful enough," he said with a shrug, then grinned. "Worth it still."

"How is that?" she scowled. The credits went into her subspace, except for what he'd taken from her first mech, the other objects divided up. One of the mecha that was holding him let go, allowing the other to pull him to his pedes and hold his arms behind his back securely. Even with Jazz's military grade hydraulics and armor it would take some effort to get out of that grip.

"Because I can just tell that you have some notion of making me regret it or something," Jazz said, giving a testing pull against the hold, getting a feel for it, not that he was going to try to get away. He wondered if he hadn't hoped someone would catch him all along, because part of him was thrilled right now. "And I am so going to love seeing the look on your face when you fail."

He was disappointed when she didn't seem angry, though the decidedly confused look was a good second option.

She shrugged and motioned to one of the mecha behind her. "Strutcrusher," she introduced the black and deep green bruiser of a truck when he came forward. "Shall we say one hit for each shannix he tried to take from us."

Strutcrusher nodded and came forward to land a hard punch to the lower edge of Jazz's chest plates. It wasn't enough to do more than scuff the heavy armor, but Jazz felt it, and felt that the mech had much more in him.

Jazz just tilted his head and looked at the mech, one optic ridge raised.

The next blow came at full strength and bent Jazz's armor in, sending a small flurry of warnings to his HUD and pain slashing through his neural net for the first time in more than a vorn and a half.

"Frag!" he gasped, prevented from doubling over by the hold on his arms. He shook his head once to clear it and gave a short, harsh laugh as he looked at the mech. "That tickled, sunshine, what's wrong?"

The answer came in the form of another full-strength blow, this one to the right of the first, following the line of his armor and building a row of serious dents in it. More warnings flashed across his HUD as his neural network screamed at him to fight back, get away, anything to stop this.

"Nn-" He groaned, clearing out the warnings. "Well don't stop now," he gasped, and the next blow crushed plating and pushed him hard against the mech holding him. "Bet it would be even better if you spiked me at the same time," he said, voice catching and fritzing, and looked around the room. "Any of you have a decent spike, anyway?"

The leader's optics widened and brightened in comprehension. "Strutcrusher. Stop." Her voice was calm. "He's a masochist. He gets off on pain." She walked up to Jazz and caught his chin. "So who was your master than you only started looking for a new one two orns ago?"

Jazz spat in her face. "Frag you," he hissed. "I don't have a master and I don't get off on pain."

She slapped him hard enough to bruise the metal of his cheek, which was absolutely full strength for her. She wasn't built for fighting. She stepped back and motioned Strutcrusher forward. "Finish him."

The big mech lumbered forward and began the systematic punching to break down Jazz's frame once more. He wasn't creative, but he knew where to hit to make it hurt.

"What's-the matter?" Jazz gasped between blows, laughing when he wasn't groaning. "You're missing all the-" A hit made his optics and vocalizer short for a moment. "-good spots! Come on, there's a nerve cluster right below-"

Strutcrusher slammed into it and Jazz's vocalizer spat static before he rebooted it.

"There!" he praised. "You do learn!" Another flickering gaze around the room. "Seriously, no one-nngh-no one thought of a knife up my valve?"

"That's torture, not a beating," the leader snapped at him, growing more disturbed by the moment.

"Then did I ever pick the wrong crowd," Jazz sneered at her, and then almost regretted it at the next punch that hurt enough for his frame to physically rip itself away from the mech behind him as he spasmed.

Arms free and on the forward fall, Jazz caught himself and lunged, jabbing his hand right into Strutcrusher's open hip joint and striking the sensitive bearing inside in a hit that had his full force behind it, all of it pushed behind two fingers that met their target perfectly before he crumpled. The big truck yelped, startled and in pain as he went down. Jazz got one more strike in before the four remaining mechs lunged for him.

He was the better fighter of the lot, he knew that much, and he knew how to drop a mech better than any of them, but at four and a half to one he was pinned again almost immediately.

He jerked against them uselessly, pulling at the dents and injuries, hissing as it sent shocks of pain through him like he hadn't felt since before he'd been forcefully sparked.

So long ago, before he'd brought two pieces of him into the world.

"The frag are you waiting for?" he yelled at Strutcrusher, then found the femme, optics narrowed, and twisted at the waist, snarling at the look on her face. "What's the matter?" he taunted, and then sobbed into his next cry when Strutcrusher landed a very real, furious blow.

