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.

48. Making Progress

Starcrossed 48: Making Progress
(Hard (creation/creator) incest warning)
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Ratchet glanced at the pile of work on his desk, glanced at his chronometer, and sighed. A new wave of mecha from the frontline was being cycled through Iacon and he had the unenviable talk of having to schedule and prioritize their repairs based on available medics, supplies, energon requirements, and the urgency of the work needing done.

Halfway through the third shift and he was nowhere near finished.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his chin and thinking. This work would be less miserable with someone to talk to, but this late at night...

He smirked. This late at night there was guaranteed to be one mech still awake who shouldn't be, and Ratchet always loved an excuse to go yell at him about not recharging.

So he gathered up his work, slipped in a cube of high grade and an empty cube to share, and made his way inwards to the Prime's Residence. A glance at the location net that only emergency response trained medics had access to showed him that Optimus was alone, and indeed not in the area of his berth. In an effort at being polite, he chimed at the door as he overrode the general lock with his code and strode in.

Optimus immediately looked guilty. "Oh, hello, you're up rather..." He cleared his vocalizer out. "Late."

"I have this pile of damage reports to sort into a priority list," Ratchet waved his workpad. "What's your excuse?"

"I have a pile of department requests to approve and sort into a priority list," Optimus said, sounding pleased with himself at having such a good match for Ratchet's excuse.

"Then we can finish them with a bit of company to make it go faster," Ratchet huffed, annoyed that Prime did have an excuse that he couldn't growl about much. Not tonight at any rate. "And a bit of high grade as a reward," he added with a motion to the sitting room where they could sit comfortably and work while they talked about nothing important to the war effort.

"I think a bit of company might actually make it go slower," Optimus mused, and smiled brightly through his field. "Though it will make the going more enjoyable." They sat together on the oversized lounge that was large enough to accommodate Optimus's frame, pulling their work back out. "I feel like I haven't seen you outside of officers' meetings for metacycles," Optimus said.

"It's been far too long," Ratchet agreed. "The longer this mess drags on, the less of a personal life any of us seem to have. With one very noticeable exception," he chuckled. "If I didn't know they'd been mated for several thousand vorns, I'd swear those two were mechlings in love for the first time this metacycle."

Optimus hummed warmly, not needing to ask who he was referring to. "It is rather remarkable," he said. "I find them a great comfort."

"Yet you don't take advantage of what they are offering," Ratchet poked gently.

"What they're-Ratchet," Optimus chastised lightly, but there was a very telling flickering blush through his field. "They have no interest in having another in their relationship."

The CMO leaned back and regarded him steadily. "Not as a mate, but you don't want that either. I know Prowl's in your berth when Jazz is otherwise occupied and you both feel better for it. And I've teeked how much lighter your spark is for orns after you've been next to them when they're going at it. Don't you dare tell me you don't want them in your berth."

Optimus fiddled with the datapad he was holding. "It's soothing," he mumbled. "But I can't ask them something like that. They don't need some oversized, bumbling mech teeking at them."

Ratchet scowled. "In case you haven't noticed, they happen to make excuses to lean up against you when they're doing it in public. Prowl likes you, and Jazz is just an exhibitionist. And don't try to tell me that you wouldn't know when they needed to be alone."

"Well, yes," Optimus said, and sighed, subspacing his work. "I had noticed that. ...You really think they'd be okay with that? Being invited here?"

"Primus give me patience for your self-sacrificing creation," Ratchet groaned. "I think you'd know Pit-damned fast if one of them wasn't. I'm damn sure they'd both be okay with it, and I have no doubt at all that Prowl would feel better knowing someone was there for Jazz when he can't be. Besides, you're safe in a way that only the Prime can be for them."

"Safe?" Optimus quirked a look at his CMO. He could think of several ways the Prime would be 'safe' for the bonded couple, but he was curious which one his friend was focused on.

"Well, besides the whole you're entitled to anyone and anything you ask for, and thus their status as a broken triad remains honored, there's no threat of forming a second triad with you," Ratchet shrugged. "For as little as those two pretend not to care what others think of them, it hurts them, especially Prowl, every time someone who believes they should have honored their bond and deactivated with Radiance even looks at them with disapproval."

"Very true," Optimus murmured before his optics brightened and his engine almost purred at the idea of being that close to their fields on a regular basis. "All right, I'll ask. So what about you, is your primary company still stasis-locked patients?"

"As if I have time for anything more," Ratchet groused. "But I have very warm company when I want it."

"Oh?" Optimus asked, all work forgotten as he turned towards his friend eagerly. "Anyone special I should know about?"

Ratchet gave a barking laugh. "Not nearly that special, Optimus. Just a good release for us both when we can match recharge cycles, and you know it's nice to have a warm frame in the berth even when you don't do anything but recharge."

"Hmm," Optimus regarded him with exaggerated suspicion. "If you say so. But you're right, it is nice. It gets nicer the longer this all goes on," he lamented.

"You won't get any arguments from me on that one," Ratchet agreed with a grunt. "I don't suppose you've managed to get any time in around Bluestreak?"

"Poor kid," Optimus sighed. "I haven't spent much time around him, but what I have..." He shook his helm. "I hate to admit this, but I dread meeting new Praxians. They all carry so much pain with them. Everyone does, but the Praxians ... it hurts to be close to them."

"I expect Seekers do as well, for much the same reason," Ratchet sighed. "I know it takes a lot out of you, but I think you could really help him, even more than most. With Jazz and Prowl to help you balance and settle more quickly, I think it would do you some honest good to perform healing merges more often. It might go a little ways to helping you cope with being a warrior Prime."

Optimus nodded, staring at his hands. "You said something about high grade?" he asked ruefully. When a half cube was poured and pressed forward, he flared his field gratefully. "I'll see if I can find some free time for him. He's infantry, right?"

"Sniper, actually, and naturally gifted at it. To listen to Ironhide the kid's a natural," Ratchet corrected gently.

"Has he connected with anyone that you know of? It helps to have a support network after such a merge."

"He's completely latched onto Prowl as a creator-caretaker figure, and damned if I wasn't surprised at how tolerant he is of the kid." Ratchet shook his helm. "I shouldn't have been, not with what I know of Prowl's coding, but I was. I think he's made some connections with Smokescreen and a few others. He's a sociable mech, friendly despite it all. I don't think he's close to anyone, though."

Optimus nodded slowly. "All right. I'll look into it. Prowl's been through it, so if he's taken a caretaker attitude he'll be a good place for support if Bluestreak needs to talk afterward."

"Most do," Ratchet said. "And I'm sure this one will more than most. Kid talks a, well, a blue streak."

Optimus chuckled. "Indeed." He pulled his work back out and heaved a sigh, shaking his helm as he skimmed over everything from research budget requests to the need for more spare parts sent to the frontlines. "What happened to the orns of going to work, and then getting overcharged in a pub with friends and recharging peacefully every night?"

"Those went out with being a leader," Ratchet said ruefully. "Price of rank and status is responsibility and all that. Not just in the army, either. Though I did a lot less paperwork at the hospital."

Optimus grunted. "Leader of the Autobots, why haven't I invented a position that does my paperwork for me?"

"Because you're a self-sacrificing glitch and we need warriors more than admin," Ratchet grumbled the dual truth. "The position, several of them, exist. It's filling them that's the problem."

"Right," Optimus muttered. "Note to self. Stop being a self-sacrificing glitch."

"Ha! That'll be the orn," Ratchet laughed playfully at him as they each settled back into their reports. "Probably the same orn I get a full recharge cycle without being woken early or having a pile of work waiting when I do."

