TF: Loss of Control
Rating: NC-17
Series: G1
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl, Sunstreaker/Jazz/Sideswipe/Prowl and combinations of all of the above... and a little Red Alert/Inferno
Summary: Sunstreaker reminisces and decides he wants more. Sideswipe just has one thing on his agenda and Jazz discovers that while it can be fun watching, it’s far more fun to be involved! Prowl just doesn’t know what to think! Sequel to Dream Machine
Warnings: Robot orgy? Mech smex
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case Hasbro, Takara and IDW and anyone else I’ve forgotten…
Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno
Authors Notes: Wow, I never thought I’d be able to say I continued a fic due to popular demand! But then, I never thought I’d win the internets with the last one! You readers all made me very happy, thank you!
And
huntingospray? I didn’t manage to fully get the whole ‘turn the tactician on the table’ bit in there, but I managed a small bit…
You know… one might think I have a little bit too much time on my hands ;) Not quite as good as the last I think… And yes, I am a Red fangirl at heart, so he has to make an appearance :)
“If you could have just seen his face…” Sunstreaker mused, for what Sideswipe figured must have been at least the hundredth time.
“But I didn’t Sunny… I was too busy overloading!”
“And Jazz’s armor… so smooth…”
“Sunny…” Sideswipe’s tone took on a slight warning. It had been five days since Prowl had surprised them with that little tryst in the training room and it was all Sunstreaker could talk about. And Sideswipe was getting more than a little annoyed, and certainly more than a little aroused by Sunstreaker’s recollections (and his own) of the event.
“What?” Sideswipe fought the urge to smack his brother.
“Right, we’re going to see Jazz.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Prowl was intently reading the latest security reports when the door to his office slid open. He didn’t bother looking up, knowing that only two Autobots knew the code to his door and he seriously doubted Red Alert would be coming to bother him. He was proved correct when two black hands landed on the table in front of him.
“I’m busy Jazz.” He said, not looking up from his data pad.
“Guess again.” Prowl looked up as he registered Sideswipe’s voice.
“What?” He stared, dumbfounded, trying to work out how Sideswipe of all mechs had gained access to his office. He very nearly jumped as he felt hands on his shoulders, fingers gently working their way in between the plating.
“We never did thank you properly.” Sunstreaker whispered close to his audios.
“How did you get in here?” Prowl struggled to vocalise; whatever Sunstreaker was doing to his internal wiring was making it very difficult to process properly.
“How’d’ya think Prowler?” Prowl tore his optics away from Sideswipe’s to register Jazz’s presence in his office.
“What’s going on?”
“Figured we’d do something to thank you for the other night.” Jazz leant against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “Primus knows you deserve it.”
“I…” Prowl’s protest was silenced when Sideswipe hooked his fingers under Prowl’s bumper and pulled him across the table to kiss him.
“Hope ya don’t mind Prowler, but I figured it might be time to play out one of your dreams.” Jazz’s voice barely penetrated through the haze now present in Prowl’s processor. His logic centers determined quite quickly that the rumors he had heard on Cybertron about Sideswipe’ kissing abilities were quite drastically understated. The slight pain that had registered as Sunstreaker’s hands were torn from between his plating barely mattered now. All that mattered was that Sideswipe kept kissing him. It defied logic that he would think that.
Abruptly, Prowl pulled himself away. Sideswipe stared back, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“This shouldn’t be happening.” He stated.
“Now boys, remember what I said about his battle computer?” Jazz circled Prowl’s desk, coming to stand behind Sunstreaker. He wrapped the larger warrior in a hug, resting his face against Sunstreaker’s back.
“Jazz…?” Prowl twisted around from his ungainly position on the desk until he was sitting somewhat more comfortably. Behind him, Sideswipe’s grin grew wider.
“Jazz told us how passionate you can get once your battle computer is taken offline.” He whispered, running his hands along the edges of Prowl’s doorwings. “I for one wanna see you like that.” Prowl arched up as Sideswipe’s fingers found sensitive areas, optics focussed on the scene playing out in front of him. He could see Jazz’s hands moving all over Sunstreaker’s body; stroking and dancing across the smooth metal, dipping in and out of armor seams and wringing soft moans from the warrior.
“All he can talk about is the look on your face as you overloaded last time.” Prowl actually whimpered as Sideswipe stroked the handles on his doorwings. How had he never realised that felt so good?
“So you see, me and him and Jazz all came to an agreement. We all realised we wanted a repeat of what happened in the training room… Except this time, I’m going to be the one to overload you…” Sideswipe paused, lowering his head to nibble gently on Prowl’s delicate neck cables. Without realising it, Prowl tilted his head to give Sideswipe better access to the sensitive cables. Optics offline, he felt more than saw everything happening to him. Hands rested gently on his thighs, slowly massaging the plating there, rubbing in soft circles. Firmer strokes along his upper chassis told him of Jazz’s part in the proceedings. Prowl could do nothing but give himself over to the sensations, fingers twitching against the datapads now scattered across his desk.
