Prowl, Jazz - follow up to your breastfeeding one. Prowl's experimenting. Bonus points for Bumblebee's involvement somehow; I'm thinking Jazz unavailable for some reason, Bumblebee forgets, goes to P&J's quarters after a nightmare or something, and Prowl offers. Jazz comes back in the middle of it.
The single most embarrassing day of Prowl’s life was when Jazz had to talk him through shutting his feeding system down.
Since he’d never activated it before, he had no idea what to expect. So when streams of Energon spurted from his feeding nubs, Prowl had done something that he’d never done before in his life.
Full out, nearly glitched into stasis, panic attack.
Jazz had calmly talked him through shutting the system down, but Prowl had never again activated his feeding lines. The saboteur had seemed disappointed, but had accepted Prowl’s decision smoothly. Offering to feed Prowl anyway, even though he went to others for the same.
Prowl hated that.
Not that he begrudged Jazz the camaraderie and bonds with any of the other mechs, but that they all shared something with HIS mate that he couldn’t. He’d walked into the Rec Room to find Jazz snuggled up to Ironhide on the couch and a rush of jealousy and sadness had nearly driven him to his knees.
But the thought of activating his lines again...
That sent horror cascading through his processor.
It was a no win situation. One that didn’t have a happy solution for either of them.
A ping to his com broke him from recharge. Jazz had been on a mission to a Decepticon outpost and Prowl had been up for much longer than he should have been working. He was late returning and they were all worried about what might have happened. His hazy processor recognized the signal and pinged back, jerking his frame upright in surprise as he was pinged again.
He sent the command for the door to open. Bumblebee stumbled in, shaking, his optics bright and sparking. Armor plates rattling with the intensity of his tremors. He looked around the room, and Prowl realized that he was looking for Jazz.
And then he realized why.
Prowl froze. Pleading optics turning themselves to him, a hand reaching out partway before dropping. The yellow minibot hugging himself and turning to leave, trembling even more pronounced than when he’d come in.
It broke Prowl’s spark to see him like that. Bumblebee was a fierce warrior and a steadfast friend. He went out of his way to see that each and every bot he saw smiled before he left them.
Bumblebee stopped, turning. A hopeful look passing over his face, denta clamped down over his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He took a step toward the berth, then another. Watching Prowl for any sign that this wasn’t what he’d meant.
The sound of transformation echoed in the semi-dark room and Bumblebee launched himself onto the berth. Hands stroking over Prowl’s dark feeding lines, trying to coax the energon into them.
With a deep vent, Prowl activated his lines. Feeling the rush of Energon that was passed and rerouted through his mineral reserves and into the expandable pouches. It felt different this time than it had before. There was no streams of Energon that sprayed out, no feeling of terror. Apprehension, certainly, but it was something that Prowl could put aside.
He watched as Bumblebee let out a small sob and latched on to the nearest mesh nub, jolting at the sudden sensation. Stroking his hands over the minibot unconsciously in apology, optics fixed on Bumblebee’s mouth as it worked. Feeling his glossa press up on the underside of the nub and the spurt of Energon it released. The tingle of pleasure and the sheer and absolute relaxation that passed through his frame.
Warm feelings welled up from his spark. Optics going soft as he let his frame simply be.
Prowl didn’t remember falling into recharge. He onlined to a cold chest, disappointment washing though him at the realization that Bumblebee had left sometime during the night cycle. He had a message cued in his com, a thank you, but the lack of warm frame next to him left Prowl feeling bereft.
His feeding system was still online, though one pouch was depleted entirely, and there was a puddle of enriched energon beneath his torso. Prowl stared at it, the thought running through his processor that so much precious energon had been wasted. More than that, it was the fact that he was alone that tugged his spark into uncomfortable territory. He didn’t regret feeding Bumblebee, but he did regret not allowing Jazz to be his first. Optic fluid threatened to flood the cleaning ducts and overflow on to the planes of his face. Prowl had no logical reason for these feelings to be cresting through him the way they were, but the intensity of them was overwhelming. He couldn’t stop them, even if he’d tried. They spilled out and dripped to mix with the vibrant purple on the berth and he covered his optics with a forearm.
A gentle hand smoothed over his chevron.
“Shuuu, Prowler. Ah’m here.”
Prowl felt a thick pad placed down, and suddenly his front was flooded with warmth as Jazz slid in beside him. Maneuvering the Praxian so that he could latch onto the full pouch and throwing his top arm over Prowl’s waist. The arm that had covered Prowl’s face came down around Jazz’s helm and with one last hitching vent, he gave himself again over to the relaxation and soothing crests of pleasure that came with feeding. Secure in the knowledge that at least this time, Jazz would be here when he onlined.