Starcrossed 27: Settling In
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"Creator's coming! Creator's coming!" Sunstreaker ran to his brother from the window where he'd spotted the Praxian Enforcer alt coming towards the estate.
Sideswipe perked, looked at Raela, who smiled at him and waved them on their way to go greet Prowl, and first ran to the window so he could wave down before following his impatient twin out the door.
"You two stay out of the main hallways!" Raela called after them.
"We will!" Sideswipe promised before they dashed off through the halls, creating no small amount of havoc amidst the smooth flow of traffic as they ran towards the entrance. They burst out the door and into the waiting arms of their sire, who hugged them tightly.
"Hello, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," Prowl nuzzled the pair.
"Hello Creator," Sideswipe said, nuzzling back, while Sunstreaker's engines purred happily to see Prowl.
"We thought you were coming this orn," Sunstreaker said. "Raela smiles at us a lot when you're coming."
Prowl chuckled. "She knows we all enjoy it when I can come. I was thinking we would go to Jocuri's."
The identical grins he got were answer enough, and Prowl stepped back to transform, opening a door for them to climb in.
"How long are you staying?" Sunstreaker asked as they settled down.
"Two orns," Prowl said as he drove through the servant's entrance and away from the estate. "I can't take much longer off from my duties to Praxus."
"Amberwave says you lowered yourself to working for commoners," Sideswipe said, and Sunstreaker immediately punched his brother in the arm and hissed a shushing order at him.
"He is right to be disturbed by it," Prowl said quietly. "I am worth far more than I am currently valued. That will change in time. Like all mecha, I must begin at the lowest level and work my way up. I will be an authority figure again, in time."
Sideswipe hummed, looking out the window. "That will be good," he said.
"Very good," Sunstreaker agreed.
"How is Saxo?" Sideswipe asked.
Prowl couldn't help the small flicker of surprise at the shift between his last visit and this one. In less than four vorns, Sideswipe had gone from calling Jazz Carrier to using his designation. It saddened him, but it was also a good step forward in healing for the twins. Jazz could never be their creator. It was best that his creations moved away from any thought of him as other than Prowl's mate.
"He is healing, slowly," Prowl glossed over so much of what happened with Jazz. Including that he had a new function he was training for. That was information the pair did not need to know. "Radiance is doing well. He's been good for Jazz." He didn't hide that Radiance was good for him too.
"Can you bring Radiance next time?" Sunstreaker asked. "He was really cool."
"If he can get time off when I do," Prowl told them as he merged onto a major road. "He's the commander of SWAT for the precinct. He may not be allowed out of the city for this long."
"Not even one-" Sideswipe said, before Sunstreaker tackled him and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"D'you think we can go to the race tracks tomorrow?" he asked brightly.
"I would enjoy doing that," Prowl agreed with a warm trill of genuine anticipation. "How has the vorn gone for you? Have you been behaving for Raela and Amberwave?"
"Yes," they said in unison.
"Mostly," Sideswipe modified.
"Raela is nicer," Sunstreaker added.
"Her function ensures that," Prowl chuckled. "She's a caretaker. Amberwave is the estate seneschal."
"Amberwave is boring," Sideswipe said.
"No he isn't," Sunstreaker argued. "He knows lots of things. You just have to listen."
Sideswipe huffed, worked his way out of Sunstreaker's hold, and tackled his brother in turn, pinning him.
Prowl simply laughed, his field rich with good humor, joy at having his creations with him and a bit of teasing. "I hope you don't think I'm boring like Amberwave."
"Nope," Sideswipe said, struggling with keeping his twin pinned.
"Course not," Sunstreaker said, squirming, and knocked Sideswipe off. "Amberwave never smiles."
"Yet I am a seneschal," Prowl reminded them. "My charges often complained that I never smiled. Yet I was respected by them, I cared for them, and they cared for me."
"But you smile with us," Sunstreaker said.
"And Amberwave doesn't care about us," Sideswipe huffed.
"Yes he does," the yellow twin argued. "He's just quiet about it. Like Creator."
"A lot quiet about it," Sideswipe said.
