[Fic][TF2007] - SSPJ
Title: SSPJ
Author: moya_koordinat
Rating: MA; out and out smut with hints of non-con
Pairing: Sunstreaker/Prowl, Sideswipe/Jazz
Summary: '"Explain yourselves," growled the tactician, fingers digging into the edge of his desk where he'd gripped it. The twins rumbled deep, a mechanical growl of amusement that wove into Jazz's hitching gasp as Sideswipe manhandled him, bent him over Prowl's desk.'
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
A/N: Finally! Ees feeneesheeddd. ♥ This is my own little shoutout and addition to Prowl/Jazz/Lambotwin fics/arts. It is indeed very fun.
"You," Sunstreaker snarled, dramatically, exploding into Prowl's office with all the grace of a raging multitonne Lamborghini. Sideswipe sauntered after him, pace leisurely and expression cool, smirk firmly in place. And behind hustled Jazz, hoping to maybe restrain the golden Lambo before he pounced Prowl. Or something.
Sunstreaker slammed his palms within centimetres of Prowl's datapads, a deep, deep growl roaring at the smaller Nissan - instantly, the tactician's wings stiffened, and his fuel pump almost rabbited. Almost.
"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," he began. "Jazz. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"
And for the first time, he noted that Sunstreaker's snarl was less an expression of how he'd like to tear something apart and more of something darkly, powerfully seductive - seductive in the way fear and the promise of danger, of being threatened but never in any way subject to harm, could be. Prowl's gaze was steady, despite the intensity of Sunstreaker's presence.
"Funny that you should say 'pleasure'," drawled Sideswipe, from somewhere near Prowl's side. He inclined his head, acknowledging the other's presence, though he wasn't sure what to make of Sideswipe's words. As the red Lambo paced away, sidling up to Jazz, Sunstreaker pushed away and came round the desk, aware of Prowl's gaze on him.
Well. If that was the name of the game.
Jazz bit down on an undignified squeak at Sideswipe's sudden move, as the taller, bulkier Lambo expertly pinned his wrists behind his back, pushing him forward roughly. Alarmed, Prowl rose from his seat, wings flaring - then Sunstreaker grabbed the black underpair, making the tactician hiss with the sudden wrench.
"Sit," he growled, tugging lightly. Prowl winced, reluctantly lowered himself back down. A pair of black-and-gold arms draped themselves over his shoulders, fingers cupping the long angular curve of his headlights.
"Explain yourselves," growled the tactician, fingers digging into the edge of his desk where he'd gripped it. The twins rumbled deep, a mechanical growl of amusement that wove into Jazz's hitching gasp as Sideswipe manhandled him, bent him over Prowl's desk. Frowning, the tactician noted that despite the apparent roughhousing, neither twin was actually out to wrench servos, or spill energon. They were obviously keeping themselves well in check, despite the bluff of their menace.
"Well, what the slag do you think it looks like, copper?" quipped Sideswipe smartly, pressing up behind Jazz, effectively grinding the Solstice's hips into the desk edge. The smaller mech whined, craning his neck to try to meet Prowl's gaze. Prowl made a quiet, sympathetic sound, trying to soothe him.
"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me, as the humans say," Prowl stated, starting to squirm under the light drifting touch of golden fingers over headlights and hood.
"But!" Sideswipe said brightly, bent over Jazz, shifting his hips slowly against the saboteur's aft. The Solstice made a small, choked noise. "You've got this uncanny ability to be almost a hundred percent accurate," he grinned, one hand skimming over Jazz's side, slow and sensual. "'Sides. I'd say this one would be a doozy. So go on then, say it, copper. What're we doing?"
"Trying to seduce a superior officer, which is tantamount to fraternization, and which would earn the pair of you brig time."
"We ain't your normal army," Sideswipe leered. "Anyway. You got the seduction part right, but we ain't going after superior officers. We're seducing two mechs whom we've had an optic out for, and whom we like to think are at least sorta fond of us, despite the one constantly having a thing for locking us up. Sure you don't have some disciplinarian kink somewhere in there, Prowl?"