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Optimus tried not to squirm in his seat under the force of Ratchet's glare. Since their conversation about the possibility of asking Jazz and Prowl to his berth, the medic seemed to have realized just how much good that would do the Prime and now spent every possible moment giving him his best look, and Optimus knew that it wasn't going to end until he'd made the request.

Since he was fairly sure Ratchet was going to spontaneously develop lasers in his optics very soon, Optimus had decided to approach them at the end of the current officers' meeting, and so, when Ultra Magnus wrapped up his report and sat down and no one else brought anything up, he dismissed his officers, then faced them. "Prowl, Jazz, you would join me in my chambers?" he asked, trying his best to change the ritual command into something resembling a polite inquiry.

The older members of his officer cadre, those who had the education to know what that formal wording and harmonics should mean, immediately perked up and focused on the couple. While their recruitment interview had ensured that everyone knew the pair's background, it was less well known if they respected the ways of a society that had betrayed them so completely. The question most of them also had was if Optimus realized what he was saying.

Prowl, true to form, simply inclined his doorwings and helm in acceptance of the request.

"It is our honor to serve the Prime," Jazz said with perfect ritual subharmonics, copying the motion.

Optimus tilted his helm in acknowledgement and left the room first. Prowl and Jazz waited an appropriate five kliks before following, chiming for entrance when they reached the door to the Prime's suite. The door opened immediately and Optimus beckoned them into the sitting room, where three flutes of a sparkling low grade were set out. Prowl and Jazz took the smaller of the lounges while Optimus sat across from them.

"How may we serve, Lord Prime?" Jazz asked in full formal mode as the ranking one of the couple.

Optimus fidgeted with his flute for a moment. "You can start by forgoing on the formalities, they aren't necessary. Formality may be publicly necessary for this to work, but not here. Not with me."

Jazz leaned back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, relaxing with an arm around Prowl's shoulders. "So informally, why are we here?"

"I believe you know how much ... how good it feels for me to be near you when you are intimate with each other," Optimus looked between them, relieved at the smooth nod Prowl gave as the older mech took charge once more. "I am less certain you understand why."

"I believe I do," Prowl nodded.

"We're hot?" Jazz asked, grinning. "Who wouldn't want to be near us when we go at it?"

Optimus failed to suppress his smile. "I admit that is also true. However, I was referring to something unique about being Prime. As your mate knows well, I can help heal damaged sparks, which is almost all there is left now. It takes a tremendous amount out of me as their pain becomes my own for a time. Your love, the absolute trust, devotion and affection you have for each other that you so readily express, is a balm like no other for my spark. While I wouldn't say no, I am not asking either of you to interface with me. Only to recharge in the berth with me, to allow me to enjoy your fields together."

Jazz cocked his helm, intrigued. "And interface near you, too, I'm assuming?"

"If you are willing, yes," Prime couldn't contain the anticipation he had to feel that again.

Jazz snorted. "Just you try to keep me from this mech here," he said, brushing his helm against Prowl's. "I'm game, I bet your berth is amazing. What about you, lover?"

"I am willing," Prowl purred and tipped Jazz's face around to claim a kiss. He flared his field enough for Prime to know exactly where he was headed with this so it could be stopped if now was too soon. "Will we be moving in, or keeping the current arrangement of quarters?"

"I will leave that to you, though you are most welcome to move in," Optimus's deep, powerful engine revved hard at the brush of Prowl's field and the question.

"Gotta keep quarters in Ops," Jazz said. "And speaking of, 'Lash'll lash me if I'm late," he sighed, pulling away.

"One of the benefits of being summoned by the Prime is that you are officially excused from duty until I release you," Optimus said with a chuckle, rising. "But I won't keep you if you need to go."

"Oh, need is such a subjective term," Jazz said with a grin, field lighting up with the prospect of having an official, bullet-proof excuse to give his commander.

Prowl responded with another heated kiss as he pulled Jazz to his pedes. "And I can promise that he won't even ask. He recognized the harmonics and phrasing. He knows. Right now I want the Prime to experience us when you take me."

Optimus fought back a moan at the way Jazz's engine revved as he pushed his mate with him into the Prime's berthroom, all but throwing him down onto the berth and climbing over him, clashing their mouths together until Prowl was panting beneath him. "Optimus," Jazz purred to the larger mech who was still hovering in the doorway watching.

"Yes?" the big mech couldn't tear his gaze from the lovers and the intense honesty of their equality.

Jazz smiled down at his love, stroking a finger down the side of his face. "Come lay next to us," he murmured, and took a softer kiss. "Teek his bliss with me."

Optimus shivered at the tone and the offer before he crossed the room in a few long strides and settled on the berth. He gave them distance, the length of his arm, but it was more than close enough to teek and have that balanced, pure energy wash over him and soothe edges he never thought could be soothed.

"Jazz is so very good to me," Prowl moaned, shameless at being on display in loving his mate. "He touches me the way no one else can."

"Hafta take care of you, lover," Jazz purred, settling himself between his mate's legs, slipping a hand down and rubbing over Prowl's valve cover. "Wanta be in you, let me fill you, babe, please."

"Anytime," Prowl moaned and pressed into the touch as the cover slid open, well-used and maintained. His field flared with eager anticipation and remembered pleasure as he spread his legs further and held himself to give Jazz time and space to do as he pleased. It was always good.

Fingers dipped in as Jazz lowered his helm for another kiss, the thrill of being with Prowl going through his field in a way that no other living mech could come close to matching. "No one knows me like you," he whispered against Prowl's lips, stroking up and down in his valve, and with no warning, took his hand away and drove forward. "Love," he moaned, shuddering as Prowl lifted his hips to meet the thrust despite the lack of warning.

"Jazz," Prowl keened and gripped his lover as he hooked his legs around his mate's and their mouths clashed in a fierce heat that had nothing to do with dominance or taking.

Optimus kept the racing of his engine as quiet as possible and basked in the glow of their fields, his own optics dim in bliss. They rocked together and he kept outwardly still while his spark shivered and shimmered in his chest. It felt good, it felt so good.

Jazz shifted after a while, bringing a cable up and plugging in. "Optimus," he gasped, and moaned deeply. "If you want us in your berth, you have to know we come with our third. With-"

"-Radiance," Prowl moaned, and Jazz pressed a deep kiss when the connection was made and flooded wide open.

"Remember with me, love," he managed.

"I know," Optimus promised them, reveling in their devotion, their love and pleasure that had survived so much. "He is safe here."

Prowl surrendered completely to the bliss, the memories and his mate with a keening howl as he overloaded as much from emotion as the physical stimulation.

Jazz's cry and the heat that flooded from his mate's overload triggered a second one and the energy that poured off of them, the passion in their fields, was all absorbed by the mech alongside them, who took it deep into his spark and let it fill the aching empty places.

Jazz collapsed over his lover, cooling fans running at full speed, their fields mingled as one, as close to spark bonded as any two mecha could be that weren't.

"You are amazing," Optimus's voice was rough with awe and gratitude as he reached out and gently stroked along Jazz's backstrut, careful not to touch his doorwings. "Both of you together are simply amazing. Thank you for this."

Jazz arched into the touch, almost involuntarily. "Anything to help the Prime," he murmured, honesty in his field, kissing his mate.

"It feels good to be approved of, just the two of us," Prowl murmured, spent and sated. Knowing Optimus as he did, he knew the mech would understand the pleasure of the mutual giving and healing it brought them both.