"Will we be seneschals?" Sunstreaker asked, without a pause for Prowl to reply to anything.
"He does care about you both. You are his charges," Prowl said firmly. "No seneschal worthy of the title is anything less than fully dedicated to their charge. The estates, the servants, the nobles we serve. It makes us what we are. It is possible that Sunstreaker will be able to support the seneschal upgrades, though if he does become one, he will need Sideswipe's social skills to be at his best. United you will always be stronger than individually."
Sunstreaker hummed thoughtfully at that. "I think so," he agreed. "I think I would like that."
"Amberwave will be very pleased," Prowl told him, but the real reward was how thick the pride-joy was in Prowl's field. "Tell him, study well. A skilled seneschal with a valuable frame-line and good upgrades can be worth more to a House than its minor members. We keep the world they enjoy functioning smoothly for them. Your cover includes a quality heritage, though not quite as prestigious as the truth would be."
"Because you are the best, aren't you," Sunstreaker said proudly, cuddling against his sire.
"Yes," Prowl smiled through his field at them. "My line is the most prestigious, and I was acknowledged as the finest they had produced that generation. It is why I was bred as often as I was before I became your sire. It is important you do not become so well known or valued while he still exists, however. While you have done well to avoid detection, if you need to kindle there will be difficulties that can not be hidden."
"Like what?" Sideswipe chirped.
"The most obvious is that if either of you are to carry, both of you and a third must be involved in the kindling. As a sire, it will be very difficult for either of you to kindle without your brother involved. You are one spark in two frames. When it comes to acts of the spark, creation, bonding and survival, you are both needed to make it work smoothly."
"Ohh," Sunstreaker said. "So mecha would know we are twins."
"And that's what the bad mech looks for," Sideswipe hummed. "Is he going to look for us forever?"
"Until he is destroyed, yes," Prowl said grimly, making the exit for the family entertainment hub of the city that centered around Jocuri's Amusement Park. "We are working hard to do that. Until he is gone, though, it is critical that you hide as well as we are."
"We will," Sideswipe promised. "I don't want anything to hurt Sunny."
"Or Sides," Sunstreaker said. "We're always very careful."
"I know, and I'm very proud of you both," Prowl trilled.
"Look!" Sideswipe said, jumping up suddenly as the rides came into view. "There's my favorite one!"
"We have all orn," Prowl chuckled as he drove in. "You do not have to return until half a joor before berth time."
The twins both trilled excitedly and bounded out of Prowl's cab as soon as he stopped, jumping up to grab his hands to pull him into the park, ready to spend the rest of the orn with their sire.
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::Speeder, eighteen over, ID 9876HKTR7U23MGH7.:: Prowl commed into dispatch as his lights began to flash at the average build in front of him. Then on a scrambled line to his partner, ::He'll bolt.::
He felt Fevor's mental optic ridge raise through his partner's field. ::What makes you think-oh, and there he goes,:: he grumbled as he revved his engines up and accelerated after the speeder. ::The Pit, rookie, how do you spot those?::
::Many vorns disciplining juveniles,:: Prowl answered as he kept even with his mentor on the beat. ::There's a twitch in their field.::
Fevor's engines rumbled deeply. ::I'm supposed to be the one teaching you,:: he complained good-naturedly, weaving around a vehicle that was too slow to move to the side for them.
A quick databurst from Prowl interrupted his musings and he dedicated enough of his processors to opening the plan. A few vorns ago it would have stalled his engines. Now he simply wondered what his partner had once been that he was this now and so good at it. ::Agreed.::
Fevor tracked Prowl's movements as he nearly fishtailed to make a turn that would bring him along a not-quite-parallel course while Fevor kept their target's attention. The older Enforcer had to give his rookie credit for tenacity and lateral thinking. Most would be content to chase a speeder. Prowl needed to catch, and he'd never failed at that once he set himself to it.
He kept as many sensors as he could dedicated to monitoring his partner while he pretended to lag behind the youth they were pursuing, getting him to slow his speed to something safer on the corners, now that he seemed to have lost half of his pursuit and was outgunning the older enforcer.
