Title: Domain of Glass: Into the Dark

Chapter: Chapter 4

Fandom: Transformers

Continuity: G1

Series: Domain of Glass

Pairing/s: Jazz x Prowl, Bluestreak x Prowl

Rating: NC - 17

Summary: Prowl travels to the Dark Parts in Kaon in search of his split spark twin that was taken from their home when he was barely an orn old. However Bluestreak, not knowing the entire truth of his heritage is frightened and Prowl is left in a dangerous area of Cybertron. Not all things will go well...

Chapter Summary: Time is slowly ticking away, Prowl awakens from his Memory Flux in need of seeing his brother so he leave Jazz behind. Not something the saboteur will be happy about but he feels he needs to do it. A little love and affection spread further and for once Jazz walks in on something that he doesn't mind so much except his jealousy streak.

Warnings: Mech/Mech sex, sticky sex, mentions of sparkbonds, Carriers & Sires, smut, explicit explanation of sticky smut, twincest, tactile overloads, incest and Plug 'n Play.

N/B: First most important note, please not that the title had changed to Domain of Glass: Into The Dark! This is because this will be turning into a series where I will explore different pairings. A multi-chap fic about Ratchet and Wheeljack is now going to be published in a few weeks. Called Domain of Glass: Shattered Mirrors. Please look out for it, it's not really a prequel but it will be part of the series.

Anyways, there's a little here about Bluestreak's past and I hope it helps a bit but there will be more flashbacks since you guys seem to like them so much but for now enjoy the sexy smut and the little bit of plot at the end of the chapter.

Chapter Notes:

Astrosecond - 0.01 seconds

Nanoklik - 1 second

Klik - 1 minute

Breem - 8 minutes

Joor - 1 Hour

Cycle 18 Hours

Orn - Day

Metacycle - 6 years

Vorn - 83 years

Stellar Cycle - 83 vorns

"..." Talking

"..." Comm. line

Thoughts or Emphasis on a word

~...~ Medical Hardline/ Hardline interfacing

::Sweetspark:: Spark Bond/Creation-Creator Union


Overwhelming darkness, perpetual solitude , poignant ache but more than anything it was only a synchronicity of frightful horror that haunted him more than other emotions. It was a symphony of emotions that could never be thrown away nor truly accepted within himself. It was an emotional turmoil that Prowl was so used to that waking up to it after a processor crash was not as unusual and painful as others thought it was, it was just unwanted and kept his spark fairly unbalanced.

His processors were left spinning at the data flux he had just lived through, images and feelings became clearer and clearer in his mind as they danced restlessly in front of his flickering optics. Darkness had been his Master in the memory flux and now that his dimmed optics onlined to the subtle lighting of the Medical Bay he couldn't help but suppress his shuddered before it settled his fear a bit more. It also told him that it was well into the recharge cycle of the nightly orn, Ratchet only ever put off the Medbay lights when it was time for the patients to recharge and rest or when he closed it for the night. It was late, which meant he was out for a fairly long time.

::Bluestreak? Blue? P-please I-I need you...:: Prowl cried miserably though their bond, his fingers lifting to wipe at the coolant tears that dribbled from his optics in a slow recognizable pattern just as his fingers reached out for his brother as if his ghost was standing right there in front of him. Prowl's spark was calling out for only one specific mech. He really needed to see Bluestreak and his twin's subtle but noticeable pain over their bond was letting him know that they were both feeling neglected and rejected at that time. It begged the question of why Ratchet hadn't let Bluestreak recharge on the same berth as him, as it was often done when Prowl had had a painful processor crash. Bluestreak was always an immense comfort after something so processor shocking and core shaking.

So instead, Prowl wiped at his falling tears as best he could. And tried his best to not feel as lonely as his spark was telling him that he was. Turning and sitting up on the berth so that his pedes now rested on the ground, Prowl gave an involuntary shuddered - allowing his doorwings to give a decidedly droopy swish of aching sorrow. His shoulder plates felt heavy with the weight of the world and his spark was overwhelmed with grief and all just from one Memory Purge.

Really, Prowl thought painfully, sometimes he sickened himself with how weak and ill he felt after one of his purges...

The abrupt spinning of his processors in retaliation to Prowl's suddenly tilt of his helm, forced him to keep still and restrict his movements. Sniffling slightly and wiping at his optics to keep the worst of his emotions at bay. Reluctantly he turned his attention inward for a klik, going over a brief systems check to observe his progress and the damage that had been wrought by his humiliating crash. What he saw prompted a dejected sigh from his vents when he noticed he had already been out for more than 16 joors. It was no wonder Prowl felt so lost and why his spark was in such pain; he clearly missed Bluestreak and his twin's pain was reflecting off of his own in a dizzying loop of shared emotions.

Whatever it was that had thrown him into stasis this time must have been one hell of a shock, not only for him but for his family as well. Yet, when he searched for the data he soon discovered that it was locked away behind a strict firewall. The code and structure of the firewall one that Prowl easily recognized as Ratchet's impeccable work.

So his Carrier was protecting him against witnessing, whatever it was that he had seen before, from witnessing it again?

Prowl sighed internally; over time the firewall would fade and the data would become readily available to him, but if it was bad enough for Ratchet to lock it away in fear of throwing his processors again when awoke. Then the tactician wasn't so sure he wanted to see the data again. Maybe he'd encrypt it himself and bury it deep in the far reaches of his 'never-viewed' storage data. It sounded like a plan bit first he needed to get to Bluestreak. Shifting again he was just about to stand when his movement was interrupted.

"Sit still Prowl, I'm coming." Ratchet's tired but stern voice broke through his inner musing and it immediately focused dimmed optics on the shuffling form of the red and white Medic. Ratchet bustled over to his berth side with probably a great many questions floating around in his processors, questions that Prowl wasn't so sure that he could or wanted to answer.

Prowl, however, made no protest when Ratchet's medical hard-line slid into the slot on the back of his wrist. Even though it was making the tactician shiver at the cold, professional brush of Ratchet's mind against his own and the mixed signals his mind and spark were receiving at the same time. This was what he hated the most about medical protocols, he could feel Ratchet balancing on the edge of his consciousness - looming over his processors as he ran an in-depth scan that tickled across his components. But it was so professional and cold that it made Prowl shudder at the strange sycophantic feeling that ran rampant across his systems, the feeling that it was so desperately wrong to feel around Ratchet. Prowl knew for a fact that his Carrier was always compassionate and gentle but connected to him with a medical hard-line cable - it felt revoltingly emotionless and 'illogical'. It immediately made Prowl want to submit to the clearly superior coding in every way conceivable.

~Hey now Prowl! None of that.~ Ratchet ordered and Prowl stopped squirming immediately as data flashed across his HUD. Mercifully a set of equations he could easily do to distract himself. ~I just barely managed pulled you out of a bad processor crash. Don't go glitching on me again.~ His Carrier continued bur Prowl didn't pay much attention to that perfectly modulated voice that demanded from him. If he did Prowl might have found himself afraid again and even now he was fidgeting. His emotional core perplexed because his Creator-Creation Union told him that Ratchet was gentle and caring, but the voice echoing through his processor was a powerful - demanding - monotone that he never heard from his Carrier personally.

In fact, it did not belong to his Carrier Ratchet at all - it was the Medical Programming that did it.

Prowl gave another involuntary shudder and tried to block out the strange sensations rushing up and down his spinal struts. It wouldn't be the first time he'd felt like this about Ratchet's medical programming running against his systems, however, when the Medical Programming finally took over and eased the throbbing confusion and ache behind Prowl's optics - his tense shoulders relaxed as his confusion faded. The large packet of logical data he was given to sort through helped Prowl a lot in regaining control of himself.

