It is recommended that you read this on Ao3 if you can. I update everything over there much more often, and it gets the complete stories, not the smut-stripped ones that show up here.
archiveofourown dot org/works/637909

Notes on the bottom. This is one of those graphic dark things I like to write with Vale.

Starcrossed 1: Honor over Spark
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Jazz squirmed in his seat as he listened to Duet drone on and on about the mathematical base that underlined musical theory as it related to advanced composition. His music tutor was well-learned and had an incredibly vast amount of knowledge to offer on the subject, but...he was boring. Jazz didn't want to think about numbers and ratios when it came to music, he simply wanted to move. But he couldn't do that, either - at least, not here. In a little while the lesson would end and he could show Prowl the new dance he'd choreographed, a mixture of the proper ballet he'd been attending all his life and a bit of the street performances he'd glimpsed before being quickly hustled away.

As soon as Prowl came to mind, Jazz's thoughts were far, far away from the lesson, which he absently recorded in the back of his processor in case of surprise questions while he allowed his primary attention to wander to the household seneschal.

Prowl was one of the very few mecha who actually treated Jazz as an individual with his own ideas and interests, instead of a noble to be served or a resource to be preserved until it became useful. Prowl listened to him when he talked, answered all of his questions honestly, and was always patient. Jazz tended to ramble when he found something interesting, and more often than not, he was shushed by his elders.

Prowl not only never shushed him, he actually listened and responded. Even though he was technically a member of the servant class, in Jazz's completely sheltered, largely isolated life, he was the only mech whom the young, second creation noble had ever thought of as a friend.

And he was strikingly attractive with a beautiful tenor voice that left Jazz feeling charged just to hear it. If it wasn't for the terms of the arranged bonding...

Jazz sighed to himself. A date had finally been set, three orns after his final adult upgrades. He was arranged to bond with the first creation of a commoner family recently come into immense wealth -oligarchy, he thought disdainfully. He was nobility, and his creators had made sure that he understood what that meant. He was a class above the rest.

They were old nobility, though, and as they had drifted further from the lines of royalty, so had their economic clout decreased as well. They were, for their class, considered poor. So Jazz was to bond to a commoner, and in return, his family would receive a hefty addition to their coffers. The commoner would then gain the social status that came from being the dominate mate to a noble, and his sparkline would join the nobility through the creations that Jazz bore him.

At least Prowl was also part of the exchange, along with several other of the family's highest-quality servants. Prowl was from a line of seneschals who were well known for their processor power and organizational skills, and as far as Jazz could remember, had always been part of the negotiations.

The arrangement had been made when Jazz was still a youngling, before any of his interfacing equipment or protocols had been installed, and part of the contract was that he be completely untouched in any kind of intimate way. Seals still intact, no knowledge of any intimate acts, no matter how tame. It meant he was escorted everywhere, never accompanied by less than two family attendants whenever he left their compounds, and when at home, he was walked from class to class, from meal to room, observed every klik of every joor, never left without the presence of at least one trusted member of the household staff, except when he was in his private quarters.

Jazz had never so much as kissed another mech. But he'd already had the interfacing systems installed, and lived with the desires that came with them.

And those desires all pointed at Prowl. He wanted the older mech, badly, and had, for a long time.

He sighed again. At least his creators trusted Prowl, which meant that Jazz could spend almost as much of his free time with him as he wanted.

On the down side, his creators trusted Prowl with good reason. The seneschal was proper, discrete, and always appropriate in his behavior with Jazz.

The sharp sting of a thin musical baton smacking the back of his wrist made Jazz wince and look up at Duet, who was standing over him, glaring.

"What was the last thing I said?" Duet asked.

"A proper harmonic is tertian in nature," Jazz repeated. He wasn't supposed to have the recording software that he did, for exactly the reasons he used it for, but he'd managed to get it installed anyway.

Duet gave him a suspicious look, but Jazz looked back with the innocent expression he had perfected a long time ago.

"Very good," the tutor finally said, and returned to his lecture while Jazz immediately returned to thinking about Prowl. As soon as the lesson was over, he quickly made his escape to the seneschal's office and the part of his orn that he actually looked forward to. The door opened automatically for him. He was, after all, Prowl's superior.

"Good afternoon, Jazz. How did your music theory lesson go?" Prowl's rich tenor washed over the young noble.

"Boring," Jazz sighed, dramatically, and walked around Prowl's desk and sat on the edge. "I'm much better now that I'm here," he said, quite honestly, and smiled at Prowl.

The elder mech smiled back, a small but honest curve of his lip plates. "Yet you still manage to learn."