"That is enough," came a new voice, one Jazz though he should know, and the blows stopped. There was a shuffling, low hissing words exchanged as his dazed systems reset and his optics worked to focus, and then the gang was gone. "Really Saxo, if you were looking to be punished, there are better ways to go about it."

Jazz groaned and finally managed to get his fritzing vision feeds to steady, then felt a sickening churn in his tanks when he realized who was standing over him. "Go away," he hissed, and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

"Why?" Radiance folded his arms across his chassis and watched Jazz struggle. "So you can get yourself killed? If you want to be hurt and still be around when Pantera comes back, I can arrange for it."

Jazz stilled for a moment, then shook his head sharply, and immediately regretted it. "Oh sure," he said, hoarse with static. "Send a few thousand volts through me, hurts like Pit, clears right out, easy. Or maybe if you have somewhat of an idea of what you're doing, you could hit all the pressure points in the hydraulic systems really well, you know, the ones that aren't the balance points but hurt so much more than those do if you can find them. Sparkling play," he spat, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the fluid there.

"Not my specialty, but there are a couple mecha in my division that would dearly love to give breaking you down a try," Radiance said simply. "When you aren't out to hurt yourself, you could be one of the better ones, I expect."

"I never wanted this," Jazz said as he managed to get up to his knees, panting, and sent a scathing look over at Radiance. "What the Pit are you doing here anyway?"

"It hardly matters," Radiance's yellow visor was locked on Jazz. "I'm following a potential recruit. You've passed well enough to get a job offer."

"A what?" Jazz asked in a gasping laugh. "You've met me, right?"

"Many times, as various things," Radiance nodded, his voice and gaze steady. "Saxo, mate of Pantera. What is so difficult to believe that you've earned a job offer?"

Jazz stared at him for a long moment, then looked back down as he tried to get up to his pedes. "Doing what? There isn't much of a market for being a glitched, would-be creator."

"No, but there is a very specialized market for mecha who know how to hurt without killing quickly," Radiance pointed out. "Pit, there's a market for mecha who just want to be hurt. A damn good one. My interrogators need to keep their skills up and I'm sure you can teach them a thing or two."

"Sure I could," Jazz said, and got fully upright, touching his badly dented plating and wincing. "Not interested, thank you for your help, go away."

Radiance took a step forward instead, invading Jazz's personal space and caught just how mortified the mech was. He cocked his helm with a flash of light across his visor. "What is there to be embarrassed about?"

Jazz instantly pulled the embarrassment away from his field, cringing as he looked down at himself and all the filth he was covered in, carefully tracing the edges of the sharply buckled plating with one hand while he supported himself against the wall with the other. "What is there not to be embarrassed about in this situation?" he shot back, gesturing at himself.

"You know how to handle pain, you know how to dish it out, you have excellent field control," Radiance began. "So you've got issues. I don't know anyone who doesn't." He took a step forward and placed a hand on Jazz's shoulder, a light touch meant to comfort. "What happened to you, before you came to Praxus?"

Jazz jerked away, but more out of instinct than any real desire not to be touched. "What is this, more pretending to care about me so I'll tell you about myself? Did you ever care? What was it, 'Is it really so hard to believe I might be looking out for you because I like you?'"

"Liking you is a prerequisite for offering you a job," Radiance told him simply. "At first I was looking out for Pantera's mate. Then I was looking out for someone I like. Now I'm looking out for someone I like and think could do well in my field."

Jazz shifted uncomfortably, teeked the honesty there, and struggled with himself. "...Sorry," he finally muttered, optics fixed on the wall. "Didn't mean that."

"Someone trained you not to trust very well," Radiance said gently. "Come. A medic should see to some of those injuries soon."

Jazz's arm shot up over his chest. "Rather not."

"What's wrong with your spark that you don't want a medic?" Radiance tensed, immediately going to the thought that Jazz was carrying again and didn't want the medic to know and try to save the newspark.

"Nothing," Jazz said, unconvincingly. "Just...don't like anyone but Pantera..."

"That is natural, but you need medical care," Radiance insisted, his tone just short of a plea. "We don't need to go to a hospital. I know mecha who understand that nothing gets reported. Ever."

Jazz looked at him. "Tell me you would trust any of them with your life or I'm not going with you."

"Two of them," Radiance didn't even hesitate. "Whoever you're running from Will Not Find Out."

"...All right," Jazz said, then shook his head. "Pantera's going to kill me," he sighed.

"He doesn't need to know," Radiance offered as he led Jazz out. "He won't find out from me."

