Work Text:
They’d spent the last four joors at the bar, but surprisingly, nobody was drunk. Well - Orion looked tipsy; his biolights were bright, his optics were wide, and by this point in the evening he was halfway into Megatronus’ lap. But Jazz had taken the kid drinking many times, and as much of a lightweight as he was, it took more than half a cube of mid-tier engex to get him overcharged. He and his gladiator pal had been far too busy writing what looked like the first three chapters of a book to do any serious drinking.
Jazz and Soundwave, over on their side of the table, were drinking enough to keep them from getting kicked out of the bar, but not more. Jazz was still technically on duty - well, the duty he’d assigned himself - and needed to keep his processor reasonably sharp. Though it didn’t look like Orion was in much danger from Megatronus ‘LoveBot’ of Kaon; earlier, Jazz had put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to ask him if he wanted another drink, and the gladiator had actually hissed at him.
Jazz was lucky that they were on-planet - if they spent a night like this on a gambling station like Cyber-Vegas, he’d be worried about waking up to find Orion and Megatronus in the middle of a drive-through bonding ceremony.
A touch on his thigh drew Jazz’s attention back to the present.
“Jazz: tired?”
“Nah, mech, just thinkin’. You?”
“Soundwave: not opposed to moving this to berth.”
Jazz’s engine gave a startled rev before he could throttle it back. Frag - did he ever want to go to berth with Soundwave. How could a mech who hardly ever strung more than three words together say such sexy things? But Jazz had a job to do, dammit. He looked up to check in on Orion again, reminding himself why he was in Kaon, and - yikes. Ended up optic-to-visor with Megatronus.
“Perhaps we should all retire to the gladiators’ quarters for the evening,” the big mech said smoothly, with a teasing glint in his eye.
“Oh I’m sure that won’t be necessary!” Orion said. “Jazz and I wouldn’t want to impose, we can find a rooming house or motel somewhere, if you want to go home.”
“Local hotels: not recommended,” Soundwave threw in. His voice was as monotone and harmonic as ever, but his delivery was just the slightest bit too quick. Wow - he really was eager.
“Soundwave is right, Orion - it wouldn’t be safe for you to stay in the area without our protection. I insist you come stay with us - it's no imposition at all.”
The archivist opened his mouth to protest yet again; as much as Orion clearly wanted to stay with his new friend, he’d rather be stabbed in his sleep than do something impolite and improper. Time for Jazz to jump in, then.
“If you insist, my mech, then we’d be happy to take you up on the offer,” he grinned. “I’m sure that Orion and I can cuddle up together on your and Soundwave’s couch.”
“Negative.” Wow, Soundwave was really going to suggest they share beds right away? Jazz was flattered.
“Soundwave and Megatronus: do not share habsuite.” Oh. A logical objection, then. Nevermind.
“We do not, and I’m afraid neither of our rooms have couches,” Megatronus explained, after gallantly paying the tab for their whole table. The night air was cool on Jazz’s plating as they ambled towards the arena.
“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Orion offered, with the earnest goodwill of a mech who’d never actually tried doing that.
“No, no I would never ask such a thing of a guest,” Megatronus said. “You and Jazz are welcome to share my berth - I’ll bunk with Soundwave.”
“Reminder: Soundwave has to work tomorrow.”
“I know, Soundwave - there’s a match tomorrow, you always link the streams.”
“Additional reminder: Megatronus and Soundwave do not fit in a single berth comfortably. Tertiary reminder: Megatronus snores.”
“Fine, Soundwave! I’ll sleep on the floor and you can turn off your audials, how’s that?” Megatronus, hilariously, was blushing.
“I think I’ve got another idea,” Jazz spoke up. “Orion and I are a lot smaller than you big, strong gladiators. I’m sure that, say, you and OP would fit nicely in a berth together, Megatronus.” Jazz just barely suppressed a saucy wink. He needed to act like this was a totally logical proposal - one that had nothing to do with how much he wanted to get Soundwave alone.
“Oh, Primus, Jazz, why would you say something like that?” Orion groaned, hiding his face in his servos.
“Jazz’s suggestion: efficient. Soundwave: concurs.”
“Do you feel like they’re teaming up on us, Orion?” The silver mech asked.
Orion pouted. It was cute, like most things the archivist did.
“Well,” Megatronus continued, “I’m not a big fan of trying to recharge with Soundwave’s sharp little hands poking me. You look much softer anyway, Orion.”
