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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation	By : TheGatekat Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2755 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation 03: The First Kiss

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Five decaorn after Jazz's arrival and both Jazz and Prowl's orns had fallen into something of a routine. Wake up, clean up, have breakfast together in the common room of their suite, spend a few joors alone together talking, playing games and just getting used to each other, go on Prowl's rounds, training with Master Ziariace, some time alone, dinner with the family, the evening together and then off to their own berthrooms for the night.
It was after dinner and a quiet walk back to their rooms Jazz still had not picked an activity for the evening. Often times they played another game or simply talked. Occasionally they had even taken to meditating together, the presence of another field more comforting than distracting, as Jazz had first feared.
As the door closed behind them Jazz paused, optics scanning the room, seeking some sort of inspiration.
"Jazz," Prowl's voice, his field, contained an uncertain tenor that was strange coming from the normally confident mech.
Concerned, Jazz turned to face him with a small frown. Had he done something wrong? Had something happened? Jazz knew that Prowl had met with his creators earlier in the orn, but everything had seemed normal at dinner.
The taller Praxian wasn't at all relaxed as he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Strong white fingers reached up to cup Jazz's cheek, the touch gentle and field full of affection and a touch of desire.
Jazz tilted his face into the touch as he struggled to get a read on what was going on. He was well past his initial wariness of Prowl, the budding trust between them the result of many joors spent in each other's company.
"Prowl?"
Instead of words, Prowl's response was to lean forward and brush their lips together, the kiss light, chaste and full of questioning.
Jazz's initial reaction was a squeak of surprise, visor flaring with the new but not entirely unwelcome sensation. It was different, and certainly not unpleasant. The exact opposite in fact.
When his advance wasn't rejected, Prowl kissed a little more firmly, his free hand drawing Jazz closer, against his chest.
Jazz didn't fight him, the smaller mech's frame not unwilling, just merely unsure where it touched Prowl's, Jazz's hands still kept to himself.
Prowl's lips moved to caress Jazz's jaw while both his hands shifted to caress Jazz's sides, fingers dipping into seams to tease the wiring inside.
The smaller mech squirmed, the light touches tickling, and settled as they became slightly stronger, firm even pressure that had him relaxing in the Praxian's arms.
When the kiss ended he tilted his helm, looking questioningly up at his intended. "Prowl?"
"I would ... share pleasure with you tonight, if you agree," Prowl struggled with the words. It was so soon, too soon for him, yet he had been told in no uncertain terms that Jazz needed to be carrying no later than a metacycle after the bonding, an event itself that was coming far too fast for Prowl's liking. He had less than three and a half metacycles to take an untouched mech and make him ready to accept not only being bound to another but to creating a new life as well.
Tension instantly ran the entire length of Jazz's frame, emotion swirling uneasily, though he didn't try to pull away. "Pleasure?" He repeated quietly.
A small nod was the reply. "Only touch," Prowl promised. "Nothing with your seals yet."
Black hands came up to trace over the Praxian's frame, clearly unsure of what they were doing but willing enough at the promise.
A faint shiver passed down Prowl's frame. "On a berth, or couch?" he asked, his lips traveling along Jazz's jaw.
"Which is better?" Jazz asked quietly, hesitant and distracted by the touches to his face sending small shivers through his frame.
"Berth," Prowl said without hesitation as he continued to trail kisses down Jazz's jaw until he reached his neck. His hands never stopped exploring Jazz's frame, seeking touches that would make his lover gasp. "Yours or mine?"
He's never been in Prowl's side of the suite, and while he had no illusions of just how much privacy he had in 'his' quarters, they were familiar and safer. "Mine." Jazz whimpered as a hand brushed lightly over abdominal plating "Please."
He felt Prowl's nod more than saw it, and nearly whined when the pleasurable contact pulled away. It was quickly replaced by a more guiding touch to direct them to Jazz's berth room and the soft surface there.
Lips met his as soon as his frame met the berth, refocusing Jazz on the pleasure he had been feeling and not the edge of fear that had crept into his field during the short trip. It was followed by a gentle hand on his helm, stroking along his face soothingly as he was eased back on the berth.
His own hands rose, cautiously mimicking the motions over the Praxian's frame, unsure but feeling that he needed to be doing something.
"Wings," Prowl murmured as one hand stroked a sensor horn and his mouth returned to Jazz's throat. "Chevron."
Hands that had only ever touched to spar glided softly over side armor before finding the base of the elegant wings. Curious fingers rose to slide along the trailing edges first, feeling. The rush of pleasure across Prowl's field and the gasp the Praxian offered spoke volumes of how sensitive the expanses were.
"Yes," Prowl moaned, his wings pressing into the touch, his field reaching out to mesh with Jazz's, wanting to share the pleasure with the mech under him.
Encouraged by the reaction and gasping at the pleasure that surged across the shared fields, Jazz repeated the motion, hands now boldly working over more of the wing surface as he moaned into another kiss.
Any fear that might have been born of the newness was quickly buried under the pleasure of touching and being touched.