"He's straight as a laser beam," scoffed the golden Lambo, flattening a palm over the side of Prowl's jawline to press his head to one side, baring the neat array of neck cabling to the frontliner's lip components. Intakes hitching, Prowl twitched as glossa speared along the cables, trailing a line of static as a thumb rubbed over the seam of a headlight, fingers curling under the lip of his bumper.
"Stop," he breathed, fighting the faint tremble of doorwings. "Stop."
"What for?" came the low, low growl, along with the uncharacteristically gentle press of lip components over the crease marking the juncture of neck and shoulder. Sunstreaker's entire front was pressed flush up against Prowl's back, the heat and vibration of the powerful engine spearing into the tactician. Unbidden, his optics shuttered, missing the sudden flare of interest that shimmered over Jazz's visor and Sideswipe's pleased-cat-with-cream grin, the gentle nuzzle he offered to the saboteur.
"Cuffs," Sunstreaker said suddenly, smirking as he rattled something just behind and to the right of Prowl's head with a triumphant flourish. The red Lambo whistled, grinning, did a quick boogie against Jazz that had the saboteur choking down a strange sound; in two quick snaps, Sunstreaker had Prowl's arms secured behind his back. Prowl jerked, optics sparking white as they powered on in shock, realizing that the cuffs were his own. This time, his fuel pump was doing some serious rabbiting.
"Sunstreaker!" he hissed, squirming, wings smacking against the golden frame, only to be cut off as the frontliner attacked neck cabling again, all sharp tugs and firm bites, soothed over by trailing glossa. The vents flanking Sunstreaker's helm nudged Prowl's head to one side, baring the clean line of the Nissan's neck, which he promptly dove for. Growling, Prowl jerked in the Lamborghini's embrace, but with the weight and bulk pinning him to his seat, the position Sunstreaker had him in, Prowl had very little leverage. He couldn't move. Some part of his fogging processor tried to talk him into giving the Lambo a good shove backward just so he could get the frag away before he wound up writing them all up on a bunch of offences, himself included -
"Give it up, copper," came the dark, sultry murmur against his audio. As though the Lambo could tell what he was thinking. Prowl gasped, intakes hitching, then starting up again with a sudden crack, cycling higher. Primus, the low silkiness of Sunstreaker's voice, the tone and promise in it. "I can tell you're liking it," he growled, sliding his thumb over a cheek ridge, Prowl's jawline, then between parted lip components, pressing down on the Nissan's glossa when the tactician made a startled sound. "Because you're radiating heat like your cooling systems aren't working properly."
"They must be in great order, since he's always so slagging cold," Sideswipe commented, from where he and Jazz were watching, rapt, the smaller mech transfixed. "By the way, your paintjob's getting scraped."
"Shut up," he snarled, the vibration working into Prowl. "Just for that, you're touching it up, and Primus help you if you botch it." As he spoke, he flattened himself against the tactician's back, almost grinding into him. That clever artist's hand strayed from the back of Prowl's neck to move over the heavy rotary cuffs in his shoulders, then lower, over his arm, exploring the seams and the distinctive lines of black and white. Almost delicately, Sunstreaker danced fingers more often seen pounding dents into plating over the Nissan's flank, and lower, drawing quick strokes into the hip joint. Coupled with the throaty hum of a high performance engine, the rough growl of Sunstreaker's threat, Prowl's processors fogged up completely, and he gave voice to a soft, wanton moan, optics shuttered.
"Primus, Sunny. I think you broke him."
The smug grin said plenty, as Sunstreaker nodded at Jazz, quiet as a lamb despite the intermittent twitching and shivering, the jerk of servomechanisms given conflicting orders. They knew, despite the visor, that Jazz's gaze was on Prowl and Prowl alone, watching the tactician come undone under Sunstreaker's hands. "Do something about him before he explodes."
