Aye-up my wonderful readers!

the glorious(ly long) 5th chapter is finally here!

Not much to say, i have some fanart links and illustrations i want to stick here:

Chapter4- Bee attacks!- .com/art/Don-t-mess-with-Bee-139199058

BeexTwins, inspired by chapter 4- .com/art/Reclaiming-Territory-139201246

Much love to Weeping-Cheetah for those! ^.^

and some of my own pictures related to this story:

Round 2 with the twins from chapter 4- .

picture for this chapter, look AFTER reading. Inspired by muses new song 'resistance'- .com/art/The-Cure-Resistance-138913995

Bit of fun inspired by ~Aerinsol on Deviantart. lol- .com/art/PBnJ-Sammich-time-139788988

there's a bit of twinsxbee here- .com/art/G1-TF-Sketchies-140018825

And this is completely for shits and giggles- .com/art/A-Many-Splendid-Thing-140019497

Expect more smut soon, i have some that ive been holding off from this chapter so as not to spoiler people ;D

'Course if you're on Deviantart, my username there is the same, and you can find all that stuff of mine in my gallery.

I do hope you find this chapter satisfying. I know i do. It's un-primusly long, but at least its full of good stuff, it wasn't really a chore to write or anything. I'm not sure a whole lot happens despite the length of it though XD

anywho. I'll let you get on :3

blah'- emphasis, thought or recorded voice (context should be easy to figure out)

'blah'- comm. speak

nanoklik= 0.5 of an earth second

astrosecond= 1.5 earth seconds

klik= about a minute

breem= 8 minutes

cycle= about 1 earth hour

megacycle= about 12 hours

joor= about one earth day

orn= 8 earth days

vorn= 80 earth years

Stellar-cycle= fraggin' long tim

~Death Out

Prowl onlined with a start, sitting bolt upright and gasping. His ventilators were humming to cool his over-heated circuits.

After a nanoklik, Prowl gave a soft moan and ran a servo over his faceplate, upon which condensation had gathered.

He reached over to his berth-side table and extracted a spare cloth from the drawer, using it to clear the moisture that had gathered on his plating.

He daren’t do more than swipe quickly and deftly at the water… he didn’t want to give his sensory array an excuse to go off more than it already had. Unfortunately, no matter how un-sensuous his motions were, they lit up his already over-active sensors.

With a small rough hum of frustration, Prowl threw the cloth back in the drawer and got off the berth. Not even bothering to do his usual joint stretches to limber up for another dayshift of holing up in his office with a steadily amassing pile of data-pads, Prowl left his quarters and walked over to his desk.

Rather than sit at it, he unsubspaced a cube of energon he’d swiped yesterday when he knew Ratchet was busy, and sipping from it, he paced.

The dreams were getting worse. Prowl, despite his battle computer and highly tuned logic circuits, dreamed a lot more than most mechs. Perceptor had assured him it was merely his psyche’s reaction to his unwavering conscious logic when he was online. When offline, his suppressed illogical codes would roam free, and the scientist had said this was perfectly healthy. Much healthier indeed than completely ignoring or shunting the codes away constantly.

Ordinarily then, Prowl didn’t mind his strange dreams, and let them run their course, sometimes recording on an external data file what he had imagined, simply for his own interest.

But this was getting ridiculous.

Having not been subjected to one of his ‘heats’ for vorns, he had forgotten that the effects on his CPU were quite as intense as those on his frame and sensory circuits.

He hadn’t been able to get a decent recharge in an Orn. Even if he could have, he doubted it would have helped him get through his work… for awake he was as much distracted as he was offline.

And the more he suppressed the visions his meta constructed of Jazz and Bumblebee when he was online and trying to file through the multitudes of reports that streamed in steadily, the more vivid they became when he tried to recharge.

This time had been much the same as the last few joors… Jazz had been feeling Bumblebee’s frame enticingly, and the minibot had been making the most delicious noises. The two had fondled each other in front of him, and he had been completely unable to touch them, as if he weren’t there… they too had ignored him, slowly getting more intense with their touches before overloading each other and crying out Prowl’s name.

The mere thought made Prowls door wings quiver.

This was insane.

Shame and lust burnt through his spark in a constant smoulder as he felt heat shiver through his circuits.

Knowing he would hate himself for it, (like he didn’t already) he pushed the images and sounds away and walked over to the desk, sculling the rest of his energon impatiently and sitting down, grabbing the nearest data-pad.

He knew he had to end this soon… he wasn’t sure how much more he could take, and it was painfully clear he wasn’t going to feel any better until he’d confessed and fragged Jazz’s (and possibly/probably Bumblebee’s if he didn’t hate him too much) diodes out… but he still couldn’t do more than draw a blank when he tried to figure out what to say, and he did not kid himself that it was anything less than the fear of rejection that was holding him back.

He reasoned that he most certainly couldn’t work out a solution when he had so much work to do, and it had been backing up as his efficiency lagged due to lack of recharge and his generally distracting physical ‘issues’.

After a few cycles, Prowl groaned and leant his head forward, holding the sides of his helm in his servos, off lining his optics.

This was utterly useless.

It was as if his processor refused to function until he’d seen to his irrational and overwhelming desires.

He couldn’t get through a single data-pad without his thoughts bringing up unbidden images from his dreams… and with the thoughts of Bumblebee passing his small nimble black digits over him or the weight of Jazz’ head on his shoulder as he breathed into his audio came echoes from his sensor net… as if his body cried out for the touches he wasn’t even feeling.

The incessant burning itch was driving him mad, he was sure of it.

Apparently it was also making his audio receptors glitch, because he didn’t hear the mech who entered until they spoke.

“Something the matter Prowl?”

Prowl’s optics onlined as his helm whipped up to find Optimus Prime standing before his desk with a bemused expression. He had locked his door and ignored any pings requesting entry, pretending he wasn’t there, but Optimus knew all the override codes in the base… he was the one mech no one could shut out in the entire Ark other than Red Alert.

Prowl opened his mouth to say ‘no’… but his vocaliser refused to sound the word.

He couldn’t even find the wherewithal to formally greet his commander (who had entered in a rather informal manner anyway, he noted distractedly, as he hadn‘t bothered pinging).

Prowl tilted his helm down again and ventilated in a sigh. “Nothing I think you can help me with sir.” he finally managed to murmur blankly.

“You don’t look like you’ve recharged in about an orn. I don’t have to get Ratchet to force you to take some leave again do I?”

Prowl’s head shot up again, looking more alarmed than Optimus’ statement warranted.

“No, no that won’t be necessary.” He replied quickly, trying to control his slightly alarmed tone to make it sound airy, but not really succeeding. The last thing he wanted was a visit from Ratchet… the medic was likely to shove a wrench somewhere unpleasant. Not that he felt he didn’t deserve it…

He’d discouraged the red and white mech from finding him the first few joors that he had gone underground by hiding out with the Dinobots… he was one of the few mechs the simple-processored warriors allowed in their lair, but he hadn’t really been able to get much work done there and so had returned to his quarters with the reasoning that no one expected him to be there now, and ignoring them if they came looking seemed to have worked… until now.

He was sure he wasn’t imagining that tell-tale squint of the leaders’ optics that meant he was smiling behind the battle mask.

Prowl gave a small static cough to clear his strained tone and said curtly and coolly “Was there something you needed sir?”

Optimus looked him over critically for a moment. “Only to see that you are alright. And it’s clear to me you aren’t.”

Prowl gave him a politely puzzled look. “I’m not sure I see where your conclusion comes from sir.”

It was clear from the look in his commanders… his friends’ optics… that he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Hiding from the rest of the Ark members, lagging in work that has hardly ever given you such trouble before and not recharging properly would generally suggest that one was not completely alright. You know I‘m not just your commanding officer Prowl. If there‘s something you need to get off your chest plate, I‘m more than happy to help.” Optimus’ tone was gentle rather than pressing. All the same, Prowl felt a quiver of shame in his spark.

His door wings drooped in defeat and he looked hopelessly over the stacks of Data-pads still unsorted and littering his desk.

“…Thankyou Optimus. But I honestly don’t think you can help me with this. I’ve dug myself a pit and I’m going to have to get myself out of it. I know if I don’t then Ratchet will most likely haul me out and lock me in the med-bay anyway. No need to go there early and lose all opportunity to at least get some work done…”

Optimus surveyed him critically, seemingly deciding not to press the matter. It was clear to him his 2IC was struggling with something quite out of the ordinary for him, but he was confident that if Prowl said he could fix it himself, then he would. The tactician had too much drive to let anything affecting his work carry on for very long. However… a little push in the right direction probably wouldn’t hurt…

“If you’re absolutely sure. I’ll let you get on with your work then.”

“Thankyou sir.” Prowl said with evident relief but an exhausted edge to his still composed tone.

“Oh, but might I suggest…” Optimus added as he reached the door, turning his face half to Prowl, who stared at him curiously.

“…I feel you might get more work done if you invested in a few orns locked in Jazz’s quarters with him. My advice is to approach the difficulty around Bumblebee with Jazz in a manner you think he himself might go about it.”

Optimus had a very hard time not bursting into laughter at the uncharacteristically horrified and embarrassed expression that crossed Prowl’s faceplate as it went a bright cherry colour under his optics.

“…how…”

“Don’t let those logic circuits freeze up on me Prowl. I’ve been around a long time… I’ve found out about many medical ‘codes’, and the one in your recent medical report is one I recognised. I think it would be unwise to allow things to continue on the way they have much longer. I need you functional, which means it’s time you faced the issue. Just consider my advice… You need to stop dwelling on the worst case scenarios. Personally, I think it will pan out well.” The commander said gently with a pleasant air.

All Prowl could do was gape. Optimus’ optics narrowed in another unseen grin and he bade his 2IC goodbye as he left. Prowl could only nod very briefly in response. He was sure he heard the commanders rumbling chuckle as he walked down the hall from the closed door.

When Bumblebee onlined, it was very slowly. He wondered briefly what was wrong with him, because he was usually fast to reboot… but then of course his memory banks onlined and things became a little clearer.

A lot clearer than he wanted them to, actually.

Bumblebee gave a soft groan and his optics lit up dimly, slow to brighten. Everything felt sluggish to him… he supposed it was the after effect of the sensory stimulant in the twin’s fine-grade.

He felt completely slagged…

Oh. Wait.

He pretty much had been.

Twice.

With another small moan at the incidents from last night he daren’t recall right now, he curled a little closer to the warm chest plate at his back.

He was still on the Twin’s berth, and Sideswipe still had his arms lazily around him like he was some sort of giant metal human ‘teddy bear’. He had to admit the image was amusing.

Focusing on the form before him he realised Sunstreaker had scooted closer and thrown one of his black and gold arms over the both of them. Both Twins still seemed soundly in recharge.

Bumblebee, despite his nagging memory files, settled in and did not attempt to wake them or extricate himself.

He had to admit… he hadn’t felt this comfortable or at peace in a long time. He savoured the brief moment, optics dimming placidly… but then his logic circuits began to analyse his situation in relation to his memories.

He remembered Prowl.

He remembered the reason the Twins had brought him here.

All the emotional pathways that followed the memories of the last orn or so.

What the slag had he been thinking letting the twins do this? Of course they’d only been trying to make him feel better… pit, they probably didn’t even know what a thrill Bumblebee had felt when he’d realised one of his wildest and most unlikely fantasies had become reality. He still couldn’t quite believe it. He was half expecting the two toughliners to online and wonder what the frag he was in their berth for. Everything was suddenly twice as complicated now…

Oh Primus, what if they do what Prowl’s doing? What if they’re so embarrassed by me they…

Bumblebee had to stifle a small whimper as he felt Sunstreaker begin to stir.

His systems whirred steadily as they booted up one by one.

The cerulean optics flickered online and took a moment to focus.

Bumblebee looked up apprehensively, expecting the exceptionally handsome features to fall into a disdainful frown when they landed on him… but instead a very sultry expression crossed the golden twin’s features.

“Morning little spybot.” he purred, moving the arm wrapped over the minibot and his brother and sliding a digit gently over one of the small yellow helm horns, mapping one of the shallow dents his denta had made several cycles ago.

Bumblebee couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him this time. His sensors were rather edgy still. Sunstreaker stopped and gave him a small apologetic grin. “Wonder what the Hatchet will do to us if he finds out we made all those dents in you… and you were only in there yesterday… suppose you could always bunk down in here for a bit and we can get you when he’s in a good mood.”

“What, you want to keep me as a pet or something?” Bumblebee said bemusedly, silently overjoyed that he was not being rejected by the gorgeous golden twin.

The sound and feel of systems whirring into action behind him told Bumblebee that Sideswipe was coming around now too.

Sunstreaker smirked. “A pet that can do tricks like you? Slag yea.”

Bumblebee couldn’t help the crooked smile that spread across his faceplate.

“We’re getting a pet now what?” Sideswipe slurred as his optics slowly brightened, first left, then right.

“Sunny likes my tricks.” Bumblebee stated in amusement.

He felt Sideswipes arms draw him in a little with a comforting pressure. “Yea, I bet he does. You’ll have to show me some of them sometime.” he purred in Bumblebee’s audio before giving it a flick with his glossa.

Bumblebee squirmed a little in response, but he was smiling.

“Hmm. I didn’t think we got that slagged last night…” Sunstreaker said distractedly with a slight thoughtful frown.

“We didn’t. Well, we didn’t, I dunno about this little light weight… why, what’s the time?” said Sideswipe, not bothering to check his internal chronometer seeing as Sunstreaker had already done so with his.

“0400 Kliks”

“Slag!” quipped Bumblebee, suddenly squirming little more fervently.

Sideswipe released him and sat up, stretching languidly. “What’s up? You have a shift or something?”

“Yes and it started half a cycle ago! Oh Primus I’m going to be in trouble.” Bumblebee lamented, looking down at himself in horror as he perched on the edge of the berth.

He couldn’t leave looking like that! What on Cybertron would everyone think if he turned up covered in dents and huge paint scrapes and… Primus he still had dried-

“Calm down Bee. What shift did you have?” Sideswipe asked with lazy unconcern as he appraised Bumblebee’s marked chassis with a somewhat satisfied half-grin.

Red was a good colour on him.

“I had a special patrol detail with Mirage, we were supposed to be installing some early detection equipment a little further out from the Ark for Red Alert, Red’s going to have a fit if we don’t do it today, he’s been waiting a whole orn for the two of us to have an adjoining shift to do it.”

“Go use our shower racks. There’s special solvent in there, second shelf, should remove those marks quickly.” Sunstreaker instructed him with a nudge.

Bumblebee gave him an exceptionally grateful look and hurried into the shower racks.

He started up the spray of already solvent laden water and found the large bottle Sunstreaker had referred to.

“So why’s it gotta be you and Mirage? Or is it one of those confidential espionage things you can’t talk about?” Sunstreaker asked as he lounged against the doorframe casually as Bumblebee grabbed the cloth the golden twin threw him to wash with.

“No, it’s not confidential. Well, not to Autobots. We don’t want the Decepticons knowing we’re installing it though, or that would defeat the purpose, they’d just blow it to slag if they knew we put it there, it’s not going to be within a defendable range. We need Mirage for cloaking. It takes less out of him to cover a minibot with his electro-disruptor than say, Wheeljack, and I’m the most used to installing things fast and competently, so it really needs to be us if we want to do it properly… uh, why are you laughing?” Bumblebee trailed off, somewhat bemused as Sunstreaker snickered for apparently no reason.

“Wheeljack. I just remembered he’s on your list.” The toughliner explained with a smirk, dark blue optics glimmering with their usual mischief.

Bumblebee gave him a silly grin as he tried to reach a paint mark he could just see over the back of one shoulder.