The kiss broke again as Prowl's lips moved to caress the bright blue visor, one hand continuing to rub a sensor horn. He settled with his legs along Jazz's and allowed himself to relish a rare treat, even for him. Untouched, legally, meant the valve and spark chamber seals were intact. It was all he'd expected from the file. That his intended hadn't even shared a pleasurable touch was amazing. Something to be treasured, relished, and turned Prowl's focus fully on Jazz's pleasure rather than his own.
The field of the softly moaning mech under him was different too, the edge of tension that seemed to be Jazz's constant companion gone as the smaller mech simply accepted. Dark hands shifted to unconsciously kneading the base of the Praxian's sensor wings.
Pleasure surged through the meshed fields again as Prowl's lips traced visor and facial features, each small touch sending tingles of pleasure through his intended and by default into Prowl.
There was an added element of pleasure in the fact that each new discovery was a revelation to them both.
"Beautiful," Prowl whispered before trailing kisses back to Jazz's lips. His spike wanted out, badly. His valve was slick and eager, already twitching to constrict around a thick shaft it wouldn't have tonight. He kept manually overriding both covers to keep them closed.
It just felt so good to draw each sound, each shiver, from his lover.
Slowly, every touch an exploration, Prowl's lips moved down from Jazz's throat to trail along a common hot spot -- the chest seam.
The response was instantaneous- pleasure warred with an instinctive drive to protect his spark, fear with the trust that Prowl had worked so hard to build in the mech that was desired as lover and mate. Conflicting sounds issued from Jazz, slowly smoothing out as Prowl slowed, taking the time to investigate every inch of the armor that shielded the life force of his intended from the world.
Pleasure spread from the Praxian's back once more as the dark hands of his lover started to move again, joint sign with how Jazz relaxed back on the berth of the acceptance of this touch and the pleasure that it brought as well.
Slowly, gently, Prowl's lips continued down. His glossa slipped out to trail along the boarder between the strong, flat white chest armor and the highly articulated black abdominal plates below it.
"Prowl..." The soft, pleading sound escaped the smaller mech as the Praxian's wings slipped from his fingers. Jazz didn't know what he was asking for exactly, only that what the larger mech was doing was intensely good.
Prowl's engine revved at the sound and the intensity in the field he was paying close attention to. His hands abandoned their explorations to stroke and tease the black bands while his lips and glossa worked more delicate seams.
It wasn't long before his focused attention had the mech under him writhing and keening from the pleasure, the smaller mech's responses boarding on incoherent as energy built in his frame, pushing past thinking.
Just the echo of that pleasure was enough to heat Prowl's frame, drawing a low moan from him as he focused his glossa and lips on those abdominal plates while his hands moved further down to dig into hip joints, working the multitude of cables, sensors and cogs there.
The overload that tore through Jazz was fast and intense, energy crackling over the smaller mech's plating and locking his frame as he arched off the berth, catching both mechs by surprise. His cry shorted out in static as the charge ripped through his frame, leaping from one mech to the other.
The sheer intensity of the physical pleasure was evident, but the soft whimpers that escaped the smaller mech as the energy released his frame had the very distinctive edge of fear and uncertainty at the complete loss of control the mech making them had just been subjected to.
"Shu, shu," Prowl cooed, ignoring his own state of near-painful arousal to reassure his lover. He eased up Jazz's frame to kiss him, each touch gentle. "It's meant to be like that, no matter how the overload is triggered."
The smaller mech snuggled into him clumsily, accepting the comfort and reassurance being offered, frame still quivering from the aftereffects of the overload.
Prowl continued to gently kiss and nuzzle him, cooing as Jazz's armor began to pop as it cooled. His own charge was still racing through him, demanding he do something he wasn't willing to.
Jazz's field began to ease as his processor finally began to catch up with what had happened and process the pleasure and the result. Blue visor brightened as he started to focus again, turning his helm to meet Prowl's lips in a real kiss as his field brushed over the Praxian.
The uncertainty wasn't quite gone, but it was greatly muted by the sated contentment Jazz was feeling. "That was..." He searched for words as a wandering hand began to trace soft lines down Prowl's side.
"Intense, something to experience again?" Prowl suggested, purring at the contact as his revved up systems took notice of being stimulated again.
The smaller mech nodded slowly, nuzzling against Prowl before drawing back when the waves of arousal rolling off Prowl hit him. He hesitated for a moment, piecing everything together. "What do I need to do?"
"Work on my wings, like you did before," Prowl rumbled, spreading the articulated expanses as he settled over Jazz, bracing himself for an overload that wouldn't be long in coming.
Jazz hummed thoughtfully, reaching up to start at the tips and working his way inwards to the base, fingers playing firmly over the solid surfaces and tracing each articulation with precision.
Steady there, he tilted his helm to kiss lightly at Prowl's neck and jaw, tentative touches at first that slowly grew bolder as Prowl responded with tremors and deep, resonate moans, then rasping pleas for more as his wings pressed into Jazz's hands.
Electricity began to dance across Prowl's frame, causing him to tense and relax somewhat at random. Though his attention was focused on his sensor wings and the intense pleasure flowing from them, his hips rocked, grinding into Jazz's in a now-reflexive movement for pleasure.
Jazz watched and felt, Prowl's expression and reactions captivating, especially knowing that he was the one causing them. Shivers ran through his frame as well every time a spark of energy leapt from the Praxian's frame to his own.