"Thank you," Jazz said quietly, trying not to limp too obviously as they walked.

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Jazz was most of the way into recharge, huddled up in the back doorway of a business that he'd kicked the previous occupant out of with a single growl, when a sharp tap in the middle of his helm startled him back online. His optics booted and the blaster he'd been holding in his subspace was out and armed in an instant, but before he could move, his wrist was grabbed and pinned against his chassis.

Jazz focused, and then frowned at the golden-visored mech above him. "Trying to recharge."

"You're not recharging here, that's for sure," Radiance said, and pulled him up.

"I'm not going into that apartment until Pantera is back," Jazz informed him.

"Then you're coming to mine," Radiance informed him right back with a tone and teek that would take no backtalk.

Jazz huffed. "Fine," he said, then smirked. "Hope this isn't a plan to get me overcharged and have your way with me."

"I doubt I'd have to be so sneaky about it," Radiance smirked back and let Jazz go. "Have you fueled yet?"

"Ah, no," Jazz said, shrugging. "That femme got my cubes when she emptied me out."

A cube appeared and was handed over before Radiance lead the way out of the ally. "Drink that, then a washrack, then you can crash in my spare room."

Jazz followed in silence for a few kliks, then offered a brief, "Thanks," and half a smile. "I'm fine out here, you don't have to."

"What kind of friend leaves you to recharge in an ally?" Radiance huffed. "Seriously mech, you really haven't had a friend before, have you?"

Jazz hummed softly as he finished the cube and handed it back. "Um... there were the mecha I hung out with to keep tabs on?" he almost asked. "And age-mates as a youngling? Pretty sure those count."

"Only if they'd help you without wanting anything in return," Radiance pointed out. "You're badly out of practice at having a friend. Pantera's been your only company for too long, I think."

"Probably," Jazz admitted, then smiled in that happy, delirious way he tended to when he thought about Prowl. "Mm, but what company."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," Radiance's look softened, warmed as he always was when faced with a mecha that looked like that when thinking of their lover. "Tell me about him, why you love him so much?"

"Mm, he's just... he's so..." Jazz hummed happily. "He's so smart, and his voice, and he understands me, and he'd do anything for me, and I'd give my spark for him. He's patient with me, he listens, no one else ever did that."

"He sounds amazing," Radiance smiled as they walked to a local washrack. It was simple and limited, but all they were going for was to clean the fluids and grime from Jazz's frame, not polish him up. "How'd you meet up? I want a mech like that."

Jazz quirked a smile back at him. "You don't remember the three dozen times we retold that story when I visited with the sparklings?"

"Oh, I heard. But there must be more to it than that." Radiance grinned at him. "What clicked first? Was it that first 'face, his personality, did he stand up for you against somebody ... rescue you?"

Jazz smiled to himself. "You could say that," he said. "It was..." He gestured aimlessly with his hand, trying to explain. "When he spoke to me, and then when he listened, I felt like I mattered. Everyone else, it felt like I was a possession, or too fragile to handle anything important. Or too young."

Radiance smiled and let Jazz ramble on about his love, only occasionally prompting more gushy sweetness as they got cleaned up and then headed for Radiance's apartment. It was a simple three room flat, but nicely appointed and comfortable with art and padding of a mech that earned more than even the SWAT commander did.

"Very nice," Jazz purred appreciatively, looking around, then looked back at Radiance. "And you've never found anyone to share it with you?"

"Not for long," he shook his helm as he watched Jazz check out the small living room with its notable lack of a vid screen but with seating for a dozen, if they were very friendly. "Several that thought they did, one that I honestly believed would work out, but no one stayed for long after they realized what being my mate actually meant. Long, unpredictable joors, not being able to talk about my work most of the time, watching me grieve over mecha they'd never met, the hospital time and minor damage I come home with at random. It's a lot of stress for most to take."

"I'm sorry," Jazz said quietly. "I can't offer a mate, but I can offer a friend, I think, if I'm not too out of practice at it."

"Thank you," Radiance smiled warmly. "That one's my room," he motioned to the door on the right side of the living room. "The guest room is that one," he pointed to the left.

"Thanks," Jazz said. "I think, I'd just like to recharge, if that's all right?"

"That's what I was expecting," Radiance put a comforting hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Recharge well. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

Jazz nodded, thanked him again, and went to lay down in the guest room, weary and just wanting to rest.

He cycled down, finding it almost harder to relax here than it had been in the alley. In a berth, it was harder to forget Prowl's absence and not think about why he wasn't there. But eventually, finally, mercifully, his systems managed to slip offline.