Wordlessly, Sunstreaker stepped forward into the stream of water, taking the cloth from him and efficiently, he removed all the gold and red paint from Bumblebee’s back, making the minibot’s engine purr gratefully.

Bumblebee gave a squeak as the gold servo and cloth moved down to his aft, rubbing away paint before giving it a light smack.

“Don’t molest him Sunny, not before his shift, save it for later. I’ve called in that you’re running late because we kept you up last night and you over-defragged ‘cause you were still off-kilter from the casseticon incident.” Sideswipe explained, taking up Sunstreaker’s previous stance leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed languidly over his yellow streaked red chassis.

“Oh… w-what did they say to that?” Bumblebee asked a little apprehensively, trying to ignore the way Sunstreaker was rubbing dried fluids from the inside of his thigh plating.

Sideswipe smirked as he watched the minibot fight the effects of his brother’s ministrations once again.

He strode over and smacked the cloth from the golden servo, handing it back to Bumblebee while Sunstreaker frowned and straightened.

“You keep revving him up and he won’t be able to concentrate for the rest of the day.” Sideswipe said with amusement.

“So? He’s my pet, I can rev him all I like.” Sunstreaker pouted, making Bumblebee giggle as he finished cleaning off the last few scuffs of gold and red, checking himself over one last time before turning off the water and accepting the towel the size of a human bed sheet from Sideswipe.

“They seemed to buy it. Id’ say they’re more likely to believe the lie than the truth actually.” Sideswipe mused.

“Yea… and ‘Raj knows I was with you guys last night too, I remember we passed him and Tracks in the corridor when Sunny kidnapped me… probably why he didn’t ping me when I didn’t show up for the shift.” Bumblebee muttered, more to himself than the twins. When he was finished with the towel, Sunstreaker took it from him to dry himself and gave him another grope on the aft, eliciting a small yelp and blushing giggled admonishment from the minibot as he thanked them for their help and left.

“Why do you do that?” Sideswipe asked frowning as the door to their quarters closed behind the retreating spy.

“’Cause he has a cute aft and gives good reactions-”

“No, not that! How come you let him call you ‘Sunny’ without even scowling… you look like you want to stick one of Hatchet’s wrenches up the tailpipe of anyone else who does it, including me.” the red toughliner almost pouted, arms still crossed over his chassis.

Sunstreaker shrugged. “I dunno. It’s kind of a turn on when he says it.”

Sideswipe gave his brother a wide optic’d stare of slight amazement before shaking his head and going into the wash racks to fix his own paint for his upcoming monitor shift. Not that he would have minded proudly displaying the impressive marks the minibot had left on him, but he doubted very much that Bumblebee would appreciate him running around advertising that particular shade of yellow… no doubt there was more than one Ark member that might either tease the minibot senseless or, in his defence, tear chunks out of the twins for soiling the most innocent personality on the ship.

Sideswipe smirked to himself as he started up the water and grabbed the solvent.

Innocent! HA! Oh if only they knew the devious little bed Bee… I bet NO ONE else on this ship knows about HIM…

As Bumblebee hurried down the corridor, he became aware that he was not entirely alone, even though he couldn’t actually see or hear anyone around.

Oh dear. That could only be one bot.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have taken you for their type.” said an exceptionally amused and somewhat aloof voice as Mirage appeared not so unexpectedly from mid-air, falling into step with his small fellow espionage agent.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat slightly and didn’t look Mirage in the optics.

“Heh, hey Mirage. Sorry about this morning, the Twins decided to give me a taste of their secret stash last night, and you know how much of a light-weight I am…” the yellow beetle apologised meekly as they continued towards the Ark entrance together to set off immediately for their task.

“I’d say they gave you more than just a taste of their high-grade…” Mirage trailed off knowingly.

Bumblebee knew that tone in the former noble-mech.

He looked up at Mirage with some shock and disbelief. “What do you mean? If you’ve been spying on me ‘Raj-”

The blue and white F1 couldn’t help but laugh at the pouty expression crossing Bumblebee’s face. The minibot wasn’t good at looking indignant in any way that a bot could take him seriously, but he wouldn’t torture his friend any longer.

“No, Bee, it don’t need to spy on you to know what happened. Actually it was something of a coincidence. Half a cycle or so after seeing Sunstreaker carrying you off, I ran into Trailbreaker. Apparently he couldn’t get to the Twins to throttle them for their prank because they were too busy interfacing with someone. I merely put two and two together…”

Bumblebee felt his faceplate glow brightly at his fellow’s revelation. Mirage merely continued to look at him with appraising amusement. “…but don’t worry, he assumed it was Bluestreak.”

“I know, he yelled it through the door…’Raj… you won’t-”

“Of course not. Though I must say… even though I’m not sure you had much say in the matter, a good session with those two does seem to have brightened your mood somewhat.”

Bumblebee gave a sideways glance at the wide grin plastered on the noble’s features and couldn’t help the small smile creep onto his own faceplate, despite the fact it was already a bright cherry colour.

“Yea… they’re good at… that…” He muttered, and the F1 chuckled even louder.

“I can’t say I envy you though, I don’t think Ratchet will be much pleased with those dents.” Mirage added as they reached the entrance.

Bumblebee gave a stifled noise of agreement. “I think I may have to make a trip to the sparring room when we get back… more for the Twin’s sake than mine. I can only imagine what he’d do to them if he found out they gave them to me, never mind how…”

Even as they transformed, Bumblebee could hear the blue and white spy’s engine revving along with his loud laughter.

“So… what were they like?”

Bumblebee was wondering how on earth he was fielding that sort of question so much recently.

He gave an exasperated buzz through his vents, stopping his work on installing the detection device.

“Oh not this again! Why can’t I keep that sort of thing to myself?”

He gave the larger mech a sideways glance to find suspicious optics on him.

“Not this again?” Mirage re-iterated curiously.

Bumblebee could have slapped his servo to his faceplate.

Him and his big mouth!

“I thought you’d let it go before. Really though ‘Raj, I thought you of all mechs would at least leave me with my dignity.”

“I wouldn’t call a night with the Lamborghini brothers undignified.” Mirage replied serenely, trying to suppress another wide grin. Apparently Bumblebee had covered his fumble.

The minibot shook his helm, continuing his installation work.

“I will say this, I wouldn’t have agreed to anything if Sideswipe wasn’t there.” Bumblebee muttered, not looking away from his work.

“I thought Sideswipe might have instigated it, why would he not have been there otherwise?” Mirage asked, perplexed.

Bumblebee felt the corner of his mouth twitching up in a wry smile, remembering the look on the golden twins face from that morning.

“Actually, Sunstreaker made the advance.”

Bumblebee didn’t have to look around to notice the slight increase in light from behind him that was Mirage’s optics widening.

“Sunstreaker?… But… you’re a minibot…. And he’s…Sunstreaker?”

It was Bumblebee’s turn to laugh. It wasn’t often that one could flabbergast the noble-mech, but the results were always amusing when you managed it.

“Yea… it was something that happened on our patrol yesterday. He said something about me fighting off cassetticons kind of made him take notice… and then he roped Sideswipe in and before I knew it they were kidnapping me and pushing high-grade into my hands. They were just trying to cheer me up.”

“So why exactly did Sideswipe being there matter?” Mirage asked softly.

They were keeping their voices as low as possible through this conversation. Even though Mirage had activated his electro-disruptor, making them invisible to the world around them anyway, there was still a chance a Decepticon patrol or reconnaissance could pick them up if they made too much noise, and then they’d be in trouble…

“Well… Sunstreaker is… pretty amazing, but he gets a bit… carried away. ‘Sides pulls him into line.”

Bumblebee explained, thinking of the denta marks in his left helm horn and wondering if the blue and white F1 had spotted them yet.

Mirage couldn’t seem to find anything to say to Bumblebee’s answer, and though he couldn’t see the other spy’s face, Bumblebee was sure he was grinning slyly at him.

“Oh… did Trailbreaker get that paint off?” Bumblebee asked suddenly, finding an excellent means of change-topic.

Mirage gave a stifled chuckle. “Yes… but not before Jazz got a visual record of the twin’s ‘masterpiece’. I must admit, Sunstreaker’s brushwork is quite exquisite.”

“I guess that’s why he sounded so mad… he’s not usually the type to blow up like that, but then they DID put a love heart on his head…” Bumblebee murmured with a grin to himself.

“And how exactly are you so privy to the details of their handiwork?” Mirage asked curiously.

“Well…um, I was sort of… there when they did it… but I didn’t say anything about it because I was sort of pre-occupied at the time.”

“Ah well… what Trailbreaker doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I don’t think he would have expected you to be able to stop them if you wanted to anyway.”

“I wouldn’t have expected them to myself. More likely they‘d start a game of toss the minibot.” Bumblebee admitted.

“Oh? What about now though… you don’t perhaps have a little influence with them after last night?” Mirage murmured slyly.

Bumblebee decided to keep any retorts about withholding interfaces from the twins to get his way to himself, as he wasn’t sure he could do that simply because they’d just truss him up and tease him and he wasn’t sure he’d object to it…

Reigning in his exceptionally runaway thoughts, he merely shook his helm. “I’m not Ratchet. I think those two really only respond to persuasion of the wrench throwing kind.”

Mirage snickered as Bumblebee finished the installation process. “How’s your E.D unit holding up?” Bumblebee asked distractedly as he made sure he had the frequency tuned just right.

“Still at 40% capacity remaining. I could cloak us all the way back to the Ark if I had to.” Mirage said languidly, coolly and subtly boasting, though he’d never admit to doing any such thing.

“Right, well I think that’s got it. I’d ping it and comm. Red Alert to see if it works, but I don’t suppose we can, since the ‘Cons might pick up the signals and investigate. We may have to come back out to re-tune it if we get all the way back to the Ark and find it isn’t working.” Bumblebee mused. Mirage gave a half sided shrug. Being a noble, it wasn’t in his programming to make such ungainly motions as shrugs, but his now many vorns in the Autobot forces meant he couldn’t help but pick up most of the habits of his crewmates… nonetheless his versions of the gestures were always a little awkward.

“I don’t mind if I have to come out again. As long as I don’t get caught around Jazz for too long. I’m not sure what’s happening with him and Prowl, but I swear to Primus if Prowl doesn’t show him some attention soon I’m going to lock them in a room together… at least I would if I could get my servos on Prowl, but he’s even slipperier than me when he wants to be. I’ve no idea what’s got him going to ground. Either way, Jazz has been doing a Bluestreak recently. Can’t get away from him if he corners you.” Mirage explained conversationally as they began the walk back to the highway where they would uncloak and drive back to the Ark.

“Oh. Yea, I noticed he was hiding. Didn’t know Jazz was getting so antsy about it though.” Bumblebee replied, trying to sound neutral.

He knew exactly why the two were acting the way they were. And it was his fault.

And if either Mirage or Ratchet did manage to lock the two Black and White officers in a room and Prowl ended up telling Jazz what the matter was, well then he’d really be in the Pit. How could he tell Prowl he’d let the Lambo Twins of all mechs take him to their berth, and after he had still been unable to fathom how he felt about Prowl (Perhaps he’d let them simply because he couldn’t figure out how he felt about Prowl?). What would Jazz think of him?

The depth of the tangle he’d gotten himself into suddenly descended upon the minibot’s meta and he nearly groaned out loud as he walked in Mirage’s wake.

“You know, I never thought you’d be so… open about your activities, if you ever had any…” Mirage started tentatively.

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a little and a faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“Neither did I. But then… I didn’t think I’d ever be getting that sort of attention.” Bumblebee admitted in a quiet voice.

Mirage glanced over his shoulder with a scrutinising look. He didn’t say anything for a moment, as though weighing up whether to agree or disagree and gauging what would hurt his feelings less.

“Not to offend, but I don’t think anyone thought you were really up for a relationship. You’re such a good friend to most of us, we wouldn’t think to wonder if you wanted to go further, and you never made advances… that and there are your friends who bots are probably afraid to cross if they hurt you in any way.” Mirage said with a slightly nervous laugh.

Bumblebee gave him an almost apologetic smile. “I know. Really, I’m just terrible at reading others when it comes to those kinds of feelings. I’ve had some rather… vehement, rejections, in the past. I decided to just keep my feelings to myself and let anyone who might have the same feelings approach me, but uh… I started to get the impression that no one else really was seeing me in that way. And until yesterday I’m pretty sure they didn’t.” Bumblebee admitted wryly.

The blue and white F1 nodded in understanding.

Mirage was one of the few friends he had that he would actually discuss something like this with. Being a fellow espionage agent, he knew how to keep a secret. Apart from that, he had the programming of a noble, and as such was both highly intelligent and socially sensitive. A particularly CPU alive mech, and one Bumblebee could always count on for honest but never brutally phrased opinions.

Mirage had his face turned to watch where they were going, but from his next words Bumblebee could tell he had that sly smile on again.

“Of all the mechs to break your relationship curse, I still can’t believe you snagged the Twins… Not to say you aren’t deserving of their attention or anything, it’s just the unlikeliness of the personality match. Of course I’m not going to say anything, but you know the whole Ark would be in an absolute uproar if word got out.”

“Oh yea… I know.” Bumblebee muttered with a hollow laugh.

You don’t know the half of it, he thought privately. Hell if the Ark found out about the mechs that had fragged me in the last orn, I think half of their logic chips might get fried.

Bumblebee almost giggled. But then another wave of guilty anxiety swallowed the momentary euphoria of realising how popular a berth partner he had suddenly become.

Although, to be fair, the first interface had been necessary to save his life. The second (oh, and third ) HAD been voluntary.

Despite the warm bubble of happiness that arose in him when he thought of how wanted the twins made him feel, there was still that horrible nagging gloom around Prowl and the nervous anxiety around Jazz… it wasn’t until they had reached the highway, transformed and were halfway back to the Ark that he realised why he still felt horrible about Prowl not talking to him…

I MISS him… I like him, I like how he is, I like that side of him no one sees except Jazz, that side he showed me, I like the way he moves, and that voice, and the sounds he makes when his door-wings are stroked, and the way he twitches them when you surprise him… Oh Primus, I fell for him…. I fell for him and he doesn’t want me and that’s why it still hurts…

Bumblebee fought the urge to come to a screeching halt and curl up into an unmoving ball at the side of the road as the realisation washed over him.

He couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts now that he knew what that horrible nagging guilt at the back of his processor was. He engaged Mirage in nonchalant banter the rest of the way back, and was glad for the task of going to the security mainframe to check with Red Alert that the installation was successful, as it kept his processor distracted.

Apparently, everything was working brilliantly, and ascertaining that Red Alert didn’t need them for anything else, the two were left with a whole half a cycle of their shift left and nothing to do.

Mirage and Bumblebee had just walked out of the monitor control room when Wheeljack came past.

“Hey you two! You’re back early, how’d the installation go?” he greeted them with his usual cheer, audio panels flashing brightly as he spoke.

“Smooth as Iacon energon. Bumblebee has become exceptionally efficient at technical installations.” Replied Mirage with a wide grin.

“Of course he has, who do you think taught him?” Wheeljack replied with a wink, giving Bumblebee a gentle clap on the shoulder. Bumblebee was glad the smile on his faceplate was natural. Even if he felt absolutely horrible to realise he was slightly spark-broken, the engineer was one of his oldest friends, and he always managed to make him smile.

“I did learn from the best.” Bumblebee admitted, winking right back at the Lancia.

“Hey, you guys wanna grab a cube? I’m on a break, and you’re both off early-”

“I’d love to Wheeljack, but it’s Hound’s day off and I promised to meet him, he wants me to teach him one of the old tower games.” Explained Mirage with polite regret.

“I’ll come with you ‘Jack, I haven’t really got anywhere to be.” Bumblebee said. He had been wondering, as they left the security room, if he should seek out the Twins and… well, he wasn’t sure what he‘d say to them, he just felt he had left them too quickly that morning.