He slid his hands along the panels of the sensor wings and heard Prowl's moan of his pleasure when his lover's fingers slid into the joints on his back, finding all of the sensors and controls there and quickly learning which ones caused the most intense spikes of pleasure.
Prowl's venting became more rapid, each cycle pushing out hotter and hotter air. He pressed into the touch, his back arching slightly as he buried his face against Jazz's neck, his hips still grinding lightly against Jazz's.
Primus it felt good.
When Jazz really learned, he'd be able to send Prowl over the edge in a matter of a klik or two if he was trying. For now though, Prowl was enjoying the racing charge once more, welcoming it and the nearing overload openly.
With a quiet moan of his own Jazz focused on the chevron. Prowl had said... Jazz kissed first, then nipped as his fingers found new sensor nodes to stimulate, searching for something that would give his intended what he wanted, needed.
A sudden jerk of Prowl's frame arched his back more, driving Jazz's fingers deeper. He groaned, right on the edge, before his helm was thrown back with a bellow as his golden optics flashed so bright they went nearly white and every cable in his frame pulled taunt.
For a moment Jazz froze, startled, and then the full force of the other mech's pleasure struck him, washing over him and leaving him shaking where he was pinned to the berth.
Just as suddenly Prowl went lax, collapsing onto Jazz except for where his arms held him up a bit. His hips were still grinding slightly against Jazz's, reflexive motions in his pleasure. Even that stilled after a moment as Prowl settled in the contentment of post-overload.
Jazz settled as Prowl relaxed, and after a moment's consideration his arms rose to hold the other mech. The Praxian nuzzled him in return, humming with the lingering pleasure and the warmth of another against him.
Even at the least intimate of overloads, it felt good.
"Enjoy?" Prowl murmured as he eased himself to the side so he wouldn't crush Jazz any more than he already had.
Jazz considered, weighing everything in his processor, and nodded as he shifted to a more comfortable position, still tucked against the Praxian's frame and more than content to stay there.
"Yes."
S S S S S S S S S===================S S S S S S S S S
Jazz paused in the middle of setting up the game he had selected to play that evening when he heard the door open and checked the time. Prowl had some business of the House that required his attention after the evening meal and had promised to join Jazz later.
When Jazz looked up it was not the Prowl he saw making his way into the common room, but the large and familiar frame of his guardian and mentor.
"You look ... well," Steelplate said cautiously as he approached.
Jazz frowned, setting the piece he was holding down gently. "I am well." He murmured, studying the older mech with concern.
"I saw that Prowl spent the night," Steelplate explained.
"Yes." Jazz relaxed, continuing to work on setting up the game now that he knew there was nothing wrong with the older mech, and what Steelplate wished to speak of.
"It was...very different." Different from anything he had ever experienced before. The loss of control, of being at the mercy of another, would have bothered him far more if that other had been anyone but Prowl. But feeling what Prowl had done for him, and seeing what he could drive the other mech to, the few moments when Prowl was at his mercy, trusting and sharing. "It was nice."
"Good," Steelplate relaxed slightly. "How far did he go?"
"Touch." The memory of just what that touch had consisted of was enough to send a shiver the length of Jazz's frame. Prowl had gone as far as he had promised, and not a bit farther, despite the desire that Jazz had felt from the other mech when he looked back on it now.
A small smile eased itself onto Steelplate's features. "Are you looking forward to going further?"
Jazz did hesitate at that, considering for a while before he looked up to meet the optics of the one mech he had always been able to trust. "I...don't know."
The older mech hummed, them smiled. "If Prowl made you feel good by touching, and asked nothing more of you, it will be very enjoyable to go further. I have little doubt he will take the care needed to break your seals without pain."
Jazz smiled a little. "It's that nice?"
In truth, he was kind of looking forward to that. It was the beyond, what this was all leading up to, that he was still wary of.
"Yes, there is good reason it is such a popular pastime," Steelplate smiled. "I am glad what I have heard seems correct. He is considered an excellent lover, even among the servants."
"And a popular one then." Jazz commented to himself, thoughtful.
Steelplate nodded. "At least a well known one. It is difficult to know how much is one or two very happy lovers and how much is a preference for many different ones. I expected nothing else."
"You and the others are still being treated well?" Jazz asked, choosing to change the subject for the moment. That was something he didn't want to dwell on.
"Quite well," Steelplate accepted the change in subject. Jazz had told him enough. His charge would be treated well and was beginning to like his intended. It was the best he dared hope for. "The others will be leaving next orn, though I will be remaining for a while longer. I hope to remain until the ceremony."
Jazz visibly brightened at that, his field lifting considerably and revealing just how much that meant to him. "I'm glad. I was afraid you would be leaving when the others did."
"It seems your creator is having second thoughts," Steelplate smiled back. "He can do nothing about the contract, but he can justify one servant remaining longer, since I have been your guardian and caretaker for so long. I do not know how long this will last, but it will be at least the rest of the metacycle. I hope it will be much longer. I would like to see you smile after your bonding."
It took a moment for the entire explanation to sink in around the happiness at being informed of Steelplate's extended stay. "My creator is having second thoughts? Why?"