Sideswipe draped himself over Jazz's back, mouthing at a fin, riding the sudden bucking motion at the careful charge of static that trailed over finely tuned sensors. Underneath him, Jazz was shaking, eerily silent. "Can't do anything until the Darling Dandelion of Doom tells me to."
Behind Prowl, his twin made an impatient rolling snort, then dug lightly clawed fingertips into the undersides of the tactician's jawline. Prowl gasped, wings flaring in shock to smack against Sunstreaker, optics bright and almost blinding.
"Hey, Sides," he smirked, harsh and hungry, pressing the back of Prowl's helm against him, forcing the Nissan's head up, while the mech fought hard not to squirm in discomfort. "You know, Prowl's watching you. He's watching you slowly," And here he pulled away just enough to slide lips close to an audio, voice dropping into a far sultrier register, barely loud enough to carry. "He's watching you slowly drive Jazz to overload, aren't you, copper?"
"S'that what I'm doing?"
"Of course that's what you're doing."
"Mmm." Pressing the Solstice into the table, Sideswipe reached behind him, hooked a foot around a chair and dragged it over, dropping into it with a hum. Before Jazz could pick himself up, Sideswipe had pulled the smaller silver mech into his lap, arms hooked around his waist. Jazz mewled, back arched, when lips closed over the edge of a silver fin, and both Lamborghini and Nissan could see the sudden flare of white on infrared.
"You're such a hot, hot little thing," Sideswipe purred, high performance engine revving against Jazz's back, the Solstice splayed almost helplessly in his lap, panting. Prowl whined, causing the Solstice to make a soft chirring sound in reply, before the Lamborghini's clawed fingertips dug into armour seams, forcing plating apart. Flash of white across blue visor and Jazz made a choking sound, the twin grilles sliding apart with a harsh grind; Prowl jerked in true alarm, pulling against Sunstreaker's hold with another distressed whine, optics wide and almost panicked.
"Easy," Sunstreaker purred, caressing the underside of a black wing, soothing, tracing a line from wing joint to wheel well to grille, then right down where he knew the transformation seam to be, in the middle of Prowl's chest plating. "You're going to do the same," he rumbled against the Nissan, with all the edge of an extra two-hundred-odd horses screaming underneath the golden Lambo hood, wringing a harsh metallic squeal from the tactician. Underneath the raw force of Sunstreaker's passion, Prowl heard the care, and felt it the same, when the Lambo simply held for a moment, chest to back and sparkpulse fluttering.
"Sunny," he whispered, too low to be heard by the pair across the desk. In response, Sunstreaker's arms tightened, just a fraction - then the affection was gone, hidden again, and lips nibbled down neck cabling, a glossa darted over connecting ports. One finger tapped over black-and-white plating in a silent command; Prowl acquiesced, dismissed armour, jerked against the frontliner when those self-same fingers dug into him, stroking long and deep and with a touch that mingled pleasure and pain. He moaned, slumping against the Lamborghini, barely registering the musical warble-trill from Jazz, calling out to the tactician.
"...bet you wish it was your fingers in Prowl, eh? Bet you're wishing it's him in you," Sideswipe was murmuring into the saboteur's audios, arm looped around the small silver waist, fingers rising and falling over the gleam of a spark chamber that leaked ragged, brilliant blue light at the seams, field spiking madly. "That's probably why you're not making any noise at all, is it? Because it's not Prowl getting them out of you?" Sideswipe revved his engine against the Solstice again, purring into an audio, relishing the way Jazz quivered, intakes gasping for air. Prowl moaned again, soft and low, pulling against the cuffs.
"Please," he rasped, wings flaring to the sides, trembling. Sunstreaker caught his jaw, twisted the Nissan around and kissed him, swallowing down the startled sound from Prowl. "Love to hear you beg," the Lambo growled, hands sliding between black-and-white thighs to tease at cables bundled underneath armour. "Do it again."
"Oh Primus no," Jazz breathed when Sideswipe mirrored his twin's movements and sliding palms over silver armour. "Sides - nngh!"