Optimus simply smiled and pulsed a little more thanks-understanding through his field as they all relaxed, enjoying the afterglow of such a sharing.

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"Oh please," Sideswipe said, kicking his pedes up on the table and balancing in his chair, fingers linked behind his helm. "Like you ever beat me."

"You know, I beat you more than most," Smokescreen pointed out, waving the datapad he was working on at him.

"Yeah but you ain't favored, not by a long shot," Sideswipe said.

"Favored doesn't mean a damn thing," Sunstreaker grunted.

"You're both just mad you didn't make the list," Sideswipe said, sticking his glossa out at his twin and their brother.

"What list?" Bluestreak asked as he walked up, all but bouncing with excitement. "You'll never believe what I just heard! The Prime's finally got a regular berthmate, and he asked all formal like! He needs it so bad, and aren't they just lucky, getting to be with the Prime."

"Good for him," Smokescreen said, tipping his helm towards Bluestreak. "I see Whiplash still has you in one piece."

"Who is it?" the twins asked in unison as Sunstreaker tried to knock Sideswipe off his precarious, balancing perch.

"Oh, it's Prowl and Jazz," Bluestreak answered the twins before grinning at a floored Smokescreen. "Yeah, Whiplash is great. I'm getting so much better at focusing. He's really good at helping me deal with the nightmares. I guess when you have so many looking to you that do their kind of work you end up with a lot of mecha with really bad data glitches."

Smokescreen stared for a moment. "Yeah, he's ... he's good at that did you say Prowl and Jazz?"

"Oh please," Sideswipe said with a roll of his optics. "They've been revving for each other for vorns."

Sunstreaker was scowling and he smacked his twin's arm. "Not since Jazz got back."

"What happened, Blue?" Smokescreen asked.

"Well I heard it when Ironhide was talking at the range about how Prime invoked some kind of right at the end of the last officer's meeting," Bluestreak was happy to babble about it. "They went to his quarters and they were in there for about three joors and only Jazz left at first. Prowl and Prime did a few breems later. I guess they had a really good time. Prime must have a Praxian's endurance to keep up with both of them," his gaze got a little dreamy.

"A Prime's Right," Smokescreen mused. "Haven't heard that in a while."

"He's the Prime," Sideswipe snickered. "Of course he has endurance."

"How long ago was this?" Sunstreaker asked. "Is anyone even sure they 'faced?"

"Why would he invoke a Right if it wasn't for that?" Smokescreen asked. "He knows the kind of reputation that'll give them. He would've just asked them to stop by. You're sure you heard that right, Blue? Optimus Prime invoked a Right?"

"That's what Ironhide said, and he was there. I can't imagine that he'd lie. He seemed kinda upset about it, but not upset that something was wrong," Bluestreak tried to explain, his features scrunched and doorwings quivering. "Maybe he wanted to be asked? Umm, the officer's meeting was this morning, so ... maybe twenty-four, twenty-six joors ago? I saw Ironhide on the range when I went for my end of shift practice two joors ago. What kind of reputation would it give them? Prime would be an amazing third for their triad, even if he isn't one of us."

All three at the table winced, but Smokescreen's physical reaction was the most dramatic as his doorwings dipped sharply and his field teeked massively uncomfortable. "No, Blue, don't-don't say something like that," Smokescreen said. "They had a third, when they lived in Praxus. Full legal triad bond."

Soft blue optics flashed white with shock and Bluestreak's field flared sharply with distress that his doorwings displayed. The display, combined with Smokescreen's, was enough to garner more than a bit of attention from those who had any clue about wing language.

Bluestreak started to shake. "But... but..." he couldn't even find words for how horrified he was. Not just at his thoughts in the new light, but that they were still alive. "If they loved him, like they do each other... how... why?"

Sunstreaker huffed, glancing at his unhappy looking twin. "Because there was no spark bond, all right? It's this whole thing, Jazz can't bond, they were waiting until he could and don't you dare let that get out." He gave the young mech his most threatening look. "I mean it. Not a word."

"They're alive until they can repay those that were responsible for it, and after that," Sideswipe said in a low voice, and made a slicing motion across his neck with his hand.

Smokescreen pulled a chair out for the numb-looking Bluestreak. "Sit," he said.

Bluestreak complied, shocked to actual silence by what he was hearing. When his processor finally stopped spinning, he focused on Smokescreen. "What reputation will it give them, if they have a third?" he asked timidly. "It's different because it's Prime?"

Smokescreen mused that over for a moment. "...You know, actually, Prime played that really well. If he invoked it as a Prime's Right, they can't say no. They actually can't say no, so their reputation is intact. Well, besides rumors of them 'facing their way to the top but they're already at the top."

"And there'll be no end to the speculation about what they actually do," Sideswipe snickered.

"Well it had better be nothing is all I have to say about it," Sunstreaker snarled.

Bluestreak focused on him. "But why not? If it's okay, legal and all that, why shouldn't they all enjoy it? Well, assuming they enjoy it, but why wouldn't they enjoy it? It's Prime. Just standing near him makes me feel better. He's really amazing..."

Smokescreen chuckled and patted his fellow Praxian on the shoulder. "Should we try to convince him to ask you next?" he teased.

Bluestreak quivered and moaned softly, his doorwings beginning to flutter. "Oh yes. I'd love that. Why would he even look at me though? I'm just a rookie sniper, a nobody, and I don't think he likes being around me. Not that I can really blame him, I know I'm really annoying when I can't stop talking and..."

~What has your cabling in a knot?~ Sideswipe poked at his twin as Bluestreak rattled on to Smokescreen, who smiled warmly and listened.

~If they'd said no they wouldn't have been there for joors,~ Sunstreaker muttered.

~Didn't you hear Smokey? They can't say no,~ Sideswipe pointed out. ~More to the point, why shouldn't they enjoy it? They were both there. It's not like one of them was cheating.~

~Oh, please,~ Sunstreaker said. ~You think if they didn't want to Optimus would have made them stay? And yeah they were both there but why would they stay? It's Jazz, it has to be Jazz.~

Sideswipe scowled. ~Prowl's the one that was in Prime's berth within orns of Jazz being declared deactivated. Maybe Prime gives them something for whatever he's getting.~

~Yeah, and he was back out the nanoklik Jazz was back! You know just as well as I do that Jazz gets the final say in everything they do, it's-~ He faltered for a moment. ~It's like you and me,~ he mumbled, then quickly hurried on. ~So unless Jazz is getting bored with Prowl, why would they frag Prime?~

~Because Prime asked them to and he ranks everybody,~ Sideswipe suggested. ~It's hard to say no to that mech. Maybe we should ask, since neither of us has a clue. Prowl's always been straight with us.~

~You know what? Yeah,~ Sunstreaker said, growling. ~The next time I see that sneaky, scrawny little...~

~Sunny!~ Sideswipe hit his brother hard on the shoulder to knock his processor out of its current alignment. ~That's a command officer you're threatening. I don't want to spend the rest of the war with you in the brig, or worse.~

Sunstreaker was about to snarl back when both twins noticed Smokescreen and Bluestreak staring at them.

"You two, ah, all right there?" Smokescreen asked.

"Fine," Sunstreaker muttered. "Just fine."

"Uh-huh," Smokescreen said, not convinced.

"Sunny here's just having a moment," Sideswipe added in a loud whisper.

"Don't call me that!" Sunstreaker did snarl and lunged for his brother in a full familial rage.

"Hey!" Sideswipe yipped, then growled back and fell into the wrestling fight with gleeful gusto.

"Are they always like this?" Bluestreak asked cautiously.