"He knows this is not what you wanted, not even a possibility in your processors," Steelplate reached out to squeeze Jazz's shoulder. "It was too good an opportunity for the House to pass up, but he can still regret doing this to you. He wants you to be happy, Jazz. He truly does."
"I know." Jazz answered simply, venting softly. He understood why, but understanding didn't always make it easier to accept.
"At least Lord Prowl seems intent on treating you well," Steelplate pointed out gently. "Even with as much pressure as he is under, he is not forcing you. It is more than I dared hope for when I heard of this."
"They're pressuring him to move faster?" Jazz guessed, knowing that Steelplate was much closer to the servant gossip than Jazz could ever hope to be, and also knowing that it was often the best overall picture of what was truly going on in a House.
Steelplate nodded sadly. "Word is that he is no more inclined to bond than you. And yes, he is under a great deal of pressure regarding this."
"At least it is something that he has always had to think about it." Jazz observed. When he told Prowl had never seriously considered what he wanted in a bonded, it was because he had honestly been distracted by other things, and there was the small chance he would never bond.
Jazz would have been content to finish his warrior training and spent the rest of his existence defending his House and Prime.
"While always knowing that his desires would be the least important qualities in who he would bond with," Steelplate said gently. "Given his status, his bondings, like his creator's, will always be for the sake of politics."
Jazz nodded, field pulling in closer with all the negative emotions rising, things that he would have to sort through later before he recharged.
"Just try not to take the situation out on Prowl," Steelplate murmured. Hearing the door slide open and quickly made himself appear properly deferential to Jazz as Prowl entered the room.
"Jazz," Prowl greeted his intended politely, his own manner far stiffer and formal with a witness.
"Prowl." Jazz inclined his helm respectfully, matching the mode that Prowl had set with ease as he filed away Steelplate's last comment for further reflection. He nodded at the table. "I thought we might try Sovereign tonight, for a change."
"I find that agreeable," Prowl said as he sat down, regarding the board carefully. The moment the door closed behind Steelplate he visibly relaxed. "You seem thoughtful tonight."
Jazz hummed as he settled down across from Prowl. "Working through some things. I'll...probably meditate before recharging tonight."
If he attempted to rest with all the thoughts jumbling around in his processor as they were it would be a fitful recharge cycle at best and a useless one at worst, a lesson Jazz had learned the hard way long ago.
"Would you discuss it with me?" Prowl asked, trying his best to solicit his intended's thoughts without sounding like he was demanding it. Getting this match to work was proving far more difficult than he had first anticipated, but still much simpler than trying to find a suitable first bonded by socializing.
Jazz tilted his helm, considering silently. It was not that he did not wish to discuss what was going on in his processor with his intended. Especially since so much of it revolved around the mech asking. It was simply that at the moment his thoughts were not even coherent to him, and he had no wish to force them on another. Still, Prowl deserved an answer. "I am ... still trying to reconcile what I had believed my functioning was to be with where it is now." He finally offered, vague but true and all that he could manage words for in the moment.
Prowl inclined his helm, a brush of his field offering sympathy and understanding. "I have the advantage of having known my function since I was first brought online. Though I must admit that I am relieved that at least my first bonded is less political than I expected. I do regret that your desired future has been taken from you."
Such sympathy from an unexpected source caught Jazz slightly off guard, visor lifting from where it had been studying the game to focus on his intended. "I am not what you had expected to have in a bonded?" He finally asked, attention shifting for a moment as he made his move.
"Given the status of this House, I expected to have no say at all and to meet my intended during the ceremony," Prowl admitted, unsubspacing a small tray of confections and two cubes of sweet light energon and setting them to the side of the board between them. "To have any say in the choice was ... thrilling. I was not aware at that point that you were not expecting to be given to seal an alliance to a more powerful House."
"The submission of my profile to the matchmaker was a...point of contention in the House, for a while." Jazz admitted, recalling his own surprise when he had found out.
Prowl cocked his helm and moved without really looking at the board. "What was ... glossed over?"
"Any involvement on my part until after it was submitted," Jazz answered, clearly still bitter about the fact. He could still see the smug satisfaction in his creators second bonded's optics when Jazz had found out too. Not even his creator's reprimand had dimmed her gloating that time, or managed to ease the hurt that Jazz had felt.
He fiddled with a piece for a moment, thumb rubbing absently over the polished surface of the warrior's shield before he set into play. "Why me?"
"You were the most agreeable of those presented," Prowl said simply. "Despite what you may think, you have a very agreeable profile. It seems to be fairly accurate as well."
Jazz stared at him, openly surprised. "What were you looking for, that I was the best one?"
"A strong spark and frame, some skill in the martial arts, a quick wit, intelligence and a good education," Prowl listed off the extras that he or his creators needed in his mate. "An untouched mech was also said, though only when all other factors were equal. Truth be told, as long as they had enough rank, it would have been acceptable if need be. I could always acquire another bonded or breeder if my first could not produce the number of sparklings expected."
Jazz was quiet as he processed that. Truthfully, he fit each and every requirement on the list; his carrier's weak spark something that had not been passed on to either of her creations. "And just how many sparklings are...expected?"