But on the other servo, he had missed his morning ration, and realised he’d basically been riding the tail of last nights’ overcharge in his energy reserves, which were now nearly depleted.

He and Wheeljack bid Mirage farewell as they went their separate ways down the corridor. Perhaps, Bumblebee thought as they walked in amiable silence towards the rec. room, he would figure out what exactly he should talk to them about next he saw them.

When he and Wheeljack settled at an empty table in the refectory, it was busy, but not full or particularly noisy. Amoung the mechs Bumblebee greeted with a wave were Smokescreen, Windcharger, Blaster, Cliffjumper and Huffer. He also spotted a clean but still surly looking Trailbreaker, and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him to remember last night…

“You heard about that then?” Wheeljack stated, following Bumblebee’s gaze, audio panels glowing with amusement. Bumblebee nodded. Oh yes, he’d heard about it first hand from the disgruntled mech himself, not that Trailbreaker knew that, but still… it made him giggle again. Which felt both natural and strange, given the still miserable part of him was struggling over his processor with the brightened mood the Twins had bestowed on him.

“It’s good ta see ya happy again Bumblebee. I was getting a bit worried with that funk you were in.” Wheeljack said softly.

Bumblebee turned his aqua optics on the engineer with slight surprise. Wheeljack was looking back mildly, and Bumblebee could see the concern in his old friend’s azure optics.

“Was I that obvious?” Bumblebee asked sheepishly, his tone also quieting as he took a sip of nice, smooth, regular grade energon.

Wheeljack’s optics narrowed from beneath in a tell-tale hidden grin. “It’s a stark contrast when the ship’s happiest mech suddenly becomes as gloomy as Gears.”

“Oh Primus, I wasn’t that bad!” Bumblebee replied, making them both chuckle.

“No, that’s true, you don’t moan in whatever audio is closest to ya about what’s botherin’ you. But I get the feeling whatever is botherin’ you hasn’t magically disappeared with your lifted spirits today.”

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip slightly, staring at his cube as he traced a finger across it’s surface distractedly.

He and Wheeljack had been friends since before the war, and Bumblebee had been the one to convince him to join the Autobots with him rather than remain neutral. Bumblebee was one of the few mechs that dared to venture into the inventor’s lab while he worked, unafraid of the chance of explosions because he knew the sometimes careless engineer paid much more attention so as not to blow up others when they were in his lab.

Wheeljack had taught him a lot, and the inventor always seemed to enjoy his company. And after the vorns of supply runs they’d made back on Cybertron together, they had built an exceptionally strong bond of trust.

For this reason, Bumblebee wasn’t able to lie to his friend.

“You know I’m all audios if you need someone to talk to ‘Bee.” Wheeljack pressed calmly.

Bumblebee ventilated a sigh and fidgeted with his cube a bit more before answering.

“I’ve been through some pretty weird stuff before ‘Jack, I mean we all have but… I have the feeling Primus is laughing his aft off at me at the moment.” Bumblebee said with a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his helm in a nervous gesture he’d picked up from his human friend Spike.

“Why would he do that?” Wheeljack asked curiously. This sort of talk was not something he usually got from Bumblebee… but then the yellow minibot’s mood of late had been rather out of character, so he supposed the fact that his conversation was as well wasn’t so surprising.

“…’Jack, you know that last battle, where I took a shot for Prowl and we got stuck in those tunnels for a few cycles?”

“Yea… scared the spark outta me doin’ that yanoe, Ratchet told me how close that fraggin’ virus came to, well… I was worried this was about that, anyway.” Wheeljack admitted, audio panels flashing orange with concern.

A small, appreciative smile tugged Bumblebee’s mouth as he took an absent sip of his energon.

“Yea… the virus isn’t what’s bothering me. It’s what they virus made Prowl do.”

Bumblebee hovered on the edge of that sentence, wondering how far he was really willing to go with this confession…

He trusted Wheeljack, of course he did, but… this was so personal, and so slagging stupid, not to mention embarrassing, and he didn’t want to unload his problems onto his friend.

“Prowl? Did something else happen to him when he tried to override it to buy you time?”

Bumblebee shook his helm, an expression somewhere between shy embarrassment and sadness crossing his features.

“That’s… not what actually happened.”

Wheeljack tilted his helm to the side, glancing around them to see that no-one was eavesdropping on them. He had the feeling his long time friend was revealing something to him that an exceptionally small amount of mechs aboard the Ark knew about.

The engineer said nothing, letting Bumblebee tell him in his own time what the problem was.

“The virus I got hit with was some old one the ‘Cons were recycling. They don’t use it much anymore because they realised it wasn’t off lining anyone. They don’t seem to know why, but, uh… Prowl and I found out. Prowl had no choice, Ratchet pretty much ordered him, and I shouldn’t be surprised, or feel so bad about it but…” Bumblebee stopped and aspirated. He had started to ramble as his emotions flared up again. But there was nothing for it now, he had alluded to the incident, and he was going to get it off his chest plate. There was nothing else for it. And really, he needed another’s view of the situation so that he would stop over processing the whole thing in his meta.

“Ratchet ordered Prowl to interface with me, because that was the only way to fight the effects of the virus to keep me online long enough for Ratchet to get to us.”

Whatever Wheeljack had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

He stared in shock at his small yellow friend for a moment. Bumblebee was focussed nervously on his cube, but eventually those confused and unmistakeably hurt blue optics came up to meet his, and he snapped out of it.

“P-Prowl? He… he really?…wow Bee, I…um…well…was he good?”

Bumblebee gave him an even more pained look, but his exasperation was also tangible. “You’re as bad as Ratchet, geez…”

Bumblebee looked away from his apologetic looking friend and rubbed one side of his helm distractedly, tracing a slight dent that one of Sunstreaker’s digits had left there when Bee had overloaded him last night…

Ugh, focus! Sorting through ONE frag at a time here…

“That’s the problem ‘Jack, he… we… it started out as something he had to do, and then… I was sure there was something else, the way he acted, the things that were said, I… Primus ‘Jack, I didn’t even know it but I fell for him… and I only realised that half a cycle ago.” Bumblebee moaned, resting his faceplate in his palms.

A servo came to rest on his shoulder, giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

Still Wheeljack didn’t speak. He could sense it was not the end of the minibot’s confession. Although it was quite the shock to his processor already, but he found himself handling the new information better than he expected.

“…Prowl hasn’t talked to me since I woke up in the medbay after Ratchet cleared me of the virus. And he’s avoided me all orn.”

“Well why the frag not? What’s his problem?” Wheeljack said, helm panels flashing orangey-red.

“Well, he didn’t really have a choice in doing it in the first place… he may have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment, and I, like a fool, thought more of it than it was.” Bumblebee mumbled morosely, head now resting on one palm as his other hand swirled his half empty cube listlessly.

“So what? He Can’t even talk it over with you? Slagging coward, I oughta-”

Wheeljack cut himself short in his tirade as another mech entered the room and went straight over to Blaster where he was hanging out with the others.

“…Does Jazz know? I mean, everyone knows he and Prowl are, well, involved… have you said anything to him?”

Bumblebee gave him an uneasy look and shook his head. “I think maybe Prowl has been putting off telling him, and I don’t… really think I can do it myself. Jazz is a good friend, I don’t want to say anything if Prowl hasn’t managed to tell him, I don’t want to wreck their relationship… more than I already have anyway.” He muttered morosely.

“Now don‘t say that, you haven‘t wrecked anything. But I do see your problem. Well… I guess this explains why Ratchet’s been even more crotchety than normal too… if Prowl doesn’t get his servos out of his tailpipes soon I think I might have to put the twins up to setting some kinda trap to reel him in and… you don’t seem to like that idea much…” Wheeljack trailed off, noticing Bumblebee’s expression only became more pained and confused at the mention of his plan.

“Yea, well… Prowl’s only the tail of the comet… you know how they say love makes you do crazy things?” Bumblebee said with a nervous quirk to his mouth.

Wheeljack nodded, not quite believing there could be even more to this dilemma. But he was nothing if not thorough, and he had offered to help Bumblebee with his problems, so he would no matter how big and complicated they seemed to be…

“…I don’t know how crazy on a scale of one to ten attacking the cassette brothers without provocation is… but I kinda… was mad at Prowl and they were there, and um…”

“You what? I thought they jumped you and Sunstreaker on patrol or something and messed up your arm before he smashed them up, he even showed us a data-shot of his handiwork.”

“Uh, about that, yea… that was my handiwork, I kinda sorta lied to Hound so I wouldn’t look crazy, and Sunstreaker just… went along with it. I mean, you know why I was mad now, so you won’t think I was nuts to vent some steam on them, but to anyone else it would look like I randomly blew a circuit.”

“Wow Bee… I mean I knew you could do some damage when ya get riled up but… man you really did a number on those two, and all you got was a messed up arm? You loosing your temper really seems like something to behold.” Wheeljack said, unable to hide his admiration.

“Umm… Sunstreaker seemed to think so… he suddenly became very interested in me, and last night he enlisted Sideswipe to help ‘cheer me up’.”

“That doesn’t usually bode well…” Wheeljack muttered, helm panels flashing an apprehensive teal.

“In any other circumstance, it would have been kinda touching. They decided I deserved some of their specially brewed stash.” Bumblebee mumbled, voice dropping as he mentioned the contraband he had partaken in.

Wheeljack gave a knowing chuckle, panels flashing pink. “Primus, that stuff knocks ME on MY aft, what on Cybertron did it do to you?”

“Apparently made me forget my issues with Prowl enough to frag the Twins.”

Dead, shocked silence met Bumblebee’s latest revelation, and he was worried for an astrosecond that he had frozen Wheeljack’s processor.

The wide blue optics shuttered a few times before Wheeljack replied in a voice of barely quieted astonishment “You WHAT?”

“I kinda… let them Interface with me… it was Sunny that wanted to, he said he was impressed by what I did to the cassetticons. He didn’t know I had it in me, I didn’t know I had it in me, and I guess he… kinda found my random outburst a bit of… a turn-on, or… something.” Bumblebee trailed off as his faceplate heated with utter embarrassment.

“The fact that I’m guessing they were like nothing on earth aside, I see how this might complicate things… wait , they aren’t doing the same thing to you that Prowl is are they?” Wheeljack asked, sounding like he had half a mind to find and beat the slag out of them.

Bumblebee appreciated his friend’s protectiveness on his behalf, but he shook his helm quickly.

“Oh no, quite the opposite… I’ve managed to make myself their favourite ‘pet’. I haven’t seen them since Mirage and I got back but, my guess is they won’t leave me alone once they find me. I remember what they were like when they first took a liking to Bluestreak. I mean, they’re still with him, but not as clingy or possessive. While it’s kinda nice to think they’d be like that with me, it’s also a massive problem if Prowl finds out… not to mention I can’t change the fact I still like him in that way… and Jazz too, what will he think of me? I already feel like some kind of… floozy, this isn’t like me ‘Jack! How in the pit did I get into this? Me! A mech who two orns ago wasn’t on the top of anyone’s list in the relationship stakes… I don’t know what I’m going to do about all this.”

Wheeljack too seemed at a loss for an answer as he mulled over the considerable pickle his small yellow friend had found himself in, the only comfort he could give was a gentle pat to the minibot‘s shoulder.

“Well… if we look on the bright side, you’re more popular than you’ve ever been now… and you got ‘faced by some of the best looking mechs on the Ark, ( “’Jack!” Bumblebee’s faceplate heated even more, but his friend paid him no heed ) also a plus. You beat the slag out of two ‘Cons who’ll probably think twice next time they try to attack you, and if Jazz finds out how Prowl’s treated you after you saved his fraggin’ skid-plate, I’m willing to bet, feelings about your ‘facing the twins aside, he just might take chunks outta Prowl, and that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing personally.”

“What wouldn’tcha mind seein’ ‘Jack?” said a voice as a black and white visored mech practically bounced over to them and sat down.

Bumblebee looked up, startled. Jazz didn’t usually jump into conversations that seemed serious or private, but then Bumblebee had had his back to him, and Wheeljack had looked rather cheery while listing off the apparent perks of Bumblebee’s situation, so he supposed it mightn’t have looked like anything more than flippant chatter.

Bumblebee’s optics shot warily to Wheeljack, who gave him a reassuring glance that he wouldn’t spill anything to Jazz.

“You tearin’ strips outta Prowl.” The engineer said casually, sipping his energon through the small gap he opened in his battle-mask.

Jazz’s curiosity was instantly peaked by the nonchalant yet odd statement.

“N’ why would I do that?” he said with a bemused smile.

“Well he’s been hidin’ from ya hasn’t he? The Mech doesn’t know how to pull himself away from his work to give his social life some attention!” Wheeljack stated, easily hiding how truly disgruntled he was with the 2IC.

“Aw he ain’t that bad. He’s probably waitn’ fer me to go lookin’ for him. That seems like the sorta game that underhanded slagger would play.” Jazz chuckled affectionately. “Anyway, you’re not one to talk about bein’ too wrapped up in work Wheeljack. How many times this decacycle has Ratchet or Perceptor had ta drag ya outta yer lab to refuel cause you’ve forgotten huh?”

Wheeljack’s helm panels flashed an indignant pink. “Only ONCE I’ll have you know, I’m not THAT bad!”

Bumblebee couldn’t stifle his slight snicker.

Wheeljack gave him a good natured glare.

“I see you’ve perked up a bit today Bumblebee. Not a lotta mechs who can do that after a taste o’ the twins stash.” Jazz said, turning his optics on the minibot and giving him a cheeky smirk.

Bumblebee felt his faceplate heat a little again, completely flustered. “H-how do you know about-”

But Bumblebee’s tension dispersed slightly when Jazz laughed. “Mirage told me it was why ya were late for ya shift today. Gotta say, I’m kinda proud of ‘em for bein’ so nice n’ tryin’ to cheer ya up. I’m guessin’ it was yer first time with it tho huh?”

Bee nodded sheepishly. “If I’m smart, it’ll be my last too.”

Jazz and Wheeljack both chuckled, but their laughter was cut short by a loud and rather unexpected voice.

“JAZZ! BUMBLEBEE! MY OFFICE, NOW.”

Every head in the room turned to the black and white form who had appeared in the doorway.

Prowl’s face was as impassive as ever, his stance and tone both as official and authoritative as possible. No one said a word, even though a few of them shot Jazz and Bumblebee questioning looks.

While Jazz wore a bemused look, Bumblebee was downright shocked. Even Wheeljack was too stunned at the 2IC’s appearance and demeanour to even contemplate going with them to give the Tactician a piece of his mind on Bumblebee’s behalf.

As it was, Jazz and Bumblebee exchanged confused, slightly stunned looks before silently obeying.

It was clear others in the room, like Wheeljack, had noticed Prowl’s recent absence and found this fresh appearance somewhat alarming. But none of them, given the Datsun’s tone, would be investigating the matter any time soon.

Bumblebee flashed Wheeljack an apprehensive look as Prowl turned and stalked out into the corridor again, then he fell into step with Jazz. All Wheeljack could do was give him a weak wave. He wasn’t sure what was prompting Prowl’s tone, but given the information Bumblebee had just revealed to him… it really didn’t make much sense.

As they walked down the orange halls of the ship behind an exceptionally stiff-backed Prowl, neither Jazz nor Bumblebee spoke.

Jazz seemed relaxed if not slightly confused. Bumblebee, on the other hand… found his processor fritzing with worry. What on earth had HE done to incur Prowl’s wrath greatly enough to pull him out of hiding? Horrible realisations came to mind… really, he had done a number of things in the past few joors that could warrant a reprimanding. What if Prowl had found out about the Cassettes? What if Prowl had found out about him being late because of the Twins (which would of course lead him to the conclusion that their contraband was involved, which would get THEM in trouble too, if they weren‘t already). Primus what if he knew what else he’d done with the Twins… but still that made no sense, if he didn’t care about him, why would he be mad about that?