"You surprised me!" he said cheekily, optics wide and lips parted in a perfect rendition of 'shocked', one hand playing over the saboteur's spark chamber and the other now between his legs, slow circles over metal and gentle tugs at fuel lines. "And you were so quiet until now."
"Heh. Ain't - always! -quiet," he panted, squirming against the Lambo, gaze flicking to a wide-opticed Prowl. "A - anyway, 'e's lou - louder'n me," Jazz lifted his head in Prowl's direction, wobbly grin making its way over lip components. Sideswipe teased the plating over his spark apart, and dipped his fingertips into the field; Jazz tossed his head back with a loud cry, pushing into black fingers.
"See why you love him so," Sunstreaker murmured to Prowl, claw-tipped fingers racing over trembling panels.
"Please," whispered the tactician. "Please - "
"Shut up, Prowl," he whispered back, mouthing at the chevron. Prowl's optics dimmed and shuttered, making a soft distressed mewling sound. "I'll stop teasing," the Lambo comforted, managing to persuade the black-and-white to dismiss the armour over his spark, sliding fingertips carefully into the outer field. Prowl jerked against him, dental plating gritted. "Primus, Sunny - "
"Told you to mute it," he replied almost amicably, biting into the chevron as he stroked into Prowl's spark again, shuttering his optics against the blue-white flash of light; Prowl overloaded with a harsh cry, his frame a long line of tension and wings flaring behind him. Jazz's optics shuttered with a small whimper and he curled in on himself, sympathetic twinges moving through his limbs. Prowl at the moment of climax, just about completely undone, something that only he had been witness to for a long while, was a moment he never tired of seeing. Sideswipe dragging glossa and static charge over a fin had him jerking in surprise, then Sunstreaker - Jazz would have to decide if he wanted to maim the Doomball Dandelion's paintjob or just shoot him and be done with it - Sunny reached over Prowl's limp, heated form and curled his fingers through the outer field of his spark, drawing glyphs into him which had Jazz choking, then screaming as his overload hit.
Author: moya_koordinat
Rating: MA; out and out smut with hints of non-con
Pairing: Sunstreaker/Prowl, Sideswipe/Jazz
Summary: '"Explain yourselves," growled the tactician, fingers digging into the edge of his desk where he'd gripped it. The twins rumbled deep, a mechanical growl of amusement that wove into Jazz's hitching gasp as Sideswipe manhandled him, bent him over Prowl's desk.'
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
A/N: Finally! Ees feeneesheeddd. ♥ This is my own little shoutout and addition to Prowl/Jazz/Lambotwin fics/arts. It is indeed very fun.
"You," Sunstreaker snarled, dramatically, exploding into Prowl's office with all the grace of a raging multitonne Lamborghini. Sideswipe sauntered after him, pace leisurely and expression cool, smirk firmly in place. And behind hustled Jazz, hoping to maybe restrain the golden Lambo before he pounced Prowl. Or something.
Sunstreaker slammed his palms within centimetres of Prowl's datapads, a deep, deep growl roaring at the smaller Nissan - instantly, the tactician's wings stiffened, and his fuel pump almost rabbited. Almost.
"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," he began. "Jazz. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"
And for the first time, he noted that Sunstreaker's snarl was less an expression of how he'd like to tear something apart and more of something darkly, powerfully seductive - seductive in the way fear and the promise of danger, of being threatened but never in any way subject to harm, could be. Prowl's gaze was steady, despite the intensity of Sunstreaker's presence.
"Funny that you should say 'pleasure'," drawled Sideswipe, from somewhere near Prowl's side. He inclined his head, acknowledging the other's presence, though he wasn't sure what to make of Sideswipe's words. As the red Lambo paced away, sidling up to Jazz, Sunstreaker pushed away and came round the desk, aware of Prowl's gaze on him.
Well. If that was the name of the game.
