TF: Revenge is a Dish Best Served… on a Porsche
Rating: NC-17
Series: G1
Pairings: Sunstreaker/Jazz, established Jazz/Prowl... and to everyone’s surprise, there's no mention of Red Alert/Inferno
Summary: Sunstreaker thinks it’s unfair that Sideswipe got Prowl all to himself. And Sunstreaker is nothing if not competitive. And Jazz wants to get his own back on his bondmate.
Warnings: 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: Yes, it’s the Sunny/Jazz one…the one a few of you *makes eyes at
purajo and
huntingospray and
n_f_w and
trunks_angel* have been waiting for… Hope it lives up to your expectations!
Continuation part the fourth! Follows on from Dream Machine, Loss of Control and Undeniable. May need to read Undeniable to understand the events leading up to this situation, but it's not necessary (I thought I did a fairly good job of explaining it)
To say that Sunstreaker was annoyed would be an understatement. He had suffered the indignity of overloading right in front of Ironhide in the midst of their sparring session, together with the old mech. landing on him as Ironhide tripped over his motionless form. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his paint was chipped!
The only comfort Sunstreaker took was that Jazz was pretty much in the same condition if not worse. He’d been on patrol when Sideswipe and Prowl had decided to have a little fun and throw their respective bonds wide open. Which meant that Jazz had driven straight off the road as he overloaded, completely unable to keep control.
Revenge was required.
“Aw man, how am I ever gonna face Bumblebee?” Jazz muttered to himself, absolutely mortified that he’d overload *and* driven off the road in front of the scout.
“Well, you can’t face him looking that.” Sunstreaker commented snidely, gesturing to Jazz’s ruined paintjob.
“You’re telling me. Though, yours ain’t much better.”
“I only had Ironhide land on me, not nature itself.” Jazz couldn’t help himself, he started laughing. It amused him no end that Sunstreaker had overloaded in front of Ironhide, in the middle of a sparring session no less!
“Frag off.” Growled Sunstreaker, sliding down the berth and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Tell ya what Sunny. I’ll touch your paint up if you’ll touch mine up.” Sunstreaker swore he could hear an undertone of innuendo in Jazz’s vocaliser. His spark definitely detected it, pulsing slightly quicker at the mere thought of getting his hands on Jazz’s chassis again.
“You’re on. Just as soon as we’re out of here.” They both settled down on their respective berths, smug smiles crossing their faceplates.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They could have tried setting the time for the best possible revenge on their respective partners, but Sunstreaker was more adamant about getting his paint job repaired sooner than Jazz was and wasn’t prepared to wait, no matter how good the revenge may have been.
And as it turned out, everything worked out for the best.
It was delicate work touching up a paint job, particularly if you had more than one color like Jazz. Sunstreaker didn’t exactly mind though; it reminded him of his life before the Autobots back on Cybertron, where he had been an artist. Since then, painting had become more of a hobby than a way of life. Only a few Autobots knew what he had done before; Sideswipe obviously, Mirage (who had bought several of his works) and Bluestreak after that one time he’d stumbled into their quarters looking for Sideswipe when Sunstreaker was off duty. It had been hard to disguise the painting supplies everywhere, so Sunstreaker hadn’t bothered. Besides, he doubted that Bluestreak would have run his mouth off about it, not after the glare Sunstreaker had given him.
They were both in Jazz and Prowl’s quarters, Prowl being on duty. Sunstreaker took a few moments to look around.
“Huh, wasn’t expecting it to be so messy.”
“Yeah well I’ll have to clean it up a little before Prowl gets off duty.”
“We’ve got plenty of time. Need it for the retouch. Can’t have the paint getting messed up now, not after all the time I’m going to spend on it.” They spent a few moments rearranging furniture to make enough space before Sunstreaker had Jazz stand as still as possible.
Sunstreaker worked in silence; the sounds of their systems and the soft sound of the brush over bare metal the only sounds that could be heard. As Sunstreaker knelt to redefine the lines around Jazz’s rear wheel wells, he brushed the saboteur’s hip, eliciting a soft gasp.