He wondered briefly what Jazz could have done to also be incurring the Datsun’s wrath… but then it could be any number of things, given that Jazz was prone to pulling pranks of his own, even if he was much more subtle than the twins. He didn’t look like he knew though… he didn’t have his guilty smile on, but then he could be playing innocent and pretending like he didn’t know. Bumblebee couldn’t stand the tension of the silence any longer.

Do you have any clue what he’s mad at us for? Bumblebee comm.’d his superior.

Jazz gave a light shrug.

I dunno what he’s got you in for, I can only think he found out I gave ‘Sides that pink paint when he had all his paints confiscated the other joor…

You what!? Does Trailbreaker know that? Bumblebee gave him a stunned, sideways glance.

A devilish smile curled the corner of his mouth. ‘Course not. If he did, how would I have gotten a data-shot of Sunny ‘n ‘Sides masterpiece? More important question is what did you do ta get him peeved?

It was Bumblebee’s turn to shrug. Maybe he found out why I missed half a cycle of my shift.

Naw, he wouldn’t be this mad over that. ‘Specially since ya got the job done quick anyway, an’ he’s more likely to haul the twins in fer getting ya over-charged. Jazz said, faceplate contemplative.

All Bumblebee could give in way of response was another shrug as they came up behind Prowl, who had halted at the door to his office and was keying in the code.

Bumblebee wasn’t sure if reaching their destination was good or bad. On the one servo he didn’t have to field Jazz’s queries as to what he’d done to land him there, but on the other servo… well, he was about to find out, and probably not in a pleasant way…

Prowl had considered Optimus Prime’s advice very seriously.

He had recommended he approach the situation as if he were Jazz… Prowl found it a little hard to work this way, as Jazz worked in a manner quite opposite to him. Where he went on logic and projected plans and strategies, Jazz could be wildly unpredictable. Trying to make a plan following the logic of wild unpredictability was a little harder than Prowl thought it might be.

He had paced his office, tapping his favourite stylus against his bottom lip, other hand behind his back, clenching and unclenching his fist as his door-wings twitched.

He was distracted from his in depth attempt at figuring out how to logically deconstruct unpredictability by a strong surge of heat through his circuits, causing him to take a gasping ventilation and stop his pacing.

He offlined his optics in irritation, but the moment he did the image of Jazz popped right into his meta, smiling in an all too seductive manner.

Look at’cha Prowler. Ya try too hard ta figure out the simplest things. When are you gonna learn to just go with the flow! His mind Jazz said in that seductively husky voice.

Prowl bit his lip. Perhaps he would have more luck figuring out how Jazz would do this if he stopped trying to think like Jazz and just went on what he knew of his lovers’ personally… which was a considerable amount.

His mind Jazz smirked in an exceptionally suggestive way, as though pleased he had finally seen sense, and all of a sudden an unbidden image popped into his CPU that made him online his optics in a mix of heated shock and guilty desire. No… I couldn’t possibly…

But it was a eureka moment… he knew it… it was exactly the sort of thing Jazz would do, even though he was impossible to logically predict, Prowl just knew…

Prowl was resolved. With the hard part figured out, it was much easier to plan how he was going to get them both there, and how to keep the whole affair unknown to the rest of the Ark.

He comm.’d Red Alert to find Jazz and Bumblebee’s location, and was glad to be informed that they were both in the same place.

He was especially thankful, as he opened his door and set off down the corridor with another wave of anticipative heat washing over his circuits, that his office was soundproof.

Prowl played his part well, he thought. From the looks of shock and tentative uncertainty he received from every mech in the rec. room, including Jazz himself, he was sure none of them would come anywhere near his office for the next few cycles. Not that anyone liked to go there in the first place unless they had to, but extra incentive couldn’t hurt.

He did feel a sharp pang of guilt when he saw Bumblebee’s almost fearful expression, but he didn’t show it. He couldn’t afford to. He just hoped the minibot wouldn’t react adversely when he carried out his ‘operation Jazz’ on him. But then this was a risk he had to take, because Jazz would take it, no matter the possible consequences, he knew it in his spark.

Apart from that, the very thought of it made him walk stiffly as his circuits surged with uncomfortable tingles through his over-eager sensor net.

Even though the two mechs following him were silent, Prowl knew they were talking through their comm. links. They were probably trying to figure out why he was so fragged off at them. Prowl allowed himself a small smirk. Oh, if only they knew… chances were they thought he was hauling them in for a prank. Oh he had no doubt Jazz had something to do with the Trailbreaker incident last joor, but frankly, he didn’t give a damn. He knew he should, and once he’d sorted out his personal life he probably would, but right now, he had more important things to be concentrating on.

They walked into the office, Jazz and Bumblebee first, followed by the still stony faced Prowl, who closed and locked the door behind them.

Jazz stood at ease against the far wall, while Bumblebee stood to attention before Prowl’s desk as a subordinate must when called in by an officer… especially when the officer seemed that fragged off.

Prowl stalked to stand before his desk, turning to face Bumblebee, but his optics were on the floor, an impassive, contemplative look on his face.

Jazz watched him almost curiously. He wasn’t himself, that much was clear. There was a tension in his door-wings Jazz hadn’t seen in vorns. It was almost as if he was holding something back, unsure whether or not he should say or do whatever it was he was about to…

Bumblebee couldn’t figure out how he felt. He stared at the Autobot symbol on Prowl’s chassis. He wouldn’t have been able to look him in the optic, even if the tacticians’ attention wasn’t fixed on the floor.

He was simultaneously angry and extremely nervous. He wanted to yell at Prowl for all the trouble he’d caused him by avoiding him… but then he hadn’t tried to seek him out and force him to talk, so he was as much a coward… and then of course he didn’t want to yell at Prowl, and he didn’t want Prowl to yell at him, because he liked him, and Prowl wasn’t likely to like him back in any way, shape or form if he went and blew a gasket.

The tense silence stretched on for a breem, with Jazz looking curiously between The Datsun and the Beetle, not wanting to interrupt whatever silent internal struggle either seemed to be having. He knew somehow that he was a third party to whatever this situation was.

Eventually, Bumblebee couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Look, s-sir I… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong bu-”

“Nothing.”

Bumblebee shuttered his optics a few times.

“W-what?” he replied meekly.

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” Prowl replied softly, his optics flickering up and… he actually bit his lip…

Bumblebee’s mouth was hanging open.

“But… you… I thought you were-”

“I’m sorry. Both of you. It’s time I made up for my mistakes.”

Bumblebee wasn’t quite sure what happened next.

It both seemed to go in slow motion and fast forward, but suddenly he was aware that Prowl had stepped up, taken his helm in both hands and pressed his lips into Bumblebee’s own in a restrained yet searing kiss.

Prowl almost wished he’d set up a camera in his office. He couldn’t see Jazz’s face, but he was sure his expression was priceless.

He feared, for a terrifying astrosecond, that Bumblebee would push him away in disgust. The minibot stiffened and remained unresponsive for a few nano-kliks… and then, sweet relief flooded Prowl’s singing spark as the small, silver mouth pressed right back against him, small hands resting tentatively on his bumper.

The kiss held such an insistent apology that Bumblebee couldn’t help but accept it. His processor went blank… he didn’t bother trying to figure this out, he might crash if he did, he decided instead to enjoy it… and oh, he hadn’t realised how he’d missed those smooth, gentle lips.

It was several astroseconds before Bumblebee remembered of course, that they were not alone.

He pulled back from Prowl, but didn’t remove his hands, which had somehow come to rest on the Datsun’s hood. He stared into Prowls optics, a mix of shock and confusion on his faceplate, lips slightly parted and tingling still.

Prowl looked back almost sheepishly.

“Wow… that was quite an apology.” Jazz stated lightly, his expression somewhere between shock and… amusement.

Prowl turned his bowed helm with a sigh of his vents, looking guiltily over at his lover.

“I’m sorry Jazz… I have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I hope your gonna keep using examples in yer explanation.” Jazz said, the corner of his mouth curling up in unsuppressed glee and… though only Prowl recognised the emotion… arousal.

Bumblebee let out his own aspiration of relief. He was still too confused to say anything. So he allowed Prowl to steer him into a chair, where he sat staring blankly at the 2IC. He couldn’t quite find the nerves to look at Jazz yet, though he didn’t seem angry…

“Jazz, you remember the incident with me and Bumblebee in the last battle… I know you read the medical report. It was coded.” Prowl launched into what sounded like a well rehearsed explanation.

Jazz tilted his head, coming over to stand closer to the two, still looking between them curiously.

“Yea. Ya did somethin’ stupid. But I’m glad you did or we’da lost my favourite minibot.”

“Yes well I did do that, but not by the method you think I did.” Prowl said a little hurriedly.

“Oh?” was all Jazz had in way of a response, face politely puzzled.

“The Decepticons used an old virus in their attempted attack. One they ceased using previously because it proved ineffective. At least, whenever the victim was in the company of another Autobot. The effects include slowing of heating systems and shorting of minor systems in a slow and painful attack-”

Jazz’s visor suddenly glowed bright in apparent understanding.

“You’re telling me it was the LOVE-BUG?”

There was a moment of silence between the three before Jazz burst out laughing and doubled over, slapping his knee.

Prowl and Bumblebee shared a glance before Jazz recovered his coherency.

“So, doezat mean… Ratchet ordered ya to… he did, didn’t he? Ya had to Interface with Bee to keep his core temp up and short the virus didn’t cha? Oh man, I heard stories about that virus, but…. slag.”

Prowl shuttered his optics at Jazz before he let out a very relieved sounding “Yes.”

Jazz looked between them again, rapidly processing all that had happened since the incident, and dawning comprehension bloomed upon his faceplate.

“Aw Prowler… don’t tell me it took ya all this time to talk ta Bee about it? Ya had him mopin’ so much the Twins even tried to cheer him up!”

Prowl had the good grace to look ashamed.

“I truly am sorry Bumblebee… I wanted to speak with you. I thought it best to tell Jazz what had happened first, but I couldn’t seem to find the best means to broach the subject, and I continued to put it off… before I knew it, joors had passed and I… was, afraid of how both of you might feel. I hadn’t figured out how to tell you Jazz, and the longer I left it the more ashamed I felt about avoiding you Bumblebee… the truth is I was afraid, because I‘m terribly fond of both of you, and the thought that you both might turn me down for my actions… and I know you are both good friends as it is, I didn’t want to ruin that-”

“Aaaaw, Prowler, I thought ya knew me better n that!” Jazz teased, but his tone was soft and gaze affectionate.

“So… you do… like me that way?” Bumblebee asked tentatively, his servos fidgeting nervously in his lap.

Prowl gave him a slightly surprised look.

“Of course. I know I have acted like a complete fool towards you, but my feelings are as I said they were when we were waiting for the rescue party.”

There was such sincerity in the soft blue optics that Bumblebee felt he might float off his chair with the swelling bubble of happiness inside him.

A wide, mischievous grin crept onto Jazz’s faceplate, his visor glowing a little darker.

“Well, Bee, looks like it’s official. I better welcome ya to the relationship!”

And within a few strides, the Porsche had crossed to the chair Bumblebee sat in, took the minibot’s faceplate gently in his hands as Prowl had and pressed a passionate kiss upon his lips.

Bumblebee wasn’t quite sure how he should react… so he simply went with and enjoyed it, as he done with Prowl’s surprise kiss.

Jazz was… different. In a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He couldn’t say he’d never imagined doing this with his superior… Jazz was naturally passionate, but none of Bumblebee’s curious musings on what this might feel like quite compared.

He pressed back tentatively, smiling slightly when Jazz flicked his bottom lip with his glossa.

Bumblebee was overcome with a slightly reckless urge as the words ‘welcome to the relationship’ sunk into his CPU.

He slipped his glossa out and unashamedly ran it across Jazz’s top lip. Jazz let out a small surprised yet appreciative noise before they broke apart.

Jazz grinned at him and he grinned right back.

“Never thought ya’d be into that with me Bee…” He admitted almost shyly.

Bee felt his faceplate heat a little. “I kinda thought the same thing.” Bumblebee admitted, and they both tried to suppress silly little giggles, feeling like younglings.

Jazz’s attention then settled on Prowl again, who had become strangely stiff… Bumblebee realised he was shaking.

A look of understanding slipped across Jazz’s features and a devious smirk quirked his features.

“Ooooh Prowler… I guess my present probably didn’t help ya huh? I’m surprised ya lasted so long. Guess we better fix that for ya. You up for helping’ me help Prowler relax Bee?” Jazz purred, looking slyly over at his yellow companion.

Bee gave him and Prowl a curious look.

“I… suppose you should explain… seeing as he’s going to find out anyway now everything is out in the open-NNNNNNNnnnnn…”

Prowl let out a delicious noise as Jazz sauntered over and ran a digit across the edge of one of his door-wings, making prowl’s whole frame quiver.

Bumblebee followed, wrapping his arms around Prowl’s waist and playing his fingers over a seam in his side armour.

Bumblebee directed a questioning look at Jazz, who smirked, still teasing a finger over the edge of one of the black and white doors.

“Well, ya see, Prowl’s got this funny little glitch of sorts, when it comes ta interfacing. He doesn’t do it if he hasn’t fixed his schedule to give him extra free time with me. ‘Cause when he starts, he can’t stop for a while…” Jazz explained, trying very hard not to laugh. The mirth in his voice made Prowl’s faceplate burn bright orange. Well… his words and his ministrations, as he began to trace patterns across the sensory appendages in his grasp.

Prowl would have said something about Jazz not making him out to be some ‘facing crazed maniac, but all he could do was whine slightly at the feeling of his heat induced fantasies coming true as he struggled to remain standing there.

Jazz, it seemed, hadn’t finished his explanation though.

“Usually I can keep him satisfied… seems like he wasn’t prepared for an interface out of the blue with somebot who wasn’t me… ‘course, Prowler bein’ Prowler, wouldn’t come ta me for a ‘face without spillin’ the beans about you two, n seein’ as he couldn’t figure out how ta do that, and he’s too stubborn to please himself… he’s gotten himself all hot n bothered. Can’t say I mind though… I do love seein’ him like this.”

Bumblebee smiled slyly enough to match Jazz. He had to admit, he was enjoying Prowl’s unchecked expressions of rapture quite as much as the Porsche was.

Bumblebee slid one of his small digits up Prowl’s midriff plating and slipped it under his Bumper, finding the sensor node buried in the wiring there that he had found the first time. He had to admit, this was so much better given he wasn’t fighting the effects of a virus.

At the same time as he teased under Prowl’s chest plate, Jazz slipped his digits into one of the door-wing hinges, and with a quivering moan, the Datsun sank to the floor, the other two following him down with identical grins.

“I don’t… deserve this.” Prowl gasped helplessly as Bumblebee teased as many wires beneath his hood as he could find. Jazz reached a servo over Prowl’s shoulder, capturing his chin and turning his helm to claim a kiss. Bumblebee felt a warm tingle go through him to see it. Everyone knew the two were together… but they never kissed in public. The rare sight however, was the epitome of affection. An action it was clear both knew well, practiced and familiar, but still so passionate.

“Ah love, who says we’re doin’ it for you? Consider this your punishment.” Jazz said huskily when they broke apart, leaning their foreheads together, Jazz’s expression quite devious as Prowl quivered.

Bumblebee caught his gaze and Jazz winked. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Prowl let out a mewl as Bumblebee’s other hand dove into the seam between his leg and hip and Jazz’s mouth latched onto his neck cables.