"Pretty much," Smokescreen sighed and smoothly pulled Bluestreak out of the way of a sudden shift in the rolling mechs.

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It had taken nine orns to find Jazz somewhere Sunstreaker was actually allowed to be when he was also off duty or otherwise able to get to the location. Right now it seemed like too perfect an opportunity to miss. Jazz was in one of the general training rooms. Not even the officer ones, or down in Ops, but the same set of chambers that Sunstreaker used to fight when there wasn't a battle to keep him busy.

He also knew that Prowl was recently in tactical and probably deeply immersed in his work, so he would have as much time as he wanted to tell Jazz exactly what he thought of this stunt with Prime.

Jazz was fighting a drone, unarmed to the drone's dagger, and as soon as he heard the door open behind he paused the program and turned, and surprise flickered over his face. "Sunstreaker," he said flatly.

"You have some explaining to do," the larger yellow warrior growled in the full menacing display that had been perfected in the fighting pits, refined in the arena and expected in the war.

"...Uh huh," Jazz said, looking him up and down and settling back into a deceptively relaxed stance. "Why don't you try snarling what I'm supposed to explain, first?"

"Being in Prime's berth," Sunstreaker snapped and stalked closer, his field warning of his close-to-unhinged state. "Isn't Prowl good enough for you?"

Jazz couldn't quite stop the laugh. "You're here because you think I'm giving Prowl up for Optimus?" he said, and started a careful circling of the former gladiator. "You get hit a few too many times? Circuits finally loose?"

"What other explanation is there?" Sunstreaker snapped as he joined in the circling on pure reflex, not even thinking about it as he judged combat worthiness, strengths and weaknesses. "Unless it's Radiance you're trying to leave behind. He always was with Prowl, not you."

Jazz's outraged shriek split the air as he attacked, claws out, going right for the face. Sunstreaker stopped the claws with his arm and Jazz sank in, using the leverage to pull himself up, slashing with his other hand. "Don't you dare talk about Radiance like you know anything!" he shouted, only absently noting Sunstreaker's surprise at the extent of his savagery.

"Maybe if you weren't a glitched freak I would have!" Sunstreaker roared back, drawing his face and vulnerable optics away while he grabbed Jazz's neck with his free hand and squeezed. It was a grip long perfected to cut off dataflow and energy, dropping a mech into light stasis within a quarter klik if done right.

Jazz grabbed at the hand and wrapped his legs around just one of Sunstreaker's and yanked back, toppling the larger mech and landing a punch square across his jaw. "Maybe if you and your slagging brother hadn't acted just like your fragging sire!"

"That's right, blame a couple new sparklings for your problems." Sunstreaker used the momentum to curl his free leg to land knee-first on as much of Jazz as he could. "You were the one who let him get you sparked up." He slammed his upper body down, causing Jazz's armor and arm-strut to creek ominously. You're the one who couldn't tell your sparklings apart from some monster." He swung a hard punch, ignoring the slicing of claws through his face-plates. "You are the one who Could Not Kill Him."

"If you had any idea what I lived through just to keep you alive!" Jazz snarled. "I should have just let Prowl abort you when he offered, everything would have been so much easier!" Jazz dug into the neck, slammed up with his leg and the blade that shot out from his knee, but no amount of thrashing could get him out from beneath Sunstreaker. The frontliner was too big, too heavily armored and far too angry to care about damage.

"You should have!" Sunstreaker roared back and pounded into Jazz's face with a fist. "You should have killed us when you had the chance! But you couldn't do that, you couldn't even let your mate merge with you once! How can you love him when you couldn't do that tiny thing!"

Jazz groaned, helm thrown back, helm dented from the strength of one of the few mecha alive who could rival his armor. The tension drained from his frame and his visor flickered oddly as he looked up at Sunstreaker, who was snarling down at him with the last traces of recognition and sanity fleeing. "Fine," Jazz hissed. "So say I don't love Prowl, why the frag are you even here, huh? Something you want?" A smirk split Jazz's face and he pressed his hips up, grinding against his youngest creation. "Go on, everyone else wants to."

Combat-white optics had no recognition behind them. The field of the mech that powered them was wild, lacking completely in the markers of a sentient being. This entity understood only three things. To fight. To take. To fuel.

With the sudden submission of the frame under him, Sunstreaker's spike slid out. One hand grabbed both of Jazz's to pin them while his other hand reached down to rip the valve cover away.

Jazz's muffled his shriek by biting down on his lip and the visual of Sunstreaker above him was cut with flashing memories of Vortex. "Knew you were just like him," he gasped. Pain tore through him as the big spike rammed in, spreading him open ruthlessly. It was rough and suitable to a mech larger than Sunstreaker, crafted to make a good display in the arenas that liked this ending. Designed to draw just enough energon for the crowd.

Sunstreaker just grunted as he thrust, taking a pleasure in the mixture of all the terrors of his life that had hardened him and pouring it into abusing the frame under him.

"No wonder you couldn't just-leave me alone," Jazz managed, clinging to the frontliner, sinking into the armor and holding on, fighting off flashbacks of a spike larger and harsher than this one. It hurt, and part of it felt good to let this hurting creature hurt him back. Above him the bright yellow monster, and it truly was a mindless monster ultimately of Jazz's creation, only grunted and thrust, the charge in its system rising quickly.

A distance away, Jazz heard pedesteps running in, a single mech of good size, and the gasp of raw shock that froze the newcomer in his place.

He vaguely wondered what the view was like from where the mech was standing when he felt Sunstreaker snarl and tense above him, rhythm breaking, distracted. "Finish it," he hissed. The newcomer came close enough for Jazz to recognize Sideswipe and it wasn't hard to work out what had drawn him.

Suddenly Sunstreaker was pounding away again and strong black hands grabbed Jazz's battered helm to tip his face back. A spike as large as the one between his legs, burnished brilliant red with a jagged black bolt down each side was pressed against his lips.

"You want it finished, we'll finish," Sideswipe hissed.

"Finally," Jazz snarled, baring his denta at the red twin before opening his mouth.

He choked at the first push-it had been millennia since he'd taken anything that big that fast-but he'd had a smaller frame than this, even then, and this spike didn't tear into him when it came back out. Fingers flexed in Sunstreaker's grip as the pin was transferred smoothly to Sideswipe's knees. A sharp engine whine was lost beneath the roars of the two above, and Jazz didn't fight any of it.

Intake flexed, valve cycled, and he gave his power and control away to his creations, he'd be whatever they needed. In that distant place he'd retreated to, he saw them lean over him and kiss, their hands moving with the attention of long-time lovers. Sunstreaker's field began to normalize even as Sideswipe's jacked up, and between them they teeked aroused but no longer insane.

Sunstreaker moaned into his brother's mouth and Sideswipe's arousal shot up, driving his hips harder, faster, matching his brother's pace.

The jumble of memories eased somewhat, seeing that, seeing they had each other, and slowly, Jazz relaxed, his claws retracted. He could live with being the enemy. He was strong enough for that. The abuse of his frame was going to help all of them some way, he wanted the release that he knew was coming, could feel was coming, and he moaned in anticipation for it.

And some small part of him, some sliver of his spark, was validated.

Sunstreaker's hands went to Jazz's hips and gripped them, crushingly tight as he gave the last few thrusts with grunts that turned into a bellow with the first flood of hot transfluid. Right on cute Sideswipe's pace shifted, and within a couple strokes he was pumping crackling fluid down Jazz's throat, driven as much by his brother's overload as his own.