Orion’s cooling fans clicked on, and he walked a little faster, until he could take Megatronus’ servo in his own. That was taken care of, then. Jazz dropped back until he could whisper in Soundwave’s audial.
“Are you planning to poke me, then? Should I be worried about those sharp little hands of yours?”
“Jazz: should be worried about something else.”
Jazz’s resulting laugh was loud enough that mechs sleeping nearby opened their windows and yelled for him to quiet down.
--
Looking around Soundwave’s habsuite, Jazz felt like his bed sharing suggestion was less, well, suggestive and more a necessity. There was no way you could fit two big mechs like Soundwave and Megatronus onto that tiny recharge slab without breaking the laws of physics - and the clear floor space wasn’t much bigger.
“Sounders, are you sure that you and I are gonna be able to recharge on that together? It’s sized for a minibot.”
“Jazz: intends to recharge tonight?” Soundwave challenged.
“Hold your zaphorses there, my mech - don’t you have to work in the morning? Don’t go talking big if you can’t follow through.”
“Soundwave: can follow through. Query: can Jazz?”
“That’s it,” Jazz growled, launching himself into the air to wrap his arms around Soundwave’s neck.
Soundwave’s servos came up to support his thighs, and Jazz wriggled a little in his hold to get more comfortable. Once he was confident that the slim bot didn’t have any trouble holding his small-but-dense frame, Jazz relaxed with a grin.
“Hey, mech. You wanna take this off, or no?” He tapped lightly at the side of Soundwave’s full-face visor.
“Negative.”
“Alright, no worries. Imma keep mine on too - I need it to see your gorgeous frame.”
“Jazz: exaggerating.”
“Now, didn’t we just go over this? Let me show you that I’m really not.” He grinned again, full-force, then ducked his helm to slowly lick and kiss the exposed cables of Soundwave’s neck. Jazz indulged himself, taking the time to tug at each line and wire, learning which ones had his partner twitching, shifting his hands on Jazz’s aft, and letting out little gasps of static. Delicious. He was a big fan of kissing, mouths or no mouths, and Soundwave’s plating was warm and smooth under his glossa.
Soundwave took two steps back and sat down on the berth abruptly when Jazz took his main energon-line into his mouth and bit, just a little harder than he should have. Primus, that was a good reaction. Jazz moved his mouth and bit down again, sucking at the marks he was making. A little blue glow wouldn’t be too noticeable among Soundwave’s purple biolights, right?
Freed of Jazz’s weight, Soundwave’s hands wasted no time stroking up his back, slipping under plating to caress the sensitive protoform underneath. Oh, frag - Jazz had never had anyone reach that far into his transformation seams before. It felt like Soundwave was inside him, and he hadn’t even opened his panels yet.
Jazz covered the edges of Soundwave’s mask with kisses, stretching up to lick at the points on his helm-crest, as the bigger mech wiggled those ridiculously long fingers into Jazz’s hip-joints. He circled his aft, grinding their heated panels together, as charge raced through his lines. Soundwave had been making innuendos and giving dirty little hints all night, until Jazz was seriously considering dragging him to the back room to have his way with the taciturn mech. It wasn’t fair that someone who talked so little could turn Jazz on so quickly.
He gasped, arching, as those thin hands pressed against the underside of his hip-plating, sensor-rich metal sparking charge right into his interface array. Jazz could feel lubricant sliding out of his valve and pooling behind his cover, and rubbed himself a little more urgently against Soundwave’s lap.
Primus, everything felt so perfect - he wanted Soundwave’s spike inside him yesterday, but he also felt that he could spend joors desperately licking and grinding, just like this, and be happy.
The sounds that Soundwave was making had his helm spinning, and the little flashes of lust from his partner’s field were driving him higher. He dipped his servo down, squeezing it between their frames to stroke over Soundwave’s panel.
“Gonna open up for me, mech?” he asked.
“Affirmative,” Soundwave sighed. If a voice that was mostly synth tones could sound languid, his did. Panels opened with a snick, and Soundwave’s spike sprang free, pressurizing fully in less than a klik.
Sweet Cyberutopia - it was a lot. As intricately biolit and articulated as the rest of Soundwave’s frame, it was almost pretty enough that you didn’t notice the thing was huge; long, thick and covered with ridges and blinking nodes that Jazz wanted to lick. Maybe he’d do that first, actually. Jazz had taken big mechs before, many times, but his latest job was lighter on fieldwork than he was used to, and well. Soundwave’s spike was a little daunting.