Two kliks up the road, Prowl reappeared, shooting through an intersection that had been timed to a perfect halt by the traffic drones, right where the road narrowed and with just enough space for him to cut in front of the speeder. Fevor gunned his acceleration and came up right behind the youth, lights flashing while Prowl forced the speed down, then to a stop.
Not that their target was willing to be blocked in and be still. A transformation sequence began, and Fevor belatedly realized that his partner had begun first. It gave Prowl just enough of a lead on moving to body block the runner to the ground and pin him with little more than greater mass.
"Credits to scrap that 9876HKTR7U23MGH7 isn't his real ID ping," Prowl commented casually, causing his prey to stop struggling out of surprise.
"Mm, we'll find out soon enough," Fevor said, also transforming back into root mode to help wave traffic around before the drones could get there to redirect everything. He called in an update, then walked over to the pair.
"Hey, mech, look," the flashy-painted youth began as the two stern-faced enforcers looked down at him. "Had the music up, didn't even realize you were back there."
"Then once we have confirmed your identity and that you are clean, you will be released with only a speeding ticket," Prowl said as he pulled the mech to his pedes for Fevor to cuff him, then escorted him to the walkway to be out of the traffic lanes.
"Yeah but...I'll be late, an' all," the youth protested. "Got work, y'know?"
"Oh?" Fevor said conversationally as he they waited for the transport. "Where do you work?"
"Docks," the mech said smoothly. "For Praxus Imports."
"What's your supervisor's designation? We'll give him a comm and let him know what happened so he's expecting it." Fevor offered.
"Er..." The youth shifted uncomfortably.
"What designation do you go by?" Prowl shifted tactics a touch.
"Harper," came the well-rehearsed, casual answer. "Seriously, you gonna drag me all the way in just to verify my ID?"
"Uh-huh," Fevor said.
"Sounds like a waste of your time, mech," Harper said.
"It's what the city pays us to do," Fevor shrugged just as easily and paused as the transport settled. "Your catch, your file," he gave Prowl a playful salute that got a dangerous grin back.
Prowl gave Harper a light push towards the arriving transport while Fevor watched, waiting until the doors sealed and it took off before reentering traffic and continuing on his patrol.
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Jazz regarded the bleeding, burnt mech that was hanging by the wrists before him, head cocked, tapping his charged dagger thoughtfully against his chin, paying no attention to the way it was shocking him but pleased by the look it was putting on his prey's face.
"Are you in a more friendly mood yet?" he asked, starting to walk a slow circle around him. "You know you could make it out of here in mostly one piece still."
"Go to the Pit," the mech spat at him.
"Been there, love," Jazz said, smirking, continuing his stroll for a few more rounds until he came in front of the mech again. He took his prey by the throat, holding the dagger under the chin, and leaned in close. "Though I bet all the interrogators use that line." He cocked his head a little and shifted his weight, angling for the best view he could give the cameras of the mech's face. "We can keep playing like this for orns if you want to, or you can give me a designation. Just one, little, simple designation of your target."
"And let you know who to protect?" Defiance flared in the mech's optics despite the pain of his frame. "No."
Jazz paused, and a moment of confusion, followed by humor rippled through his field. "We're not in that business, love," he said. "The mecha we want protected are protected. I want to know your target so we can keep the fallout under wraps, and make sure none of ours get caught up in your messy crossfire." He stroked a warm, gentle hand down the front of his victim's chassis, avoiding every wound without even looking, teasing at seams and plating. "After all, we caught you easy enough, and we're not interested in taking the chance of your next 'agent' getting mixed up with one of ours. And who knows, our interests might even align. You get me?" he purred.
"You work for the government," the mech spat at him.
Jazz gave him an awful, pitying smile. "No, I don't," he said, and stepped back, taking the gentle touch away. "I work for credits, and because I like the way you sound when you scream, and because sparks are so beautiful when they gutter. To be honest with you, I'm hoping you won't crack." He flashed the mech a grin and pulled a torch from his subspace, flicking it on, holding the white-hot flame up. "Designation, please."
Fear flickered across the mech's face. "Who's paying you then?"