Jazz bit down on an undignified squeak at Sideswipe's sudden move, as the taller, bulkier Lambo expertly pinned his wrists behind his back, pushing him forward roughly. Alarmed, Prowl rose from his seat, wings flaring - then Sunstreaker grabbed the black underpair, making the tactician hiss with the sudden wrench.
"Sit," he growled, tugging lightly. Prowl winced, reluctantly lowered himself back down. A pair of black-and-gold arms draped themselves over his shoulders, fingers cupping the long angular curve of his headlights.
"Explain yourselves," growled the tactician, fingers digging into the edge of his desk where he'd gripped it. The twins rumbled deep, a mechanical growl of amusement that wove into Jazz's hitching gasp as Sideswipe manhandled him, bent him over Prowl's desk. Frowning, the tactician noted that despite the apparent roughhousing, neither twin was actually out to wrench servos, or spill energon. They were obviously keeping themselves well in check, despite the bluff of their menace.
"Well, what the slag do you think it looks like, copper?" quipped Sideswipe smartly, pressing up behind Jazz, effectively grinding the Solstice's hips into the desk edge. The smaller mech whined, craning his neck to try to meet Prowl's gaze. Prowl made a quiet, sympathetic sound, trying to soothe him.
"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me, as the humans say," Prowl stated, starting to squirm under the light drifting touch of golden fingers over headlights and hood.
"But!" Sideswipe said brightly, bent over Jazz, shifting his hips slowly against the saboteur's aft. The Solstice made a small, choked noise. "You've got this uncanny ability to be almost a hundred percent accurate," he grinned, one hand skimming over Jazz's side, slow and sensual. "'Sides. I'd say this one would be a doozy. So go on then, say it, copper. What're we doing?"
"Trying to seduce a superior officer, which is tantamount to fraternization, and which would earn the pair of you brig time."
"We ain't your normal army," Sideswipe leered. "Anyway. You got the seduction part right, but we ain't going after superior officers. We're seducing two mechs whom we've had an optic out for, and whom we like to think are at least sorta fond of us, despite the one constantly having a thing for locking us up. Sure you don't have some disciplinarian kink somewhere in there, Prowl?"
"He's straight as a laser beam," scoffed the golden Lambo, flattening a palm over the side of Prowl's jawline to press his head to one side, baring the neat array of neck cabling to the frontliner's lip components. Intakes hitching, Prowl twitched as glossa speared along the cables, trailing a line of static as a thumb rubbed over the seam of a headlight, fingers curling under the lip of his bumper.
"Stop," he breathed, fighting the faint tremble of doorwings. "Stop."
"What for?" came the low, low growl, along with the uncharacteristically gentle press of lip components over the crease marking the juncture of neck and shoulder. Sunstreaker's entire front was pressed flush up against Prowl's back, the heat and vibration of the powerful engine spearing into the tactician. Unbidden, his optics shuttered, missing the sudden flare of interest that shimmered over Jazz's visor and Sideswipe's pleased-cat-with-cream grin, the gentle nuzzle he offered to the saboteur.
"Cuffs," Sunstreaker said suddenly, smirking as he rattled something just behind and to the right of Prowl's head with a triumphant flourish. The red Lambo whistled, grinning, did a quick boogie against Jazz that had the saboteur choking down a strange sound; in two quick snaps, Sunstreaker had Prowl's arms secured behind his back. Prowl jerked, optics sparking white as they powered on in shock, realizing that the cuffs were his own. This time, his fuel pump was doing some serious rabbiting.