The black and white mech bucked and moaned as he was teased and caressed mercilessly, but he managed to snake his servos around the other two, one finding the gap In Bumblebee’s side armour with the sensor node, the other reaching over his shoulder to take hold of one of Jazz’s sensory horns on his helm.

Jazz moaned into Prowl’s neck and gnawed the wires a little as those talented white digits played a symphony of pleasure over his sensitive helm appendage.

Bumblebee let out a loud mewl as digits were pressed firmly against a sensor node at his waist.

The two retaliated by doubling their efforts to draw noises from the tactician and make him squirm.

With the small digits of Bumblebee ghosting over his plating and slipping deep between his plates to caress normally untouched wires and even transformation cogs, as well as Jazz’s expert touches to his door wings, teasing the tip of one and digging into the joints of the other in his back, Prowl barely stood a chance.

He couldn’t mute his impassioned moans and cries of ecstasy. He refused to offline his optics, because he needed to keep reassuring himself that this was real and not one of his vivid dreams.

He clung tightly to the other two to further prove it to his buzzing processor.

Prowl had writhed and twitched, guided into a sitting position by the other two, Jazz cross legged behind him, Bumblebee to his right with a leg under one of his, keeping him from slipping down.

Bumblebee had an arm wrapped around his front, fingers exploring down his midriff and trailing his hip plating. His other servo played with some wires under the right side of his hood. Prowl gave a strangled cry as the minbot’s glossa slipped out curiously to trace the nearest headlight.

Jazz removed his mouth from Prowl’s neck cables and looked over the Datsun’s shoulder to see what Bumblebee was doing.

“You’re not bad for havin’ only done this ta him once.” Jazz praised him in a purr.

Bumblebee smiled slyly back. “Fast learner.” he quipped between licks over the headlight glass, making Prowl shudder and arch in an exceptionally pleasing way. The Porsche gave a low chuckle. “Don’t I know it.”

Jazz took advantage of the arch of the tactician’s wings, catching the edge of one that hovered near his mouth and nibbling, before drawing his glossa along it towards the tip.

Prowl let out a long, low moan.

Bumblebee had the feeling Jazz was leading Prowl towards overload, and he was more than happy to help him there. He wanted to see him let go… he remembered how careless, how free Prowl seemed in the throes of overload… how handsomely his features morphed from their usual impassive coolness to intense pleasure. The stark contrast gave Bumblebee a thrill.

He trailed his right servo down the line of Prowl’s pelvis where it joined his leg, until he reached the panel that covered his interfacing circuitry. Bumblebee pressed his fingers together and pressed the tips forward down the heated piece of metal.

Prowl whimpered and bucked.

Jazz seemed to react very well to this, humming in delight as he drew his lips along the top edge of Prowl’s other door-wing, teasing the joints with both hands.

Bumblebee continued to push his digits hard up and down Prowl’s closed panel, feeling it heat so much it was almost unbearable to touch.

He worked Prowl into such a state that his engine was revving high and reverberating through the saboteur and spy, heating their own circuits as Prowl’s cooling fans buzzed loudly. From the glazed, unfocused sheen to Prowl’s optics, it was clear he was now incoherent with the sensations that Jazz and Bumblebee were sending across his over-sensitised haptic input array.

“Mmmmm, I kinda wondered sometimes… what it might be like tah see Prowl reactin’ like this to somebody else… gotta admit I’m likin’ it.” Jazz purred over Prowl’s shoulder again, one hand on a door wing, the other reaching around to softly stroke and rub one of Prowl’s red chevron spikes.

Prowl let out another long moan, bucking into Bumblebee’s hand again and throwing his head back.

Jazz kissed his helm with a smile and looked back over to a slightly blushing Bumblebee.

He had to admit, he’d never imagined receiving a compliment from his commanding officer and friend on how well he could rev up said friend’s partner.

Jazz’s mouth plates quirked as he planted gentle kisses down Prowl’s neck.

“Go ahead… open him up, I wanna see what he looks like when you do it…”

“When I do what?” Bumblebee asked innocently, although he couldn’t hide the slight breathlessness to his vocals.

Jazz’s smirk widened as he lapped at a sensor buried in the junction between Prowl’s neck and chassis, earning another delicious mewl from the writhing tactician.

“Overload him for me ‘Bee.” Jazz almost whispered.

Bee let a wide, sly smile spread over his faceplate as he traced his small digits over the outline of Prowl’s panel, feeling slight traces of leaked lubricant.

Prowl gave a needy whine, having truly given up on all form of composure in the face of his burning desire.

“Yes sir.” Bumblebee replied simply, as though accepting an order to clean his rifle.

This was his final payback. Both for Prowls initial ministrations during their first interface, and for the whole orn of self-doubt over the 2IC’s feelings towards him. He slid down the black and white frame, climbing over Prowl’s legs to rest between them.

If Bumblebee still had any doubts as to the Datsun’s feelings, they would have been dispersed when Prowl moaned his name as Bumblebee pressed a particular spot on his codpiece and slid away the black panel.

Dark purple, semi-translucent lubricant trickled from the port Bumblebee had felt, but never seen. Prowl’s cord was recessed, but straining the catches that kept it within it’s protective encasing in Prowl’s pelvic gimble.

Bumblebee wasn’t cruel enough to tease the obviously pressurised and probably nearly painful cable, and instead pressed the two black release levers on either side, allowing the spike to slide out slowly on it’s own, Prowl letting out a sound of relief.

Jazz seemed to have semi-hypnotised the tactician with his feather-light kisses across the white and black armour and the soft, tracing touches over the doors that flared out on either side of him.

Prowl was floating in a sea of contentment, lulled into a daze of beautiful, intoxicating sensations. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been rendered in such a blissful state… he knew he’d certainly never done so under the ministrations of two mechs.

Oh but Primus how could he have lived all his life-stream and never experienced anything like this?

He tried to focus in more on the touches, tried to concentrate on who was doing what. Doing so only made him register the pleasure more acutely.

Suddenly Bumblebee was between his legs and opening his panel. Had he heard Jazz ask the minibot to overload him? Oh Primus but those little hands felt good… had he said Bumblebee’s name outloud? He did it again without really thinking as the spy released his deliciously aching cord. He weakly scooted back against Jazz, his servos reaching back and grasping the familiar white plating of his lovers’ thighs as Jazz uncrossed his legs and set them either side of Prowl.

He realised as he caught sight of the look on Bumblebees face that this really was supposed to be a punishment… he read in the minibot’s optics that he was about to get paid back for what he’d done to Bumblebee recently…everything he’d done…

Prowl wasn’t quite sure what he would do once Bumblebee did that… he was quickly losing control of himself as his heat consumed him in answer to the touches of those he had dreamed of…

“Nnn… Jazz…” He breathed out tentatively, helm twisting to catch sight of the brilliant blue visor.

“Don’t worry Prowler… this is gonna be fun…” the Porsche reassured him with a low, eager growl as he snaked his arms up under Prowl’s, holding the front of his shoulder joints as Prowl dug his fingers into the white thighs, a tremor of anticipation running through him as he looked back to Bumblebee, Jazz mouthing along his neck and humming. “For us, anyway.” the spy added with a snicker.

Bumblebee felt Prowl quiver as he seemed to regain some coherency once more. He almost found it funny that the 2IC seemed so apprehensive of him.

…Not that he was wrong to be.

Bumblebee stroked from the base of Prowl’s cable to the spike at the end, slowly, lightly, teasingly, small digits twisting around the black and white sheathing as he went, before reversing the motion.

Prowl gasped, shuddered and moaned, head tilting back again but optics never leaving the deviously smiling yellow mech.

Bumblebee’s other hand traced oh so lightly up under Prowl’s port, getting lubricant on the tips of his fingers as it did, which he then smeared delicately around the edges of the valve entrance, feeling them contract and flex beneath his barely-there touch.

Prowl mewled and bucked, But Bumblebee pulled his hands back reflexively, not allowing any pressure upon Prowl’s equipment, causing him to whimper needily.

Jazz made soft noises of pleasure as Prowl’s reactively clutching servos sent tingles up his thighs.

He kept his optics trained on Bumblebee, on his beautiful, silver faceplates and skilled, nimble hands as they teased Prowls’ cord in a way that made Jazz bite his bottom lip and hum appreciatively.

Wonder at how Prowl could have been so nervous and doubtful about revealing the incidents of the last orn aside, Jazz couldn’t think of a better candidate for inclusion in their relationship.

Not that he had been feeling it was lacking or thought Prowl wasn’t enough for him… but he felt Prowl was almost wasted on him. Such was the depth of the Datsun’s passion, he felt it was almost a crime to be keeping that all to himself.

That, and he was an experimenter by nature. He had fantasized about pairing up with another who could enjoy working Prowl up like this… another to share his wonderment with, who would understand perfectly just how exquisite Prowl’s love could be… few mechs saw past the 2IC responsibilities, or realised the endearing quirks of the mech himself… who was there to enjoy them with him?

And now by some fateful turn at the servo of Primus, Prowl had been the one to find another who he could share his appreciation of the tactician with… and it was a mech he himself already appreciated fully… even if it wasn’t perhaps who he might have ever expected.

It didn’t matter in the least. Jazz massaged the white shoulder plating under his servos, running his glossa over the grey neck cables as Prowl mewled.

Jazz quieted his lover’s bucks a little as Bumblebee continued to dance his digits lightly over Prowl’s cord sheathing, thumb brushing the tip of his spike, other hand tracing the opening of his port.

Prowl couldn’t stand the ghosting caresses… his cooling fans whirred louder, trying in vein to qualm his burning circuits as every barely-there brush picked up by his sensors sent lava straight through his energon lines and wild, electric ecstasy over his circuits.

And then he cried out and arched as Bumblebee suddenly clasped a small servo almost too tightly right around the base of his cord.

Jazz wrapped his legs around Prowl’s middle, bringing him back down and murmuring nothings into his audio, a wave of his own deep lust coursing through him at the sight of Bumblebee taking Prowl firmly in his grip… and as Prowl settled again with a longing whimper, the black servo moved, oh-so-slowly, up towards the tip of the spike.

As it did, two of the now slightly lubricated digits of the other hand pressed into the tacticians port at the same rate.

Jazz let out a longing moan as he watched those fingers press into Prowl’s sweet entrance. He almost wished he had asked Bumblebee to do that to him… then he remembered it was a punishment and knew he’d go crazy if ‘Bee tortured him like that. But still, the sight and thought sent a tingle through his circuits, helped along by the higher rev of Prowl’s engine that reverberated strongly though him, curled around the Datsun as he was.

Prowl keened with pleasure as his sensor net was flooded with positive charge data from the firm, slow strokes up his cable and into his port.

The wonderful sensations exploding through him were better than any of his dreams or fantasies of this moment… in no way could his overactive stasis imagination match THIS…

“Nnnn… Primus…BEE!”

Prowl’s ventilators began to pant, he was loosing coherency again as wave after wave of pleasure zinged across his sensor net. He relaxed back into Jazz, dimly feeling the extremely hot plating of his lover’s codpiece pressed against his lower back just above his aft.

Prowl had thrown his helm back, door-wings aquiver, but Jazz’s optics were still locked on the minibot as he continued his onslaught.

Jazz felt an almost unbearable surge of heat in his interface units as Bumblebee lowered his helm slowly and pressed a kiss to the tip of Prowl’s spike. He then slipped out his glossa and flicked the end, making Prowl twitch and whine and beg him…

Jazz let out a needy whine himself, almost unable to keep himself in check. He clung to Prowl’s shaking, keening form as Bumblebee looked up, giving him a very devious smile, optics glimmering, before he slowly lowered his mouth over Prowl’s cord, taking in the black and white cable in a way Jazz would never have imagined the spy capable of doing…

Both black and whites’ cooling fans were humming like crazy.

Prowl pretty much melted in Jazz’s hold as Bumblebee went most of the way down his cord and then drew off, sucking hard. The strangled cry he made told Bumblebee that it wouldn’t matter how slow he went soon, not much was standing between Prowl and a violent, ‘face deprived overload.

But as much as Bumblebee was willing to send him crashing straight into the throes of bliss he was promising… he remembered that he deserved to be teased for as long as he could manage.

Then again, another look at Jazz’s painfully desperate faceplates told him that his torture of the tactician seemed to be effecting the saboteur almost directly.

What the pit, I live to please anyway…

Apart from anything, Bumblebee felt his own interface units burning beneath his yellow panel. He smiled around the tip of Prowl’s cord, twisting his glossa around it and making Prowl yelp with pleasure. He had just remembered something from their first interface.

He let Prowl’s cord fall into his waiting servo again and stopped pumping his fingers within the Datsun, who’s optics immediately re-onlined from where he’d let them dim to nothing, and his helm snapped up at the pause.

He watched in fascination as Bumblebee reached the hand covered in Prowl’s own lubricant between his legs to his panel, which Prowl couldn’t see.

Prowl and Jazz’s optics both widened as Bumblebee retracted his codpiece and released his cord, still leaning over so they couldn’t really see. He smirked at Prowl before diving back down between the white and black legs.

Prowl gasped and keened loudly as he felt the minibot’s silver glossa dig greedily into his port, lapping at all the lubricant it could reach.

Jazz moaned longingly at the image that he had no idea had already occurred in reverse.

Prowl recognised the gesture though, and watched in aroused fascination as the minibot stroked himself while wriggling his glossa deliciously inside him. Prowl bit his bottom lip and whined as Bumblebee’s other hand, still holding his cord, began stroking him firmly.

With Jazz gnawing his shoulder and grinding needily against his back at Bumblebee’s display and ministrations, Prowl knew he was rapidly approaching release.

Bumblebee could feel it in the spasms and clenches of the port around his mouth, which was buried to the nose-ridge in the flexible platelets that rimmed the valve.

Wanting to savour the tactician’s expression when he reached his peak, Bumblebee removed his glossa, licking the lubricant smeared on his face away where he could. Prowl keened as the image sent a zing of pre-overload ecstasy through him. So close…

Bumblebee replaced his glossa with three digits, which immediately began to pump Prowl hard as his other hand matched the increased pace on the black and white cord.

Prowl lost it. He let whatever loud cries he wanted to escape him do so, letting himself be consumed by the pleasure. Bumblebee’s hard work on his cord and port sent him soaring to heady heights as it was, but the moment Jazz bit down on one of his door-wings, he was plunged over the edge and his overload came hard.

“NNNGGGGHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Even Jazz was surprised by how loud Prowl was. Normally he himself was the noisy one when they interfaced, but clearly, the Datsun was in a state where he was beyond caring. He was thankful however, for Prowl’s sake, that his office was soundproof.

Bumblebee hummed in satisfaction, a wide grin splitting across his face as Prowl let go.

The cry he let out made the minibot’s processor buzz and tingle and he kept up his hard pace on the cord and in the now streaming port as Prowl bucked and quivered and twitched in Jazz’s hold.

His facial expressions did not disappoint either. Neither did Jazz’s, at that. The Porsche seemed to melt at the sound of his lover’s release.

When Prowl’s cry of ecstasy petered out and he fell limp in Jazz’s hold, cooling fans whirring loudly, Bumblebee ceased his motions and sat back, his own fans buzzing. Jazz looked up and saw the innocent, happy mech he was so used to… it was the same Bumblebee. Even though he’d never seen this side of his cheery, endearingly innocent subordinate, he was starting to realise it had probably always been there… and no one had bothered to uncover it.

Jazz’s optics roamed with an amused glint over Prowl’s lubricant still smeared on the brightly grinning silver faceplates, then down the yellow chassis to the minibot’s now open interfacing panel.

He bit his bottom lip as he uncurled his legs from Prowl’s middle. Prowl, through the static that overload had clouded his audios with, heard his lover give a soft, longing groan.