"Oh Sweetspark. Just what was your memory flux to leave you like this?" Ratchet ventured softly, the hard-line disconnecting from Prowl's wrist easily and efficiently. He intimately knew the after affects that a processor crash would have on Prowl and his youngest now being so uncomfortable showed him just how upset the tactician was. When Ratchet had connected his medical hard-line and Prowl immediately started squirming uncomfortably it showed him enough of Prowl's mindset to know that it had been bad enough. Ratchet also noted that especially with the pain dampeners he had had to inject, where he usually only used it once for this type of glitch, he had been forced to use it twice now to help ease Prowl's pain. It was slightly worrying and disconcerting to Ratchet.

Lifting his servos up from where they rested in his own lap, Ratchet gently wiped away at the falling tears that had gathered around Prowl's optics. The Medic gently collected them on the tips of his thumbs in a display of intimate comfort and great concern. He hated seeing Prowl like this and it was spilling across their union easily, making Prowl's shoulders sink and his spark ache even more.

"It was one that I'd rather not think of again Carrier." Prowl answered, his voice so soft that Ratchet nearly missed the words completely. Prowl pushed himself to his pedes slowly, swaying uncertainly for a few astrosecond before he regained his motor functions under control. He also guessed that Ratchet's steadying servo helped in that sense as well.

"Why don't you tell me anything anymore Prowl?" Ratchet asked decidedly hurt that he was pushed away again. "It hurts me to see you like this too." Ratchet continued softly and promptly stilled when he felt Prowl place his servos on his shoulder plates. Ratchet relished in the contact; it had been eons since Prowl had approached him for any form of contact and now he was even initiating it first.

"For that I wish not to burden you beloved Carrier." Prowl gave a watery smile in answer and delicately pushed himself onto the tips of his pedes. Pressing a soft, loving, chaste kiss to Ratchet's gleaming silver chevron. It was both a promise and an apology. For an entire breem Prowl said nothing, he just laid his overly warm helm on his Carrier's shoulder and stayed where he was. Enjoying and absorbing the comfort that Ratchet gave him so easily just by being there. He didn't move when Ratchet's arms pulled him close for a gentle embrace, there was also no need to say anything. They understood that there were no words left to be said even when the air was charged with them...

"I need to go see Bluestreak." Prowl remarked softly after a long while, reluctant to let go of his Carrier just as Ratchet was reluctant to let go of him, but he did so anyways. Even when he had to force himself away from the embrace. "Go to Sire, Carrier. I'm sure he needs you more than me." Prowl noted with a wry smile, optics gleaming in unshed tears but his humour did not go unnoticed by the Medic.

Ratchet swatted at him playfully and Prowl just chuckled, unmoving when his optics flickered over the sleeping form of Jazz. The saboteur had taken the berth next to his own and Prowl gave a deep frown smile of remorse. The tactician regretted that he was going to be leaving Jazz by himself for a while, but this was also something he had to be done. He could ignore it no longer and he just hoped that Jazz would understand.

Ratchet seemed completely unwilling to let him go though, pulling him into another fierce embrace and parting his lip plates to admonish Prowl but Praxian just sighed softly at his Carrier and opened their bond fully.

::Please look after him for me while I'm gone. If Jazz wakes up looking for me, please tell him where I am.:: Prowl said, optics now dimmed and trained on the floor, in the corner of his vision he could see that Jazz slept on - not once disturbed by their talking. His pedes was shuffling uncomfortably under the scrutiny of his Carrier and for a moment Prowl felt like a little sparkling again, getting into trouble and was about to be punished for something. He was surprised however by a gentle kiss to his chevron that had Prowl looking up tentatively, expecting a rebuke but instead he got nothing but a small nod of acceptance and a push away from the warm embrace.

"Go before I change my mind." Ratchet remarked quite sternly and gave Prowl another little push towards the Medbay doors. The tactician didn't need to be told twice what to do and he obeyed his Carrier like he always did. Heading for the door but stopping in his tracks just before they swished open with little sound. He was frowning deeply and contemplatively as he looked back over his shoulder - straight at Ratchet when his doorwings sagged low on his back struts in sorrow.

"By the way Carrier Ratchet, whatever happened to my blue 49 Gamma building block?" In that question and those words he just gave the answer to Ratchet's question earlier, however before Ratchet could respond the tactician was out of the door and already disappearing down the hallway and onwards to his brother's room.

"Oh Prowl." Ratchet whispered brokenly and softly to himself. He knew exactly what his youngest had been talking about when he had mentioned that building block and that specific memory was not one of the best to relive in a painful Memory Flux. It was no wonder that his beloved youngling was in such pain. But what he could he do now? Nothing. That's what. Prowl had Jazz for comfort now and Bluestreak for his necessity.

Sitting on the edge of the berth that Prowl had just vacated, Ratchet hung his helm in his servos with despair. His spark already desperately calling out to his bondmate as his optics rested on the recharging form of Jazz. If only he could be lost in his dreams as the saboteur then he too wouldn't have to feel the pain of what it was that Prowl had just told him. It was not a nice feeling when a Carrier realized that he couldn't do anything for his youngling anymore to ease the suffering and sooth the pain.

Even though it had taken Ratchet two joors to convince Jazz to get some rest, he himself needed it desperately. He had just been about to leave when Prowl had woken up and he was glad he had been there. He didn't want others to see Prowl when he just awoke from a processor crash. It wouldn't be fair to both of them, being so thinly stretched and emotionally exhausted.

::You okay Ratch? Why don't you come to the berth? I've already lit the ion fire.:: Wheeljack's voice suddenly overwhelmed his spark with light hearted happiness and comfort and Ratchet smiled softly, his sweet Wheeljack was already picking up on his sorrow. Those few words were easy to persuade him to leave. His own anticipation was already building, Wheeljack could be such a sweet romantic when he wanted to be and Ratchet just loved being the centre of that gentle attention.

The Medic stood from where he was seated and pinged Jazz with a message that would activate when the saboteur woke up from his recharge. At least now Jazz would know where both he and Prowl had gone, the Spec Ops director was most likely going to be finding Prowl first so he gave him Bluestreak's quarter's location just in case he didn't know where it was. His cherry red servo briefly rested on Jazz's black fore helm in an intimate touch before he pulled away and left. The Medbay doors closing, but not locking behind him, as the last of the lights flickered off and Ratchet deactivated his main comm. line, his emergency comm. staying active just in case he was needed though.


Bluestreak was drifting in and out of consciousness, his spark overly heavy and his armoured frame excessively tired. Prowl had given him quite a scare earlier that orn. The comfortable couch in his quarters however, were providing a nice place - that wasn't so lonely and cold - where he could pursue some good reading material until recharge took him away from his internal misery. But so far, his peaceful drop from reality was still eluding him completely. There was a perpetual nervousness that didn't sit right with his roiling fuel tanks.

Besides that little revelation, everything else felt vacant and lost to Bluestreak. If it was not the emptiness he felt creeping upon his circuits, everything, except the couch where he and Prowl usually ended up in one of their 'twinly trysts', was a reminder of his and Prowl's shared pain. The mere thought of Prowl sent the young gunner's thoughts reeling with many revelations about his twin.

After more than five stellar cycles with the Praxian Lord's family Bluestreak had learned a lot about them and he was still learning. He had been afraid that Prowl would never accept him back after what Ratchet had told him had happened in Kaon, but Blue was so happy - for reasons he did not truly understand then, when Prowl had come to him two orns after Ratchet's visit. That was the first and only time that Bluestreak had ever felt so guilty about walking out on a mech when they were telling him something important. Merely seeing Prowl again had let him know he was somewhat forgiven for the pain he had caused not one of them - but the both of them.

That specific orn when he had muttered an apology and disappeared into the night, he had been in such pain himself that he thought he was going to die before the orn was up. But when Prowl returned for him, distinguished in his beautiful black and white travelling cloak - he had never been more happy to see the noble he thought had tried to deceive him into a false hope.