He let his struts loosen, intending to slide to the floor, but Soundwave tightened his grip and held Jazz in place.
“Query -” Soundwave began, but cut himself off before asking anything.
Jazz tilted his helm in confusion.
Soundwave’s field took on a frustrated cast for a moment, then loosened. Jazz furrowed his brow, and thought about asking what was up - but then he caught something moving in his peripheral vision.
“What in Primus’ name -” Jazz felt his thighs tense around Soundwave’s waist as he got ready to move, subconsciously preparing to fight whoever had chosen to intrude on their private time.
It took Jazz more than a klik to process the slim, dark appendage hanging in the air next to him. The appendage that was a very familiar shade of charcoal, with purple biolights - and was attached to Soundwave’s frame.
“You - you have a tentacle mod?” Jazz asked.
Soundwave stiffened under him. “Negative.”
“Uhh, sure looks like you do, my mech,” Jazz politely disagreed.
“Data cables: used for information transfer, defense,” Soundwave replied. Jazz thought there was a definite hint of defensiveness in his monotone voice.
“Maybe so, maybe so,” he said. “But why’d you pull them out now, huh?”
Soundwave shifted evasively.
“Not because you wanted me to - do this, maybe?” Jazz asked, delicately wrapping a hand around the data cable and pulling it toward his mouth. As he finished speaking, he gave the tip a thorough lick.
Soundwave shivered. “Negative - affirmative.”
“So… is that a no? You want me to stop doing this?” Jazz asked, sliding the cable between his lips.
Soundwave shook his head, a little thread of desperation winding its way into his field.
Jazz chuckled around the cable in his mouth, and sucked it a little harder. If Soundwave wanted to occupy his intake with this definitely-not-a-tentacle instead of his spike, Jazz was okay with it. Except - hmm. He could really use a little stimulation on his aching, neglected array. Let Soundwave make good on his big talk, then, Jazz decided, triggering his valve panel to open.
The resulting gush of lubricants was - not subtle. Jazz couldn’t help but flush a little in embarrassment. He wanted Soundwave, but damn if he didn’t want to try to play it cool a little longer. Too late now.
He pulled the cable out of his mouth for a moment to ask, “Well, Sounders? Gonna spike me like you’ve been promising all night?”
Soundwave looked at Jazz - presumably, his visor was as blank as ever - and then said: “Negative.”
Jazz opened his mouth to protest, and the data cable withdrew. What? Was Soundwave changing his mind? Far be it from Jazz to press a mech who wasn’t interested, but Primus! He was going to have to head back to the bar and try to pick someone else up if he wanted a place to stay tonight.
While his processor was still spinning, Soundwave slid his hands under Jazz’s thighs and picked him up. Then, almost too quickly to follow, he spun them both and deposited Jazz on his back in the berth.
“Wha - ?”
“This position: preferred,” Soundwave said, voice smug. He definitely hadn’t missed Jazz’s momentary doubt - fragger was probably happy to have him off-balance again.
“And why’s that, then?” Jazz asked, as his lover climbed up and straddled his frame.
“Position: facilitates extensive preparation. Jazz: will need it.”
Jazz opened his mouth to make a snarky reply, but only managed a moan as Soundwave slipped his data cable, still warm and wet with oral lubricant, deep into his valve.
Primus! It wasn’t as big as a spike, but the cable was certainly thick enough to clench down on, and long enough to brush his ceiling node just right. Jazz was seeing stars, and they’d barely started. The appendage felt around, testing the walls of his valve and stroking over sensory clusters just often enough to be a maddening tease.
Jazz reached out, desperate for something to ground him, and managed to get his hands on Soundwave’s helm. He groped the pointed finials, and was rewarded with a heavy rev from Soundwave’s engine - they had to be just as sensitive as his own audial horns, to get a reaction like that.
Soundwave retaliated by shifting his weight onto one arm, and using the other to circle Jazz’s headlight. His thin fingers practically slipped between the seams, pressing into the sensitive seal between metal and glass. Jazz’s sensors went haywire, trying to process the intense sensation in a normally untouched area. He writhed, unsure whether to lean into Soundwave’s servo or pull away, as charge sparked off his chassis and into his lover’s frame.