~Again?~ Sideswipe pushed through the bond when Sunstreaker finally stilled, panting above their carrier.

~No,~ the younger twin murmured. Not that his arousal was cleared completely, or the rage, but he'd settled enough.

~Punishment won't get any worse if we do more.~ Sideswipe leaned forward to kiss him. ~It's not like we're going to get out of the brig anytime soon. Not after this.~

~You shouldn't have.~ Sunstreaker murmured despite his gratitude that his brother had joined in. It had probably saved Jazz's life, which meant it had saved theirs.

~Yeah, but what's the point of being free if you aren't.~ Sideswipe cracked a grin and pulled his hips back, freeing Jazz's mouth.

Jazz pulled a gasping, much-needed intake, flooding his systems with cooler air and shuddering, caught between lingering arousal and his entire frame aching. He lifted his helm to look at Sunstreaker, plating heaving as it tried to flush out the heat. "Get what you wanted?" he asked dully.

The yellow warrior looked at him, then pulled out, leaving a trail of transfluid from Jazz's valve. He was silent for a long klik before x-venting harshly. "What I want can't be had."

"Can't get back some things," Sideswipe shrugged before wiping his spike clean with a rag he pulled from subspace while his brother did the same. "I think you know that better than most."

"Don't you..." Sunstreaker growled at his brother, only to still from a simple look. "Yeah, don't have to like it."

"Nobody does," Sideswipe shrugged, looking down at Jazz. "We won't fight security, but they'll probably send half a dozen anyway."

Jazz just shrugged and rolled onto his side, steadying his frame before he pushed himself up onto one arm. Transfluid began to leak from his abused valve, but it was the least of his concerns. "And we're not, by the way," he said, looking over his shoulder at Sunstreaker. "Fragging the Prime, that is. We recharge and interface in his berth because our fields help him. Our fragging love helps him."

"You know I said ask Prowl," Sideswipe groaned at his brother in exasperation. "Seriously, I swear you're trying to get us executed sometimes."

"Like Prowl would know if Jazz was hurting him," Sunstreaker huffed. "Mech's blind to him."

Jazz couldn't quite stifle his snicker. "You won't get executed. Honestly you're only really in trouble if someone was monitoring the right cameras. You think I'd report that?"

Two bewildered sets of faceplates focused on him.

"Why wouldn't you?" Sideswipe stepped into his role as speaker for them. "I've got a pretty good idea what happened before I arrived," he motioned at Jazz's battered frame and what he'd seen.

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. ~Planning to get even on his own.~

~So we'll be dead without the trial. Probably better.~ Sideswipe could only shrug.

"Yeah, and?" Jazz said, gingerly feeling over the worst of the dents. "Wouldn't be the first time." His voice dipped into a low mutter they could only just barely hear. "Strong enough to fight back now."

"Still not stronger than me," Sunstreaker growled and suddenly Sideswipe had him by a helm fin and was dragging him away.

"Don't you dare try for round two after he let us go," the red twin hissed harshly.

Jazz just watched them go before looking back down at himself and shuddering. ::Prowl?:: he whispered. ::I ... need help.::

::Where are you?:: Prowl asked, and Jazz knew he was already moving for the door to whatever room he was in at the moment as well as pinging the mainframe for Jazz's location.

::Same place as you left me,:: Jazz said, and couldn't help his self-deprecating smile. ::Little bit worse for wear now.::

::Who's not coming back from the next battle?:: Prowl growled, furious and demanding even as he accessed the security logs to the training room.

::No, no one, you don't-:: Jazz said, and remembered the logs a moment too late. ::Prowl, love ... just let them go, don't do anything.::

Jazz knew the instant Prowl saw the who because the comm line went completely dead for a full quarter klik.

::All ... right.:: Prowl replied, shaken as he forced himself to move again, still watching the fight from the vid download. ::Jazz!:: his mental screech when he saw it turn into something more than a fight was of pure horror just before he burst in, the door only barely opening in time.

Jazz winced. "Can you ... possibly ... not mention my designation when those logs come up missing?" he asked, carefully prodding at the dent in his helm.

"Love, you can't even stand. I don't think we can keep this out of medical," Prowl said gently as he knelt to carefully assess the damage he could see, a sudden calm moving through him as he was faced with the immediate task of helping his injured Lord. "You made the right choice, giving in. He would have torn you apart if you hadn't submitted. When his glitch acts up, he can't control it any more than you or I can when ours do. It's an autopilot. Now Sideswipe, he knew what he was doing, but it was probably to calm his brother down." His hands continued to explore, pausing when he reached where the valve cover should have been and realizing it had been ripped off. A glance around told him where it was. "If you don't press charges it can be made to go away, but I don't know if I can stop all inquiries given your injuries."

Prowl hesitated, thinking as he spoke. "Unless you're willing to tell Ratchet that this was entirely consensual."

"I started the fight," Jazz murmured, then hissed sharply as very careful, gentle fingers touched the bruised lining. "And goaded him on. Sure, fine, I'll tell him it was consensual. Or that I couldn't see who it was. They don't deserve blame for this."

Prowl nodded his acceptance. "Better to say it was consensual. If it is unknown it will set off an investigation. I am going to call Ratchet. You shouldn't walk."

"Was hoping you were going to say I could walk it off," Jazz muttered, idly watching his vision feed glitching as he turned his helm from side to side. He hacked his way into the security network to look up the logs and began entering the override codes to delete them. "Thank you for coming," he murmured, leaning against his mate, as his frame began to protest holding himself upright.

"Always," Prowl murmured in reply. They held there, still and supporting each other and their strange, glitched and very dysfunctional family in silence until the medics, lead by one very unhappy Ratchet, barged into the room.

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"What do you think he has planned for us?" Sideswipe asked absently as he made his way to one of the officer's training rooms where Prowl had asked them to meet him.

"What would I do if someone treated you like that?" Sunstreaker asked in return.

"He's not that good, not against both of us," Sideswipe pointed out with a shrug.

"Not if he doesn't fight fair," Sunstreaker said, and resettled his armor tightly around himself. "Which I wouldn't." He thought about it for a few moments and the piles of mecha he'd left behind in the past for lesser offenses than the one they'd committed. "Maybe it won't be quite that bad."

"Yeah. Doesn't seem his style though," Sideswipe muttered before shaking himself out as they paused in front of the door. "Ready?"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. "When am I not ready?" he asked, palming at the door and finding himself only half surprised when it opened to his authorization.

"I did request your presence," Prowl said from inside. He was alone, settled calmly in his warm up sequence. "Come in, we have things to discuss."

The twins approached cautiously, scanning the layout, available obstacles, and overall tactical structure of the room as they moved closer to Prowl, stances that almost looked calm, but to their sire, were actively prepared for defense. They both twitched slightly when they heard the door lock behind them. Neither were sure whether to be relieved, shocked or concerned to find the space functionally devoid of everything. It was an empty room with a mech to one side of the training circle. Nothing that would normally be unusual, but was more than a little unnerving given the setup.

"Jazz is calling what happened consensual," Prowl dove right into the subject matter as he motioned the pair to take their places. "I know roughly a third of what happened on his side was related to his glitch. I want to hear your side now."

Sideswipe glared at his twin. "Yeah, why don't we go over our side of it."

Sunstreaker glared back. "Well I already told you he wouldn't have a clue, so I had to ask Jazz!" he said, gesturing at Prowl.

"Because that went well," Sideswipe muttered, and then they both looked at their sire and the focused patience on his face and cringed a little. "It started when Bluestreak came in talking about a rumor going around that the Prime had asked you and Jazz to his berth. I wanted to just leave it alone-"

"-You did not!" Sunstreaker said.