Pulling himself together (which took a considerable effort given that surge had nearly offlined him), he looked slowly between the bright, intense blue visor on his shoulder and the exposed, smiling Bumblebee.

A small smile pulled at his mouth.

“I think you should get yourself acquainted with minibot sensory arrays…” he suggested a little breathlessly to his lover.

Jazz’s visor flashed. He Didn’t need telling twice. And he knew he wasn’t imagining it when he saw Bumblebee’s optics go a shade darker when he heard the tactician’s recommendation. The spy bit his bottom lip and leaned a little further back on his heels, knees still on the floor. He spread his legs slightly with a playful look, definitely teasing Jazz now.

“Sure you don’t want me to give you a guided demonstration first?” he teased, lightly stroking the servo covered in Prowl’s lubricant up and down the inside of his own thigh plating.

Damn he was hot when he was being devious like that… Jazz snaked out from between Prowl’s door wings with a growl and nearly pounced Bumblebee as Prowl smirked, knowing the saboteur had about reached his patience limit for look-but-don’t-touch where Bumblebee was concerned.

“I think I’ll cope on my own.” Jazz said huskily as he slipped his hands over the yellow hip plates and took his glossa to Bumblebee’s face, cleaning Prowl’s essence from the soft dermal plating, earning a grateful if not surprised mewl from the spy.

Jazz pressed his chassis lightly into the yellow chest plate, pushing Bee back and down slowly, until the beetle was supine beneath him.

Those innocent optics looked up at him with nothing but adoration and desire. Jazz felt a thrilling zing through his circuits. He had wondered, now and then, what it might be like if Bumblebee were the type to seek a relationship, and wether he might be In the minibot’s sights. He had never quite been comfortable thinking of Bee like this though… he was such a loyal friend, such a good comrade… pretty much no mech hated the ever friendly yellow bot … Jazz hadn’t wanted to wreck the happy balance between them by probing the spy about his love interests. He hadn’t thought about it for a long time, pushing away such thoughts out of respect for Bumblebee’s apparent innocent nature…

But now he had discovered, by his lover’s happy accident with the beetle, that quite contrary to his knowledge, the yellow bug was possibly one of the most lustful of all the minibots, he found his repressed affections and desires had been completely turned loose. Bumblebee had helped that process by giving him one of the best shows of his life-stream, so it was all he could do not to ravage the yellow chassis beneath him.

Jazz settled for another, more intense kiss with his subordinate.

Bumblebee accepted him readily, being the first of them in fact to invade the other’s mouth with his glossa.

Jazz moaned, adoring the feel and taste of the smaller glossa as it explored him. He caressed it gently with his own as he pressed his lips deeper into Bumblebee’s.

He felt small, black servos contact his chest plate, sliding inquisitively across his hood, mapping it out before sliding below it to start repeating the touches to his middle and sides.

Before long, the small hands had slipped into gaps and started to caress deeply, wanting to give Jazz the treatment he knew would be appreciated, finding deeply hidden sensor nodes and a transformation cog that he made sure to stroke delicately.

Their kiss broke abruptly as Jazz gasped and shuddered, helm jerking back as spasms of pleasure burst from the deep penetration of Bumblebee’s touches under his armour. Jazz had been with minibots before, but never had one had such nimble fingers.

Jazz lowered his helm, rocking forwards and pressing his lips to Bumblebee’s own helm. He traced light kisses across the yellow metal until he reached one of the horns and, with a smirk, latched onto it with his mouth. At the same time, one black servo trailed down the yellow chassis to the open interface panel, where it began to lightly stroke the extended black and yellow cable.

Bumblebee moaned loudly beneath him, and Primus it set his circuits on fire…

The minibot searched for more wires under the blue and red striped hood to stroke, loosing himself in the pleasure until Jazz’s denta traced his horn and fell into one of the dents.

It was as though someone had switched on the light in a dark room full of things that told a horrible and stark truth. Bumblebee gasped, hands slipping out from Jazz’s plating and softly pushing against it, his frame trembling slightly.

Jazz was startled, but immediately withdrew his mouth and hand, responding to Bumblebee’s sudden need for space.

“Oh slag, I didn’t hurt ya did I? I’m sorry ‘Bee, I didn’t-”

“Nono! No, it’s not you Jazz… oh slag I’m such an idiot… I can’t do this, not to you, not now…”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s OK. If it’s too fast for ya we don’t have to-”

“I’m sorry Jazz, it’s nothing to do with you… if anything, it’s Prowl’s fault… and mine for being so slagging easy…”

Bumblebee dragged himself up into a sitting position, burying his faceplate in his hands, as though ashamed of something.

Prowl frowned in concern. He had been feeling his arousal returning much faster than normal as he sat recovering from his first overload. It disturbed him that it didn’t settle any when the two suddenly broke apart. He had to admit, it had been exceptionally pleasing to see Jazz working his magic on the minibot, hearing him make those delicious sounds… but clearly, something had occurred to him… something that he had apparently helped cause…

Prowl sat forward, door-wings twitching upwards behind him.

“Easy, in the way I believe you are using it, is not exactly a word I would use to describe you… If I’ve caused you more grief, I want to do all I can to help rectify the problems I have created. I still owe you…”Prowl spoke softly and apologetically.

Bumblebee sighed through his vents in what seemed a defeated manner, servos dropping from his face, looking as depressed as he had the other night before the Twins got him over-charged.

“What’s up lil’ buddy? Ya can tell us, we’re all friends here.” Jazz said, grin creeping onto his concerned faceplate as he made his ironic intonement.

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip, an unmistakeably guilty expression plastered on his face as he looked between them.

“I can’t go interfacing with you without you knowing what’s happened since that battle… I mean… it’s not even like me… this has to have been one of THE craziest few joors of my entire life-stream. I only just found out you two want me in your relationship, and you have no idea how happy that makes me feel… but I think I’ve already messed it up.” Bumblebee groaned, one of his servos going to his faceplate again as he shook his head in his palm.

“Can’t have done anythin’ that bad ‘Bee, I mean… its YOU.” Jazz tried to reassure him, unable to repress a silly grin.

Bumblebee looked up at him with pained optics.

“Don’t bet on it… my capacity for stupid seems to have increased since Prowl and I first interfaced.” Bumblebee sighed again, gearing up to coming clean with his new and possibly soon to be ex-partners.

The two black and whites glanced at each other with confusion before focusing back on the minibot, who was gathering his processor to get things out properly.

“See, I… I was mad when Prowl avoided me, I felt like slag, I thought you hated me, I thought I’d been rejected again… I was so angry, when I was on patrol with Sunstreaker and I saw Rumble… he was talking to Frenzy about the battle and about trying to shoot you and wondering if he hit me, and it just… fried a sore circuit in me and I attacked him without provocation.”

Both of the other mechs expressions turned from confusion to stunned shock. They glanced at each other and back at Bumblebee, unable to find anything to say to the revelation of the out of character actions.

Bumblebee ploughed on, hating that he was about to wreck something that had such promise…

“I did feel a bit better when I got to beat the slag out of those two… I got Sunstreaker to cover for me because I can’t really explain to other bots that I did it ‘cause I was fragged that Prowl was ignoring me after saving my life via interface. But Sunstreaker was witness to me loosing it, and he got all these ideas about how there was more to me than he thought… he told ‘Sides of course, and they decided to kidnap me under the pretence of cheering me up by getting me overcharged.”

“Under the pretence? You mean… nah, Sunny hates minibots… doesn’t he?” Jazz said uncertainly, sharing an ‘is this really going where I think it is?’ look with the tactician, who gave him a slight shrug in response.

Bumblebee seemed torn between amusement and mortification. He’d never expected that he’d have to tell them… he hadn’t expected to form this relationship either… but he hadn’t planned on any of his recent liaisons, his life suddenly seemed so wildly out of his control, this was insane…

“Um, yea, well… he seems to have made an exception. He told me outright… he kinda propositioned me with the intention to, uuuh… get me slagged, then get me fragged.”

Bumblebee nearly winced when both officer’s mouth plates went slack and they stared at him, open mouthed.

“And surely you… you…” Prowl’s sentence petered off uncertainly.

“I kinda… accepted the offer.” Bumblebee muttered, faceplates glowing as he rubbed the back of his helm.

“WHAT!?” The two both said in shocked unison. But neither sounded angry.

“I thought you weren’t interested, and I felt like slag, and they were there trying to make me feel better, and… it’s them… how do you say no to a ‘face with both of them?” Bumblebee tried to explain himself hurriedly before groaning and shaking his helm, off lining his optics. “That sounds like a lame excuse, even to me. I think that virus really did mess up my processor… suddenly I’m letting myself turn into the Ark’s easiest ‘face…”

“Oh you are not.” Prowl said dismissively, moving a little closer, door-wings still held high and optics now half shuttered.

“You did what any bot does when they’re spark broken. They offered you comfort and you took it. It is my fault… I wasn’t fast enough, and somebot else realised you have desires like everyone else. You were right, it is my fault.” Prowl said gently, tone apologetic but also reassuring.

Bumblebee looked up, optics shinning over-bright. He had been expecting disgust, not acceptance and understanding… he really didn’t have much of a clue when it came to relationships…

A flicker of something did pass over Prowl’s optics though. “Remind me to think up some appropriate form of punishment for those two for moving in on my minibot though. Those two are entirely incorrigible.”

Bumblebee felt the corner of his lips twitch up at Prowl’s statement, although he was unsure of just how serious Prowl was being…

“Ah ‘Bee… yah might be a secret fire-cracker at ’facing from what I’ve seen so far… but ya really haven’t had much ta do with love lives on the Ark have you? One frag with Prowl and one with the Twins-”

“Two…” Bumblebee corrected him meekly, faceplate burning again as he looked uncomfortable.

Jazz’s visor flickered in a blink, and he continued bemusedly,

“- and two frags with the Twins, does not constitute bein’ easy… no, not even in the space of an orn. Ya obviously have no idea how much the Twins themselves get around… not ta mention Ratchet…”

His mouth curled into a smile as Bumblebee gave him an almost horrified look.

“…Seriously?” Bumblebee breathed.

“I can tell you now, Red Alert has had to switch off the med-bay cameras at least three times in the last few orns, and you know what he’s like about switching off cameras. Red doesn’t mind turning a blind eye to the more publicly active couples on the ship… but even he is overwhelmed when it comes to Ratchet…” Prowl revealed quietly with a growing smile at Bumblebee’s shocked expression.

“Bot’s got his own private collection of mechs who wanna either show him gratitude for all the fixin’ he does, or simply need his ‘expert touch’ to scratch an itch that they don’t have anyone else ta scratch for em’.”

“Uuuh… I believe the human expression is TMI Jazz, too much information… I don’t think I’ll be able to look Ratch’ in the optics for a while… not unless I want him to check my processor for glitches because I can’t stop bursting out in random giggling fits.” Bumblebee said, mood apparently recovering now he realised they weren’t at all holding his actions against him.

Jazz’s own smile turned devious once more, visor flaring as he realised Bumblebee’s big revelation was worse for him than it was for them.

“S’long as Ratchet doesn’t know the Twins got to ya, or I’m not sure either of you will be able ta see each other without either laughing or the Twins getting’ offlined by flying wrenches. I’m guessin’ those two were pretty good? Seems I found one o’ Sunny’s marks did I?” Jazz purred, sliding back over to Bumblebee, who’s frame had relaxed a little more again. He lifted a digit to gently trace the dent in the yellow horn, Bumblebee shuddering from the pleasure echo that tingled through him. He bit his lip.

“Y-yea… I have to admit they were… good…” he murmured sheepishly. “Sunny is a bit rough though… wasn’t so bad ’cause ’Sides was there… you’ve… you’ve never… have you?” Bumblebee questioned Jazz’s knowing smirk dubiously.

The smirk only widened as the pressure on Bumblebee’s horn was increased just enough to send a stronger tingle through him, making him gasp.

“Not so much me experiencing’ them as them experiencing’ me. It was before I made a move on Prowler though… back when I was jus’ getting’ ta know everyone. I gained the trust of those two faster than any bot else apparently.” Jazz smirked, rubbing and stroking Bumblebee’s horn until the minibot leaned his helm into the touch, moaning softly and off lining his optics .

Too easy. S’ almost as if we’d been doin’ this for vorns. Mmmm, if we got vorns o’ this ahead of us, the future’s lookin’ pretty slaggin’ good… Jazz thought as his other servo moved silently towards Bumblebee’s interface units again while his optics were offline.

Jazz motioned Prowl over as he lay Bumblebee back down and made his optics shoot back online with a cry of pleasure as he wrapped his servo around the black and yellow cord once more, softly stroking it as Bumblebee squirmed. The minibot’s cooling fans buzzed loudly, his arousal re-kindled quickly with the revelation that neither mech seemed at all fazed by the fact he had been fragged by two completely different bots only last night.

Bumblebee felt familiar white servos snake around his waist as Prowl lay down beside him, rolling him onto his side to face Jazz.

“You know, I’m not personally versed in the Twin’s standard of interfacing…” Prowl murmured softly, coolly in his audio.

“But I am… and it looks like we’re just gonna hafta surpass them if we want to keep ‘Bee from runnin’ off ta be with them instead…” Jazz growled, scooting in closer.

“hnnnnn… is that… a promise?” Bumblebee panted, hands latching onto the saboteurs’ plating again, seeking out the gaps he had previously been mapping, finding them quickly and diving in.

“Most certainly. I will not be out-done by them…” Prowl murmured in his ear before taking over where Jazz left off, tracing a horn with his glossa.

Bumblebee moaned loudly, bucking into Jazz’s touch and shuddering as Prowl’s glossa traced the dent Jazz had already found almost curiously. Prowl began running his denta very lightly over the appendage himself, making vibrations that sent lances of ecstasy right down Bumblebee’s back-strut, causing him to arch and gasp in the tactician’s grip.

“You testin’ a theory on helm sensor sensitivity there Prowler? Or just applyin’ previous experience…” Jazz purred with glee as he watched Bumblebee’s face melt into pleasured abandon. Primus, seeing Prowl do that with his mouth was so slagging hot.

Prowl smiled around the appendage slightly, giving Jazz a lustful gaze with now deeply blue optics.

“Both.” He whispered, brushing his lips lightly over the yellow metal, making Bumblebee shiver and arch again, digging his digits deeper into Jazz and finding two symmetrical synchronised transformation cogs in his sides. He stroked them both hard and Jazz gasped and groaned, grip on the minibot’s cord tightening with pleasant pressure as he now arched into the beetle’s hood.

Jazz moved and pressed closer to Bumblebee, sandwiching him between the two black and whites.

Prowl was now playing his fingers over Bumblebee’s glass windows slowly moving his left towards the seam in his side and the sensors he knew were awaiting him there.

Jazz continued his soft, slow strokes on the cord his servo was wrapped around and pressed his lips to Bumblebee’s once more, swallowing the yellow mech’s moans.

Prowl moved his mouth’s attentions to the other horn while his fingers reached Bumblebee’s waist, pressing into the plating gaps and locating a node to tease.

Bumblebee suddenly giggled into Jazz’s mouth, making the saboteur break the kiss with a bemused smile.

“You weren’t ticklish there the last time I did this.” Prowl murmured with slight surprise over his horn, the vibrations making him shiver again.

“Hehe-hn-no… not ticklish there… I just thought… it’s stupid, I hang with Spike too much, but *giggle* I just realised…I’m…hehhehe, I’m in a PB&J sandwich.” and he promptly dissolved into a quiet fit of laughter.

The two officers shared a look of surprise before Jazz got it and started giggling along with Bumblebee. Prowl frowned, except it looked more like a pout, which only made Jazz’s giggling worse.