"Sunstreaker!" he hissed, squirming, wings smacking against the golden frame, only to be cut off as the frontliner attacked neck cabling again, all sharp tugs and firm bites, soothed over by trailing glossa. The vents flanking Sunstreaker's helm nudged Prowl's head to one side, baring the clean line of the Nissan's neck, which he promptly dove for. Growling, Prowl jerked in the Lamborghini's embrace, but with the weight and bulk pinning him to his seat, the position Sunstreaker had him in, Prowl had very little leverage. He couldn't move. Some part of his fogging processor tried to talk him into giving the Lambo a good shove backward just so he could get the frag away before he wound up writing them all up on a bunch of offences, himself included -
"Give it up, copper," came the dark, sultry murmur against his audio. As though the Lambo could tell what he was thinking. Prowl gasped, intakes hitching, then starting up again with a sudden crack, cycling higher. Primus, the low silkiness of Sunstreaker's voice, the tone and promise in it. "I can tell you're liking it," he growled, sliding his thumb over a cheek ridge, Prowl's jawline, then between parted lip components, pressing down on the Nissan's glossa when the tactician made a startled sound. "Because you're radiating heat like your cooling systems aren't working properly."
"They must be in great order, since he's always so slagging cold," Sideswipe commented, from where he and Jazz were watching, rapt, the smaller mech transfixed. "By the way, your paintjob's getting scraped."
"Shut up," he snarled, the vibration working into Prowl. "Just for that, you're touching it up, and Primus help you if you botch it." As he spoke, he flattened himself against the tactician's back, almost grinding into him. That clever artist's hand strayed from the back of Prowl's neck to move over the heavy rotary cuffs in his shoulders, then lower, over his arm, exploring the seams and the distinctive lines of black and white. Almost delicately, Sunstreaker danced fingers more often seen pounding dents into plating over the Nissan's flank, and lower, drawing quick strokes into the hip joint. Coupled with the throaty hum of a high performance engine, the rough growl of Sunstreaker's threat, Prowl's processors fogged up completely, and he gave voice to a soft, wanton moan, optics shuttered.
"Primus, Sunny. I think you broke him."
The smug grin said plenty, as Sunstreaker nodded at Jazz, quiet as a lamb despite the intermittent twitching and shivering, the jerk of servomechanisms given conflicting orders. They knew, despite the visor, that Jazz's gaze was on Prowl and Prowl alone, watching the tactician come undone under Sunstreaker's hands. "Do something about him before he explodes."
Sideswipe draped himself over Jazz's back, mouthing at a fin, riding the sudden bucking motion at the careful charge of static that trailed over finely tuned sensors. Underneath him, Jazz was shaking, eerily silent. "Can't do anything until the Darling Dandelion of Doom tells me to."
Behind Prowl, his twin made an impatient rolling snort, then dug lightly clawed fingertips into the undersides of the tactician's jawline. Prowl gasped, wings flaring in shock to smack against Sunstreaker, optics bright and almost blinding.
"Hey, Sides," he smirked, harsh and hungry, pressing the back of Prowl's helm against him, forcing the Nissan's head up, while the mech fought hard not to squirm in discomfort. "You know, Prowl's watching you. He's watching you slowly," And here he pulled away just enough to slide lips close to an audio, voice dropping into a far sultrier register, barely loud enough to carry. "He's watching you slowly drive Jazz to overload, aren't you, copper?"
"S'that what I'm doing?"
"Of course that's what you're doing."
"Mmm." Pressing the Solstice into the table, Sideswipe reached behind him, hooked a foot around a chair and dragged it over, dropping into it with a hum. Before Jazz could pick himself up, Sideswipe had pulled the smaller silver mech into his lap, arms hooked around his waist. Jazz mewled, back arched, when lips closed over the edge of a silver fin, and both Lamborghini and Nissan could see the sudden flare of white on infrared.
"You're such a hot, hot little thing," Sideswipe purred, high performance engine revving against Jazz's back, the Solstice splayed almost helplessly in his lap, panting. Prowl whined, causing the Solstice to make a soft chirring sound in reply, before the Lamborghini's clawed fingertips dug into armour seams, forcing plating apart. Flash of white across blue visor and Jazz made a choking sound, the twin grilles sliding apart with a harsh grind; Prowl jerked in true alarm, pulling against Sunstreaker's hold with another distressed whine, optics wide and almost panicked.