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When Jazz started to boot, he was relaxed and comfortable, warm, feeling so much better than he had when he'd gone offline. Sensors kicked in and for a moment, he thought Prowl was with him, but the field was different. His optics flickered online and he carefully took stock of his frame, realizing he was cuddled up close against Radiance.

"Morning," Radiance murmured and moved his arms from where they were wrapped around Jazz when he twitched slightly. "Rest well?"

"Yes," Jazz said, surprised when he saw just how well. Based on what he could remember right before going offline, he didn't think it should have been that effective of a recharge. "Um," he added, glancing around them and seeing only the simple but comfortable guest room he'd gone to recharge in. "Morning."

"You couldn't settle," Radiance explained as he smoothly got up. "I figured you weren't used to recharging alone. You settled as soon as I relaxed against you."

"Ah," Jazz said as he sat upright. "Yeah it's...been a while. Harder than I thought. D'you have work, or?"

"In a couple more joors," Radiance stretched, flaring his doorwings and settling armor. "You're welcome to stay here until your shift, and tonight, if you'd like."

Jazz couldn't keep his appreciative hum down as he watched his companion. "Since if I'm not here I'm finding the softest bit of gutter I can, and I think you might actually drag me back by force if I try that, I'll just say thank you now," Jazz said, smiling.

"You're damn right I'll drag you back," Radiance grinned at him despite the serious tone to the promise. "I like you too much to let you recharge in a gutter. There's a nice cafe in the complex if you want to get breakfast and a credit stick filled from your account."

"Yeah," Jazz said, stretching out. "That'd be good. Coming with?"

"Unless you don't want me at the table," Radiance nodded. "I need to refuel before shift."

"I'd take you on a table," Jazz purred, standing and ignoring the mildly startled he got. "Lead the way."

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When Jazz got off work later that night, he was unsurprised to find Radiance waiting outside for him, and just rolled his optics in mock exaggeration as they started walking towards the road.

"Didn't want to come watch me dance?" Jazz teased.

"Would have, but it wouldn't have been worth the door fee for the all of five kliks I would have been there," Radiance explained, then laughed at the look Jazz gave him. "All right, so it would have been, but I would have felt ridiculous. Is that better?"

"That's better," Jazz said. "Late at work?"

"Yeah," Radiance sighed. "Some freak with this...thing..." He waved his hand and grimaced. "There's that thing where I can't always talk about work again. I promise you don't want to know, even if I could tell you."

"I don't mind," Jazz said truthfully. "I've had enough of the gruesome and disturbing for one lifetime."

"So have I, for several lifetimes, but I keep going back," he chuckled and shook his helm. "Much as I grouse and grumble, I love my function. It's a wonderful thing when your spark enjoys what you do."

Jazz's optics flickered briefly. "...Yeah," he agreed, then shrugged, transformed, and followed Radiance back to his apartment, where he leaned against a wall, taking another look around, paying more attention to the details this time, finding he immensely enjoyed the way the other mech had arranged his living spaces.

"So..." he said, when Radiance had finished filling out a datapad and subspaced it again. "Guestroom or your room?" he asked, hoping there would be no objection, since he really didn't want to recharge alone.

"Guestroom," Radiance said firmly. "I'll recharge with you," he stepped into Jazz's personal space a bit and stroked his jaw line lightly. "My room is for a lover. The guest room is for friends."

Jazz couldn't keep his vents from catching. "If you'd like..." he murmured, and mirrored the touch, before his hand started trail down Radiance's neck while his other came forward to brush over his pelvis. "I could do a better job of thanking you." His gaze flickered down for a moment, then lifted back up. "I'm good with my mouth."

Arousal and desire flared, leaving no doubt he wanted it, yet the dark mech shook his helm. "Much as I'd enjoy that, much as I'd like it, your mate should be home tomorrow. I'd rather have your attentions when you aren't hurting and lonely, if you still wish it then."

The genuinely startled look he got in response told him Jazz hadn't even considered that he might turn his offer down.

"But..." Jazz said, while his touch on the neck turned into a careful stroke, and his wandering fingers moved further in, exploring. "I don't have any other way to thank you, not for all this."

"You have thanked me," Radiance drew in a steadying breath and gently caught Jazz's hand before it could slide over his spike cover. "You don't need to do this, or anything else. Friends help each other, Saxo. You needed a place to stay and a field to help you rest. I could easily provide it. That's all. I ... you're a very attractive mech, very desirable, but it shouldn't be because you feel obliged."