"A dozen or so," Prowl paused. "Though if you do not wish to carry often, I only need two with you. Once I have an heir, time can be given to find a mate who wishes to carry."
"A dozen..." Jazz murmured, processing that as he was reminded once more of the size and prominence of the House he had been given to. His own creator only had half so many between two mates, and Jazz was the youngest.
Prowl nodded. "More if I have more mates ... something that is likely to happen in time."
Jazz vented softly, not offering an opinion on that one way or the other at the moment, even though he knew just how likely it was that Prowl would be required to take at least one more mate.
"But for now...you just need an heir."
"Correct," Prowl nodded. "It will need to happen ... very soon." He said, reluctant about the fact.
He didn't want to ask. He really didn't want to know. But he needed to know, and Jazz had learned long ago that what was wanted and what was needed, especially for the good of the House, were often at odds with each other. "How soon?" He asked quietly.
Prowl's gaze dropped to the board, his own discomfort with the timing never more clear. "You must be carrying within a metacycle of the ceremony."
There was an answering discomfort in Jazz's field, but no surprise. It was the sort of answer he had been expecting, even if he had hoped otherwise.
"And if I fail?" For it was on him the blame would fall was sure, for not being able to fulfill his single purpose for functioning as far as the House was concerned.
"Another Lord Heir will be chosen, likely from among those who already have creations," Prowl's voice held a light tremor of extreme distress. "I am out of time already."
Jazz paused, trying to read between the words and pull up his own lessons on politics inside the larger Houses, honestly curious and more affected by Prowl's stress than he was ready to admit. "What happens to us if another Lord Heir is chosen?"
Prowl met his gaze, steady in the way of a warrior facing certain deactivation. "I am expected to commit suicide."
Jazz's distress was instant. "And the expectations of me?"
"You are a subordinate mate," Prowl said softly. "If another of my close kin does not want you that is agreeable to your family, you are expected to follow me to the Well of All Sparks."
A slow nod of acceptance and understanding, his field steadying at the knowing if not the answer.
"Why did you wait so long?" Jazz asked eventually.
"I am not fond of socializing in the way one might find a mate by attraction. I thought I had time. My creator's condition happened quite suddenly. Within a vorn his time was reduced from millennia to less than a century. I still had so much to learn to take his place. Finding a mate when the matchmaker could do it seemed a waste of time when I had to be ready to become the House Lord. Three matchmakers sought to make a contract with another Praxian. All failed. It was only then that we contacted one with stronger contacts in other territories."
"Why did they fail?" There was no reason Jazz could imagine that one would not wanted to be allied with one of the most powerful Houses in Praxus, especially if one was actually of Praxian heritage.
"There are surprisingly few mecha of the correct age and availability given the short time frame," Prowl said. "Praxus does not have many warrior Houses. Even among them, the political creations are frequently ... weak in design, more looks than processor and frame. This is not a warrior state."
"And the House finds that unacceptable." Jazz concluded, stating the obvious.
"Correct," Prowl nodded. "Unlike some states, we are not so callous to have me take a bonded that would produce ill-suited creations, knowing we will destroy them once I have a suitable bonded and creation. It may be a common practice for such situations in other states, but not here."
While he knew it happened as well, just discussing it was disturbing and abusive on many levels and enough to make Jazz a little angry.
"Agreed," Prowl said to his unspoken reaction. "It is an unacceptable response to the situation. There are, regrettably, many unacceptable responses that are accepted by mecha."
Jazz nodded again, agreement with a fact that he knew all too well.
They played in silence for several rounds before Prowl spoke again. "Now that you have had time to process it, do you have any regrets about last night?"
The same barely muted shiver ran through Jazz's frame, memory of pleasure mixed with the slight edge of fear at the loss of control, even in the arms of one he was beginning to trust. "No regrets."
"Good," Prowl actually purred as his field reached out to caress Jazz. "May I join you again tonight?"
There was no hesitation in the smaller mech's field as he agreed. "Yes."
A small, honest smile crossed Prowl's stern features, lightening his naturally intimidating visage. He reached out to lightly trace his fingers along the back of Jazz's hand. "Perhaps share pleasure again?"
"I might find that idea agreeable." Jazz replied, while his field flared and revealed just how agreeable the prospect was.
Prowl's smile widened a bit, his field replying with desire and the promise of much pleasure. "Then we should retire when we finish this game."
"You're going to beat me anyway." Jazz replied in good humor as he made another move. Already he could see two routes in which Prowl would have him defeated in five moves or less, and he was sure the Praxian could see a half dozen more.
"Are you surrendering?" Prowl regarded him evenly, though his field gave no doubt he would not think less of his intended for it tonight.
"No." Jazz pushed another piece into play. "Just an observation." He wanted to see how Prowl was going to be beat him.
A soft chuckle and flicker of amusement caressed Jazz as Prowl countered him, not taking either of the routes Jazz had seen. "What would you like to explore tonight?"
"I...don't know." Jazz admitted, attempting to distract himself from his own ignorance by figuring out Prowl's plan of attack.
Prowl hummed. "Not something you felt any need to explore?" he extrapolated, his field brushing Jazz's with acceptance.