"Easy," Sunstreaker purred, caressing the underside of a black wing, soothing, tracing a line from wing joint to wheel well to grille, then right down where he knew the transformation seam to be, in the middle of Prowl's chest plating. "You're going to do the same," he rumbled against the Nissan, with all the edge of an extra two-hundred-odd horses screaming underneath the golden Lambo hood, wringing a harsh metallic squeal from the tactician. Underneath the raw force of Sunstreaker's passion, Prowl heard the care, and felt it the same, when the Lambo simply held for a moment, chest to back and sparkpulse fluttering.
"Sunny," he whispered, too low to be heard by the pair across the desk. In response, Sunstreaker's arms tightened, just a fraction - then the affection was gone, hidden again, and lips nibbled down neck cabling, a glossa darted over connecting ports. One finger tapped over black-and-white plating in a silent command; Prowl acquiesced, dismissed armour, jerked against the frontliner when those self-same fingers dug into him, stroking long and deep and with a touch that mingled pleasure and pain. He moaned, slumping against the Lamborghini, barely registering the musical warble-trill from Jazz, calling out to the tactician.
"...bet you wish it was your fingers in Prowl, eh? Bet you're wishing it's him in you," Sideswipe was murmuring into the saboteur's audios, arm looped around the small silver waist, fingers rising and falling over the gleam of a spark chamber that leaked ragged, brilliant blue light at the seams, field spiking madly. "That's probably why you're not making any noise at all, is it? Because it's not Prowl getting them out of you?" Sideswipe revved his engine against the Solstice again, purring into an audio, relishing the way Jazz quivered, intakes gasping for air. Prowl moaned again, soft and low, pulling against the cuffs.
"Please," he rasped, wings flaring to the sides, trembling. Sunstreaker caught his jaw, twisted the Nissan around and kissed him, swallowing down the startled sound from Prowl. "Love to hear you beg," the Lambo growled, hands sliding between black-and-white thighs to tease at cables bundled underneath armour. "Do it again."
"Oh Primus no," Jazz breathed when Sideswipe mirrored his twin's movements and sliding palms over silver armour. "Sides - nngh!"
"You surprised me!" he said cheekily, optics wide and lips parted in a perfect rendition of 'shocked', one hand playing over the saboteur's spark chamber and the other now between his legs, slow circles over metal and gentle tugs at fuel lines. "And you were so quiet until now."
"Heh. Ain't - always! -quiet," he panted, squirming against the Lambo, gaze flicking to a wide-opticed Prowl. "A - anyway, 'e's lou - louder'n me," Jazz lifted his head in Prowl's direction, wobbly grin making its way over lip components. Sideswipe teased the plating over his spark apart, and dipped his fingertips into the field; Jazz tossed his head back with a loud cry, pushing into black fingers.
"See why you love him so," Sunstreaker murmured to Prowl, claw-tipped fingers racing over trembling panels.
"Please," whispered the tactician. "Please - "
"Shut up, Prowl," he whispered back, mouthing at the chevron. Prowl's optics dimmed and shuttered, making a soft distressed mewling sound. "I'll stop teasing," the Lambo comforted, managing to persuade the black-and-white to dismiss the armour over his spark, sliding fingertips carefully into the outer field. Prowl jerked against him, dental plating gritted. "Primus, Sunny - "
"Told you to mute it," he replied almost amicably, biting into the chevron as he stroked into Prowl's spark again, shuttering his optics against the blue-white flash of light; Prowl overloaded with a harsh cry, his frame a long line of tension and wings flaring behind him. Jazz's optics shuttered with a small whimper and he curled in on himself, sympathetic twinges moving through his limbs. Prowl at the moment of climax, just about completely undone, something that only he had been witness to for a long while, was a moment he never tired of seeing. Sideswipe dragging glossa and static charge over a fin had him jerking in surprise, then Sunstreaker - Jazz would have to decide if he wanted to maim the Doomball Dandelion's paintjob or just shoot him and be done with it - Sunny reached over Prowl's limp, heated form and curled his fingers through the outer field of his spark, drawing glyphs into him which had Jazz choking, then screaming as his overload hit.