"I'm pretty sure you're the glitch hanging from the ceiling who's supposed to be answering questions," Jazz hummed. "But since you're just so persuasive, I'll let you in on a little secret. My employer? Is smart enough to keep me in the dark on that detail. Just in case of this exact scenario. Tell me, is yours?"
He stepped forward on the last glyph, weaving slightly and grabbed the back of the mech's neck to pull him in for a deep, biting kiss while the other hand reached down and slipped the torch into the open hip joint, pushing it right up against the dense metal bearing in the center.
Even if the mech was willing to answer through Jazz's kiss, his scream would have swallowed the answer, drowning out even the sound of wires sizzling and snapping in the center of the joint and the sound of metal slipping and bending, an entire frame's weight pushing down on the weakening joint.
Jazz pulled the torch out and leaned back, baring energon-coated teeth and letting his very real arousal flicker through his field, caressing along the other. "So," he purred, lifting the torch to where the mech could see it, the backs of his fingers and hands coated with liquid metal runoff. "Designation?"
The mech's field was full of sickened fear, his frame shook, his voice wavered, but still he managed, "No."
"Oh darling," Jazz said. "You know just what to say to make my spark race. In fact, I enjoy it so much I'll even give you a few more joors to decide whether you live or die."
There was an odd, uncertain flicker in the mech's optics. "You'll...you'll what?"
"You heard me," Jazz said, shrugging. "Of course, you'll be screaming the entire time, so I'd make my mind up now if I were you, and I'll get back to you on that." He licked his lips, grinned, and lifted the torch again.
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Seven joors later, Jazz gave a disgusted look at the mess of metal and wires that was hanging in front of him, knocked offline from the pain, and walked out of the room, almost running into Whiplash, who had been observing the entire time.
"Not cracking, this one," the matte black mech commented.
"Not a bit," Jazz said, looking at the video feed of the limply swaying mech, who looked much worse than his damage actually was. "Either he's a True Believer in his cause, or he takes pain better than I do. Since I find the latter hard to believe..."
Whiplash snorted in agreement. "True Believer then. I came to the same conclusion. Lot of those lately, startin' to concern me."
Jazz frowned. "Zealots. Think he's with the others we've had?"
"That'd be my guess. These aren't just opportunists or assassins for hire. They really believe in their cause."
Jazz gestured at the screen. "How do you crack one of those?"
Whiplash shook his head. "You don't. You have your fun with it, and then you put it out of its misery and you destroy it. Make sure those that sent it don't ever find out, or then it'll be a martyr, and that's the last thing we want right now."
"But-" Jazz protested.
Whiplash squeezed his arm. "Yeah, I know. Pit, keep trying, can't hurt, and if it'll make you feel better. But everyone runs into these, not much you can do about it."
Jazz nodded, focused on the victim on the screen, optics glittering. "He'll talk," he said. "I'm going to make. Sure. That he talks."
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Two and a half orns later, Jazz stroked a single sharpened claw down the mech's back strut, and flicked the torch on right next to his audial, gaze fixed on his prey, arousal and excitement thick through his field, grinning at the way the mech was whimpering now. "That was fun," he purred, licking energon from his lips, spike jutting out and rubbing against the mech's aft. "Let's do it again."
"No," the pathetic, all but broken creature whimpered, pleaded, for the pain to stop.
"But I'm enjoying myself, don't stop now," Jazz said, pressing flush, lips to audial, torch held up clearly where the mech could see. He lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. "Come on, let me get one more round in before you give, my super'll pull me out of here and I haven't gotten off yet."
"Why should I let you get off?" the mech rasped.
"Because I love to, especially when you're screaming around me," Jazz purred. He brought the torch in closer and reached around to claw at the mech's pelvis. "Come on, please, just a little more. Just say you won't tell me and they won't pull me off you yet." The torch moved down, brushed the outer edges of the flame against the spike panel. "Bet you'll scream really good here."
"Ratbat!" the mech keened, trying to pull away from the torch despite his broken frame and Jazz's mass directly behind him. "I was after Senator Ratbat."