Jazz frowned at him. "I don't feel obliged," he said, and physically stepped back, breaking the closeness Radiance had created. "Obliged is not being able to say no even if I wanted to. It was just an offer. Fine if you don't want to," he said, shrugging stiffly.

Radiance let out a low vent of relief that his tenuous grip on his will hadn't been pushed further. "Good," his voice remained soft even as he frowned slightly. "Not being able to say no even if you wanted to is rape," he said slowly, but when the look on Jazz's face darkened dangerously, he held his hands up in apology. "Not a good place to go, then," he surmised, and glanced around, then smiled. "Ever played Sovereign?" he asked easily, motioning towards the strategy game he kept out on a table in the middle of the lounges.

Jazz glanced over at it. "I haven't," he said, and there was definitely an interested perk there as he looked the pieces over.

"I think you would enjoy it, and I bet Pantera would too," Radiance said, and put a warm hand on Jazz's back, guiding him over. "Come on, I'll teach you. It is way too early for recharge."

"Mech of the night, I see," Jazz said warmly, slipping easily back into their easy familiarity. "I'm sure that will come in useful."

"Long habit," Radiance grinned and set up the game board and databurst the rules and tactics packet to jazz. "Most criminals recharge during the morning, so I do too. What do you enjoy doing in your down time?"

"I practice a lot," Jazz said, watching the dark hands move for a few moments before he looked up with a grin. "If I tell you I taught myself how to hack locks and surveillance systems once will you put me in handcuffs?"

Radiance barked a laugh. "I'd promote you, if you were one of mine."

"I think I would prefer handcuffs," Jazz said easily, focusing back on the board. "Only if it was you doing the cuffing, though. If it was Mortar you could forget it."

"And if Pantera was in the room too?" Radiance's tone dropped to a purr. "Who'd you want doing what?"

"You have no idea how mean that question is," Jazz said, grinning. "So many choices, and we love power play. I think..." he said, as Radiance finished setting the pieces up and moved his hand away. "I'd want to be cuffed to the berth while he rode me," he said, completely unabashed. "And as for you...I want to give my glossa a workout on you."

"Sounds like fun," Radiance purred. "But why is it mean? We could have plenty of opportunities to explore every option we find appealing."

"Mean to make me think of just one and choose," Jazz said. "Have to cut out a couple dozen other scenarios. It gets way more interesting with a third."

"And so much more natural," Radiance added with a knowing wink of his visor. "Nothing settles the spark quite like a good triad."

"I've seen so many triads since we moved here," Jazz said. "It's kind of amazing. Bet that makes Praxians really good at thinking if ideas for three."

"That we are," he nodded, giving Jazz a curious look. "Is Pantera Praxian?"

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, then glanced at him. "That's how I was able to get in for citizenship so quickly."

"Whoever did your cosmetic work did an excellent job," Radiance smiled and moved a piece, not really paying that much attention to the game. "Are your doorwings fully wired?"

Jazz glanced over his shoulder as he flexed them. "Yes, though they don't have quite the same motion sensing capacity, I don't think." He gave an embarrassed grin. "I ran into a lot of things with them. My frame is...mm," he shook his head, skimming the rules again as he tried to decide what to move in response. "Was much smaller than this one."

"You're an excellent natural actor then," Radiance smiled as he watched Jazz. "It's usually much easier to pick up outsiders."

Jazz's answering smile was wry. "I wouldn't be alive if I wasn't a good actor," he said, deciding on his move and looking back up.

"Why?" Radiance couldn't pass up such a blatant opening to prod at the pair's past. He knew they weren't who they said they were, but he hadn't turned up a clue about who they really were.

"Oh," Jazz shrugged. "That's a long, depressing story. You don't want to hear that one."

Radiance hummed and focused on the game for a while, allowing the mood to settle. "As a friend, maybe I do want to know. Maybe I can help. I have friends and contacts that owe me in every city."

Jazz moved a piece, silent for a while, then when he finally spoke, the words were careful. "I would bet you know more than you think you do. I'm not sure what's going to happen now, without the sparklings, but if things change, Pantera and I may take you up on that."

Radiance nodded and allowed the subject to drop. He'd made progress. That was all he needed for one orn. "Do you like to go dancing at clubs? Not on the stage, but just for fun."

"Never been," Jazz said. "Always kinda wanted to go to one. They look fun. I liked watching from stage, at least."