"I was more concerned with learning to fight." Jazz replied, studying the board and hoping that he had worked out what Prowl was attempting as he moved a warrior across the board. He was still going to loose, but at least if he had guessed correctly this might slow Prowl down a little.
"Perhaps you would be willing to give my spike an overload?" Prowl suggested softly, making another move to counter Jazz and advance on his intended's great lord.
"If that is what you want." The response was neutral, careful.
Prowl paused to consider him carefully. "I would enjoy it, yes. You do not have to, if you are not ready."
Jazz considered, shifting a piece. "I am willing to try." He finally answered. Especially since Prowl was asking what he soon would have a right to demand, if he so chose.
"Thank you," Prowl's tone was soft, the brush of his field supportive. "It may not be as mutually enjoyable as touching is, however I do believe becoming comfortable with my components will make it less stressful for you when I do take your seals."
The uncomfortable ripple in Jazz's field was the only response he got as Jazz made the last sensible move he had available to him and waited for Prowl to claim command of the board and the win. It wasn't long in coming and the small rush in Prowl's field had little to do with victory.
It had everything to do with anticipating what would come next.
Prowl stood smoothly and offered his hand to Jazz.
Jazz took it, leaving the board to be cleared away later, and obediently followed his intended to his berthroom, a space that was quickly becoming their berthroom. Gently, he was drawn against Prowl's chest and kissed, gently and thoroughly.
The kiss was soothing in a way, pleasurable and familiar, and soon had the tension easing from the smaller mech, his frame loosening to fit against the Praxian. He felt pleasure-approval in Prowl's field before he was drawn to the berth and guided down, very much like the previous night.
Above him Prowl settled, returning to the kiss while one hand slid down Jazz's side.
Remembering well the lesson from the night before Jazz's hands reached up, sliding around Prowl's sides and reaching for the sensor wings. He was rewarded by a moan into his mouth and roar of pleasure-arousal in Prowl's field.
Soon lips were trailing along his face, making a slow path to his visor while the hand wandering his side slid between them to caress his abdominal plates.
It was Jazz's turn to moan as the hand slid over his plating with just the right amount of pressure, the pleasure in Prowl's field bleeding into his own and heightening the response. It felt so good to be touched. He could already feel the charge building and his internals heating at the attention Prowl was paying to him.
Gentle kisses glided across his visor, drawing a small moan and whimpers from Jazz, his field flaring out with the desire for more, desiring the pleasure it was quickly learning to enjoy all to much.
Prowl smiled and began to work his way down his intended's face to his throat in a clear repeat of the night before, though moving down a bit faster as he knew where to touch to make Jazz squirm and moan.
Jazz's helm tipped to the side, exposing his throat with complete trust. Already the charge building in his systems was enough to send the odd spark of excess energy across his plating and onto his intended. It felt so good. Not just the physical touch, but the way Prowl's field displayed the Praxian's enjoyment of causing pleasure. It did so much to make what was coming seem less scary. He was really beginning to believe he could trust Prowl to make anything feel good. Even the things that Jazz knew were supposed to hurt.
Soft lip plates caressed down the seam of Jazz's chest without the surge of defensive fear the same motion had sparked the night before. One of Jazz's hands came up to trace the helm and chevron, searching for those things that might return the pleasure dancing along his frame.
He was learning to trust Prowl in this. And if he could learn to trust Prowl in this, perhaps he might yet learn to trust the Praxian in what this was all leading up to, and what was to come after.
A low, pleasured rumble came from Prowl as he continued down, his hands stroking Jazz's abdominal plates while white lips worked their way down.
"Prowl..." The Praxian's designation came out a soft, pleading moan from his lover as dark hands worked over Prowl's shoulder and Jazz's hips lifted in blind memory of the touch that had finally pushed him over the edge that first time.
The sensor winged mech hummed and finished his journey. His glossa flicked out to tease the dark plates, running smoothly along an edge.
Jazz's field surged as the overload slammed through him, though the sounds he made this time were of pure pleasure without a hint of the fear or surprise from before. Against his field Prowl's was hot and welcoming, accepting and fueling the pleasure surging across Jazz's systems and gently easing him down.
"Still enjoying my attentions?" Prowl purred as he eased up Jazz's frame for a kiss.
"Very much so." Jazz answered, lips barely leaving Prowl's long enough to reply before boldly initiating a kiss of his own. It was returned with full fervor, though giving Jazz dominance in the kiss.
Slowly, after several more, Prowl rolled to his back and drew Jazz up, against his side. His spike cover slid open, but he kept his spike in its housing. "Touch me?"
There was a moment of hesitation at his request before Jazz nodded, a hand wandering curiously down Prowl's plating from where Jazz was snuggled against him.
"Take your time," Prowl nuzzled him. He was ready to help guide Jazz's hand if need be, but until then he was determined to let his lover do as he pleased.
Gentle fingers led the investigation, stroking softly over the housing before circling the opening. The rush of arousal-pleasure that crashed through Prowl's field drew a moan from Jazz as well as Prowl. Prowl's spike began to slide out, the rubbery conical tip nudging against Jazz's fingers.