"I did too," Sideswipe retorted calmly. "Sunny here thought it had to mean that Jazz didn't want you anymore or that he was using you to get to Prime or some crazy notion, I don't even know. I told him to ask you about it."

"And I decided to ask Jazz instead," Sunstreaker shrugged.

"Looking for a fight, or because you truly don't trust my assessment?" Prowl asked calmly.

"Not ... your assessment, necessarily," Sunstreaker said slowly, carefully. "I just ... I don't know how clear you think when it comes to Jazz. You'd let him get away with anything."

"And he wanted a fight," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker glared at his brother.

"He allows me to get away with anything as well," Prowl said simply. "Something I have taken advantage of more than he does. I do understand the need for a fight. Did you get what you needed from it to be calm around him for a while?"

"Yes," Sunstreaker rumbled triumphantly.

"What do you get away with?" Sideswipe asked curiously. "It just looks like him 'facing around behind your back from the outside."

"Every time he is away from base I'm with Optimus," Prowl pointed out. "Which is something a good deal more of a gift given his 'facing around is more about a glitch than what I do with Prime." His gaze turned serious. "Vortex did a lot of damage to his coding, and I did more getting the three of you out alive. What we have may not be normal out here, but it works for us."

The twins glanced at each other. They could understand that, better than most.

"He said something like that," Sunstreaker mumbled, looking at his pedes. "About what it took to keep us alive."

"Right before he said he wishes he'd aborted you," Sideswipe hissed.

"Which came after Sunstreaker accused him of trying to replace our deactivated third," Prowl actually growled, his doorwings lifting in a distinct threat-rage posture as his optics flashed. "I don't expect you have the Praxian coding to grasp what that means, so here it is a way you might. It is at least as bad as being accused of trying to replace a deactivated twin. We are shunned simply for not following Radiance to the Well." Prowl took a step towards them with a hint of the madness that knew all too well in themselves, and especially in Sunstreaker. "It is good for you I was not there or you would not have walked away from saying something like that about our third. Radiance is our third, alive or not. Triads do not end with deactivation."

They flinched away from that rage in someone they knew full well could follow up on that threat. Jazz was fire and uncontrolled rage that funneled into physical attacks. Those were easier to fight. Prowl was cold and calculating and when he decided to destroy something, it was destroyed.

"We'd never mean to..." Sideswipe said.

"Not about you," Sunstreaker muttered, and his twin elbowed him sharply in the side, getting a growl in return, and then a reluctant, "Or Jazz."

"And we do," Sideswipe added quickly, very obviously trying to change the subject to something that wouldn't get his idiot of a brother killed. "Have some of the Praxian coding, that is. At least, we think we do."

"Time will tell," Prowl forced himself to calm down. Jazz was letting it go. Radiance would insist that they did. He needed to. "If you have enough to matter, you'll be drawn to a third that suits you both." He regarded the pair quietly. "Likely something of a homebody, with high intelligence and a caregiver inclination."

Sunstreaker snorted. "That sounds boring as Pit, Prowl."

"Seriously," Sideswipe grinned. "Why aren't we expecting an exotic dancer, here?"

"Because coding does still draw us to form a triad with similar characteristics to the Seekers we descended from. Praxians are far more relaxed about the roles in a triad than Seekers are in a trine, but the stable ones all have the same traits present. There will be a leader, a long range guardian/hunter and a caretaker of the home and creations. Since neither of you are the caretaker type, that is what Praxian coding would draw your towards."

"All long as they can be a sexy as Pit dancer, too," Sideswipe said, shrugging at his twin. "Whaddya think?"

"I think you should focus a bit more on surviving the war," Sunstreaker growled. "We can buy fragging dancing lessons if it's that important."

"Ah, but nothing dances like a mecha who enjoys it," Prowl purred deeply, his tone speaking of very personal experience as arousal flickered across his field. "You really should have seen Jazz before the war frame. He was stunning."

Sunstreaker made a strange noise and his face contorted a little. "Don't need to think about that, Prowl," he said, as Sideswipe made a similar expression.

An evil little grin crossed Prowl's features and his doorwings perked up just a tiny bit. "Just stop thinking about him as your carrier for a bit and appreciate the lines he has. The sense of balance on a pole is amazing. We had one installed in our first real apartment. He used it to very good effect when he wanted to get me riled up enough to fill him to bursting. He was very good with that." He paused and cocked his helm thoughtfully. "I bet there's plenty of scrap laying around that could be forged into a solid pole for our berthroom, too. He hasn't danced for me in far too long. I'm sure Optimus would appreciate the effect as well."

Sideswipe actually did hum and cock his helm. "Y'know, without the war upgrades, actually..."

Sunstreaker gave his twin a chagrined look. "Stop that! Oh, gross, stop imagining that!"

"Well you're the one that fragged him!" Sideswipe shot back. "For Primus's sake!"

"That was-you know what that was," Sunstreaker snarled, and then looked startled, and the disgusted look came back. "Would you please stop imagining that!" He gave Prowl a pleading look. "Don't you have more yelling or something?"

"I think this is a rather better punishment," Prowl chuckled with dark amusement and pinged them a folder of high-quality vids and images of Jazz dancing, not that the twins recognized most of the frames. "Perhaps you should come by to watch him sometime."

"He's ... really good," Sideswipe said, scrolling through without checking any of the other tags, and Sunstreaker hesitantly looked with him.

Prowl knew the moment they ran into the first blatantly explicit dance, recorded in Simfur, because they blanched together and choked.

"Prowl!" they protested.

"He is exquisite, isn't he?" Prowl responded, undeniably proud of his mate and pleased to share that pride.

"Yeah but not like-well maybe to you he-but not with his-" Sunstreaker stammered.

"-Whoa," they said in unison, and Sideswipe grabbed his twin's arm.

"Right," he said, voice unusually strained. "We're, ah, we're leaving. Right now. Sunny? Follow please!"

Sunstreaker allowed himself to be dragged away, optics still bright as he stared as the video running in his main processor.

Prowl chuckled as he watched his youngest creations escape through the door and pinged Optimus with a non-urgent personal comm request.

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"Well color me surprised, look who it is!" came Ironhide's drawl as Jazz entered the common rec room and headed for an empty table. His voice was too loud for it to be an accident that most of the room heard. "I thought he spent all'a his free time on his back!"

The others at his table, a mix of unranked mecha and some junior officers, looked at each other a little nervously about the idea of mocking a department SIC, but with Ironhide's command rank, they seemed to decide it was acceptable and snickered along.

"Nah, sometimes I'm on my knees. Prowl likes that too," Jazz responded cheerfully as he relaxed in a nearby chair. "You should try it sometime. Your aim might get better if you got laid now and then."

Ironhide looked startled at the comeback for a moment before he snorted. "Way I hear it, it's more'n jus' Prowl enjoys your services. Your self-respect might get better if you closed 'em for half an orn."

Jazz hummed as if he was considering that, then shook his helm. "Nah, I like it the way I am. Jealous, big boy? Can't find anybody willing to spread your legs?"

"Not ev'ryone feels the need to act like a buymech," Ironhide growled. "An' what self-respectin' Autobot likes to get his helm bashed in just for a lousy 'face?"

Jazz paused, then scowled, though he kept the flicker of protective anger for his creation to himself. "You seriously can't tell the difference between foreplay and a victory 'face? No wonder no one will touch you."