Jazz's lips curled up and he nipped at the mech's neck, then the torch flicked off, he stepped away, and the arousal dissipated from his field. His spike slid back and he cleared his vocalizer out once, twice, shook himself, then subspaced the torch and switched it out for a blade, walking around to where the mech could see him. "Thank you," he said, and held the weapon up. "You get a choice now."
The mech just hung there, optics not even moving up towards him, so Jazz reached out and patted his cheek a few times. "Hey. Attention." He waved the knife around until he was sure the victim had seen it. "We can dump you in a cell and give you energon but no medical care, or I can drive this through your spark. It's your choice. If you don't pick one, you get the latter. More resource efficient."
Cracked red optics focused on Jazz. "The cell. I'll live because you don't want me to."
Jazz smiled. "Hardly matters to me," he said, then patted his cheek once more. "You take care." He left the room, only allowing his very unresolved arousal and frustration to bloom outwards once he was standing with Whiplash, and growled. "Fragger. Think that was his actual target?"
"If it's not, it's a likely one," Whiplash huffed. "Ratbat's one of the worst as far as the rebels are concerned. I'm not sure even he'd disagree. Creepy, credit-centric one he is." He smiled and regarded his subordinate. "I hope your mate knows how to deal with that charge."
"He does," Jazz said, frowning. "And he better be off duty or I'm going to make such a nuisance out of myself that he'll have to pursue and arrest. I can go?"
"Clean up, and you can go," Whiplash said, nodding.
Jazz fought not to run as he made his way up to a level where his comms could get through, twitching at the intolerably slow-feeling lift before stepping out and headed to the washracks. ::Where are you?:: he sent to his mate, trying not to growl.
::About to go to the shift passdown,:: Prowl replied with sub-harmonics thick with anticipation at seeing his mate for the first time in more than five orns. ::I'll be wherever you want me then.::
::Get your aft home,:: Jazz said, stepping under the heated solvent spray. ::Primus I need a good frag, you have no idea.::
::Will do, love,:: Prowl rumbled, giving Jazz no doubt of what he had in mind, before cutting the comm. He shivered as he turned on the shower to get the worst of the surface gunk off him before going to work at cleaning himself. It was a comfortable, almost soothing routine now, and it allowed him to drive to their apartment without breaking to many laws, even as excited as he was.
Jazz was there half a groon after he was, field and frame reeking with an unresolved charge that had been building for orns, the arousal almost too thick for even the ripple of surprise to get out when he teeked Prowl in much the same condition. He grabbed his mate in a kiss, slamming him back against the wall, grinding their frames together. "You found a chase, didn't you," he grinned, reaching down between them to press palm to Prowl's spike cover. Both covers snapped open immediately as Prowl groaned, grinding into the touch as his spike pressed out, eager to feel his mate's touch.
"Yes," Prowl shuddered, lost to his own charge and the heated welcome of his mate. "Take me, spread your legs for me, want to scream your designation and make you scream mine."
Jazz groaned, hand moving lower to press fingers into the slick valve offered to him while his own spike pressurized, rubbing flush and hot against his lover's. "Can't," he gasped, shaking. "Can't-please-just, need-" He grabbed Prowl's wrist with his free hand and pulled it down between their bodies, wrapping his mate's fingers around their spikes, thrusting into the contact with a low moan. "Touch."
Prowl reached up with his free hand to cup the base of Jazz's helm and neck, drawing him into a passionate kiss while his hand stroked and squeezed, paying much more attention to the ruffles of his mate's spike that pleasuring his own, making him jerk and keen, panting and desperate for the almost painfully high charge to release.
Lubricant ran down Jazz's thrusting fingers, covering his hand, and he matched the rhythm to Prowl's movement, stroking as deep as he could with the way his arm was pinned between them. Less than ten strokes, and Jazz shouted, seizing against his lover and shooting transfluid onto his chest, his spike, his hand. His vents kicked up and he shuddered, gasping, and didn't stop the movement of his fingers in Prowl's valve.
His mate at least somewhat sated, Prowl's face came to rest against the crook of Jazz's neck as he leaned back and hooked a leg around Jazz's hip, opening himself up to the attention. Fingers weren't nearly as good as a spike, but his mate knew how to work him up and he wasn't resisting the stimulation as his valve tightened and worked the shallow penetration.