Despite Prowl's efforts to control his reaction, it was difficult. His field, wrapped so intimately with his intended's gave away just how incredibly revved up he was and how much that little touch affected him.
As deeply as their fields were blended Jazz allowed most of his attention to focus on the pressurizing spike, relying on the emotions and sensations he was receiving as feedback as his fingers worked over the emerging spike.
Prowl's helm fell back, his vents wide open and his mouth slightly open as his optics shut off to revel in the sensations. He held nothing back, not his moans or the ecstasy ripping in his field as curious touches continued to explore the spike, tracing each ridge and lightly after the first reaction to that touch, then running along the entire length of the shaft from base to tip once it was fully exposed.
Hesitation still flickered though Jazz's field, but the flares were growing fewer and farther between as Prowl encouraged him. It was impossible to miss how much his intended was enjoying even his clumsy, exploratory touches.
Gently Prowl brought his hand up to Jazz's, wrapping black fingers around his shaft and guide him in how to rub just right. His other hand wrapped around Jazz's shoulders to draw him down into a kiss that Jazz was only too willing to share, moaning softly as their lips met. Jazz was a quick study even in this, and his hand soon imitating what Prowl was showed him easily. When the white fingers fell away, leaving Jazz to work on his own, it was a moment of pride. Against him Prowl's entire frame hummed as he moaned, his hips rocking into the hand curled around his spike.
"Close," the Praxian warned as his helm fell back once more, his entire frame and awareness committed to focusing on the intense sensations rushing into him from his spike.
"Good." Jazz purred, kissing Prowl's neck and jaw as his other hand rose to trace along the chevron's length. Not once did his hand stop its attention on the quivering spike, gliding, squeezing and twisting to stimulate each ridge and sensory node as Prowl had shown him.
He felt the charge peak a single stroke before Prowl keened and thrust his hips up hard. An arc of silvery transfluid erupted from the tip of Prowl's spike to fall across black abdominal plating as Prowl lost himself in the bliss of the moment where nothing else existed. Small shivers ran the length of Jazz's frame from the rush of his lover's overload. They did nothing to mask the pride in his field as the smaller mech snuggled in against his intended, waiting for Prowl to come down from the high and enjoying the pleasure slipping across meshed fields.
He could get used to this. It felt amazing to be the center of Prowl's attention, whether Prowl was touching him or he was touching Prowl. Touching Prowl like this sure worked quickly too.
Lazily Prowl turned his helm to kiss Jazz a bit sloppily. "That felt very good."
"Good." Jazz answered, initiating another kiss as he relaxed into where he was, pressed against his intended's side and very content for the moment. His intended seemed to be just as content to remain there.
The only action Prowl made was to dig a cloth out of his subspace and wipe his plating clean before relaxing into a light recharge, content to have Jazz snuggled against him and the progress of the orn.
S S S S S S S S S===================S S S S S S S S S
The next evening they didn't even bother with the game. Prowl could read Jazz's excitement in the younger mech's frame the moment he stepped into the common room. With a smile and gentle kiss, he led his intended into Jazz's berthroom.
"Ready to try something new?" Prowl purred into a kiss as he guided Jazz to sit on the berth with him.
Jazz was already snuggled against his side, fingers running lightly along a sensor wing as he tilted his helm for another kiss. "Yes."
"Good," Prowl rumbled, his wing pressing into the touch eagerly. "My valve is eager for some attention."
Jazz's field slowly blended with his, open curiosity as to what his lover had to show him tonight. Prowl's field was already hot with anticipation against his, adding to the anticipation for the night and what was coming. Warm lip plates pressed against Jazz's as Prowl reached into his subspace to put something out.
"My favorite macrio," Prowl purred, showing Jazz the spike-shaped object. Colorful, with ridges, nodules, a curved tip and bulbous base.
Jazz held put a hand, silently asking to see and was handed the object without hesitation.
"It also vibrates and releases a small charge," Prowl added, showing Jazz the simple button controls for each.
"And you want me to...?" Jazz asked quietly, offering it back.
"Slide it in an out of my valve," Prowl nearly shivered in anticipation of the pleasure. "Watch, feel it through me," he leaned down to kiss his intended, his voice growing husky with arousal. "Get used to the idea that it's going to feel amazing to have a spike inside you."
Jazz moaned softly into the kiss, already shivering himself just from Prowl's arousal. "Show me."
"Any time," Prowl promised, pushed everything good he felt about what was coming through his field. He shifted back to kneel in the center of the berth and slid his valve cover open. Knowing fingers stroked the platelets surrounding his valve entrance, drawing a moan. He spread his wings and knees, making the effort to display himself for the mech he most wanted to find him desirable.
For a moment Jazz hung back, admiring. Truly his intended was one of the most hansom mecha he'd ever laid optics on, and even more so now with the desire and arousal rolling off him.
Unable to resist Jazz slid forward, lips meeting Prowl's in a kiss that muffled the next moan as a dark hand slid down the Praxian's front. Prowl's moan and flare of arousal-yes encouraged him, eager to have Jazz so active in the sharing.
The hand slid farther, dark fingers moving in to explore next to Prowl's touch light and curious and holding back, waiting to be shown what pleased most.
