Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation	By : TheGatekat Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2755 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro. No money made.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation 07: Choices Made

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jazz strode down a hall in the main House. While it was not the shortest route from the training rooms to suite he was currently sharing with his intended, it tended to be one of the quieter ones, and would give him an excuse to wander through a corner of the gardens on his way to clean up before dinner. He would have walked right by the room and not paid any attention to what was going on inside - the main House was a busy place, and there was always something going on, often none of it directly his business- if one of the voices hadn't frozen him in his tracks.
It took a lot to make his intended angry, and though he had only heard the tone a few times Jazz had come to recognize when Prowl was upset.
And the voice coming from the room was clearly a displeased Prowl.
He peeked inside to see his intended with his sensor wings fully flared, the fingers separated and held wide. His armor was puffed out and golden optics blazed. Despite the aggressive signals, he was standing ramrod strait; possibly one of the worst postures if he intended to attack.
The pair of mecha facing Prowl were cringing at the display, not realizing their words would cause such a reaction in the Heir. "It's the only logical explanation. Surely you can't intend any sparkling he produces to be an Heir to the House. The way he looks. His manners..." One babbled quickly, trying to explain.
His companion nodded in agreement, sensor wings drawn close to his frame in submission. "A young mech with an attractive enough frame and just enough status to make him acceptable but not so much that he can't be nudged to the side when a better match is available to produce heirs to the House. It all makes sense."
"Jazz will be my first bonded," Prowl nearly growled at them, his tone clipped and engine running hot. "He has everything to produce fine sparklings for this House. His sire is a hero to the Prime. His spark is strong. He is intelligent, with a quick wit, strong frame and a good heritage to pass on to my creations. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Lord Heir." Both murmured, optics turning to the floor as their frames dropped into proper submission, making it quite clear that they understood what was being said, and what was not.
Whatever they might think among themselves, from now on it needed to stay there.
With a last rumble Prowl forced his engine to cool down and settled his armor. He gave a sharp nod of acceptance of their submission to his will and turned on his heel to leave.
Jazz had pulled back from the door, barely able to keep his frame quiet as he trembled, listening.
He doubted Prowl had any clue he was there- none of them in the room did. But there was his intended, not just doing as he had asked and discouraging the talk when Jazz was present, but defending him in Jazz's absence.
And to noble members of the House no less. Minor members, the elder creations of a couple of Prowl's warrior siblings. Young, around Jazz's own age, actually, but old enough to know better.
He heard the conversation end, heard their submission. Long practice, and being very familiar with the act himself, allowed him to detect the grudging undertone, but also left no doubt in his processor that the pair would watch what they said in public much more carefully from now on.
He froze at the whisper and sense of Prowl's approach, caught in an internal struggle. Still frozen, he felt Prowl's field brush against his and the genuine surprise there.
Prowl, however, did not pause as he swept from the room and continued on his way. Only a gentle flicker across their brushing fields gave any indication he wished Jazz to follow, and quietly.
The younger mech detached himself from his place on the wall, falling in quietly behind his intended as they made their way through the House. It was only when they reached the privacy of Prowl's side of their quarters that his intended turned to face him.
Prowl reached out to draw Jazz into an embrace, apology rich in his field.
Jazz fell willing into his arms, frame molding against the Praxian's as he worked through his own amazement and pushed thanks at the apology.
The words and rumors hurt, but he'd heard them so many times, in so many forms, since he had arrived that he was able to ignore them for the most part now. That Prowl seemed unwilling to do so, and to act when he was able, was more than Jazz had been willing to hope for.
A small part of him wondered if his seemingly predictable intended would ever cease to surprise him.
A soft nuzzle tipped Jazz's face up for a gentle, chaste kiss.
"I am sorry you have to endure that," Prowl murmured. "They should have more respect for you, even if their words were true."
"My manners are that bad?" Jazz asked, trying for levity and failing even himself as the second and much more cutting remark came out. "Or that you should set me aside once your place is secure for a more suitable first bonded?"
"Your manners are fine," Prowl reassured him gently, stroking one hand along his back. "But yes, in many Houses a match such as ours would be set aside once my position was secured. Not that long ago it would be done here as well. I do not wish to put you aside. I never did."
Jazz vented softly, relaxing against his intended from the closeness and the touch. "It's annoying when they say things like that, but there is nothing they can actually do." He shrugged a little in Prowl's arms. "So long as you want me..."
"I do," he promised, kissing Jazz gently. "The talk should be quieter now."
Jazz chuckled softly at that. "You were quite scary looking."
"Good," the Praxian offered a small grin. "That was very much my intent."
Amusement threaded through Jazz's field as he tilted his helm to kiss his intended, warm and inviting with the growing edge of playfulness that was Jazz relaxed. "I'm going to need to clean up soon for the sake of 'manners', if I am going to be presentable at dinner."
"Well, I might as well enjoy making you properly dirty before you clean up," Prowl returned the kiss, his hands and field shifting from comforting to amorous. "I do so enjoy your frame."
Jazz hummed, pressing into Prowl's hands where they touched his frame and rubbing against the Praxian suggestively as his expression morphed into one of mock innocence. "How dirty is 'properly dirty'?"
"Filled with my transfluid, your face slick with my lubricant and your frame decorated with my paint," Prowl rumbled hotly as he took a step back, drawing his lover towards his berthroom.
Jazz purred, field flaring with delight at the suggestions and following along eagerly. "Feels so good when you fill me."
"Good," Prowl claimed a more heated kiss, but it was his field's intense flare of pride-pleasure that spoke of just how much that meant to him.
The genuine pleasure in Jazz's field pushed against his, willing and open.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Military Lord and the Hero's Creation