Jazz curled his arm around the back of Prowl's head as he moved, twisting his wrist and crooking at all the right angles to feel amazing without overloading him, not wanting to get Prowl too satisfied before he was through. His own charge was still high, enough to keep his spike extended and throbbing despite the overload, and he wanted Prowl's to stay the same. It wasn't every orn his lover came home hot from a chase.
"Remember that thrill," he purred against Prowl's audial, "How it feels when they take off and you get to catch."
Prowl shuddered with a moan, his processors immediately replaying his last chase and capture. Against the wall his doorwings quivered as he tried to thrust into the contact.
"You love it," Jazz continued, engines rumbling deeply, rocking back against his mate. "Love when they bolt, when they turn into prey, when you get to go after them, getting closer every klik..."
"Pushing my engines, my skills, calculating their every move, how to avoid traffic," Prowl shuddered, moaning as he gripped his mate's shoulders. "They don't stand a chance but they don't know it yet."
"They don't know what's after them," Jazz said, low and seductive. "They have no idea the speed and strength chasing behind, catching up, not realizing where you are..." His fingers sped up, increasing with Prowl's pants and gasps. "Not until you're right there, out of nowhere, making them try so hard to get away but they can't, they're trapped..." Jazz shifted his weight, subtle enough that Prowl didn't notice or didn't care, lost as he was. "You pounce, they struggle, and you..."
Between one sparkbeat and the next, Jazz's fingers were there, and then they were gone, slipped away as the frame that had been pressing Prowl to the wall disappeared as the mech jumped back and danced away, grinning and unrepentant. "Catch," he purred, arms held out in open challenge.
Prowl's powerful engine roared and he lunged, only half aware of his surroundings with his processor locked on a single goal: capture.
Jazz caught him by the shoulders, bracing against the momentum, holding Prowl there while they struggled. He made no attempt to escape, but he also refused to go down onto the ground that easily. He twisted, spinning them in a sudden half circle, and tried to reverse too quickly for Prowl to recover. It was a testament to the joors Jazz had put into combat training that Prowl hadn't at how easily he could control their movements.
Right up to the point when Prowl realized he was outmatched by skill and turned his full processor power, fuelled by the heavy charge in his systems, to pinning his mate. He shot a leg out to stop the back spin, calculated the shift in momentum and where it would stop and Jazz's center of gravity at that exact moment, all of it in a fraction of a nanoklik before they had even stopped moving, and right at that instant, shot a hand out to push Jazz at his weakest point. His opponent's stability wavered, he kicked his leg out and wrapped it around Jazz's ankle, and pulled, dragging his pede out from under him and sending him toppling onto his back with a loud thud and a low, startled grunt.
Jazz twisted, hooking a leg up around Prowl's waist, getting ready to roll, but in doing so, left his legs apart, and Prowl knew exactly where to push on his shoulder to keep him pinned.
A triumphant grin spread across Prowl's face and lustful eagerness across his field. "You're not going anywhere," he purred, shifting to rub his spike along his mate's valve cover. "I know you want this."
"Say I do," Jazz purred back, the cover snapping away immediately, even as he bucked his hips in a half-attempt to dislodge his mate, squirming in the powerful hold. "What are you gonna do about it now that you've caught me? Or are you gonna let me go?"
"Never letting you go," Prowl rumbled hotly, the multitude of meanings he intended thick in his field, but it was all centered on his love for the mech he had pinned as he thrust into him, hot and eager with a deep moan. "Going to stretch you, fill you until we can't move, then want the same from you."
Jazz's fingers dug into Prowl's shoulders and he moaned sharply, helm falling back, struggles ceasing instantly. "Frag yes," he gasped, his aching valve tightening in around his lover, hot and slick and oh so eager. "Yes, 'Tera, hard, please, hard."
With a growling rev Prowl did just that, bracing his frame to give his mate the hardest pounding he was capable of and running his advanced processors at full capacity on nonsense work to suck up as much of the building charge in his system as possible. He could hold out for two or even three of his mate's overloads this way, and he loved it, loved feeling Jazz writhe beneath him and hearing him scream his ecstasy as he shook and bucked in desperate overload, clawing at Prowl's shoulders and clamping his legs around his waist.