"Maybe we can go out sometime, or Pantera will take you out, if you ask," he suggested. "I do enjoy clubbing. What about racing?"

"I'm not sure Pantera would enjoy that," Jazz said, then huffed. "Never raced, either. Primus. The sparklings liked to go to the tracks and watch, that's as much as I've done that." He looked up. "You race?"

"Every chance I get, Enforcer and civilian tracks," Radiance chuckled to himself. "I do a lot better on the Enforcer tracks. Not nearly so many racing alts on it. Keeps my pursuit skills up and burns off a lot of frustration."

"I'd think you'd get more pursuit practice on a civilian track," Jazz teased. "More likely to chase a civilian racing frame than another Enforcer."

"Anything that much faster than I am doesn't get pursued the way races are run," Radiance chuckled. "Either a race frame takes over, or I use SWAT on it in the real world. I'd kinda get in trouble using SWAT on a race track. But something close to my own speed, I can test myself, and practice actual driving skills against someone who was trained for pursuit."

"I should go see what all the fuss is about some orn," Jazz said, frowning at the pieces on the board. "I keep hearing about how great Praxian race tracks are, feel like I should take advantage of that." He moved his piece and chuckled. "And I should definitely take advantage of this affinity you Praxians seem to have for threesomes."

"I have no doubt there will be any number of eager volunteers for that," Radiance winked his visor. "Don't miss out on the gardens either. The Helix Gardens are the tourist attraction, and you really should see them once, but the local parks and public gardens are where the real local beauty and style are."

"You're from here, right?" Jazz asked as Radiance moved his piece. "You said you always wanted to do SWAT, so you grew up in this city?"

"Yes, sparked for a Praxian triad and raised here," he nodded. "Praxus is home. Do you like it here?"

"I do, very comfortable gutters," Jazz said jokingly, then at the raised-optic ridge look he got, chuckled. "Yes, I like it here. It might take a few vorns, but it'll be home. Especially once I get enough put away to decorate our place a little." He shivered happily at the idea, the motion going right out to his doorwings. "The artwork you chose in here is beautiful, by the way, did you do this all yourself?" He gestured around to the room and everything in it.

"The decorating, yes," Radiance smiled at the praise. "The art isn't my work. I'm artistically challenged when it comes to putting an image down, but I can look at something and know where it should go to look good. I can point you to places to get reasonably priced reproductions, if you aren't set on originals. Some good galleries that aren't too snooty too, if you like looking."

"Mm, definitely," Jazz said, and frowned at Radiance's move. "You said sparked, you weren't kindled?" he asked, partially stalling for time but mostly curious to know everything he could about this mech.

"No, but I was created in a sparkling frame and code," Radiance shook his helm. "I didn't have much more directive coding than kindled sparklings." He cocked his helm and hummed. "Less than a lot of sparklings that come from families with strong function ties. My creators were determined that I decide what I wanted to be to the point of trying to dissuade me from following their function path. Not that it did them much good, but they tried, and I respect them all the more for it now."

"They were Enforcers too, then," Jazz surmised with a grin. "I always knew exactly what I was supposed to be, there wasn't any choice in it. Your creators, are they still working? Have I met any of them?"

"Yes, they're still working, though you haven't met any of them. It's traditional to keep creations out of the precinct their creators work in. I'm of rank that it isn't an issue anymore, but I like where I am, and they like where they are. Mira and Brava are patrol and Contact's dispatch. All three were contracted by the city."

Jazz nodded. "That makes sense." He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. "Do all Praxians form triads?"

Radiance shook his helm. "Not all, but it's a fairly strong desire for most, at least for those who are all Praxian. We come from Seekers, and though we can't fly anymore, a lot of coding stuck. Aesthetics, social structure, pairing by threes or more rarely fives. Even the Praxian dialect is still audibly related to Vosian, and the wing language is too. They can understand us fairly well, and we them, even if we don't share a common language anymore."

"Pantera hasn't mentioned anything about it," Jazz murmured, almost to himself, gazing at the board without really looking at it. "Though life hasn't exactly been calm and settled lately."

"If he has the coding to want a triad, it would be very unusual to try for a third before you're steady and stable," Radiance said easily. "Unless it's some kind of spark resonance or someone he wants tries to court him ... which is rude, by the way, to try and court a mech before their first mate is settled ... I wouldn't expect him to bring it up for centuries yet. It's okay to drop hints that you like him, flirt a bit, but only enough that he knows you'd like a chance when he's ready."