"I heard you told Ratchet it was a consensual frag," Ironhide shrugged dismissively. "And I get some when I want it, I just don't feel the need to parade my parts around base like a glitched-out pleasurebot. Much less lower myself to accepting whatever you like to."

"It's consensual when you agree to it for the terms of the spar," Jazz shrugged, then cocked his helm. "You're glitching because Prime asked me an' Prowler to his berth and never asked you! You are jealous! Or is it because you're one of the few who hasn't gotten between my legs, mmm? Feeling left out, are you?"

"What?-I, no-what?" Ironhide spluttered. "No! I just don't think having a freak like you wandering around base looks good on th' Prime! Don't think everyone doesn't know th' freakish things you get up to in yer berth!"

"But you need to bring it up," Jazz actually purred as he rolled in the chair to sprawl seductively across it backwards. "What's your need that isn't getting fulfilled? That is what you need buymech for, after all, and you think I'm one. So what is it you need a freak to do for you?"

The room had gone silent over the course of the exchange as everyone stopped pretending they weren't listening and actually began openly looking, most optics on an incensed-looking Ironhide, who was staring open-mouthed at the SpecOps mech.

"That is not-" Ironhide growled. "I mean, I don't-no! That is just-just-it's none of your business is what it is," he finally muttered. "Some of us actually know the difference between public and private."

"You're the one that brought it up," Jazz pointed out reasonably. "Though if you really need to finish negotiations in private I can do that, but it'll cost you extra."

Ironhide spluttered for a few more moments, then stood with his palms flat on the table. "Ahm not gonna sit here and listen to this," he growled at Jazz, then stalked his way to the door. "Fraggin' indecent."

"Come back when you're ready!" Jazz waved after him cheerfully before settling back in his chair the way it was meant to be used and humming happily to himself, pretending to ignore the stares but silently making note of which mecha had which expression. More than a few looked, well, interested, and Jazz couldn't hide his grin.

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It was quite a few orns later when Jazz and Prowl entered the Prime's quarters once more. They hadn't had any more work that usual, but Prowl could be possessive when lower ranked mecha had their hands on Jazz and their spikes in him and Jazz had been busy getting his freak on with various mecha who had approached him after his very public verbal sparring match with Ironhide.

The Prime wasn't in, but when they entered the berthroom both immediately took note of the addition: a very solidly secured dance pole. While it had been buffed and polished to a fine shine it also had the distinctive coloration of metal that had been through battle and acid rain. A piece of scrap then, not even good enough to salvage, but good enough to make a pole out of.

Jazz's visor brightened immediately and he wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist from behind and bit down lightly on his shoulder. "Was this your idea, then, lover?" he purred.

"Yes," Prowl purred back, pressing into the contact. "Had a little chat with the twins and it reminded me just how enjoyable it was to have a pole in the berthroom. Prime quite agreed it seems."

"Mm, so I guess I get to see how much of this I've forgotten," Jazz chuckled, looking the pole up and down. "Wow, I haven't pole danced in ... what, millennia and a half?"

"Far, far too long," Prowl rumbled, delighted and excited that Jazz responded so favorably to the small gift. It wasn't much, not in Prowl's optics, but it was more than he'd been able to give in a long time. He turned in his lover's arms and kissed him soundly. "Now, what rules are we playing by?"

Jazz nipped his lower lip. "How about the rule that you can't laugh while I try to remember which way is up on that thing," he said, teasing himself. "Mm, and no touching until I touch you first."

"Agreed," Prowl gave his love a last kiss and backed away to lounge on the berth. "No one will laugh at you here."

A half grin crossed Jazz's face as he went up to the pole to examine it, getting a feel for the texture and diameter, then giving it a few hard tugs to make sure of its stability. "Wait until I fall on my aft and then tell me that," he said, then jumped up, grabbing hold. Prowl heard the hum of magnets engaging and Jazz stuck there for a moment, then climbed up before spinning around, holding on with one hand and bracing against his pedes.

His purring engines were already audible.

"Even that you'll manage to make seductive," Prowl's engine rumbled in reply as he eagerly watched his lover begin to move and the joy it brought Jazz to dance once more.

It became very quickly obvious that Jazz was far more focused on the actual dancing than actively trying to arouse his mate as he went through old routines, stretching and twisting through the dances, moving to a silent beat. But even that, even just the dancing, had always been designed to seduce, and when he did a spinning flip so that he was hanging upside down, knee crooked around the pole, one hand sliding along its length while the other held on behind his back, his engine revved. "Oh, Ops training works so well for this!" he all but cheered, and the next set of spins and twists were dizzying.

"He is amazing," Optimus's low rumble to Prowl was intended not to startle the dancer at having a new admirer.

"Yes, he always has been." Prowl purred with utter pride at the smooth movements. "Today's rules are no laughing and no touching until he touches. Though the second one might not apply to you."

"I imagine not," Optimus chuckled, moving into the room. Jazz offered him a grin and a wave but stayed focused on his movements while the larger mech moved to settle behind Prowl on the berth. "I can touch you, though, yes?" he rumbled, hands slipping easily around Prowl's waist.

"Nothing below there," Jazz said, and slowly lowered himself back down to the ground. Back to the pole, wings flared open and wanting, he lifted his hands over his helm and dimmed his visor, starting to move.

He moved around the pole like it was his partner in the dance, caressing and stroking for tantalizing kliks before hooking a knee around it to help him spin, then lowering himself down onto his back. His hands went down along his frame and his legs lifted up and open. Magnets on the bottoms of his pedes fastened down and he pulled himself up with them until his weight was on his shoulders and he was grinding against the pole, and his fingers started to trace his spike panel.

Within three kliks Prowl let a whine of want escape and he pressed back, against Optimus, grinding against the larger mech almost as wantonly as his lover was the pole.

Jazz purred as the cover slipped back, but he moved his hands away and lowered himself back down before spinning up to his feet and beginning the dance again. This time, when he shimmied up and down, they could see his valve was bared and glistening in the light. When he thrust his hips against the metal, he left it wet and dropped to his knees, running his glossa up along the spot, licking it clean.

Up and down along the pole, around it, a mix of dance, training, and raw seductive pleasure taken just from the act itself, and by the next time he paused to gather himself, facing his lover and the Prime, his spike was almost halfway out. He thrust forward into the air, helm thrown back, until he heard Prowl's next whine and lifted his helm to look.

The Praxian was trembling, rubbing against the larger mech at his back with his optics locked onto his love. Valve bared and spike standing hard and proud, he was openly and silently pleading for Jazz to join him.

"Aw, lover," Jazz purred, and pushed away from the pole to glide forward. "But I'm havin' so much fun with your present." He dropped down to his knees in front of him, and brought his lips just almost to the spike, x-venting hot air from his engines directly onto the sensitive, aching metal.

Prowl arched with a moaning keen. "Please," his field flared out, expressing just how badly he wanted his mate to touch.

"Please, is it," Jazz breathed, rising smoothly, and very carefully stepped onto the berth, pedes on either side of Prowl's thighs, and swayed his own hips as he stroked his spike. When Prowl twitched, Jazz grinned down at him. "I suppose you did get me a very fun toy," he said, and carefully lowered down so that his valve hovered over the tip of Prowl's spike, close enough for the Praxian to feel the heat but still not touching. "Should I make it all better, babe?" he purred, looking into optics that were not fully focused, then lowered himself down, sinking onto the spike in a slow, controlled motion.