“Oh man… he’s right. Aaaw, don’t gimmie that look, It’s a human snack Prowlie. Peanut, Butter n Jelly. P, B n J. Prowl, Bumblebee, Jazz, in that order, on your office floor…” Jazz and Bumblebee promptly lost it to another fit of the giggles while Prowl ‘humph’d’ and twitched his wings.

“Clearly, if you’re thinking about humorous human food analogies for this, we’re not trying hard enough to beat the Twins.”

Prowl’s hand forewent the intended attentions on Bumblebee’s side and instead sought out the hand Jazz was using to stroke Bumblebee’s spike.

He drew it away and down, cupping his palm around the back of the servo before pressing two of the saboteur’s fingers right into Bumblebee’s slick and, as of yet, untouched port.

Bumblebee gasped, choking ungracefully on his giggles, letting out a cry of pure pleasure as Prowl forced Jazz’s fingers right into his port without pre-amble.

Even Jazz gasped and moaned as he felt Bumblebee’s wet valve close around his digits. The minibot ground automatically against the touch as Prowl moved Jazz’s hand for him while his pleasantly reeling processor caught up.

“Mmmm, someone’s impatient this cycle.” Jazz purred with a crooked smile as he began to pump his fingers without Prowl’s guidance, loving the way Bumblebee writhed and vented in pure ecstasy at his touches.

Bumblebee offlined his optics as Prowl smirked, resuming his onslaught on the node in his side while two of Jazz‘s fingers massaged his port so wonderfully he felt himself melt.

“If you’ve managed to take your CPU off funny coincidences involving earth culture and our current relationship situation, you may remember what it was like the first time you and I discovered what happens to me when I interface once and then go without for a few joors. ‘Bee did an exceptional job but a breem ago, but you know it’s going to take more than one overload for my circuits to properly cool off.”

“Then why ‘m I playin’ with ‘Bee’s port when I coulda’ kept getting’ him ready ta plug into you?” Jazz asked lightly, brushing his lips against the front of the central crest of the yellow helm, Bumblebee still writhing between them as Jazz’ fingers stroked wire bundles and explored his valve gently. All he could do was let out quiet, involuntary mewls of pleasure, but he was still listening with interest to the conversation over his helm.

Prowl’s right servo slipped into the junction between his hip and leg and he nearly lost the thread of what they were saying.

“Because I still don’t deserve that yet. I want ‘Bee to feel what I’ve felt first, if he’s no objection to letting me see you plug into him.”

The shudder that passed through Jazz’s frame told Bumblebee that the prospect seemed to excite him.

“Whaddya say ‘Bee? OK if I find out what made Prowl so crazy about ya?” he murmured.

Bumblebee responded by pressing a needy, passionate kiss to Jazz’s accepting lip plates.

“Please.” He managed to breath as he broke the kiss and ground his hips against Jazz’s hand again.

Without prompting, Bumblebee’s fingers left Jazz’s sides and sought out his interfacing panel.

It was exceptionally hot, but he wasted no time finding the catch pressure point and sliding away the black metal.

Jazz groaned needily as Bumblebee’s fingers traced his interfacing unit, exploring the recessed spike and tracing his dripping port entrance.

Jazz bit his lip with a moan, helm rocking back and the pace of his fingers inside the minibot’s tight port increasing.

Bumblebee responded by unlatching the Porsche’s cord and letting it extend into his hand. He could tell by the feel (for he couldn’t see with their chassis pressed so close together) that it was thicker than Prowl’s.

Jazz’s engine revved hard when Bumblebee began stroking him firmly, twisting his hand slightly as he did, rubbing his thumb over the spike’s tip a few times to get more wonderful sounds from Jazz, who’s cooling fans worked so hard Bumblebee could feel them drawing air over his frame.

Jazz’s fingers went wild in response, scissoring inside Bumblebee’s valve, thumb rubbing the flexible platelet edges and smearing more of the minibot’s lubricant around.

Jazz’s frantic touches, combined with Prowl’s skilful white fingers stroking wires and nodes in his side and hip joint, were quickly leading Bumblebee beyond his own control. He writhed, arched and bucked, earning satisfied and lustful hums from both mechs.

“huuu- nnnnn- can’t wait… Jazz, please… I need you… aah!”

Jazz could tell from the way Bumblebee’s port tightened spasmodically around his digits that he would overload the spy before they’d even gotten anywhere if he kept teasing.

“Only too happy to oblige ‘Bee.” Jazz breathed out huskily, removing his fingers, only to have Prowl take that hand again and rest it over Bumblebee’s shoulder so he could lick the lubricant off.

Jazz moaned in delight as Prowl’s glossa wound around his fingers. He gripped Bumblebee’s waist in his other servo where it sat under the minibot, who was guiding his superior officer’s cord into his valve entrance.

When Bumblebee had pushed the tip of the spike between the platelets, Jazz took over, rocking his hips up and into the sweet, tight port of his subordinate.

Both mechs let out long, delighted moans as Jazz pushed himself all the way into the well lubricated valve.

Prowl released the servo of Jazz’s that he had been licking clean of Bumblebee’s essence so that the saboteur could hold Bumblebee’s hips steady. The minibot was positively quivering with anticipation, his engine running hot and fast, thrumming it’s buzzing arousal into the other two chassis pressed close around it.

Prowl shifted into a position to help brace Bumblebee, servos snaking across Bumblebee’s sides again, stroking glass and wires as Prowl kissed and sucked the back of the small neck, brushing denta over main cables to send shivers down the spy’s backstrut.

Jazz began to move in Bumblebee with a satisfied moaning hum, pressing slowly in and out of the still tight port. Bumblebee could feel every ridge of Jazz’s spike against the wire bundles and sensors within him, and he mewled and gasped in ecstasy as Jazz quickly picked up the pace.

But after a klik or so of the faster pace, Jazz slowed again, bringing Bumblebee’s growing charge back to a steady thrumming pressure at his core.

It was as if Prowl could feel this as well, because he moaned into the back of the Spy’s neck, his grip in Bumblebee’s sides getting a little more tense.

Bumblebee whined needily and Jazz mirrored Prowl, attacking the front of the Minibot’s neck with a moan as he moved enticingly slowly in and out again, making sure Bumblebee could feel every inch of that satisfying cable within him.

Jazz could barely contain himself, but he savoured the irregular clenching of wire bundles around him as he rocked his hips at an agonisingly slow pace, feeling the heat within him increase. But he felt strongly that they could make this even more… he remembered something from his academy days that used to be popular between friends sharing a berth partner. The very thought sent an electrifying thrill through him that tingled with the first hints of an exquisite overload.

“Mmmmmm…’Bee… d’ya think you could handle Prowl joinin’ me?”

Bumblebee took a moment through the double onslaught on his neck and the slow inward pressure of Jazz’s spike to register the Porsche’s words… but when he did, he onlined optics he hadn’t realised had offlined and felt a strong surge of heat that made him let out a shuddering aspiration.

“W-what, both of you… in me? At once?”

“Primus Jazz… are you sure that’s… I don’t want to hurt him.” Prowl breathed uncertainly, but the lust was clear in his tone.

“If I can take Sunstreaker… I reckon I can handle you two.” Bumblebee purred excitedly with a small, breathless giggle.

Jazz’s faceplates split into a wide smile as he kissed Bumblebee, briefly but passionately.

“If it starts to hurt or feel bad at all, in the slightest, tell me.” Prowl murmured as he shifted again, lining himself up by feel.

Bumblebee nodded and felt the tactician’s spike brush the protected circuit board behind his port and slide forward to meet Jazz’s already inserted cable.

Bumblebee let out a few loud, strangled noises of pleasure as Jazz used a finger to help stretch his entrance a little more for Prowl.

When Prowl pressed himself through the small gap and entered Bumblebee beside Jazz, the yellow mech moaned louder than ever without restraint, arching between them as they gasped.

The stretching was both painful and intoxicatingly wonderful.

Bumblebee keened with pleasure as the two moved slowly within him, unsynchronised, both of them letting out mewls and gasps and moans of their own.

Prowl’s sheathing rubbing against Jazz’s, Spike massaging the other’s more deeply penetrated cable, both lubricated deliciously by the exceptionally tight, hot port… Bumblebee… both of them together, inside Bumblebee, moving, making him writhe and cry out in bliss… Prowl never thought he’d feel anything better than this in his entire life stream. Certainly, this was to become his benchmark for pleasure, and they hadn‘t even overloaded yet.

They didn’t talk again, not coherently anyway, their actions seemed to be all that was necessary.

Jazz pressed harder and deeper into Bumblebee and the three gasped and shuddered as they heard the audible ‘click’ of Jazz connecting with Bumblebee’s socket.

Prowl continued to rub his cord up and down as it remained tightly pressed between Jazz’s now stationary cable and Bumblebee’s still contracting valve walls.

Bumblebee had a leg thrown over Jazz’s hips, the saboteurs grasp on his own hips doing little to calm the erratic bucks as sensory information began to flow through the connection.

Jazz decided it didn’t really matter, and put one of the servos to better use, slipping it between him and the yellow mech, grasping the black and yellow cable and stroking it languidly, making Bumblebee mewl even louder.

Jazz let the feeling of being connected to Bumblebee so intimately wash over him completely (Prowl’s movement pressed tight against him within ‘Bee’s port only helping him to feel the thrill of being able to share this experience with his lover), before he started sending low, thrumming pulses of energy through the hardline.

Bumblebee arched, echoing back his own charges, but not bothering to reign back the strength of them.

Bumblebee could barely hold off his overload once he got used to the feel of Jazz spreading through his circuits.

But as Jazz continued to hold back his energy, Bumblebee knew the saboteur wasn’t aware he was so close to the edge. He couldn’t help it with Prowl still stretching him so exquisitely and moving in him, faster as the Datsun’s engine began to rev higher and more insistently.

Bumblebee went for broke.

Jazz let out a shocked cry of pleasure as Bumblebee sent a strong spark pulse straight through him.

Then another. And another.

Jazz growled with a lustful smile, claiming Bumblebee’s panting lip-plates in a searing kiss as he charged a strong spark pulse of his own right back.

The heat between the three of them was incredible as Jazz tipped Bumblebee over the edge with another, stronger spark-pulse.

The minibot arched and jerked uncontrollably in the throes of his bliss, overload coming hard and staying long as Prowl pressed as far into him as he could beside Jazz.

The Minibot’s engine, running at full torque, vibrated Prowl’s overly sensitised frame, and as the already snug port clenched tightly around him and Jazz, Prowl arched, letting out a short, almost surprised cry as he was flooded with the intense pleasure of his second overload.

Jazz came at the same time, keening loudly as Prowl arched and pressed the vibrating, moaning minibot into his own chassis.

Pure, processor blowing, spark intoxicating pleasure slammed through his circuits.

The three rode the roiling waves of ecstasy.

Bumblebee felt every inch of his tight, stretched, and completely filled port as overload washed through his sensory array.

He realised with another zing of pleasure and a buck that one of Prowl’s servos had left his side and snaked around his hips, hugging him tight, with a servo over Jazz’s as it grasped his cable with soft pressure.

It was several astroseconds before the ecstasy began to ebb and decline. It was slow to leave them however, and they remained pressing and holding tight to one another until it abated more substantially and they all relaxed, metal squeaking against one another as they went limp in their blissful tangle on the floor.

“…Wooooooooow” Bumblebee breathed through half shuttered optics as his cooling fans buzzed frantically to try and keep his circuits from overheating. He moved very slightly and bucked weakly and involuntarily as the sensors in his valve pinged with another strong stab of after-pleasure from the two cords still buried deep within him.

Prowl and Jazz’s intakes hitched in their own frantic whirring at the movement, both letting out satisfied little noises as they nuzzled Bumblebee’s over-warm frame.

“Easy ‘Bee… Primus… that was slaggin’ intense.” Jazz gasped with amazement clear in his tone.

“I’m not sure I want to know where you picked this technique up, Jazz… but I wouldn’t be adverse to you both trying it on me sometime.” Prowl muttered into Bumblebee’s neck cables, and Bumblebee was sure he could feel the tactician’s almost embarrassed little smile pressed into him.

Jazz chuckled, and Bumblebee savoured the reverberation of the saboteur’s vocals through his chassis. “Ah, you know what it’s like in the academy Prowl. Bot’s did all kinds o crazy things back then…”

“Good to see you keeping all the important lessons from your academy days fresh in your processor.” Prowl teased him wryly, but Bumblebee quivered happily at the almost coy purr to the Tactician’s tone.

The Datsun heaved a sigh through his vents and released the servo holding Jazz’s hand around Bumblebee’s cable.

Jazz slipped the hand away with a parting stroke that made Bumblebee mewl with another strong after-shock of pleasure. Jazz moaned softly too, feeling it through their still established connection.

Gently, Prowl began to pull out of Bumblebee, who gasped and shuddered and let out soft agreeable noises as the over-sensitive walls of his valve zinged and felt the spike acutely as it drew out slowly.

He gave a soft ‘Ah!’ noise somewhere between pleasure and pain as the spike finally left and his entrance shrank down a little again. He gave a soft groan. It ached now, but in a way that felt far too good to complain about.

Jazz disconnected smoothly and drew out just as slowly as Prowl, making both Bumblebee and himself shudder. Jazz gave him a swift kiss on the lips and a crooked smile before he moved back, disentangling his legs and arms from Bumblebee and Prowl. He rolled onto his back, supporting his head and shoulders up on his elbows, and heaved a sigh through his vents like Prowl had, apparently in an effort to properly cool is exceptionally hot frame. He tilted his head back for a moment, then rolled it languidly forward, inspecting his frame lazily.

Bumblebee was enjoying Prowl mouthing the back of his neck some more as they remained pressed lightly together, but he watched Jazz’s face fall into a frown as he looked down at himself.

Bumblebee followed his line of sight, optics widening slightly when he saw that Jazz’s still extended cord was covered in more than just his lubricant.

There was some very noticeable bright pink staining the length, and Bumblebee heard Prowl gasp slightly in his audio, apparently having been looking as well.

Gentle white servos turned Bumblebee on his back as Prowl and Jazz both moved to inspect his port for damage, both with guilty, worried expressions on their faceplates.

Bumblebee found himself blushing, even though he reasoned he really needn’t be embarrassed with these two...

Bumblebee lifted his torso onto his elbows as Jazz had done, and watched them between his legs sheepishly.

Prowl turned anxious faceplates up to him as Jazz’s digits gently touched the torn platelets on either side of Bumblebee’s entrance. Bumblebee squirmed slightly at the touch as it sent both pleasure and distinctly stinging pain across his tender sensors.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Prowl asked worriedly, door wings high and taught.

“Nnn… cause… it didn’t really hurt… still doesn’t really. Can’t be that bad can it?” Bumblebee muttered almost apologetically.

Jazz shook his head with some relief, drawing his fingers away. “Nah. Just stretched the micro-flex joints a little far. I think yer self-repairs will probably be able to take care of it for ya… although, it might help if I kiss it better.” Jazz purred with a sly grin before ducking his head between Bumblebee’s thighs.

Prowl shook his own head and smiled as Bumblebee jerked with another soft ‘Ah!’ and let his helm fall back as Jazz’s glossa began gently licking up the large mess of lubricant and energon, running very gently over the small wounds caused to Bumblebee’s still pleasantly but strongly aching port.

By the time Jazz was done, Bumblebee, much to his own amazement, felt another small charge building within him, and whined with incredulous need.

“Primus, I didn’t think I’d ever be up for more so soon after the first… within a cycle… two joors in a row…” the minibot panted as he felt one of Prowl’s servos idly petting his hip seam.

“Guess I just have that effect on Bots.” Jazz grinned with a chuckle.

“You most certainly do.” Prowl purred calmly.