Prowl trembled and pulled Jazz's helm forward for a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers disappeared from between his legs and pressed gently against Jazz's lip plates, requesting rather than demanding. It took the smaller mech a moment to realize what his lover wanted before white lips parted, welcoming.
Golden optics were bright as Prowl watched his fingers slowly disappear into Jazz's mouth. He shivered at the sensation of being inside that oral cavity and rumbled in arousal.
"Explore, touch me," he struggled not to moan at the first lick of Jazz's glossa. "Press your fingers inside me if you want."
Prowl's fingers became the first order of business, visor dimming a bit as Jazz sucked slowly, glossa running along the lengths and getting a first literal taste of Prowl in the gooey slickness of his valve lubricant. It really was like nothing he had to compare to, a little bitter, a bit sweet, but mostly that rich, earthy metallic flavor that the finest off-world magma generated energon had.
Only when Prowl was moaning from that attention did other reappear, fingers and palm running over the platelets before pulling back so that just fingers circled the opening to his valve, discovering what made Prowl push into his touch and moan before venturing any deeper. He was grateful that Prowl didn't seem inclined to hold back his reactions, verbal or physical. There was also no missing the way Prowl's intakes hitched each time he rubbed against the rim or platelets directly in front or back of the valve.
It was less than a breem before Prowl had gripped Jazz's shoulders to steady himself, his entire focus on the pleasure coursing through him.
Jazz purred, clearly pleased with himself as fingers dipped deeper into the valve, still moving carefully but with a new boldness, feeling the slickness of the lining that allowed for such easy movement and pausing for only a moment when they encountered a bump.
The first touch on a sensor node made Prowl arch and keen, his fingers tightening as his field flooded with intense pleasure.
Jazz moaned softly, nudging at Prowl's helm until he could get a kiss from the Praxian as his fingers stroked over the node again, stimulating it and searching for more to tease and pleasure as his free hand crept around to find one of the fluttering sensor panels.
"Won't last much longer," Prowl nearly whined, his frame trembling with the building charge.
"Than I'm doing a good job." Jazz purred playfully, even as his own frame was twitching and vibrating from where it was pressed up against Prowl's and being teased by the Praxian's rapidly growing charge.
"Yes, you are," Prowl gasped as the fingers on his back sunk into a wing joint, seeking a particular set of receptors the Jazz had discovered buried there. Fingers had settled into rhythm, stroking over the sensor nodes he was able to reach from this angle.
Smiling, Jazz kissed Prowl quickly and shifted his attention to his intended's chevron. With first slid of glossa along chevron Prowl screamed into a roar, his frame locking up, valve tightening around the intruding digits and his helm was thrown back in the bliss of an intense overload. Energy rushed through all his systems and jumped to Jazz, concentrated at the fingers inside Prowl's valve and the highly conductive gel that valve lubricant is.
Jazz keened at the energy surging through his frame and his field, the burning tingle of his fingers buried in the rippling valve sending an extra shiver through him.
He pulled them away and pressed against Prowl as he felt his intended come down from the high, one hand still stroking along a sensor wing as his own frame quivered with pent up charge and his field begged for attention and a release of his own.
Slowly Prowl's ventilations slowed, his wavering frame steadying enough for him to notice what was around him. With a soft sound he tipped Jazz's mouth up for a kiss while his other hand slid between them to stroke Jazz's abdominal plates.
The smaller mech moaned into the kiss and pressed into the touch, honestly desiring what was being offered and the mech who was offering it. It felt so good, natural even, and he could never forget that Prowl was required to do none of this for or to him. All that was required of Prowl was to take him in a way to produce a sparkling. A spark merge to create the new spark and frequent deposits of transfluid in his valve to ensure the new creation carried enough House programming and looks to be accepted as Prowl's heir. Jazz's pleasure was irrelevant to the demands.
Yet in this arrangement that neither of them had wanted, Jazz had found someone who encouraged his training, his interests, and even took the time and effort to ensure his pleasure.
Yes, pleasure ... oh those fingers caressing his abdominal plates were delightful, pushing his charge higher.
Charge that was soon dancing over his plating and tickling and teasing the fingers of the mech providing it. Jazz's hand continued to the play over the closest sensor wing, his other latched on tightly to his intended's shoulder in a very small effort to remain grounded for the moment.
A soft whine escaped him, quickly swallowed in mutual kiss as Jazz unconsciously began to rub his entire frame against Prowl's, seeking contact and that final push over the edge into the bliss that was coming. Strong white fingers slipped further down, pressing with just the right amount of force over Jazz's spike cover to send an intense jolt of pleasure into him.
The surge was enough to trip the overload as well, Jazz keening as his hips bucked into the touch and energy crackled over his frame and that of the mech holding him.
Prowl moaned softly, relishing the pleasure he was feeling from Jazz, pleasure he caused. He held his intended gently, humming, his engine purring, as he watched Jazz overcome by pleasure and come down.
Soft purring matched his as the smaller mech came down from the high and snuggled into Prowl, nuzzling at the Praxian's shoulder as he curled against the larger mech.
"We'll play with toys another night," Prowl smiled and guided Jazz to lay down with him, shifting easily to scoop up his favorite macrio and subspaced it even as they settled.
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The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation