Work Header

Trials of an Ambassador

Chapter Text

Prowl vented air through his cooling systems as he checked his appearance. He had arrived in Protihex earlier in the orn with the rest of his political assistants. Now he was to go to dinner to be presented to Lord Blastoff as the newest Praxian Ambassador. This was his first assignment, and it wouldn't do to embarrass both Praxus and his family.

Satisfied that he was in immaculate condition, the young ambassador allowed himself to be led to the main dining room of the palace of the Praxian Ambassador to Protihex.

He had to admit that Protihex had done Praxus all due honors with the palace and its grounds. There were even several well-managed crystal gardens on the grounds, both wild and crafted, that spoke of the Praxians who lived here to maintain them. The buildings were in perfect repair and suited the Praxian preference for open and airy, a processor and spark trait inherited from their Seeker origins. There had even been an effort made to have wings, sensor wings or at least winglets on the majority of the servants he saw, just as it was at home. Even the number of panels on those with them was correct for his sensibilities. In all, it felt very much like home.

Prowl allowed the comforting familiarity of his new residence to calm his nerves as he reached the dining room. The servant leading him opened the door, then entered after him to announce Prowl to the Lord of Protihex.

He'd been ready, having seen life-sized holorenders of the Lord, but it was still a bit of a shock to take in the giant. The aerial convoy class mech was a *giant*, as large as the Prime himself, if not a bit larger.

"Welcome to Protihex, Ambassador Prowl," Lord Blastoff greeted him with the same even tone as his own Lord did, if a bit more distant. "I trust you have found all to your satisfaction?"

"Thank you, Lord Blastoff." Prowl gave a slight bow, as appropriate for his station. "Everything is beyond expectations."

"Excellent," Blastoff said, his tone implying that nothing else was acceptable. "I have selected a personal servant for you, to tend to all your needs while in Protihex."

At the words, a sleek, silver minibot polished to a mirror finished stepped forward, his metallic blue visor gleaming and a wide, honest looking smile on his face.

"This is Jazz. He is yours for your stay," Blastoff introduced the minibot.

The air in Prowl's vents nearly snagged at the sight of the gleaming silver finish and handsome, welcoming faceplate.

Externally, he maintained his composure and gave the Lord another bow and words of gratitude. Internally his processors raced as he took in the lovely sight. Even without the sensor wings Prowl was normally drawn to, he was one of the most attractive mechs Prowl had ever seen. Jazz was all supple grace as he moved, nearly ghosting over the floor to Prowl's side as smoothly as any Tower's noble.

"Sit and refuel with me," Blastoff motioned to the table, a small one with only a dozen seats.

Jazz immediately pulled out the chair at the near end while Blastoff moved to the larger chair, one suited to his frame, at the head of the table.

"Of course, my lord." Prowl moved over to the chair and sat in it, allowing for Jazz to push it back in at the same time.

On an unseen cue, more servants entered the room carrying trays with liquid energon of several varieties and many kinds of confections, gels and other solid forms. It was very much like the offerings Prowl had seen while he'd shared the Lord of Praxus' berth, though the company was not nearly so affectionate.

Well, Jazz was, openly stroking the top of the first panels of Prowl's sensor wings. Prowl struggled to keep from twitching his panels under the attention.

"Were the laws regarding slaves given to you?" Blastoff asked as they were served.

"No, my lord. It was never mentioned." Prowl made his first selection after the lord did. The energon was smooth and slightly sweet as it slid down his throat.

Blastoff made a displeased sound, but his expression did not change. "Very well. For your gifted slaves," he motioned to Jazz, who purred and nuzzled Prowl's neck, "you may do anything to or with them that does not result in permanent damage or deactivation. You are responsible for all repairs and their care. Jazz was well liked by your predecessor. His best skills are detailing, entertainment and the berth."

"Jazz is very affectionate too," the minibot whispered next to Prowl's audio.

Prowl couldn't help the sudden invent. Slave. Lord Blastoff had given him a slave. Prowl could feel his inner self rebelling at the very idea. He had known that slavery was common in Protihex and he had been prepared to turn a blind optic to it despite his own moral codes, in the name of peace.

He had not expected be forced into participating in the barbaric practice.

"He will be well taken care of," Prowl assured with a steady voice, masking his unease. It would not do to make a scene. Jazz seemed determined to make a scene of a different kind, with the touches ... which the silver mech *must* have known were sensual and highly arousing if he had been in service to the previous ambassador.

Blastoff nodded and dipped his broad space transport wings in acceptance. "Tell me of the current going-ons of Praxus."

Prowl struggled to maintain his composure as he updated Blastoff on all the current events in Praxus. Jazz was making it increasingly difficult as the dinner went on, and no few times did Prowl's sensor panels twitch and move in response to the minibot's touches. By the time the meal was over and Prowl was released to his own devices for the remainder of the orn he was in desperate need for a little time to himself to dispel the charge.

It was a goal Jazz seemed determined to hinder as he trailed along after Prowl rather like a turbopuppy in love.

Prowl hurried to return to his private suite. The sooner he had Jazz settled and dealt with, the sooner he could deal with his little problem. The moment Jazz saw they were in Prowl's private suite his engine revved in excitement and the minibot hurried forward to reach the berth room before Prowl did.

Prowl halted in the doorway to the berthroom, a bit stunned by Jazz's enthusiasm. And the sight of the gleaming, openly wanton minibot on the luxurious berth was breathtaking.

Shaking his head to free his thoughts, the Praxian managed to find his vocalizer again. "Jazz. We must talk."

"Let me free your charge first, master," Jazz purred, everything in his frame submissive while his tone was hopeful, wanting, eager. "You'll think better then."

"No," Prowl replied. "What we must discuss is relevant to such... activities." Prowl vented air hard. As tempting as Jazz was, it was wrong to take advantage of and force himself on another mech. Even one who under any other circumstances had all but forced himself on Prowl.

"Lord Prowl prefers something else?" Jazz asked as he rolled to his side, his penetrative interface module fully open along with the panels covering his hardline ports.

Prowl shut off his optics, willing himself to keep control. "Do you know Praxus' stance on slavery?"

"No, Lord Prowl," Jazz said, his tone betraying his new uncertainty despite the display he was making of his frame.

"We do not have slaves," Prowl explained. "It is our belief that all deserve to have free choice, and slavery removes free choice by its very nature." He brought his optics back online to gauge Jazz's response. He saw a very intelligent, reasonably well educated mech with an expressive face and frame consider it, turn it over a few times before storing it away.

"I'm not offering because I have to, master," Jazz told him simply, motioning down his still-exposed frame. "It's your right to take me even if I didn't want you, but I do want you."

Prowl recognized that his words were being given the gravity they were due, and he gave Jazz's words equal consideration. Slowly he moved into the room, sitting on the far side of the berth. Still, he did not reach for the minibot. "How could I be sure that any encounter is one you honestly desire, rather than one you agree to because you see it as your duty?" Prowl did not wish to remove the free will others, wittingly or not.

Jazz cocked his head and allowed his gaze to ravish the lovely mech as he thought about how to answer. "Do you believe I'll do what my master orders, whatever you order?"

"It is my understanding that slaves are required to do whatever their masters order," Prowl replied honestly, his optics asking Jazz to clarify, to reassure him that the belief was an exaggeration.

"You understand correct, master," Jazz nodded, relaxing back on his elbows in another display of his frame and offerings even as he kept optic contact with Prowl and a relatively serious expression. "So order me to tell the truth, ask if this is expected of me, if I honestly want you beyond any duties or expectations I may have of a master."

"Tell me the truth." Prowl's intense gaze was focused on the silver mech's face, completely ignoring the enticing temptations of the rest of his frame. "What is expected of you? What do you want, not tied to any duties or expectations?"

"My orders are to see to all your needs, from polishing your armor to tending your wings to fetching energon to ensuring to are fully booted, polished and prepared for your appointments to warming your berth to purchasing anything, including other slaves, you might desire," Jazz answered easily. "In short, I am expected to ensure you are happy and that poor word is not sent to Praxus of your treatment in Protihex."

Prowl nodded his understanding. It wasn't *that* different from any other personal servant a VIP might be assigned, except for the berth warmer and slave buying parts.

"Personally, I enjoy interfacing, master," Jazz said seriously. "I enjoy my lovers, no matter how they come my way or why. You're a lovely mech, Lord Prowl. Exotic, soft spoken and entirely too tense. Even if I hadn't been given to you, I'd have done my best to arrange some time in your berth."

The thought that Jazz likely would have sought him out anyways eased some of his worries. Prowl's processors whirled into motion again, seeking out appropriate words that would allow Jazz as much choice as could be possible under the present circumstances.

"I would have you treat me as a lover you had chosen for yourself, up to and including the right for yourself to refuse anything for any reason without negative repercussions to your position."

Jazz nodded, processing the odd order. "If I do so when we are not in private it will lead to trouble, master."

Prowl sighed. "Then it will have to be hidden from those outside of here. I trust that you are able to judge when and how much is safe to show." Prowl's hand unconsciously slid to a spot halfway between the two mechs. "Also, I would prefer it if you didn't use my titles while in private. I do not need the reminders."

"Sure thing, Prowl," Jazz gave him a dazzling smile. "Any other ground rules?"

Prowl's resistance finally cracked. "None that I can think of at the moment, though I do have to note... I am not so easily caught." Prowl moved in close and caught the lovely silver mech in a slow, smoldering kiss that Jazz absolutely melted into as he returned it with all the passion in his frame. After a long moment Prowl pulled back, amusement lighting his optics and lips quirked in a small, teasing smirk. "Good night, Jazz."

"You've still got quite a charge," the silver mech objected, stunned by the kiss and the statement.

"I have handled worse," Prowled replied, his smirk widening a fraction.

Jazz's expression remained confused. "I'm sure ... but why when you don't need to?"

"The eventual interfacing will be much sweeter if you have to work for it," was the answer.

Jazz cocked his head, seeming to think over the statement while Prowl watched.

"All right," Jazz said, though he didn't look at all convinced. "May I recharge with you, or do I have to earn that too?"

"Yes, you may." Prowl laid back on the berth, carefully arranging his wings. Amusement at Jazz's confusion radiated gently from his frame as he prepared himself for recharge. He allowed a small trickle of the pleasant sensation of having a warm, willing chassis curl and snuggle against his own for the night reach his field, making Jazz's engine purr happily.