Meanwhile the cable in his valve pulled out, releasing more drips of lubricant from between Jazz’s legs. In his peripheral vision, he could see his cable twine with another, forming a thicker tendril that easily slid back inside him, stretching perfectly. He whined, and Soundwave sent a flash of amused pleasure through his field. He was playing Jazz like an electro-bass, and he knew it.
It felt too good to stop, though. Jazz would just have to get his own back, later. Maybe during round three, or four. For now -
“Soundwave, please,” he gasped.
“Query: please?”
“C’mon, please, I’ve been waiting for it all night,” Jazz begged.
“Query: waiting?” Soundwave’s synthetic tones were even, but his frame was hot against Jazz’s - both of their fans were running on high, and condensation was starting to drip inside their plating.
“Soundwave!” Jazz whined.
“Jazz: will have to say it.”
“Please, Soundwave, please give me your spike,” Jazz moaned. “C’mon please, I want to feel it fill me up, I want you to stretch me out with your huge cord, c’mon, I can take it. Please - I want you to overload inside me -”
He broke off with a gasp as Soundwave nearly ripped the data cables out of his port, and used his free hand to pin his hips to the berth. Smoothly, with a grace that spoke of his time in the pits, Soundwave rocked his hips forward and slipped the tip of his spike into Jazz’s valve.
Then, he stopped.
“Soundwave: did not tell Jazz to stop talking.”
“What? Primus, you want me to keep begging? You like hearing me beg for your spike, Sounders?”
Soundwave’s field was pure arrogant pleasure, without a hint of shame. “Affirmative.”
Jazz sighed and rocked his hips, trying to get a little more of the hot length inside him. He was ridiculously charged-up, clenching around nothing, squeezing out trickles of lubricant - hadn’t Soundwave teased him enough?
“Please, Sounders, baby. Put your spike in me - please. I want the whole thing, I want to feel you deep inside, I wanna feel you on all my nodes. It’ll be so good baby, I swear,” he babbled, as Soundwave rocked forward, inch by torturous inch, stopping every time Jazz paused to take a vent.
Eventually, Soundwave bottomed out, and held excruciatingly still as Jazz squirmed and clamped down on him. Desperate, Jazz activated one of his better subroutines, rippling the calipers in his valve in a deliberate pattern. It felt amazing, but Jazz needed more. He wanted to be fragged, fraggit!
He pulled his mouth away from where he’d been sucking at a transformation seam on Soundwave’s chest, and decided to try begging again.
“Soundwave?”
“Affirmative.”
“Will you please frag me?” he asked sweetly, looking at his own reflection in the black glass of the mech’s visor.
A hot wave of lust swamped them both as Soundwave nodded, pulled his hips back, and proceeded to frag Jazz within an inch of his life.
He wrapped his arms around Soundwave’s waist and hung on for dear life as he was pounded, over and over again, but his lover’s ridiculously overpowered gladiator frame. His old friend the data cable came up beside his helm, and he gratefully sucked it into his mouth, licking in time to Soundwave’s thrusts as they drove each other toward the precipice.
The hot ball of pleasure that had been building beneath his array grew tighter and unbearably tighter - he’d been on the edge of overload for what felt like all night. Now that he was finally getting fucked just right, he wasn’t going to be able to last long.
He dug his fingers into the transformation seams on Soundwave’s back and let out a static scream as the pace grew impossibly harder and faster - the shout of metal on metal filled the room, and Jazz’s plating began to vibrate as his nodes were stroked over and over. Soundwave had some kind of mod just above his spike; it didn’t look like much, but it rubbed Jazz’s blinking external sensor-cluster perfectly.
One more thrust - just like that! Oh Primus yes! Jazz screamed as he overloaded, calipers squeezing down hard enough to hurt.
His whole frame went limp as Soundwave pounded into him again, twice, and followed him over the edge. The larger bot considerately rolled to the side instead of crushing Jazz, and laid on his back next to his partner as they both gasped for cool air to assist their screaming fans.
“Oh Primus, that was good, lover,” Jazz sighed. His struts felt like liquid, and his processor was blissfully clean and empty.
“Affirmative,” Soundwave replied, warmly, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Jazz twitched his helm, shook out his plating, and sprang to his feet on the berth. He then lightly climbed on top of Soundwave, and grinned down into the mech’s visor.
“Ready for round two?” he asked.