Jazz's gaze flickered up to the visored mech for a moment, a small smile on his lips. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, then gestured at the board. "I think you're kicking my aft here, but I'm honestly not entirely sure."

The Praxian chuckled. "Rather solidly. You did well for your first game though." He moved a piece. "Now if you find someone you want as a third, it's simpler, since he's the more settled one. You still don't want to court anyone without his permission, just like he shouldn't court or accept being courted without yours." He paused and regarded Jazz evenly for a long moment. "How do you feel about sharing him?"

"For 'facing, fine," Jazz said. "Neither of us is possessive like that. I don't think I'd ever be able to be with someone who was possessive about my frame," he said wryly. "For something like courting...obviously I'd have to like the mech, but so long as I did..." He hummed and shuttered his optics for a moment, smiling. "I do love watching him getting 'faced," he purred.

"What gets you revved up the hottest?" Radiance leaned forward, his tone low and playfully hungry. "He is a looker, but you know that."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed in agreement. "But it's his voice that really gets me, hearing him in pleasure. Just..." He shivered again. "That voice. Anything that gets him moaning."

"I bet that made you both popular and unpopular before you could afford a place with good soundproofing," Radiance chuckled. "He does have a nice voice, though I think what I find most appealing is his carriage. He's movement is smooth, he never slouches or is lazy with his doorwings, he's utterly commanding in that quiet way that's so rare. Like he was sparked to command and doesn't need to be loud to assert himself. He knows what he is and doesn't need to prove it. He's got that really sexy chevron above his interface panel too. It's so easy to imagine kissing my way down, following that direction."

Jazz's optics brightened and fixed on Radiance, game suddenly almost completely forgotten. "And he would love that," he purred. "He gets all gaspy and shivery. And he stays commanding, too, barely has to touch or instruct for you to know what he wants from you. Like you're just there for his pleasure. Would you like that?" he asked, voice low.

"As long as that's not what it always is," Radiance let his engine rumble. "I'm not much on having a set role. Much as I enjoy a mech who knows what he wants, I like being the one in charge too. I like going real slow at times, drawing the pleasure out for a joor or more before finally sinking into my lover. Other times I like it fast and hard with an overload that rushes up on you so heavy you can barely feel it coming before it knocks you out."

"He can provide both of those," Jazz purred. "I'll admit we have a tendency towards the hard and fast, but we're working on it," he grinned. "Maybe with a steady hand to help out. It's sexy as all Pit to get him all spread out and tease him until he's begging."

"I bet it is," Radiance rumbled eagerly before throttling himself back. "You've got one incredible mate. Are you as much a switch as he is?"

Jazz hummed in affirmative. "Though it took a while for him to bring that out. And I'm guessing you are too." He grinned. "Or maybe I'm just hoping you are."

"Oh, I am," Radiance chuckled. "This the first time he's been away for more than a shift?"

Jazz paused for a moment. "...Yeah," he said, wings lowering slightly, and he grimaced. "Trying not to think about why, yeah?"

"Yeah," Radiance reached out to grip his shoulder, his field rich with non-judging support. "Why doesn't matter. You don't much know what to do with yourself when he's not there. Do you ever go to recharge without a good overload?"

"Didn't used to," Jazz said, looking at the game board, and flicked his last remaining piece just hard enough for it to topple. "Since all this started...more often than not. ...Do you? I mean, not that..." He shifted awkwardly. "Never mind."

"I don't have a lover often," Radiance answered easily. "Even when I do, I'm too worn out to play as often as not. Comes with the territory and part of why it's hard being an Enforcer's mate. But just because I'm not going to 'face you doesn't mean you have to do without the overload."

Jazz thought about that for a moment, then smiled and rose to his pedes, slowly and carefully stretching his arms up over his head and rolling his neck before grinning at the darker mech. "Sure you want to go through the agony of having to look but not touch?" he purred. "Or listen, for that matter?"

"Go ahead, pretty," Radiance grinned up at him before he stood. "Might want to get close to your berth though, so you can drop when you're done. I'll be waiting there," he gave Jazz a visored wink.

"Why don't you tell me what you would do if Pantera was here with a pair of handcuffs," Jazz said as he brushed past the older mech, purposefully close and with purring engines. "Be a friend, help a mech out, you know."

Radiance laughed in good humor and followed. He flopped down on the berth and grinned at Jazz, who stayed standing. "So many choices. I think I'd begin with cuffing his hands up by his neck so he can't touch and settle him sitting on the berth in front of me. Right where you are, I'd tell you to dance, the kind you can't get away with in the club."