"Because I have someone to impress," Jazz said, grinning back, and leaned over, looking curiously at the lists pulled up on the console. The movement brought him close enough to teek Prowl's very calm, relaxed field and feel Prowl teek him in return, their fields sliding past each other smoothly.

"Oh?" Prowl raised an optic ridge at the mechling that would soon be an adult. Perhaps once Jazz's bonded had enjoyed breaking his seals it would be permissible for the young lord to indulge with others. "You are already committed to a bonding that is unlikely to have your education continued. Why would you need to impress anyone?"

"Because you always seem to know everything there is," Jazz said, meeting Prowl's optics. "I have to be able to keep up with you."

Another small, genuine smile briefly graced Prowl's features. "It only seems that I know everything, Jazz. It is a matter of age, experience, function and special hardware. You do not need to impress me. You have your own gifts."

Jazz's field brightened considerably at the compliment. "I'm still pretty sure you know everything," he teased, then slipped off the desk and raised his arms up over his head, stretching out. "And I'm still going to try to impress you. Can I show you my new dance, if you're not too busy?"

"Of course," Prowl inclined his helm and dutifully focused on the young noble, though he attended to all the duties that he could without appearing distracted.

Jazz hummed happily and moved around the desk to the center of the room, stretching out the rest of the frame. "It's still new," he warned, then turned around, facing the door, and vented out slowly, relaxing for a moment, then raised his arms up over his head in a traditional ballet movement before swinging down and to the side, tossing his helm back and rolling it, bringing in the less traditional influences.

As he danced, he was intensely aware of Prowl's gaze, and it made his vents stutter slightly whenever he caught it, but he managed to stay focused enough to finish without faltering once. His dance instructor would have thrown a fit about it, but Prowl always watched silently and never insulted, and it was exhilarating.

He froze in the finish pose, then relaxed, and looked at Prowl, nervous and excited and expectant to see what the seneschal thought.

"You have developed a fine grace and sense for linking the forms," Prowl offered a complement he meant. Every moment of the dance had been recorded for later viewing pleasure. "Yes, Pirouette would be furious to witness your desecration of her art, however she is not here."

Jazz beamed and came forward to sink into the single other chair in the office across from the desk and turned sideways in it, relaxing. "Good thing too," he said. "I like that it's just you." He smiled warmly at Prowl.

"I do enjoy these private dances," Prowl throttled back the purr of his engine even as his optics slid along Jazz's elegant form. It was a frame that should have been indulging in pleasures every night, learning and exploring with age-mates. Instead Jazz could not even have friends for fear of him following the coding of the mechling upgrades and being intimate with another. "You are a pleasant distraction during my duties."

"I'm glad," Jazz said, honestly pleased. He was silent for a few moments, bouncing his pede up and down and watching it before looking back at Prowl. "So, Duet wouldn't tell me anything about abstract tonality, he said it wasn't traditional. I told him that everything wasn't traditional at one point but..."

Prowl couldn't keep the slight smile from his expression as he listened to the young noble chatter, occasionally adding his own response or answering a question. These were by far the most enjoyable joors of his shifts. It continued until Jazz had to prepare for the evening meal and reluctantly left before his carrier came looking for him.

Prowl allowed a small x-vent of equal parts relief and regret flow from his vents when the door finally closed behind Jazz, leaving him in the blessed and lonely quiet of his office. If Jazz had been promised to almost anyone else they wouldn't have to ghost around each other like this and Prowl wouldn't need to pretend not to feel what he felt. They could never be a couple, never be officially together, but it was acceptable by the nobility for Jazz to have a commoner plaything. It was a title Prowl would gladly endure, along with the shame it brought among his own class, if it meant he could be with Jazz, even for a while. He had no doubt that Jazz would have soon tired of him. It was the way of the nobility after all. Commoners were to be used and discarded, even skilled ones.

He couldn't count the number of servants who had returned to Primus by their own hand rather than be a burden on their descendents when they could no longer work for their keep. He had done his best to help, teaching them how to save up, or doing it for them. He knew in his spark that he would be one such mecha, though for entirely different reasons. He needed to work. Not for the credits, but for his sanity. He had to remain busy or his overclocked processors would loose touch with reality as they struggled for something to do by inventing it.

He'd watched his carrier's carrier extinguish that way, going mad. Watched his carrier begin down that road until he'd grasped what was happening and drove a charged vibro blade into his spark. As much as the loss hurt, Prowl knew his carrier had made the better choice for himself and those around him.

With a sharp shake of his helm Prowl pushed the thoughts aside. He was still relatively young with many centuries of productive functioning still in him. Perhaps, if he were truly lucky, the creation he bore to take his place in his next House would be sired by a mecha he liked well enough to kiss. He was truly grateful that this House had wanted as little influence from the sire of the last one as possible. Three orns of interfacing, of trying to want a creation by the slave they'd rented, had been enough. He couldn't have been more grateful to see the mech go.

With a low growl he flagged all negative emotions to be deleted immediately and tried to settle into work as his meta smoothed out.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz's spark pulsed in his chest and he knew his vents were too loud, but he couldn't get them to quiet. He just had to hope that no one heard.

He'd carefully facilitated an unscheduled shift in the arrangement of servants who always kept watch at his door-his family had agreed in the contract to keep a guard posted at all times-and was ducked around a corner, waiting for the mech he'd heard behind him in the hallway to pass by so he could continue on. If all went well, he'd be able to get back in the morning, undetected.

And before then...

His spark fluttered again and nothing he could do would control it. Preparations were beginning to take place for his move to Kaon, and even though Prowl was coming with him to the new House, Jazz wanted time with him here. And he'd heard rumors, whispered by the rest of the servants, that made him hope that maybe...

He tried once more, unsuccessfully, to calm himself before he slipped back into the hallway as quietly as he could. He'd never been to his destination before, but he'd always known where it was, and had imagined slipping off there more times than he could count.

He stopped when he reached the door, raised a hand to chime, then paused, and simply stepped forward, causing it to open automatically to him. He was, after all, a lord in his own House. He had every right to walk in.

Prowl looked up, startled by the sound and movement. He remained still however, his frame relaxed and propped up by pillows on his berth while he read. "Lord Jazz," he said carefully as he stood, more formal than he'd been with Jazz in ages.

The formality struck Jazz in a way that was unfamiliar to him and entirely unpleasant, but he shook it off quickly. "I..." he said, as the door closed behind him after another step. Everything he'd planned to say vanished with the click of the mag-lock, so he took the several strides forward to close the distance between them, moving with a confidence he did not feel.

"You should be in recharge, Lord Jazz," Prowl's frame stiffened, though he managed to stop the step back he wanted to take. Behaving appropriately in his office was one thing, but here, where he recharged, where he fantasized about the mech before him and pleasured himself? Where he even took lovers, pretending it was this mech with him?

"I'd rather be here," Jazz said, voice soft, close enough to touch now, easily close enough to teek. Confusion flitted over his face as he touched Prowl's field and found it a jumble of emotion he wasn't familiar enough with to decipher. He held a hand out towards Prowl's arm, brushing it lightly with his fingertips, trying to see if he could calm the other. "I want to be here."

A low moan dragged itself from Prowl's chassis at the desire in Jazz's field and the touch. "You shouldn't be here," he managed to get out, his frame painfully stiff and still, afraid to move least he finish the motion his processor kept trying to send to his frame. "The contract..."

Emboldened by the moan, Jazz moved his hand up to Prowl's neck. "There are ways that don't leave signs, I know there are. I hear the servants talking about them when they don't think I'm listening. And I've wanted you ever since I knew what wanting was, and I don't care about some stupid contract!" Jazz inhaled and tried to calm his voice back down. "Prowl, please."

Prowl's lips parted, drawing in more air to cool racing systems, but he also drew in much more of the scent that was Jazz. "There are ways," he admittedly shakily. His coding was in a deadlock. Obey the higher ranking mecha, but to do so was to disobey one above Jazz. He wanted to comply, he didn't dare.

He did not dare.

"Lord Jazz, please, the contract. Your family, your future rests on you remaining untouched," Prowl whispered, trying to control the tremors in his frame and the treacherous arousal burning inside him. "When you bond he will know. It cannot be hidden from him."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Jazz asked, his voice a desperate, hoarse whisper. "You've never called me that! And I don't care, I'll figure out how to hide it, I'll do whatever I have to, just please!" He leaned in, trying to press their mouths together for a kiss. Prowl froze, then wrapped his arms around Jazz and kissed him back, shaking and afraid that he couldn't stop himself.

Eventually Prowl managed to pull back, his interface panels burning and cooling fans screaming. "Primus you're beautiful. Thinking of you was the only thing that kept me going when I kindled." He lowered his forehelm to touch Jazz's and rested there. "I can barely manage in my office some orns. Here, where I've thought of you ... I need the distance of the title."