When Jazz's helm slammed back into the floor and his entire frame arched up in an overload powerful enough to lift Prowl up just from the strength of the charge, he couldn't hold himself back. With a bellowing roar of his own, Prowl overloaded hard, flooding his mate with his charge and the fluid to carry it to every sensor in Jazz's valve.
He was still twitching, thrusting faintly, when they sank to the floor in a dazed bliss.
After a klik, Jazz gathered himself, lowered his legs and struggled up, supporting Prowl's weight with his own as he moved, purring against him, armor loose and venting. "Not done with you yet," he whispered against his audial, and nipped, then managed to get Prowl back up to his pedes and backed him into their berthroom. Prowl did help, but he was only partially coordinated despite his best efforts. Jazz shoved him back and forced him into a sit, grinning, before dropping to his knees and pushing his lover's thighs apart, burying his face in that parted junction, wet with both their fluids, and x-vented against the still-bared valve.
A low moan, full of eager want, came with Prowl spreading his legs further and rolling his hips to give Jazz even better access. "Never want you done with me."
"Never gonna be," Jazz promised, and swirled his glossa around the slick opening, teasing at the platelets that quivered from the touch, moaning softly at the taste.
He licked and pressed, humming deep into his mate's valve, while taking his own spike in hand and rubbing slowly, working both of them back up. Once he had Prowl gasping and trembling beneath him he pulled back and pressed one more heated kiss right over the gripping, quivering opening, hearing his lover's begging keen. He shivered, lifted himself, lined up, and pushed, piercing the slick valve in a single thrust.
It was a distinctly different angle, and not an easy one to get much depth or strength behind, but the way it made Prowl bow his back to roll his hips further into Jazz, opening his legs more, was well worth it for those first moments.
Prowl's willingness to endure the shallow thrusts was limited and it wasn't long before he grabbed his mate by the shoulders and pulled him forward and he shimmed sideways, bringing them both on the berth with a bit of cooperation from Jazz, and at the first full, deep thrust, he cried out, clutching Jazz to him.
"Fill me, spread me wide, give me everything you have!" Prowl keened, writhing shamelessly under his lover.
Jazz growled deep in his chassis, reaching back to grab Prowl's leg and yanked up, forcing his legs wide apart. He settled his weight, pulled out, and then struck deep, before setting a harsh, pounding rhythm into his love. He groaned and buried his face against Prowl's neck, free hand clutching at the padding of the berth, gripping it so hard his fingers shook from the tension. "Mine," he gasped, shuddering and straining. "Mine, mine to have and fill and take."
"Always," Prowl moaned, giving himself fully to the experience without a single reservation.
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It had been twenty vorns since he and Jazz had escaped from Vortex, but the near-anniversary wasn't what had him so excited. The other Enforcers who saw him simply smiled and assumed he was looking forward to going home a bit more than usual and he let them believe it. He wasn't going to lie, but no one asked so he didn't tell. He gave his mate a quick location ping, just to make sure they'd see each other as soon as possible and made quick work of the drive to an apartment that had been home for almost 95% of their time as mates.
Jazz was lounging inside, stretched out on his back and holding a datapad up, reading whatever was on it, but as soon as he heard the door opening he tipped his head back and let his engines kick into a welcoming purr. "Hello, love," he greeted warmly.
"Hello, my love," Prowl purred in reply and came over to kiss Jazz upside down. "Feel like taking a drive? I have something I'd like to show you."
Jazz hummed happily and pulled Prowl back into the kiss for another long moment. "Sure," he said, sitting upright and quirking a smile at his lover. "Though don't think this gets you out of being pounced."
"I would hope not," Prowl grinned and drew Jazz into an embrace, allowing his non-aroused excitement to fully envelope his love. "But when come back. I really hope you like what I want to show you."