Prowl's arms shot out to wrap around his lover as his hips rolled up, using Optimus as a brace that gained so much from their passion and how freely it flowed from their devotion to each other. He pressed his face against Jazz's chest, kissing as he urged Jazz to move.

"Shh," Jazz soothed, arms circling around Prowl's neck and helm, rocking so, so slowly. "Let me take care of you," he whispered, kissing the top of his lover's helm. "Make you feel good."

A deep, trembling moan escaped Prowl as he leaned back a bit to comply. "You always do," he gasped out, reveling in the physical pleasure, the presence of his mate and the soothing warmth of the Prime's field as they wrapped around each other in the building bliss centered on Prowl.

"There you go," Jazz murmured, and settled in there, focused completely on easing the ache in his mate's frame, rippling his valve around him and running his glossa up along one side of the chevron every time he pushed up, swirling around the tip and sucking as he held there, spike barely inside him. He repeated that over and over, caressing the other half in his fingers, while his free hand wandered over a doorwing.

Optimus watched and teeked, quiet and still, but his field quivered as it mixed with theirs, the sensation heightening every time they were fully joined and he found himself looking forward to the moments when Jazz would sink back down as much as the lovers were. As much as Jazz was forcing a slow pace, he was just as wanting as his mate was, and it was beginning to show in the trembles of his frame.

No matter which one of them started out in control, no matter the context or intensity of that control, they equalized by the finish, Optimus had quickly learned. Slow or fast, he loved watching it happen and feeling them come into perfect, devoted alignment every time. Such perfection had been rare before the war, and now was a blessing of the highest order for a Prime who needed it so badly.

It wasn't long before Prowl's moans took on a new harmonic, a warning that his ability to control his frame was slipping.

Timed down to the nanoklik, Jazz's hips shifted so he could fully impale himself and he drove down, shuddering with each push, until he was completely lost to the motions. "Prowl," he moaned, helm thrown back. "Prowl-Radiance, Prowl!"

Prowl's deeper voice chanted right along with him, their voices matched when they called out to their lost mate, mingling their designations when calling the other. The designation turned into a scream when Jazz toppled over into overload, his mate going with him. Energy crackled through them, pumped in liquid form directly into the most sensitive sensors in Jazz's frame as Prowl held him tightly, words reduced to harmonics of bliss and unity until Jazz collapsed against Prowl and Prowl sank back against Optimus.

Optimus's hands slipped around each of their waists and he moved to help settle them in his berth before he curled beside and around them, basking in the glow of their fields as they slipped into recharge.

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

Prowl was gone on assignment for longer than he'd ever been since becoming the CTO and Jazz had tried, unsuccessfully, to recharge in his personal quarters in Ops for the last three nights.

Three partial, fitful recharges and he was halfway into the fourth night, and couldn't even bring himself to shut down. The berth was cold and it hurt being alone in it like this. Sitting up, he wondered when that had started, when he'd become unable to recharge without another warm frame there.

He gave up and made his way up out of Ops and back into the old archive building, heading for the very center to where Prime's residence had been constructed and where he'd recharged for most of his nights in Iacon, hesitated, then pinged an entrance request.

There was nearly a full quarter klik delay to the response, then the door slid open for him. "Come in, Jazz," Prime's deep voice rolled out from the berthroom. "I hope you've come to recharge with me."

Jazz entered slowly, a little unsure about being here without Prowl, and crept to the berthroom, then lingered in the entrance. "I ... if that's all right," he said, shifting his weight from pede to pede.

"It is," Optimus assured him. "You are always welcome here. It is why I gave you the codes to my door."

"Right, yeah," Jazz said, offering a half grin as he walked over. "I wasn't sure if that counted when Prowler's away." He climbed into the berth and settled down with distance still between him and the Prime.

"It does," Optimus did not cross the distance, respecting Jazz's need to find his own way. He merely extended his field and allowed that warmth and support to speak for his willingness to be what Jazz needed tonight.

Jazz shifted a little restlessly. "Tried recharging in Ops, didn't really work."

"That is what brings Prowl to my berth when you are away," Optimus said. "I understand it has been a long time since either of you voluntarily recharged apart."

Jazz barked a laugh. "The last time we voluntarily recharged apart I was a youngling. And ... I guess it was easier, with Radiance. Not that if we had any real choice about it we weren't all in the same berth."

"It was still warm and he was safe," Optimus suggested. "It might not have been perfect, but you were not alone. Alone has long been a bad thing for Prowl. It meant danger."

"Yeah," Jazz sighed, and he knew that Optimus meant further back than the war or even Vortex. Jazz had learned things about his family and the mecha they considered friends that had made him shudder to think about. Much of it was from how close he'd come to being just like them, that he would have been just like them but for Prowl being allowed the part in his upbringing that he'd held. "Glad he has you, I hate to think of him alone, I ... I miss Radiance, for that." A bitter smile. "Among other things."

"Your very spark misses him, misses being complete," Optimus said gently. "You had a taste of perfection, of being whole, and it was taken away before you had your fill. I am glad I can be here for you both. You've given me so much more than I can explain."

Jazz nodded, but his optics were unfocused, and he'd barely heard the Prime's words. "We never really ... the blocker, I was never able to merge with him and I..." He glanced up at the Prime for a moment. "I'm not sure if you heard, about the fight I got into with Sunstreaker?" When Optimus nodded, Jazz hurried forward, not wanting to get into a more detailed recounting of that event. "He said I was trying to replace Radiance, and part of me..." He shuddered, curled in on himself. "Part of me is afraid that because I never merged with him, that I could replace him. And I don't want to, I don't ever want to, and I would give anything except Prowl just to merge with him once, just once, just to have that memory. It hurts," his voice cracked with static, and he reached one hand out to Optimus's chest, brushing the glass. "So much, to remember him, but if I loved him that much, how did I stay alive?"

Optimus brushed gentle fingers along Jazz's arm, to his shoulder and along a doorwing, every bit of it an effort to sooth as he carefully drew the smaller mech against him and enveloped him in his field as much as he could. It ached not to be able to offer the healing Prowl had accepted to Jazz. "You remain for the same reason Prowl does. You are not finished with your frame and what you promised to do. Where Radiance is there is no pain, no sense of time or loss. He is not suffering for your extended stay. You remain because you are still needed."

Jazz's field curled and hid in the Prime's, his frame doing the same in the arms. "Is it selfish to want him back?" he whispered. "Just to make this life easier? We wanted-we wanted a life, Prowl was going to carry for us and I wanted to raise our creation and now-" Another sharp cut of static and his vocalizer shorted and Jazz shook in silence, not even knowing why he talking about this, when all he'd meant to do was recharge on the other side of the berth, but Primus it was a relief to stop smiling for a while.

"No, it is not selfish at all," Optimus said gently as he held the trembling mech and radiated how glad he was that he could provide this safety. "It is natural to want such things, Jazz. Natural and good. It is a sign of living to want it. When you stop wanting, you stop living and become a shell with nothing inside. A dead spark walking. It is good to want the happiness back and to grieve its loss."

Jazz nodded, managed to draw air in to cool over-stressed systems, and pressed as close as he could to the warm frame and soothing field. It wasn't soothing the way Prowl's was, Prowl was safety and love and an extension of his own, but something about Optimus smoothed the jagged edges enough to be bearable, enough to stop feeling them while he was here. A flicker of gratitude when he was calm enough for it and Jazz settled, very slowly, into the embrace and the deep, needed recharge.

He wasn't conscious to see Optimus, his Prime, sink into recharge, nor did he know how much smoother the mech's systems settled with him there. Even in their mutual pain, they offered each other a measure of peace.