To say Bluestreak had been surprised when their very short conversation was abruptly stopped when Prowl had firmly pushed him up against a wall, was an understatement. He had understood now why Prowl had done it. The enticing touch of their spark chambers scraping together as their equally sized frames fit together so perfectly had eventually made Bluestreak reconsider if what Prowl had been saying was true. That large hole of emptiness in his spark, that he could never understand, had been partially filled with such close contact for such a short period of time. He had known then that it was true that they were twins because no other mech had ever made him feel safe and loved as much as Prowl had done in only that one moment.

'Enough playing, Bluestreak' Prowl had whispered directly into his audial receiver with such innocent sensuality that it made the older twin freeze in his struggling and submit to the sensations that was filling his entire being. 'You can feel it too can't you?' The memory replayed vividly in front of his optics, so much so that the merchant turned gunner offlined his optics to recapture that single moment in time and relive the intensity of their first encounter. Their very first bodily contact after stellar cycle of forced separation...

It had been so deliciously sweet that Blue almost sought it out every chance that he could get. Just so that he could feel that relief and acceptance again...

'The ache, the knowing that there is something missing, something since you were old enough to realize what hurt was.' Prowl's voice had continued in a lilting tone that was filled with such grief that Bluestreak had immediately wound his arms around his brother and brought them closer together. 'I feel it too. Perhaps more so because... b-b-because I knew you were the part of me that I was missing.' Those eternally beautified tears were not something Bluestreak had ever forgotten, it swayed him and he had given. Accepting that all that he had known was a precariously twisted lie that tore him apart from the inside and rested solely in his spark.

And in turn, he had come to love his family all just as they had come to love him for who he was. Ratchet, his gentle but temperamental Carrier had been a source of many nightly orn comforts that even Prowl didn't know about. The care he found in Ratchet had been something Bluestreak had never had before and now that it was so freely given, he allowed himself to revel in the sensations of being wanted. Wheeljack, his joyful, optimistic and happy Sire had been great amusement . It seemed that Bluestreak had inherited his Sire's inherent clumsiness too but Blue will never forget that he too played a role in easing his greatest doubts. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, his older siblings who often pulled him into more trouble that they were worth had been great entertainment when things got a bit too much for even him to handle and then finally there had been his other half, Prowl. The lonely tactician that was so shy around him, that their first encounters were sometimes uncomfortable and strained.

The gentle mech that Bluestreak had come to love with his entire spark. His twin Prowl; who was so much like their Carrier and shared so much of the same trauma as him. He who was also so much more vulnerable than he had first let on. Bluestreak's spark gave a little pang of regret, pain assaulting his processor and settling deep into his circuits. He had done Prowl wrong so many a time, that he had nearly been the reason that Prowl had completely broken in Kaon. Later on though ,when Prowl had told him what had happened when he had left there was so much guilt in his spark that Bluestreak felt as if he was suffering every minute pain with his brother. He still struggled with it ornly, blamed himself incessantly even when Prowl merely waved it aside and always whispered 'There's nothing to forgive Blue and I will always love you.', so tenderly that it made his spark melt.

Such sentiments had become his entire life and it had been the start of their 'twinly trysts' as Sunny and Sides had called it.

It was something that Blue realized that he needed more than they were given these last few vorns. what he wouldn't give to just hold Prowl now and offer him an outlet for his sorrow and pain? His family rarely realized this but he was sometimes just as vulnerable as Prowl. Sometimes even more so...

The grey and black Praxian now bit his bottom lip plate, trying to stave off the tears that he felt prickling at his optics. Why did it hurt so much to think of things like this? He hated it, hated it as much as his life in Kaon. His life hadn't been all pretty image captures and rose crystals either, just like Prowl - Blue had grown up thinking he was a dejected being of society and that his true family had never wanted him. Growing up in Kaon, a place that was not as friendly and understanding as Praxus, had ingrained into himself preservation protocols that not even Prowl processed.

He had no relatives to offer him comfort from the pain, and only empty stellar cycles of pain before he found out that he had been a stolen childe...

Almost a slave per say of a vengeful, scientific mech that the Praxian CMO had gotten kicked off the Academic Board of Iacon. Disgraced by the Prime and then exiled to live in eternal darkness. For what purpose he had been taken that orn no mech really knew but the one who had taken him. Bluestreak had only caught glimpses of conversation between the Enforcers when the evil scientist's lair had been raided and he had been taken away. He was apparently, sickeningly, being groomed for a sadistic experiment of how to turn a high class mech with standard circuits and processors into a lowly Courtesan for the upper echelons of Society. That was a fate he had also just narrowly escaped.

Bluestreak truthfully didn't remember much from that time of his life, too many data corruptions and so much darkness that memories of such a time was better left buried and dead... He did however remember the kindly old couple that had adopted him from the Youngling Care Centre before he could get lost in the vast system of abandoned younglings, war orphans and runaways from abusive homes. They had kindly raised him as their own and loved him in a way that Blue would never forget, they had renamed him Impel Coil but Bluestreak had always known that his designation was not that. He would always remember the kindly voice of his lost Carrier calling him 'his beautiful Bluestreak'. And after that a humble merchant he had become and always believed he was never destined for bigger things, he was destined to feel left out and only a part of what he could be. That was until Prowl had come.

Desperately biting back his need for reassurance that was clawing painfully at his spark, Bluestreak made himself comfortable on his lonely couch and wondered if Prowl was alright now. He knew that he needed to see Prowl, needed to feel his twin's plating against his just so that Bluestreak could escape the surreal feeling that had settled around his spark. He didn't know anymore where he stood with Prowl in his brother's new found sparkmate and if he should ask Prowl for that reassurance that he was still loved. The gunner held himself back deliberately though, too afraid to ask for anything should his happy life be razed to vapour in front of his very optics and disappear forever by the cruelty of Unicron...

Knocking? Bluestreak frowned and tilted his helm to the side slightly, listening intently - waiting for the that sound to resound through his quarters again.

Knock... Knock.

Knocking...? That was strange and unusual, he briefly wondered just who it could be that wanted to visit him. He wasn't expecting anyone, unless he had forgotten of an appointment? Hastily placing his datapad on the low table, Bluestreak rapidly wiped away the evidence of his sorrow from his optics and stood on his pedes shakily. Uncertain and suddenly weary of the world outside of his musings.

Knock, knock, knock.

It came again and Bluestreak parted his lip plates to shout his approach but the knocking stopped. His spark was beating frantically in his spark chamber when an invasive electronic chime sounded through his quarters instead. Had someone just hacked his door? Who would invade his privac―.

Door-Swish. Bluestreak was just about to reach for his rifle when his servos stilled and fell limply at his sides.

The distinctive sound of pattering pedesteps, the subtle melody of distressed, nervous fluttering doorwings had Bluestreak's intakes hitching rather painfully. There was only one mech with doorwings besides himself on the Ark. His spark now aflutter with anticipation and joy, Bluestreak rushed towards the door as fast as his shaky pedes could carry him. Relief squeezing a few stray coolant drops from his optics and staining his faceplates in joy and true beaming happiness.

The door swished again and this time a click resounded through the room as the lock reengaged, data scrambled and encrypted before the silence was settled heavily across Bluestreak's spark.