Jazz tilted his head curiously, teeking the joyful flavor in his mate's field. "I'm sure I will," he said, and held his arm out for Prowl to lead the way, following him out to the street where Prowl transformed and drove him across the city to a residential sector that Jazz had never been to. It was nice, too. Not where nobles lived, but definitely outside what he thought of even with both their incomes. The higher towers would have an amazing view of some part of Praxus no matter what direction you faced.
Prowl pulled over and transformed in front of a building that wasn't the tallest, but was definitely upscale. He held out his hand to Jazz with a smile and nodded to the doormech when the perfectly polished nearly unarmored femme bowed to them and opened the door.
Jazz glanced at her as they passed, then back to his mate. "Pantera, what...?" he asked as he followed into the decorated lift.
"You'll see," Prowl smiled mischievously in the privacy of the lift, relaxing in his excitement as they traveled upward. It wasn't headed to the top floors, but it was high enough to have a spectacular view of the downtown lights at night. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."
"Bet I could coax it out of you," Jazz purred, nuzzling him, field rippling with curiosity and anticipation, when the lift stopped and flashed the need for a code, which Prowl entered promptly. As soon as he had, the lift moved again, changing its direction.
"I'm sure you could, but you'll see in a moment," Prowl chuckled and tipped Jazz's face up for a kiss that his mate gladly returned.
The movement stopped and the lift opened on a different side than they had entered, behind Prowl, who turned and put his hand on the small of Jazz's back as they stepped out. A spacious entry room, very minimally furnished or decorated, greeted Jazz's bright optics, but his attention was drawn to what lay beyond. It seemed like the entry room opened into space with the vista of central Praxus, though distantly Jazz recognized that he was actually looking through into an empty room beyond with huge windows and no noticeable furniture.
"Pantera," he murmured, looking around before walking forward into the larger room, Prowl following quietly. "Wow, this is...wow," was all he could say for a moment as he looked out the view, then turned towards his lover with a half-grin. "You confiscate this place or something?"
A low chuckle greeted that and Prowl braced his love. "No, we've finally paid off all our debts. With my investments, we can afford it. If you like it, that is."
"Like it?" Jazz repeated, mildly stunned as he looked around again, imagining this as his to build as a home. "'Tera, this place is amazing! We can really afford this? And-oh, right there, there's a sculpture that would look perfect there," he said, stepping away, and really looked the entire, giant room over, instantly seeing arrangements, decorations, ways to section it into multiple rooms... He spun a few times, grinning hugely, then looked out the window before turning to his lover. "Yes, yes I like it!" He paused, looked around. "Is there a berthroom?"
Prowl laughed, warm and delighted at being able to create such joy in his mate. "Upstairs," he pointed above and behind them to where a balcony and grand staircase suitable for making presentations on opened into the two story high main room. "Three rooms and a full washrack, and an oil pool large enough for three on one of the balconies. They can be berthroom, offices, library, entertainment, private space, whatever appeals to you."
Jazz purred, stepping close to Prowl and resting one hand lightly on his mate's chest, his gaze still jumping around, unable to stop himself from making plans. Finally he looked back into Prowl's optics. "Ours, really ours?"
"Since you like it, yes," Prowl nodded. "I made inquiries but not a contract yet. I wanted to make sure you didn't want a different view or something. I know it is solidly Praxian in aesthetics."
"I have spent my lifetime falling in love with all things Praxian," Jazz purred, doorwings lifted high, full of excitement. "How soon can we move in?"
"Within half a decaorn, if all goes well," Prowl nudged his lover towards the internal lift to go upstairs the easy way. "Two rooms have similar views to this," he waved towards the floor to ceiling vista. "The washrack and third room are interior."
"You do realize how long it's going to take us to break this place in," Jazz said, stepping forward as the lift stopped, looking out over the city for a moment before grinning at his lover.
"Yes," Prowl grinned back with a heady rumble. "And it will take you a long time to decorate it, tweak it, make it exactly what you want."
Jazz hummed in pure, honest anticipation of getting to do that, a task that settled a spark-deep need in him. "I can't wait," he said, turning back to Prowl and pressing against him, pulling him into a deep kiss. "Thank you," he murmured.
"You are welcome, my love," Prowl purred and kissed him again.