Jazz’s grin only got wider. “Well, we still got a problem ta fix and a minibot who hasn’t gotten ta slag anyone yet… I volunteer you Prowler, seein’ as yer not gonna feel any better till something’s plugged into ya.” the Saboteur laughed as Prowl’s faceplates burned at the prospect of that yellow and black cord being pressed into him.

“You still haven’t had your port attended to properly yourself.” Prowl countered a little breathlessly, his arousal flaring easily with his still unsated heat.

“True, but I’m sure ya can help me out while ‘Bee helps himself to you… I know yer not too bad with that mouth of yours love.” Jazz purred in an all too enticing manner.

While the banter lightened Bumblebee’s spark, thinking happily of how he was now a part of this wonderfully intimate relationship, he found himself growing slightly impatient as Jazz’s words sent another wave of heat through him.

He nearly pounced Prowl, quickly pushing himself up and snaking his servos around Prowl’s sides, drawing their chassis together and pressing his lips against Prowl’s, silencing whatever retort he’d had for Jazz.

Jazz laughed delightedly behind them and Bumblebee revved his engine against Prowl’s hood before releasing the stunned tactician’s lips.

“You can have that talented mouth all to yourself when I’ve had a bit more of a go with it Jazz.” he said simply, reaching his servos up behind Prowl and stroking the door-wing hinges before claiming the Datsun’s lips again to swallow his moan.

Jazz hummed appreciatively, vocaliser husky. It would only be two in a row for him as well, but he was happy with that. Especially since he knew how much it took to sate Prowl when he was in his ‘facing moods. The Porsche knew there’d be plenty more to come his way in the next few joors.

He satisfied himself with watching and letting the show warm his circuit’s a bit more.

Bumblebee dug his fingers as deep into the hinges as he could, making Prowl squirm even as the tactician guided them back down to lie on the floor.

Prowl had sort of hoped that if it got to this in the beginning, they would have moved into his quarters for these activities… as it was, he found himself caring less and less about the fact he wouldn’t be able to look at this patch of his office floor for another few orns without the vivid memories of the last few cycles surfacing.

Right now, he was more interested in the way Bumblebee had broken the kiss on his lip-plates to trail more down his hood. Bumblebee moved to Prowl’s headlights, running his glossa hard over the glass as Prowl squirmed on his back, door-wings spread wide and hinges regrettably now inaccessible.

Bumblebee stuck his fingers in the joints of Prowl’s hips, stroking deep into the wiring, making Prowl moan as loudly as he could.

Prowl had his hands on Bumblebee’s helm, thumbs and forefingers rubbing around his horns and making him dizzy with pleasure.

Bumblebee rested his helm sideways on the datsun’s hood for a moment, smiling as he listened to Prowl’s spark pulsing strongly, before he took his denta to Prowl’s bumper, nipping and gnawing lightly along it as Prowl mewled and arched weakly.

Bumblebee was soon eager to stop teasing though, his arousal coming faster than ever. Without a word, Prowl turned himself onto his front and spread his legs either side of Bumblebee where the yellow mech knelt. Jazz crawled over to Prowl’s head and plopped himself down in front of the Tactician with his own legs spread wide and messy interfacing units displayed ready for Prowl’s attentions.

Bumblebee had to admit he found this position very agreeable. As he took Prowl’s hip-plates in his servos and prompted him to raise his aft up on his knees a little, he realised why Sideswipe had been so turned on when he himself had taken this position on the pretence of cleaning paint marks off of Sunstreaker.

The view of Prowl’s unpressurised, lubricant slicked spike and dripping valve laid bare and ready sent a strong thrill of heat over his circuits. Then another passed through him as he gazed over the tactician’s back and watched as Prowl took Jazz’s cord in a servo and gently, slowly running his glossa up the underside of it’s length.

Jazz had Prowl’s chevron in his fingers, rubbing lightly with his helm thrown back a little as he moaned.

He caught Bumblebee’s optics on him and winked in his funny way with a crooked grin.

Bumblebee bit his bottom lip as he smiled, taking his own highly pressurised cord in one servo and placed it carefully at Prowl’s entrance. It had been quite a while before Sideswipe since he’d been the one to plug into somebody else… but the memories he had of the few times he’d done it were very good.

He had a feeling though that this would be the best of them… well… it already was.

The Twins had been processor blowing together, but the overcharging had, in Bumblebee’s opinion, only dulled the experience in that he had been unable to concentrate his processor long enough to truly pick up and savour the nuances of each pleasure.

This was a sharp contrast, with all his wits about him and two exceptionally different lovers bringing him to overload, all the while reaffirming their affections for him.

Bumblebee decided this would be a good chance to reflect back his passion for Prowl. He would do the same for Jazz given the opportunity, but he had a feeling the Porsche had already felt it when he’d plugged into him and he’d overwhelmed his superior with several fervent spark pulses.

Bumblebee pressed himself slowly into Prowl, letting out a soft, satisfied moan as the hot, wet valve surrounded him, clenching tight. Prowl groaned deliciously around Jazz’s cord, which was now halfway into his mouth as he massaged the spike with his glossa.

“Ah! Nnh! Hey, Prowler… you’re s-supposed ta, nnnn… be fixin’ my port… mah plug’s already had wa- aaa- ay too much fun…” Jazz teased Prowl as the tactician trembled when Bumblebee began a steady rhythm rocking against his hips.

“Just, huuuh… thought you could do with a cle-eeeeean, Jazz… I’ll get there- ooooooh…”

Bumblebee actually giggled at the two trying to talk through their exclamations of pleasure.

He leaned forward over Prowl’s aft and back, rhythm unfaltering as he stretched out a servo and traced it across one of the flared-back door wings quivering so temptingly within reach.

Prowl rocked back into him slightly, mouth drawing off Jazz while he kept it sealed, making the Saboteur keen in pleasure.

Every thrust, Bumblebee would get that little bit closer to Prowl’s socket. Meanwhile, the moaning tactician did as he promised and turned his attention to Jazz’s streaming port.

Jazz was still rubbing and stroking Prowl’s chevron as the white helm went lower and the Datsun extended his glossa to lap at the semi-translucent purple fluids that dripped thickly from between the platelets.

Jazz let out a sighing moan as Prowl pressed his glossa slowly against the taut platelets until it popped into the entrance, eliciting a gasp from the Porsche.

Prowl matched his glossa’s rhythm to Bumblebee’s cable as it slipped through him, moaning into the clenching wires as Bumblebee managed to penetrate him at angles that brushed the black and yellow spike hard against sensory hot spots within the tactician’s valve.

Jazz whined and mewled, squirming as one of Prowl’s servos traced seams in his thighs teasingly while the other gently rubbed and pulled on his cord, all the while that talented silver glossa lapped and rubbed at his walls, lips pressing to his opening, ventilating hot, scintillating air over his interface sensors. Prowl’s glossa would go a little deeper every time he rocked forward as Bumblebee pulled back.

When Bumblebee couldn’t stand the tight spasms of Prowl’s port around his cord, he leant forward, hooking his fingers on the edge of Prowl‘s back-plates where the door-wing hinges emerged, and thrust hard forward while pulling Prowl back.

He hilted himself in the tactician to connect to the socket deep within the slick port. When he did, he shuddered and curled over Prowl’s back as incredible lust echoed through the feedback from the link.

Prowl, who had been making short, breathy noises muffled by Jazz’s valve, let out a very loud keen as Bumblebee made his strong connection.

His door-wings hitched, but his movements on Jazz did not, merely becoming a little more fervent.

Bumblebee released his hold on Prowl’s plating and dug his small digits back into the hinges, stroking hard and feeling the echo as his other servo slid around the front of Prowl’s hip plating.

Prowl let out a loud but muffled cry into Jazz’s still lubricant streaming port as Bumblebee’s arm curled around his front and the small black fingers took his still messy cord in hand, stroking it quickly and lightly. At the same time, the other black servo was buried in Prowl’s back and the minibot began sending energy currents across the connection.

Prowl arched, bumper scraping the floor as he ravished Jazz’s port in response to Bumblebee’s treatment. Jazz started letting out loud exclamations of wanton pleasure as the tactician pressed his glossa as far into him as he could, one white servo copying Bumblebee’s movements on his cord with Jazz’s spike, and the other digging into the saboteurs hip seam to press a well known sensor node.

“Prowl!” Jazz gasped loudly, the 2IC smiling with satisfaction at having drawn his name from the other’s lips.

“Holy slag… ah knew you were good… but Primus! NNNNH!” Jazz was starting to buck uncontrollably, but Prowl merely pressed his servos firmer, removing his mouth from the glistening, sweet port for a moment to admire it.

“Mmmmm… all credit to Bumblebee… I’m just giving you what he’s giving me-eeeee!”

Bumblebee let out a half-giggle, half-moan as he sent a strong wave of energy through to Prowl to interrupt him on purpose.

Prowl retaliated by sending back a spark pulse that caused Bumblebee to mewl loudly and clutch the tactician tighter, fully curled around his lower half as his hips ground lightly against the black plated aft.

He nuzzled Prowl’s lower back plating, mouthing and licking the metal as his strokes on the tacticians’ now re-pressurised cord got even faster.

He felt the echoes, but it was Jazz who moaned loudly as Prowl copied the minibot.

Bumblebee thrummed another gentle spark pulse into Prowl as he revved his engine.

Prowl sent one back, but it was an energy surge awash with that incredible lust again. It made Bumblebee a little light-processored, along with a loud keen from Jazz, who it was clear was coming very close to his release.

The sight of the quivering, panting, moaning saboteur made Bumblebee’s engine rev high again, and he sent a much stronger spark pulse back into Prowl, just as Jazz pressed two very hard strokes to either side of the Datsun’s red chevron.

Prowl, who had removed his fingers from Jazz’s hip to plunge them into the hot port, ended up pumping them in and out of the Porsche with abandon as the onslaught on such a broad spectrum of his sensory array sent him crashing over the edge into hard overload.

He stiffened, keening with his glossa still inside Jazz along with his rapidly pumping fingers, other servo gripping the black and white cord firmly and stroking fast and erratically.

Jazz and Bumblebee both followed Prowl together, Bumblebee crying out long and loud as Prowl’s overload surged back to him mid-spark pulse and he poured energy into the black and white mech, one servo feverishly working the tactician’s cord while the other plunged hard into the door-hinge seam, pressing transformation cogs.

Jazz’s cry was strangled as he struggled to sound out the intensity of the pleasure from his overload. It was a hard one, given it was his second, and Prowl’s efforts had centred in to concentrate solely on his interface array. It was the sudden and forceful introduction of Prowl’s fingers into his port that had done it… a glossa could only reach so far, but it had teased the deeper sensors to hyper-receptiveness, and then the digits had slammed into them, bringing him crashing into a wild release within.

The overload was processor numbingly good for Bumblebee, and he drank up the reverberations of Prowl’s roaring engine through his frame, letting it carry the sweet sensations on through his circuits until the incredible energy surging through him finally ebbed, and he suddenly felt exceptionally drained.

Prowl had stiffened, quivering as Bumblebee surged a huge amount of energy into him, giving him his hardest overload yet. Jazz seemed to keep up with him, tensing, head thrown back in bliss, until they both felt the sweet, heady energy abate and slumped tiredly, barely holding up their own frames as their cooling fans whirred and they panted.

Prowl felt Bumblebee’s servo fall from his cord and his slight weight slumped against him completely.

The contact, while it felt nice, did not seem to be voluntary. But Prowl didn’t trust himself to be able to move under his own power yet. Even though he had relaxed and the pleasure was a gentle tingle through his frame, he trembled with post-overload strain. If he moved he’d probably collapse in a heap on the floor and not want to move for at least a breem or more.

Jazz’s head lulled forward, visor dark and dim and a wide, satisfied smile on his face as his pedes twitched with after-pangs of ecstasy as Prowl pulled his fingers out of Jazz’s sopping port and released his cable.

He Didn’t need to say anything, a gentle hum at the sight of Prowl’s lubricant covered, sated faceplates was enough to convey his absolute satisfaction and contentment.

But then he noticed the way Bumblebee was lying limply over Prowl’s back plates, fans buzzing gently though he was completely still.

With a slight frown and a very concerted effort, Jazz managed to roll onto his servos and knees and crawl to Prowl’s side while the Datsun remained stationary, watching him with a slightly concerned look.

“Hey…‘Bee?” Jazz prodded the minibot gently, but got no response. The silver faceplates were turned his way, optics offline and a peaceful look on his unmoving faceplates.

Jazz rested a hand on the yellow back-plating, feeling the steady rumble of the minibot’s engine and gentle thrum of his spark. A smile curled the edge of his mouth as he carefully lifted Bumblebee’s shoulders by his front in one arm. With the other he gently disconnected the spy’s cord from Prowl, who gave a soft noise of pleasure as Jazz drew the yellow and black cable out of him and laid the minibot on the floor.

Prowl finally trusted himself to move now that Bumblebee wasn’t leaning on him, and he sluggishly slid to the floor on his front, rolling onto his side to look over his two lovers.

He rested his helm on his arm, small guilty smile tugging at his lip-plates as he inspected Bumblebee’s offline, paint marked and (in places) lubricant smeared frame.

“Wow… and I thought we’d offline him with the first one.” Jazz mumbled sheepishly, glancing at Prowl as he plopped down next to the yellow mech and ran a servo fondly over the beetle’s hood.

“Mmm. I think that was my fault. I tried to bring him with me just as he was sending another spark pulse, I suspect it initiated that incredible energy surge he put through me. We’ll have to get him some energon when he onlines again.” Prowl said softly, his gaze on the minibot shining with affection as his door-wings twitched with echoes of the incredible power of the blissful sensations Bumblebee had sent crashing through him.

Jazz chuckled softly, still running his servo gently over the yellow plating and gazing over his subordinate’s frame with unmistakeable wonder and affection.

“I never really thought it could get better after I got you Prowler… but pit if this don’t feel slaggin’ amazing, havin’ him with us like this.” he breathed softly, looking up to meet Prowl’s gaze with a sincere intensity.

Prowl nodded, helm scrapping lightly on his arm plating. He was silent a moment as he contemplated the exceptionally right feeling he got from their situation. He had thought the same as Jazz. He had been seduced by an amazing mech in the saboteur, and he had felt quite comfortable with their relationship… but faced with this sudden new lust for another… now he had overcome the hurdle of acceptance and the worries about his feelings for the both of them, he could revel in the new warmth of their broadened intimacy… this curiously complete feeling that was coming from the offline minibot lying on his office floor, and the fact he was now very much involved with them.

Prowl was fairly certain Bumblebee felt the rightness of this too, in some way. Especially given where he was coming from. It almost felt to Prowl as if Bumblebee had finally gotten what he had long deserved, and felt so glad that he and Jazz could be the ones to give it to him.

“When we talked… in those caves, the first time… he didn’t say much about his feelings. But… I got the impression he was hurting a lot more than he would ever let on. This feels right, because it’s what he deserves… it’s what he needs.” Prowl said quietly, optics flickering back to Jazz from here they’d settled on Bumblebee’s untroubled silver faceplates.

Jazz’s visor shone with understanding.

“I sometimes thought he wasn’t really feelin’ nearly as happy as he always seemed. But he’s as good at keeping’ his personal problems hidden away as he is at spyin’ on ‘Cons.”

“Dangerously good at it then.” Prowl stated with a small, sad smile. Jazz gave a short sad laugh and a nod in response.

“Yea, pretty much…” the Porsche’s faceplates split into a broad grin once more though as he looked back down at Bumblebee, servo moving from the minibot’s hood to gently caress his faceplates.

“Got us now though, don’t he? Primus, he ain’t gonna know what hit ‘I’m.” Jazz chuckled softly with a warm, glowing expression that Prowl mirrored.