"Blue? Bluestreak? Are you still awa―?." A gentle, uncertain voice called out to him but his beloved twin never got to finish his sentence as Bluestreak flew from where he was standing, rather stunned, and immediately engulfed Prowl in a fierce, welcoming embrace. Two sets of doorwings tensing at the contact before they gave a simultaneous flutter of relief. Both he and Prowl were distinctly aware of the silence between them, it was beginning to crack with emotions and their intimate bond flared wide.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry. S-so very sorry." Prowl wailed suddenly, he couldn't keep himself together anymore and he sagged into Bluestreak's embrace. He had come to offer Bluestreak comfort and reassurance when he had felt his brother's pain and anxiety but he ended up being offered comfort in return - it just wasn't fair that Blue could do so much for him but he could hardly ever do anything that mattered to his beloved twin. For that alone, Prowl's spark was in desperate pain now and even though their spark ache was now shared it was hardly halved. It was only amplified twice, allowing their bond to split wide open caused twice the amount of grief and strengthen their sparks calling out for completion. Already searching for that centre of being where only they existed in each other's worlds. True, they had lovers, obligations, duties, family and many other things that they didn't share but in that moment they wanted nothing more than to melt into each other and forget the pain that they had been forced to endure.

Images, emotions, impressions, words of apology and acceptance danced around them like the dreams of dead mechs scattered to the winds and the four distant corners of the Universe. Everything was now in the open, the pain, the darkness, the sorrow, the fraught need and most of all the acceptance of love. A love so deep that was often shared by the slip spark twins of Primus' creation. Prowl clung to Bluestreak's frame, his words of apology and hastily explained murmurs of his emotions - for once taking on Bluestreak's famous pattern - seemed never ending, just as his frame never ceased in its uncontained shivers. Whether they be of delight or fear, neither of them knew. When Bluestreak lowered their entwined forms to the floor, careful with his trembling doorwings against the harsh carpet, the grey and black Praxian also settled next to Prowl. Their spark chambers touched lightly in a show of understanding for the need for close contact as both of them tried to melt into the other's plating.

They were pressed so closely together, frames giving off excessive heat and a desire for more. Prowl's sombre faceplates were mere inches apart from Bluestreak's uncharacteristic reflected emotions. Their lip plates nearly touching intimately as their olfactory sensors touched tenderly, their soft pants of unstable intakes tickling across sensitive plating and spreading a warmth through their sparks that hadn't been there in a while. The intimate position did not go unnoticed by either of them and Prowl, out of his usual shy character, consented to the unspoken question by dipping his helm down in acceptance - their lip plates brushing against each other briefly but the after taste of it left something to be desired.

Needing to feel something other than the raw ache where his brother's presence usually filled him, Prowl pressed closer to Bluestreak's plating - slipping a thigh between Blue's pedes so that his brother's pede would rest over his thighs. The subtle movement did not deter the desire, it only flared like the Ion fire in the Creators' quarters that they knew so well. It also not so subtly brought their interface panels together in a heady touch of arousal. Not only Prowl's desire, but Bluestreak's as well. The air was now charging with both unfathomable emotions and intermittent lust...

"Prowl, please don't." Bluestreak moaned slightly, his senses were leaving him fast and he didn't want Prowl to do something he'd regret later. His protestations were stilled by deft fingers tugging at his spark chamber's catch release, he understood the request - they needed to merge - but Bluestreak was being stubborn and he just couldn't take advantage of Prowl's confusion and spark ache like that. A gentle chaste kiss to his lip plates that suddenly turned sensual and much more intimate had Bluestreak's plating gave a shudder at his twin's new found boldness. Knowing, tender fingers now explored the expanse of his doorwings - knowing exactly what to do to make him lose all of his inhibitions. Both of them keened when it was a doubled sensation, their sparkbond still wide open and broadcasting emotions and sensations.

::Prowl! Stop! Please don't do something you're going to regret with Jazz.:: Bluestreak forced through their still open bond since his brother had his mouth occupied elsewhere, not that the older twin minded all that much. He even frowned in disappointment when Prowl pulled away; licked his lip plates sensually - he was probably not even aware that he was doing it - and have him a watery, sad, smile. Prowl's hint of innocence that had never faded, was still lingering brightly in those beautiful blue optics. Those previously overflowing optics were now slightly playful and wanting and Bluestreak sighed.

'Here we go again,' He thought to himself. It was the same desperately pained look that Prowl gave him when there was nothing helping to still the pain in his brother's erratic spark. So he overrode the pain with lust and hoped to forget for a few moments what it was that was hurting him so deeply. Bluestreak carefully lifted a servo and traced his brother's cheek plate lovingly. Feeling the wetness of the blue coolant that had been shed earlier and was still being shed. Damn it, his brother was beautiful like this. All broken but so innocently wanting comfort...

::Jazz wants us together, Blue, he'd never forbid me from doing this.:: Prowl promised softly and how could Blue ignore that?

::He told me he didn't want to break apart what we have. He knows what we need and he promised not to be jealous.:: The tactician, now slightly calmer, did not flinch when their positions were easily reversed. Too easily, he thought to himself but pushed it aside as other matters topped his protocol list. Bluestreak was now settling himself between Prowl's - slightly bent at the knee struts - pedes and pressed him firmly back onto the carpeted floor. His doorwings straining against the carpet but Prowl couldn't find it in him to protest. The heat coming off both of their frames, mingled as EM fields flared and meshed together sensually, Prowl knew that Bluestreak was seeking any form of deception from him but there was none to be found and when he seemed satisfied by the answer, their bond flared with a brief flash of understanding. Bluestreak was in turn rewarded with a brief flash of a memory he himself seemed to have forgotten but Prowl hadn't. Bit by bit his resisting resolve crumbled under the weight of reality.

'Ya know, Blue.' The brief memory flux purred between them, their chest armour scraping together in anticipation. 'Had Ah known ya woul' be that' affected by our playin' yesterorn Ah woul' 'ave invited ya te join us. Do ya think ya wan' te join us next time though?' Their desire was capturing their attention so wholly that it was impossible to separate their thoughts until every desire had been exchanged and every firewall had fallen under duress. They delved deep into their bond, deeper than they had ever been before. Searching memories, living them together and taking comfort in the simplest of pleasures that it brought them. They were waiting - like playing a youngling game - biding their time until one of them broke shattered the lust and took things to the next lever of ultimate bliss...

Even when the door swished open not far away from where they had fallen, they did not notice. Nor did they notice the entrance of another mech, this one having expertly hacked a locked door without alerting the two inside of what he was doing. A very familiar blue visor were trained upon their intimate embrace with surprise but no amount of hidden lust and pure, feral, want. A lop sided grin of satisfaction and desire curling at his lip plates as he leaned back against the closed door and folded his arms across his chest armour, lust shuddering through his circuits as he watched and waited until they noticed his presence.


Jazz stirred lightly from recharge, his haunting memory fluxes following him back to the land of the living and he gave an involuntary shudder. He kept his visor completely dark and his systems running perpetually slow as to fool others that he was still in recharge. He listened carefully to the silence that surrounded him, it must have been what had awoken him. There was no beep of the machines, no subtle movements that Ratchet usually made in his Medbay and no sense of Prowl's spark pulse. The saboteur hated silences, because silences such as these meant there was always the calm before the storm...

The immediate shock of what he realized, caused Jazz to jerk in fright. His recharge horrors overlapping with his wakened state and cognitive abilities, it had the Spec Ops Director wondering if he was in an interrogation room and had passed out from torture and was slowly awaiting his execution... Had all his happiness just been a mere dream of a doomed spark inside a dream?

It was near enough into throwing his systems into a panic so Jazz struggled with his visor's power systems, crying out his small triumph as it dimmed online - searching his location, looking for any recognizable heat signatures and any sign of another spark presence close by. It was often that Jazz awoke like this, his intimate assassination programming not a good help to his logical centres when awaking from a particular bad memory flux. It was a curse he just had to live with.

Taking a deep vent to calm his terror and traumatic stress, the saboteur offlined his visor and onlined it again to make sure that he wasn't dreaming this up. The Medbay may have been silent but there was clear evidence that life had been here no more than a breem ago. The latent heat of Prowl was still imprinted on the berth next to his and his presence wasn't that dampened to the saboteur's immense sensor array. The mech really couldn't have been gone that long and Ratchet's spark signature was still strong in the Medbay, it lingered by his side and even though it was gone Jazz knew he wasn't having a horrible night terror. Or that his reality had only been a fluke. It happened sometimes, his programming often made him paranoid enough to think (if only for a few nanokliks) that his last few orns of joy had been a hacker's skill in placing him in stasis whilst searching his systems and gaining all his secrets...

Jazz shook his helm in exasperation, scanning intimate systems and vast memory cores. There was no trace of another mech's system integrated with his except for Prowl's. Venting a sigh of great relief Jazz knew that his panic was unfounded and he could relax. Turning his attention inward to assess where that damn annoying buzzing sound was coming from, Jazz ran a normal system's check and it didn't take long until a message popped up on his HUD screen. It was literally screaming for his attention and Jazz (not for the first time) wondered just how he had missed something so glaringly obvious in his state.

Internal Alert Message - Sender: LP R 33494 651 *223

Open or Delete?

Jazz stilled and quietly pushed himself upright at the bright display on his visor's HUD, Ratchet had left him a message. How in Primus' good name had Jazz missed it again? Quickly selecting the Open option, Jazz scanned the message as a smile tugged at his lip plates.

'If you are looking for Prowl Jazz, he woke up about a breem ago. He's gone to find Bluestreak and I trust you know where he is.' The message ping replayed the message and Jazz quickly read the rest. 'I've attached the coordinates to his quarters if you don't know where they are and if you're looking for me I'm with 'Jack. Emergency comm.'s open. Don't bother me though or I'll do something you'll regret. Signed Ratchet.' Jazz chuckled at the last few words. That was definitely Ratchet, giving enough information to satisfy his own fears and subtly tell him that if there was a real emergency then he was still reachable.

Although Jazz couldn't lie, he felt a bit hurt that Prowl had wandered off without him. But then again, maybe he really needed to see Bluestreak. The saboteur gave a decidedly indifferent shrug and pulled himself bodily from the berth where he had fallen into recharge. Momentarily struggling with the sudden heaviness that had settled across his plating, he however managed to rise to his pedes - if not a bit groggily from his unfinished recharge. Stifling a yawn, Jazz headed towards Bluestreak's quarters. Memorizing the location as he found his way through the intricate halls of the Ark.

It was an easy route, easily committed to his databanks and the room itself had a door that was easier hacked than it was locked. The saboteur gave a subtle smirk, and using his considerable skill that he had picked up over his long life as a spy and internal saboteur the door clicked open before it swished to the side. The Spec Ops mech had soon bypassed all security systems and alerts, and to antagonize Red Alert - he lifted his helm and sent a wink at the camera that was trained on him. Red was watching, he was always watching.

He had to greet old Red Alert somehow that didn't send him into a dead panic or so Jazz thought, a little teasing was never a bad things. Jazz hastily entered the room, only to freeze in his tracks - by the door frame - for a second time that orn. He shook himself from his daze and stepped forward slightly, the door closing behind him silently. The more he observed the more Jazz had to step back to lean against the closed door, his systems were nearly non-functional with his surprise and quiet delight. For the second time the orn, Jazz felt if his own systems would be sent into a crash at the unexpected.

Prowl and Bluestreak couldn't have been a few astrometres away from his pedes, both doorwinged mechs entwined intimately and quite happily - optics half dimmed as their helms rested together - fore helm to fore helm in quiet familiarity. Tender lip plates mere astroinches apart and hovering, waiting for a kiss. Jazz was disappointed to note that he couldn't establish if they were connected via hard-line. But what the Spec Ops mech did notice was their straining movements, near silent sounds of delight and duel pleasure. It did not take a service drone to see what it was that was conspiring between them. To the intent blue visor, the delicate blue arcs of a building overcharge was noticeably obvious and set the saboteur's own interfacin protocols alight with want.

Jazz hummed softly, Bluestreak was clearly the bolder in this situation. Prowl, the delicately submissive of the two twins and obviously the second born, was straining his pleasure. Back arched with those doorwings scraping rather painfully against the floor. Jazz wanted to wince at the painful action but held back when he noticed the calm approach to the situation that Bluestreak was taking, Jazz amiably admired his obvious skill in handling his brother. Prowl was such a delicate mech, a fragile spark that was easily affected by undue words and responded even more to comfort when in was truly intended.

Jazz knew this because Prowl always sought him out after good interface to cuddle and steal always his warmth. With his twin between his pedes, Jazz felt as if one of his richest and most desired fantasies was coming to life. Even though his visor was aware of every detail, their interface panels still closed - he could clearly smell the heady the lust in the air. Not that he minded much, even though he was slightly jealous, Jazz was clearly enjoying his vantage point from where he was standing.

Seeing his beloved Prowl in such an intimate position with another mech though, made Jazz's jealousy flare. He wanted to claim Prowl all over again, the brilliant tactician was his and only his. Yes, Jazz might allow Prowl his time with his brother but only because it was his brother and no one else. Jazz knew a little about split spark twins, they were essentially one spark in two bodies - had a constant need to spark merge every few vorns and their interface gratification was most likely supplied most of the time. It was not so rare to be able to see twins like this, but Jazz couldn't help but feel a little left out. Slightly pouting to himself and being the subtle saboteur that he was - Jazz shuffled forward. His pedes silent just as invisible as his presence, whether they had seen him or not - they still showed no amount of recognition that his presence would normally have provoked.

It made this a little easier, he guessed.

"Prowler?" Jazz sing songed softly where he knelt beside his lover's pleasure writhing frame, his hips now pressing against the wall as he sat directly behind Prowl. He smiled seductively when those blue optics snapped open with quiet fright and guilty pleasure but Jazz merely smiled. Lifting his beloved's helm into his lap as he cooed softly and stroked the tactician's helm in a comforting manner.

"J-Jazz?" The saboteur smiled and leaned forward slightly. He loved it when Prowl stuttered so lovingly in his surprise.

"Havin' fun all by yerself, Prowl?" Jazz purred deeply, his melodic voice dipping to just the right pitch to make his lover shudder beneath him. "'Urts a bit ya know." Jazz pointed out in mock anger. His visor intently trained on both Bluestreak and Prowl, at this vantage point they were even more beautiful and Jazz saved the image of them to memory. Maybe he'd ask Sunny to do him a drawing of them together like this. And the subtlety of being able to rub Prowl's chevron teasingly whilst watching Bluestreak drive his twin's pleasure higher and higher was something that Jazz enjoyed immensely. But he saved his apparent desire for when he and Prowl were alone.

"Ah'll le' Blue hav' his way with ya, " Jazz promised, his clawed fingers now finding purchase on Prowl's shoulder plates as he squeezed gently. The saboteur leant forward, lip plates now resting against Prowl's audial as he teased him. "But Prowlie, Ah'm gonna have te punish ya fer leaving' me out o' this. Ah was never a good candidate fer jealousy." At Prowl's delicious shudder of delight, Jazz smiled and focused his visor on Bluestreak. Those optics were trained on him in question and Jazz smiled, giving him permission to continue whilst he continued to drive Prowl insane with tactile touch and deliberate whispers of just what he would do to his beloved bondmate.

A lazy swipe of his knowing claw like fingers, just so delicately across the expanse of those trapped doorwings, had his Prowl arching - pushing at his twin - to get more into Jazz's searching servos. The saboteur gave a secret little smirk, it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be to override his interfacin protocols until he reached his quarters but he would do it. Even watching Prowl like this from a different angel than he was used to was indeed a rare sight, one he would not forget nor file away carelessly.

Jazz could only guess that their pleasure was being driven by both of them delving through their bond and seeking out sensations and memories to provoke such reactions. A very clever use of a bond that Jazz would not easily thrust aside, Prowl would he his in every way conceivable and having been given permission to finnish their bond - Jazz knew it would not be more than two orns before they were permanently bonded. Blast every other mech that didn't agree with them or disagreed with his choice of partner. Prowl was his sparkmate and nothing would ever change that.

Jazz was promptly dragged from his thoughts when he felt Prowl's frame tremble beneath his fingers. The spark chamber hatch he had just been fingering apparently a very sensitive place on the Praxian's frame. When Prowl pushed himself onto his elbow struts, thrown back helm now touching Jazz's spark chamber the saboteur shuffled forward and allowed their bodies to come into more full contact. Prowl's doorwings scraping against his chest armour pleasantly as Jazz helped keep Prowl steady when he pronounced his need for overload by a loud keen. He even entwined their fingers intimately and when Prowl's helm pressed more firmly into his own, Jazz offlined his visor. Lowering his helm to capture gentle lips within his own and leisurely explore Prowl's mouth component to his true content.

"Let go." Jazz whispered softly, his servo discreetly slipping lower and lower on Prowl's plating until he rested his clawed fingers on his inner thigh plates, a thumb brushing against a closed interface panel that was hot to the touch and sent little shocks of want through his systems.


Prowl's helm made a hollow thud against the wall, an echo of his guilty pleasure building in his circuits again. The tactician wasn't complaining at all, he confessed quietly to himself that he had wanted to be discovered by Jazz. Wanted to be seen doing such things with his twin, wanted to coveted by his beloved and claimed all over again. He didn't want to hide things from Jazz anymore - it hurt too much and he would see it all anyways. It wouldn't be long now until they bonded and Prowl really couldn't wait anymore, he could feel Jazz so close to him, pressing up against him and just out of servo's reach. That beautiful visor was right in front of him - a mere astroinches apart from his lip plates but still so out of reach of his spark's encompassing love that it was slightly disconcerting.

Prowl made a small whimper, fingers scraping against his palm in hopes that the pain in his spark would fade. It was a hollow wish and Prowl knew it but being with Blue had helped a bit in that aspect, it was now up to his beloved to do the rest and for Prowl to truly surrender himself to Jazz. He could the feel the anticipation build and the more Jazz stayed silent, pinning him to the wall of the saboteur's quarters, the more Prowl felt his circuits heat in anticipation.

Prowl knew that this was a punishment for straying away from Jazz side when he should have told him where he was going but even Prowl found the teasing tension a bit too much. They were already linked through their hard-line and Jazz wasn't giving him pleasure - he was just hovering on the edge of his consciousness and driving his systems insane with small bursts of data. Prowl arched into the touch slightly, he knew he would never be satisfied with only such a gentle connection to Jazz. He needed something much more substantial and erotic.

"Prowler," Jazz's voice was burning with possessive jealousy and Prowl shuddered against the wall, another brush of pleasure heating across his systems as Jazz took full control of him. His doorwings scraped painfully against the harsh wall, it was difficult to try and pay attention to what it was that Jazz was saying to him but whatever he was trying wasn't working. The scent of a burning Ion fire lingered in the distance, heady and reminiscent of a time Prowl never dared to forget. He loved the smell and the large hearth was indeed lighted with purple flames, the rest of the rooms were bathed in so little light that the complete darkness was almost frightening to Prowl but Jazz managed to keep his processors away from the darkened room.

"Ah don't mind the once in a while spark merge with Blue, but ya 're going ta be bonded ta meh soon." Jazz continued his soliloquy calmly, servos pressed on each side of Prowl's helm and keeping him trapped against the wall with a limited range of movement. The low lighting forced Prowl to adjust his optics to take in his beloved's handsome features but that visor flashed dangerously and warningly.

"Keep 'em dimmed Prowler." That seductive voice demanded and Prowl obeyed, the only thing his optics were now able to see was the blue visor and fiercely handsome features of his beloved Jazz. Nothing else was visible except the faint outline of their bodies in the Ion fire and the eating darkness that spread through the room like a fire through the science sector of Iacon.

"Ah want te know every time 'fore ya go off to yer brother fer somethin' so intimate, Prowler. Ya see Swee'spark," Jazz emphasised his point by gently tracing Prowl's cheek seam lovingly. "Ah'm a possessive mech by nature. 'Nd Ah proclaim as mah Prowl, mah beloved and my bondmate. No twin, no mech or femme will take ya from meh unless they pry ya from mah dead servos." Jazz purred deeply and threateningly and it was a subtle warning for the future, Prowl recognized it for what it was and could only nod dazedly. His fingers dug painfully into his own thigh plating to ground his thoughts that were running away from him. Prowl was flustered with embarrassment, his interface panel was itching for the touch of Jazz and the saboteur knew it too. There was no way he could not know, could not know that he needed to feel his beloved in him - around him - claiming him for himself...

The igniting arousal between the two of them, had the desperate want that Prowl could feel emanating from Jazz make a heady mixture of arousal and pure, possessive jealousy. Even in his pleasured haze, Prowl observed his future bondmate; he was barely able to form a coherent sentence or even think of anything besides the burn in his circuits and his desperate want to be filled and be taken so completely that he only remembered Jazz's designation. A shiver raced up his plating and rushed through his circuits - leaving the tactician yearning for more than being just pressed against the wall and trapped by a heated frame and a scorching fire of unadulterated yearning.

Prowl truly hadn't meant for his visit to his brother to turn out the way that it did, but now that it had and Jazz had him pinned to a wall - whispering in his audial and driving him insane with lust was something he didn't mind experiencing every orn. He was sure that his beloved could drive him to overload by merely murmuring to him in that seductive voice that made Prowl's processors reel and his valve clench already painfully empty and in need to be filled. What else could Prowl do but hope to sway Jazz into his web of desire? And yet the saboteur was holding up remarkably well even when they were already connected to a hard-line interface.

The young Praxian knew that he wasn't completely over his memory flux earlier and the pain that had settled across his spark and processors. He truly believed that Jazz was the only one that would be able to stop the ache now that Blue had failed to do so. The only obstacle in Prowl's path was that: how did one ask for such blatant release of emotional turmoil rather than facing it and dealing with it?

Prowl tried his best to convey his yearning for touch and for the pain in his spark to fade and when he felt his intakes hitched painfully, he knew he was going to be lost in a world where pleasure was granted but his pain was still there. Always would be there, separation from a split park twin at such a young age had scarred his spark and Prowl knew that the pain would never truly fade but there were moments when it felt better. Like now when he felt sly fingers trace over his overheated interface panel, and at the command from Jazz:

"Open for me," Prowl opened it without any reservations. Anything for a bit of momentarily relief from his spinning thoughts. Thoughts that were hidden behind his emotional core programming and where Jazz couldn't reach them, even if they were connected as they were now. Prowl didn't know if it should be a relief or a great worry.

"J-Jaaazzz! Please!" Prowl pleaded, feeling thoroughly mollified by his lover's touches and the desperate need that his love had been building in his circuits for over three breems was eating away at his control. That was for how long they were tangled against the wall, fingers teasing and touching but never giving him more than little tastes of the pleasures that was waiting for him in his surrender. Prowl saw no other options, he would surrender...

One claw like finger slid into his valve and Prowl lost all train of his thought, his spark momentarily quiet after the pain had been reawakened by a memory flux from his sparkling vorns. The slick feeling of the easy slide of Jazz's finger told the tactician that his valve was most likely already dripping with his need, staining his lover's clawed servos in a tinge of blue and filled the atmosphere with the heady smell of his deepest arousal.

"Tell mech Prowler, did ya want te be found?" Jazz purred and Prowl could only nod helplessly, helm clanging against the solid metal wall as a groan escaped his tired vocalizer. He felt the grin that Jazz gave as the saboteur leaned into his neck components, sharp denta tugging and biting at sensitive wires and cables that left Prowl arching into his touch despite still being pressed against the wall. It was almost as if he was magnetized there by external influences, he still couldn't move very well but his processors were clear and his motor functions still working perfectly fine - so why was he still stuck to the wall with limited range in his movement.

The sharper the bites became the more Prowl keened out to his lover.

"Ah see, well we're gonna hav' ta work on explorin' all these lit'le fantasies ya have." Jazz whispered seductively, his melodic tone one of arousal and fighting calm. "Then, we're gonna work through all mine." The promise was like liquid fire between them and Jazz was surprised when Prowl's valve clenched around his slow pleasuring finger.

Chuckling at the tactician's bodily reaction to his words, Jazz growled in retaliation and slipped in a second finger - enjoying the whine that Prowl let out was audial splitting. Jazz understood the whine, it told him exactly where he was standing in their position and the hard-line connection between them was throbbing with desire and need from the both of them. It was a flood of emotions, it was a promise that they both wanted more than anything and the sensation of rivulets of lubricant snaking down his hand and wrist components was making Prowl all the more desirable to Jazz.

Pinching a trapped doorwing between his forefinger and thumb, Jazz covered his beloved's mouth with his own. It was a flush of their stimulation, a rush of excitement and anticipation. It was heady and made everything that much more intense when Jazz retracted his fingers. His general nature for teasing fading fast with the heat that was crawling over his plating and staining his entire spark. There was no more desiring what he wanted, no more desiring what they both wanted. It was time to make sure it happened.

There was a palpable electricity between them now and Jazz's mastery of his magnetic field nearly shifted and gave Prowl his movement back but not yet, they had to wait just a little longer. Building all this anticipation would produce a good outcome when he finally did slide his spike into Prowl, a delicious thought that was as distracting as those slow grinding hips against his own were. Absentmindedly Jazz traced the seals to Prowl's spark chamber, falling instead into his thoughts as he wondered just when Prowl would be ready to allow those bonds with his family to sna―.

"T-t-th-ree orns." Came the blessed reply and Jazz was momentarily stunned, confused and wondering if his sensory horn had malfunctioned for a klik.

"Huh?" He murmured eloquently and Prowl smiled at him, and in the darkness of the room with only the subtle light of the purple Ion fire to light his beloved's pleasure twisted features, Jazz soon found himself on the receiving end of a smouldering kiss. Glossa twining in a dance for dominance and for once Jazz surrendered, awarding his loved Prowler the win of this round and the win of his spark. There was a slight click as his interfacing panel slid back and he lost his careful, teasing control.

Prowl had known what would break him...

"I-I said t-three o-orns J-Jazz!" Prowl forced between his clenched denta, neck cables straining at the new assault of pleasure that erupted through his systems. The hard-line now long forgotten to the real feeling of Jazz's spike sliding into his valve at a leisure pace. He moaned deeply, this time it was definitely not going to take him a long time until his pleasure spiked and he passed out from exertion and bliss.

"Three orns to what Prowl?" Jazz persisted, keeping himself still and waiting for his answer. He had to know that he had heard right for his spark was beating wildly in his spark chamber and happily taking the answer for what it was.

"U-until we b-bond, give me three orns to...oh my..." Prowl drifted off with a loud profanity, back struts arching and doorwings struggling against another force that kept him back, to try and quiver at the pleasure that was racing through his systems. Jazz's first thrust deep into his valve had the tactician biting his bottom lip plate painfully, he whined and keened his pleasure - trying to convey just what it was that he was experiencing. It was already chasing through his unstable systems, crackling overload was just mere moments away and still Jazz toyed with him. But when the mysterious binding force that had been holding to the wall disappeared, Prowl took advantage of it in full. There was nothing more than what he wanted to do and he did it was a satisfied gasp and uncertain pleasure.

Arms gently winding around Jazz's neck cables to bring his lover closer to him, one thigh sliding up and against Jazz's hip to balance himself better. The affect also pushing Jazz deeper into him. The sensations were pure bliss and the moment his chevron tip was taken into a warm mouth like always, Prowl felt himself tightening against Jazz's impressive spike. He was already so close to his loss off ultimate control and Jazz seemed to know it. The tempo of his pleasure inducing thrusts was building, warming his systems from the inside so that he forgot he momentarily disorientation to his spark's pain and his body's pleasure.

"Three orns then Prowl," Jazz gasped softly, glossa teasing a delicate audial receiver and pressing further into the tight heat engulfing his entire spike. The tightness, the wetness - it was almost as if they had been made for each other and nothing could them apart besides the reach of Unicron when he beckoned them to their inevitable extinguish.

"B-but that is all I'm giving you, no more waiting." Jazz promised. The charge building through both of their systems and reflecting off of the hard-line that still connected them closer than ever before. It was a heady rush and where it started first Jazz wouldn't know but it soon engulfed them both in a roaring fire of bliss. An overload so harsh and so bright that his visor dimmed and his frame stiffened almost painfully. The screech of their plating was but a hollow silence compared to the howl that Prowl let loose. That perfect chassis bowing in a arch of pleasure and moulding their pleasured bliss into something more...

It was the ultimate, unadulterated bliss and when it felt so good now then how would it feel when they fully bonded? Neither of them were coherent enough to make an answer to the query. It was bliss, sorrow, pain and also spark deep love that flowed into the both of them.

An understanding that with the pain there was pleasure and with the pleasure there would always be pain...

It was a never ending cycle, just as their bodies would be craving for each other in a never ending pattern of want and desire. A desire for more than just the physical and so much more than what they possessed now. It was heady, saddening and promising all at once and they realized just what it was that was that they had together it was also a moment of absolute clarity. It was something most mechs lived without ever experiencing - for in these modern times sparkmates were as rare as split spark twins, and as rare as those who still believed in Primus. It was an old folly, a folly that belonged to the stories of the Old Ones and a story that was rarely believed in that orn but they both knew there was no other explanation for what it was that they had...

Eternal Sparkmates...

They had truly made for one another...


Jazz was seated on the end of the berth where he had laid Prowl to rest; his fingers brushing gently against Prowl's chevron. His lip plates moved in gentle whispered promises as he talked to his exhausted beloved who was deep in recharge after an exhausting interface of intense pleasure and many promises. Jazz could do nothing more but curse the timing of Primus' ill fated humour, he was needed in the Prime's office and it wasn't for a social visit and Jazz knew that.

The Spec Ops Director knew that he had to leave even though he didn't want to do anything of the sort, there was no way around a direct summons from the Prime himself and if he did - Jazz was sure Prowl would be experiencing a logic crash again. Prowl was so peaceful when he was deep into his recharge cycle; that perpetual sorrow that he constantly displayed to his beloved Jazz was now hidden and for once he looked like the young mech that he truly was - only several vorns into his adult frame and with a brilliant but controlled processor that was so strategic that it could spell the victory for them if his talents were truly realized.

Jazz gave a decidedly sorrowful smile and pressed a chaste kiss to his love's helm and headed towards the door without a sound. Looking over his shoulder plates one more time in a loving gaze before his visor trained on the path ahead. He was a saboteur, spy, assassin and whatever Optimus Prime asked of him. He had no true job except training other's with his skills and doing the jobs that the Prime did not like to dirty his servos with. He was the conductor of the war from the shadows and anyone who knew his name were right by it to fear for their lives if they ever met him. There were just some things that he was not quite ready yet to share with Prowl, thanking his beloved for the three orn grace period he had been given - it would help settle his spark and help him focus on his life outside of this all encompassing need to bond.

A nanoklik after his leaving, the warm and cosy berthroom was cold to the sleeping tactician without Jazz's presence and Prowl subtly curled deeper into the covers. Jazz knew nothing of it and continued onto the office that he had been summoned to; sure that it would be his doom and drag him away from the one mech that had stolen his spark for such a long time now. He wouldn't give Prowl up, wouldn't even consider it...

Even though he had other obligations, Jazz also had to follow - no matter how much he sought to make Prowl his only obligation and his love for Prowler his only protocol in his processors - he had to follow his Prime wherever he led him and that was sometimes into the reach of Unicron. That was the secret, he was willing to lay his life on the line so that Optimus Prime would have any sort of advantage to winning this war.

The door pinged open this time, instead of its quiet slide, as Jazz laid his servo on the imprint pad. Smiling smugly to himself, he could already guess just why visitors - even authorized ones - were announced every time they entered the office. This time Jazz was happy it was only Optimus' weary gaze that greeted him over a stack of customary datapads that Jazz was used to seeing on the Prime's desk. Glad for a second time that it was not an erotic Red Alert bent at such a beautiful angle in such an envious position.

"Ah see ya installed 'n 'lert at least." Jazz teased his commanding officer as he sauntered over to wall directly behind the Prime's desk, the place where he always stood as he received his 'missions'. He leaned against the wall, pulling up a pede in a relaxed position and folding his arms around against his spark chamber as he stayed in Prime's peripheral vision so that the larger mech knew he was still there. A sharp blue visor taking in the slight embarrassment that coloured the Prime's visible cheek plates, that reaction caused the saboteur to smile to himself. He had hit the nail on the helm with that statement.

"Y-yes." The answer was shaky but no less dignified and Jazz chuckled delightfully, enjoying Optimus Prime's flustered reaction to the statement and the implications of what it was that he had just said. Optimus Prime was an enigma in itself - a great leader with the humility that even the best of the soldiers of the Autobot Faction lacked and being more mech than he was High Priest to Prime.

It was one of the only reasons why Jazz followed Optimus as a true Prime and only him. The slightly bored saboteur leaned his helm back against the wall and offline his visor, his unseeing optics - a perpetual black - just as they had been rendered on one of his first missions, seeing nothing but his sensor net was tingling with Optimus' quiet reserve and clear pulses of concern and self distaste. In those wide sphere of emotions, Jazz knew that something had gone wrong and he was going to be the one that was going to be doing the cleaning up. It wasn't a wrong assumption at all.

"Jazz I called you here because there has been trouble in the underground ranks in Polihex." Optimus deep baritone drifted through the air clearly and Jazz shivered, it was such a powerful voice that was filled with compassion and the sorrow that laced it wasn't uncommon but the way that Optimus had said those last seven words, he knew something was coming that he wasn't goin to like. A tone like that never spelt anything good for him and Jazz let out a vent of frustration, visor dimming as he leant his helm back against the wall with frustration.

"Ya're askin' fer an assassination Prime or an infiltration?" Jazz asked defeated. When there was no answer he tilted his helm and turned his attention to the Prime sitting so regally in his chair. " A council member right? Givin' sympathy ta the Decepticons? Or is it a high ranking Autobot officer illegally providing sensitive information?" Jazz growled his guesses lowly. If it had been a simple job, it would have meant that one of his lower ranking spies would have been called for the job but it had been him instead. With a summons like this, Jazz knew that not even Mirage was going to be qualified enough to do this one. So naturally it would fall to his shoulder plates, Cybertron's best silent assassinator and legendary saboteur. Oh how he hated this part of himself, the part that could so easily cut himself off from his conscience and what made him him. It was a frightening concept to his programming that often scared him more than the missions that he was given.

"You know how I hate death in any sense," Optimus Prime pointed out softly and Jazz tilted his helm in acknowledgement. "But I'm afraid it's the former Jazz. Very sensitive information has been leaked and have been for more than six vorns. It's time it was put to a stop, so the former to your earlier question too. There is no need for infiltration." That was as far of an answer as Jazz was going to get, and the tired saboteur vented his second sigh in a few kliks. This was getting tiring, the leaving and the coming back. Sometimes he was pushed to become the darkness in a mission and once again, he was returning to the darkness' embrace and leaving his lover to do what Unicron required of him. Become a assassin for a cause...

Sacrifice one but save thousands...

That was little cancelation to his thoughts but Jazz understood, knew that he needed to do this so he nodded his helm.

"Death is bu' a neces'ary evil." Jazz spoke softly. Pushing himself away from the wall to stand in front of Optimus instead. "This 's war Optimus, 'nd Ah'm yer best assassinator. Ah understand the necessity of this action, in fact Ah should 'ave spotted it m'self." Jazz pointed out, his servos falling against his side and clenching at his sides. The claw like servos were sharp against his palm when he tilted his helm back, philosophically in search of the answers to the Cybertron's mysteries on the light orange ceiling.

"The mech in question was responsible for the destruction of Praxus." Optimus infirmed his TIC quietly and Jazz flinched internally, knowing this was not going to be an easy get and get out mission - the darkness of the action was more justified than Jazz would like - in fact it was justified enough that he would enjoy seeing the life draining from the mech's greying form.

He nodded once in acceptance and turned to the door.

"Base Delta 52." Optimus countered against and Jazz stilled in his short walk towards the doors. Bringing up a servo he rubbed at his optic ridge to calm his systems, a heavy processor ache was building behind his optics and he knew that it had nothing to do with his intense session with Prowl a few joors before. No it was an ache for a different reason.

"Ya don' spare meh any stops do ya?" Jazz chuckled brokenly. That was one of the Autobot's most fortified bases, deep underground in Polihex. It was definitely not the easiest to sneak into - commit murder - and get out unscathed. Prowl was not going to be happy when Jazz had to leave him for those last few orns of the three he had been promised and come back injured as well. Peering over his shoulder, Jazz gave a curt nod of understanding, but held the guilty gaze of his commander a little longer than necessary. He knew how much it affected Optimus to even call Jazz in for something like this - especially now that he knew Jazz was due to be bonded to his sparkmate soon. Given a watery smile in return he stopped just in front of the office doors, his fore helm leaning against the cool metal to stop the throbbing ache as his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of another life that would be extinguished by his servos.

"Ah don' like this Optimus," Jazz told the Prime straight off. "but Ah'll do it, only 'f ya consider makin' Prowler yer Head Tactician. He's goo' Prime, in fact his statistics are bett'r tha' any we 'ave had 'ver 'fore. With the Praxus gone now, he's the 'nly tactician' lef' of our side." Jazz pointed out calmly, he didn't see Optimus nod but he felt the consent in the air. The saboteur gave another watery smile, he had no more questions. He knew everythin by instinct - didn't even need to ask for the name. But there was one more question, one he usually didn't want an answer to but now that he had Prowl it was vital.


"As soon as possible." Jazz bit his bottom lip plate and nodded once again - understanding the urgency of the matter.

"Ah'll leave in a joor. 'Ave the transport ready. Three orns Prime, no more." Jazz said brusquely and finally left through the open door. These were the times where he hated his job more than most, he wouldn't even get the time to say a proper goodbye except type out a quick message on a datapad and leave it with Prowl to read later. It was a difficult job he had to but even he understood why it had to be done, they could not risk another city as they had risked Praxus with that information leak. It was inevitable that his duty called once more but Jazz was ready for it, it would only take him two orns at most to get there and back, three orns just encase he was injured on the job.

'And twelve orns shall be yours with your bondmate afterward.' The Prime's last, almost unspoken words were ringing in his mind and settled deep in his spark as he made his towards his quarters. Jazz had to time everything perfectly and he only had several joors before he was to be sneaking into his own faction's base, a fortified base, without nomech knowing it or spotting him on the way in. It was not ideal but it was one of the better jobs he had gotten, at least it wasn't an infiltration mission into one of the Decepticon bases. That could take vorns, sometimes metacycles if he was lucky enough to gather what he needed before hand.

'Keep safe mah beloved, Ah'll be back for ya.'


Thanks for reading and please leave me a review! I would really appreciate that! Thank you for all of those who read and enjoy this story there will be a lot more to come and a separate story with Ratchet x Wheeljack as well, it won't be so long until it is published.

Thanks again.

Your Humble Servant