Jazz was still, dazed, feeling the friction charge still running over his lips in an entirely new sensation. He nodded in answer, and then carefully slid his hands onto Prowl's waist, every movement new and unfamiliar as he nudged gently with his helm. The kiss had, at least, quelled some of the desperation he'd been feeling, but it didn't make him want any less. "I want you," he whispered. "Before I have to..."

"You can't. We can't." Prowl trembled in the embrace, scrambling to write a shut-down code to drop himself into a timed stasis. Jazz's lips plates touched his again and he moaned into the contact, kissing back with all the passion he was trying to keep at bay. "Your Intended only wants the power you represent. He'll tire of you quickly. Once he's done with enjoying your newness to interfacing, you should be free to indulge as other nobles do."

Prowl shifted to rest his helm on Jazz's smooth shoulder. "The only other option is to escape, break the contract. You don't want to do that."

"I can't do that," Jazz said, sounding defeated, and rested his head against Prowl's. "I'm just so tired of waiting and I've wanted you for so long...I don't know how I'm going to last until then."

"Recharge with me for a few joors," Prowl whispered. "Shut down and let me tweak your coding. It should help enough. Once you've bonded, he'll know you've wanted me, and haven't had me. I can't offer more."

Jazz nodded and followed Prowl to the berth, easily lying down with him. It was not how he had imagined being here, but it was still wonderful to finally, finally curl up next to Prowl's warm frame and bask in the soothing glow of his field. He trusted Prowl implicitly, even if he didn't know why, and would allow Prowl any access to his processors that he asked for.

The touch to his medical port came as a surprise, but he spiraled it open at the request of the gently circling finger and nearly moaned at the intimate sensation of Prowl's processors slipping into his. As much as he wanted to remain aware for as long as he possibly could to soak in the feeling of Prowl, he didn't last another klik.

With a sigh of relief that at least Jazz was no longer broadcasting lust into his already unsteady systems, Prowl went to work on coding in light blocks on the emotions Jazz felt for him. It wasn't anything that would hold for long, or under extreme duress, but it should at least last the metacycle or two until Jazz's bonded was done with being possessive.

Fandom: Transformers G1 Historical AU
Author: gatekat, Vaevade on LJ
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl, Jazz/Vortex, Prowl/Vortex
Rating: NC-17
Codes: AU, Sticky, Spark, Bonding, Bondage, Rape, Sexual Torture, Snuff, S&M, Murder, Cannibalism, First time, Prostitution, PnP, Past Child Snuff, Genital Mutilation
Summary: Jazz is the second creation of a Noble House that's fallen on hard times. He's promised as the subordinate mate to a wealthy commoner in exchange for a great deal of credits. It's only when he meets his future mate that things get bad.
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics dot livejournal dot ) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.

FoC Vortex for looks (tfwiki dot net/w2/images2/e/ed/FOC_Vortex dot jpg)

nanoklik = 1/8 second;
klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;
breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;
groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;
joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;
orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;
decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;
metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;
vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;
::text:: comm chatter
~text~ hardline/bond chatter

Prompt: tfanonkink dot livejournal dot com/11776 dot html?thread=1221580812215808
The header may sound a bit odd, but please stay with me. And yes, I know this is SO cliché but I want it anyway:

Bot A is betrothed to bot B. For reasons of *insert plot device here* this arrangement has been made without A getting a choice in the matter and he's very much not happy about it, but cannot get out of the deal (I'm thinking along the lines of feudal system AU here, but any plausible reason you can come up with is fine by me).

But of course A is in love with someone else. Be it an old friend, a servant, another member of his betrothed's family, I don't care as long as it's someone he would never have been allowed to bond to. What I want is a secret meeting between the two of them the night before A is supposed to be bonded to B, after which they'll probably not be able to see each other again, at least not privately. Problem is, A is a virgin and must remain so until he's bonded but he really wants this one intimate moment with his true love, and so they explore every possible way of having sex without really having sex. If that makes sense. How this is done depends on what kind of 'facing you go for (anything goes) and what kind of seal/proof of virginity has to remain intact, but a lot of touching and kissing is always a good start.

What I'm looking for a storm of emotions, passion, angst and desperation, the frustration from the clash between what they want to do and what they can't do. And both are doing their damndest to pleasure the other. So, um, angsty fluff and TLC? What happens afterwards is up to author, if told at all (a bittersweet goodbye / they decide to run off together / they are caught red-handed and the lover is forced to witness the bonding between A and B?). Any characters, any faction (OP is kinda partial to Jazz/Prowl and Mirage/Hound but will gladly read ANY pairing, including rare ones). I have no squicks so if you want to take some part of this to dark places then please do, but it's purely optional.