“Jazz?”
“’m fine.” Sunstreaker vented a sigh and reminded him to stay still before recommencing his work. As the warrior painted using strong sure strokes Jazz could feel his resolve to stand perfectly still melting rapidly. A particularly long brush stroke had him kicking out.
“Hey watch it!”
“Sorry. Little sensitive there.” Jazz admitted, the residual sensation of Sunstreaker’s touch ghosting through his wires.
“Oh yeah?” On reflection, Jazz should have known something was about to happen from the playful tone that suddenly entered Sunstreaker’s tone. But as Sunstreaker’s finger traced the line the brush had taken, Jazz’s knees buckled and rational thought went out the metaphorical window. Strong hands caught him before he could damage himself, lowering him the rest of the way to the floor before Sunstreaker’s lips covered his, glossa seeking entrance.
Artistic hands traced patterns across his chassis, fingers dipping into transformation seams to tease at the wires hidden there. Jazz couldn’t process a single thought except for how fragging good it felt. He arched and writhed under Sunstreaker’s ministrations, desperate moans leaving his vocaliser. Jazz barely noticed when Sunstreaker straddled his hips, hands still running over his chassis; circling his headlights and tracing along the racing stripes adorning the bonnet of his alt-mode. Pleasure hummed through his circuits and it was all he could do not to overload right there.
“Damn…” He muttered as Sunstreaker bent his head, allowing his glossa to follow the trail his fingers had just traced. He arched up, needing more contact. His attempt failed as Sunstreaker neatly pinned him down without lifting his head.
“Sunstreaker…” He pleaded, vocaliser breaking off into static as the warrior moved up to nibble on his neck cables. Hands pinned above his head, there was little Jazz could do to retaliate; Sunstreaker was both larger and stronger than he was. But that didn’t mean Jazz was defenceless.
Twisting his head, Jazz found he was able to nuzzle at the vents adorning Sunstreaker’s helmet, being rewarded with a muffled gasp. Sunstreaker drew back, releasing Jazz’s wrists as he sat up, surveying the saboteur lying beneath him.
“So beautiful.” He murmured, leaning down once more to capture Jazz’s lips in a passionate kiss. Jazz rested his hands on Sunstreaker’s shoulder struts, fingers twitching against the plating as electricity raced through his systems. Jazz couldn’t form any coherent reply, wondering exactly why he was so close to overload so quickly. Only Prowl had this much of an effect and he wasn’t even here. Jazz gasped out as Sunstreaker allowed his fingers to draw lazily circles over his chassis, drawing closer and closer to his headlights. Sunstreaker moved from nuzzling against Jazz’s neck to slowly lick up the horns on Jazz’s helmet, murmuring approval as Jazz writhed underneath him, the vibrations sending Jazz soaring over the edge, optical sensors shorting as electricity sparked from his form to Sunstreaker’s and back again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Prowl?” The tactician ignored Optimus Prime’s concerned tone as he stiffened, the residual effects of an overload that wasn’t his own ghosting through his circuits, teasing every wire until he was sure he couldn’t stand it anymore. He sat down heavily in his seat, ignoring the glances he got from the other officers in the meeting.
“I am going to deactivate him personally.” He muttered, no real viciousness in his tone as the pleasure faded.
“Prowl?”
“It’s nothing Prime.” He could hear Red Alert’s barely muffled cries of outrage next to him. “If you’ll excuse me?” Without waiting for a response, he left the room, making his way down the corridor.
He wasn’t really surprised to see Sideswipe waiting outside is and Jazz’s quarters, the whirring of the warrior’s cooling fans the indication that he had been subjected to exactly the same thing Prowl had.
“They got you too?” Sideswipe muttered as Prowl stopped outside the door.
“Yes. And I believe we missed out on some fun.” He quirked a brief smile at Sideswipe before tapping in the code to open the doors.