A slight pull on his doorwings had Prowl onlining his optics again, confused. Sideswipe twisted him around on the table, with a delicateness belying the strength he held so he could capture Prowl in another searing kiss. A warm weight settled against his back, hands running across his doorwings whilst another set traced slow circles around his headlights.
Overcome with all the sensations, there was little Prowl could do. His battle computer fought valiantly, trying to work out ways to extricate himself from this situation whilst another part of his processor kept asking why he would want to avoid something so undeniably pleasurable. Suddenly, Prowl’s battle computer sank into hibernation mode, unable to fathom a logical explanation for the feelings running rampant through his circuits or a way out of the situation.
A single gasp was the only sign of the internal conflict and Prowl arched backwards, suddenly needing to feel more than the delicate hands on his chassis. His own hands sought out Sideswipe’s chassis, scrabbling for gaps in the warrior’s armor. From his position between Sunstreaker and Prowl, Jazz managed to interpret the situation.
“Looks like we fritzed his battle computer boys…” He broke off, Sunstreaker nuzzling against his neck cables.
“Let’s move this off the desk?” Sideswipe muttered, whimpering against the sudden onslaught from Prowl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sprawled across the office floor, hands everywhere, ventilation and cooling systems muffling the whimpers and cries and the ‘oh Primus right there!’ Sideswipe had initially been thrown by the passion the normally stoic tactician displayed as he practically crawled up the warrior’s chassis and sat in his lap, soundly kissing him. Thrown for all of about two seconds before his processor kicked back in and he responded in kind, hands roaming all over Prowl’s chassis. He revelled in the sounds he was able to wring from the Datsun’s vocaliser; the whimpers and moans driving him onwards.
Prowl writhed under Sideswipe’s administrations, twisting and turning in an attempt to retaliate. His hands brushed against an unfamiliar chassis, but he found he didn’t care. Latching on with an abandon rarely seen from him, Prowl’s hands attempted to cover Sunstreaker’s chassis all over; hands moving gracefully over the gleaming metal, tracing along seams and leaving tingling circuits in their wake. Sunstreaker grabbed Prowl’s hands, easily pulling the smaller Autobot up to a position where he could kiss him, still holding firmly onto his hands. And Prowl *whined*. Struggling futilely against the grip only served to further his arousal, engine revving higher and higher. He moaned into Sunstreaker’s mouth, feeling the vibrations from the Lamborghini’s engine against his own chassis, sending pulses through every single circuit in his body.
He could hear Jazz’s moans and soft pleas to the side and twisted against Sunstreaker’s grip, needing to touch his mate. Sunstreaker reluctantly slackened his grip, allowing Prowl to pull away enough so he could lay his hands on Jazz. The saboteur was occupied with Sideswipe, ghosting his hands over the red warrior’s chassis. As soon as he realised Prowl was demanding attention, he too pulled away slightly, turning yet still keeping his contact with Sideswipe, to pull his mate towards him, kissing him deeply. Cooling systems kicked up yet another gear, struggling vainly to cool their heated systems.
Sunstreaker’s hands were stroking the soft interior of Prowl’s doorwings, wringing more whimpers from the tactician who could barely vocalise anything. Jazz smirked against Prowl’s mouth, reaching down with one hand to find a bundle of sensors located near the tactician’s hip. As his fingers brushed the cluster, Prowl launched into his overload; hands tightening on both Sunstreaker’s and Jazz’s chassis, while his energy field flared, engulfing the others and sending them each into their own overload.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It seemed like hours later when Prowl onlined, slightly disconcerted to find himself on the floor of his office, before his memory banks provided him with the reason. Stifling a groan, he lifted his head as best he could. Sunstreaker lay on his back closest to him, still offline, ventilators whirring noisily. Sideswipe and Jazz were intertwined on his other side. As he watched, Sideswipe’s optics flared to life and he locked gazes with Prowl.
“Damn.” He muttered, before offlining his optics once more, waiting for his overheated systems to cool down again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Red Alert whimpered as Inferno traced his glossa along a helmet horn.
“Inferno…” He literally whined at the fire engine.
“What?” Inferno paused in his explorations to ask the question.
“I am sure we shouldn’t be doing this. Anyone… I mean… Prowl could walk in any moment.”
“Now why would Prowl want to join us?”
“He… ah that’s good… wouldn’t. But he… mmmmm… might want to go over my report.”
“Doubt that.” Despite his words, Inferno relented, allowing Red Alert his space momentarily. “If you’re so sure he’ll come in, triple-lock the door.”
“Why don’t I just check his location?” Red Alert turned back to his console, fingers flying rapidly across the keys as he brought up the positions of the Ark’s personnel.
“Sure…” Inferno drawled lazily, running his hands across the Security Director’s spoiler.
“Now why would Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe all be in Prowl’s office?” Red Alert muttered, confusion coloring his vocaliser.
“Ah don’t think ah want to know.” Inferno knew that it probably had something to do with Prowl having given him that high-grade a few days ago in order to distract Red Alert and figured that distraction was again the best course of action. He reached for the Lamborghini, pulling him close, muffling any protests with a kiss.