Jazz hummed and let his wings quiver as he stretched once more, but this time, ended the motion by running his hands down the front of his frame, settling them over his pelvis. "The kind like so," he purred, optics dimming as he imagined the scene and slid his spike cover away, brushing fingers over the housing and teasing at it in slow circles until it spiraled open. "Are you a switch when it comes to your equipment, too, or just with control?"

"Very much with my equipment and positions," Radiance purred from where he was lounging, watching Jazz with rapt interest but no inclination to touch himself. "If it feels good and it's legal, I'm for it. I'm sure I can feel Pantera get revved up by now. Surely he's gotten the gist of my plans, smart mech that he is. So while you show off for us, I touch him. Just light exploratory at first, but as I find more sweet spots he beings to moan."

Jazz's engines have a hard, predictable rev at the thought of Prowl's pleasured moans and he let his helm fall back for a moment, rolling it in time with an inaudible rhythm, intensely aware of the bright, glittering visor. "He really likes the third joint down on his back strut," he purred, swirling his thumb around the tip of his spike as it started to pressurize. "Everything else you'll have to find on your own."

"And I'll enjoy the process," Radiance promised with a low, sultry tone. "I make sure he keeps watching you, though I doubt I'll have to check often. I'm sure he's fixated on you. He always is."

"Mhmm," Jazz hummed, backing up so he could lean against the wall, fingers dancing along the length of his spike, coaxing it out, running his fingers around each segment as he extended into the slow strokes. "And after you're done teasing him? After he's gasping and straining and desperate from watching me, and your touches?"

"That depends on how well finished you are," Radiance grinned, his optics taking in the very unusual ruffled spike. "But I think I'd shift him fully into my lap so I can feel that wet valve, so eager to be filled, and beckon you over to kneel and put that mouth to good use on his spike. Then have a little race to see who can overload him first."

Jazz gave a gasping laugh. "I'd win," he informed the other mech, then groaned as his hips pushed forward into his loose fingers. "Nnn...absolutely I'd win, I'd swallow him completely, make him scream and overload around you."

"I don't doubt it," Radiance chuckled. "And it'd feel amazing. I bet he's so hot and tight, and his overload's intense, knowing how much it gets you off to drive him there."

Jazz nodded, panting lightly. "And once he was all strutless between us I'd pull him off and swallow you next, taste his overload on you, give you the little push you needed to spill down my intake..." He moaned, grip tightening, optics flickering off and mouth falling open.

"Hot as I am, and fresh from doming Pantera, I'd grip your helm as I overload, thrusting because I know you can take it," Radiance's rumble deepened as his arousal built. "When I can unlatch my hands I'd spread myself for you, eager to feel your overload while I pull Pantera in for a kiss."

The heavy, stuttering panting came faster and vents kicked up a notch, catching on the sharp intakes and shivering with the rest of Jazz's frame. "Wouldn't...take me long, not after that," he gasped. "You know I've never...actually...been in anyone but Pantera," he managed, and whined softly as he imagined it, rubbing his length against his palm. "Love to feel him in me while I spiked you."

"I'm sure he'd indulge you for no other reason, grabbing your hips and driving into you, eager to feel your overload as we both work you hard, a reward for the show and for being with us," Radiance said, sure of himself. "I want to do that, to feel you between us. To be between you. To have Pantera between us. To watch you make love to him. To have you watch as I made love to him. To make love to you while he watches and talks to you the entire time."

Jazz's helm slammed back and he gave a sharp cry, unable to hold off his overload any longer at the last image, bucking into his hand and shaking as the charge rushed through him, sizzling beneath his plating and sending bright, crackling arcs through the seams. He slumped as it dissipated into the air, shivering and panting, and slowly released his grip on his spike, optics online again, dim and sated for the first time in orns.

"I think that did almost as much good as the energon," Radiance hummed with a friendly smile when Jazz's optics could focus once more.

"Possibly more," Jazz murmured, shuddering as his spike slipped away and the cover slid back. He managed the few steps it took to get to the berth and all but collapsed, stretching out next to Radiance. "'S been a while."

"And you have a very high interface drive," the Praxian said as he relaxed, unconcerned about the mess on the floor or the ozone still leeching from the frame next to him. "Recharge well, Saxo."

"Mmhm," Jazz hummed, curling next to the dark mech, flaring his field gratefully out to mesh comfortably with the other. "You too, thank you," he murmured, and slipped immediately offline.