Chapter Text
Sideswipe didn’t know what woke him up at first. It was just at first the small groggy feeling of something that roused him from recharge. He laid on his back for a moment on the Ark, in the small closet called a room for those that didn’t have steady quarters and were stuck doing bunk rotation.
It took few more seconds for what woke him up to repeat. There were grunts and moans in regular rhythm supported by the banging as the accompaniment.
Great, just great. Sideswipe frowned as he realized what was going on, some enterprising couple had figured that a frontliner would just sleep through the whole thing. Sideswipe tried, he did try, but just as he felt his body finally relax and ready to dip into recharge again there was a crescendo from the couple, making his efforts to actually get some decent recharge, the few hours of peace and quiet he could get between the battles, all for nothing.
His imagination ran wild of what he could do to the two idiots who couldn’t keep it for long enough to find an actual quiet spot. How he could just barge in and rough them up but the tradeoff of being in the brig for couple of days for assault. Or he could just start pretending to self-service to their noises to make them embarrassed, or just knock in their rhythm to let them know just how vocal they were.
And then he settled on one idea. So he waited and listened. It took an excruciating long time but finally one of them achieved a climax, the other likely following, before both going silent.
Stepping out of his room, Sideswipe approached the door leading to the two annoyances. He prepped by flaring his armor in a show of intimidation and anger than he really had, with the intention of pissing them off. With his own issue of getting no recharge, scaring them would also be a plus. Once he felt he was sufficiently prepared, he opened the doors, revealing, to his surprise, the culprits .
He had not planned on chewing out the Autobots’ head tactician, nor the spec-ops agent. Jazz was bent over, squirming by the intrusion, only for Prowl to pin him further down, with a collective hiss of discomfort. Prowl recovered first, glaring at Sideswipe with his default indifference look of him. It didn’t take Jazz long to look up as well, his patented lazy smirk stretched across his face.
“Really, guys? Really?” Sideswipe groaned. There went the plan on scaring or goading them. He could never really win a psychological game against either of them under normal circumstances; this time would be no different.
“Jazz assured me there would be no one in the adjacent rooms,” Prowl said. Jazz squirmed some more, but his efforts were halted with Prowl pinning him down.
“Whoops.” Jazz chuckled without a hint of regret.
“So you decided to get stuck with a little bit of a show-off?” Sideswipe smirked in turn. His plan to ruffle the noisemakers gone south, he hadn’t devised any clever backup plans; annoying Prowl and blaming Jazz was good enough.
He hadn’t expected Prowl’s reaction: gritted dentae, doorwings twitching, as though Sideswipe made a horribly bad joke. Jazz expressed quite the opposite, laughing and attempting a more comfortable position. Prowl still held him down, gripping his waist, pushing down on him with a snarl of discomfort.
“So…” Sideswipe trailed off as he glanced at the exit. “You done? Because I really want some recharge and you’re a terrible distraction.”
“Prowl’s done, I’m not.” Jazz moaned, pushing back on Prowl as he gripped the edge of the box they were using as support.
“What?” That was not how interfacing was done; usually the one spiking needed a period to recover.
“I have a knotted spike,” Prowl said. “It’s a rare quirk of the Praxian frametype.”
“Meaning that after he overloads, he’s stuck to me.” Jazz worked his hips, gyrating against Prowl. Sideswipe witnessed the bottom mech shuddering from the stimulation.
“And he loves it, as you can see.” Prowl relaxed his arms, now stroking Jazz's back and occasionally pinching his horns.
It dawned on Sideswipe that he hadn’t barged in at the end of an interface; they were still in the middle of it. He glanced again at the exit, the doors now closed due to inactivity. But the tug of curiosity kept him from leaving. He had heard of knots before, but he hadn’t given it any thought, neither in the context of him or his friends, nor in any self-service material.
“You want to feel what it’s like?” Jazz asked, his tone whenever he had suggested mischievous shenanigans. .
Sideswipe felt his own valve twinge, attempting to fathom how it would feel inside him. A knotted spike swelling and locking it within the first calipers of the valve, unable to withdraw.
And then Jazz reached down to his groin, touching his own valve.
Oh, so that was how he would feel it. Sideswipe snapped out of his trance and smirked as Prowl frowned slightly. He wasn’t protesting, however, and Sideswipe knew that if Prowl didn’t like something, including Sideswipe barging in on them interfacing, he would definitely make sure that Sideswipe would learn a painful lesson. Advancing cautiously over to the coupled mechs, Sideswipe decided it was better not to look as he moved his hand down between them. He had never interfaced with Prowl or Jazz, so this was uncharted territory.
There was wetness, Jazz's lubricant mixed with Prowl’s transfluid. The red mech braced himself with his hand on Jazz's back. Prowl pulled away just enough for Sideswipe’s hand to avoid being pinned between him and Jazz. Sideswipe’s probing fingers quickly located Jazz's valve and the base of Prowl’s spike, joined.
The valve was strangely distended. He felt around it and he heard Prowl shudder from the external stimulation. Prowl pushed forward, just enough for Sideswipe to feel the valve’s wall push back to somewhat normal. Taking the hint, Sideswipe withdrew his hand.
He could only wonder how it felt for Jazz. Was he really stuck and at Prowl’s mercy? Or would he be able to pull himself free? Would it be painful? Sideswipe imagined himself on his back, with Prowl over him, grinning in challenge.
Sideswipe made sure not to bare his array right now.
“Do you want to join?” Prowl asked. Sideswipe jumped, wondering if Prowl had somehow figured out how to read minds.
“I can?” Sideswipe asked. How long it would take Prowl to get that knot out of Jazz and into him? Did he need some recovery period?
“Make use of Jazz's mouth,” Prowl ordered. “He’s the one that woke you up and lied to me. He can be punished for that mouth of his.”
Yeah, that was probably more what Prowl had in mind; he wouldn’t want Sideswipe in that way, he likely thought that Sideswipe would be a terrible handful during a regular interface, let alone an act that would end up prolonging the connection.
“Eh, sure.” Sideswipe shrugged in agreement, stepping back to face Jazz. Jazz didn’t protest, meeting Sideswipe’s gaze with a smirk of his own, licking his lips as his optics darted between Sideswipe’s face and his spike array, which Sideswipe was rubbing.
Using his free hand to take hold on Jazz's helm, Sideswipe was careful not to touch the horns. He nudged the spec-ops officer to suggest for Jazz to look up, who complied.
“You sure about it?” Sideswipe asked, only to be met with an enthusiastic nod and more licking. Glancing at Prowl, who also nodded in return, reassuring the frontliner. Sideswipe stopped rubbing his panel, allowing it to slide away. His spike didn’t instantly pressurize, he had hoped to get spiked, rather than to have his spike serviced.
Jazz inched forward, pulling Prowl with him to lick at at Sideswipe’s spike; Sideswipe complied, granting Jazz access.
Without hesitation, Jazz took the spike into his mouth. Sideswipe had both his hands on his head, rubbing it, before struck with an idea. He took note of Prowl’s rhythm, then worked on rubbing the horns in tandem. Jazz shuddered, moaning around Sideswipe’s spike unable to concentrate whether to suck or lick it. Sideswipe switched tactics, simulating the left horn while his other hand rubbed at the side of Jazz's face.
Now longer distracted, Jazz could now give a proper blowjob. Sideswipe shuddered, losing the rhythm, losing pace with Prowl. Suddenly Jazz gripped Sideswipe’s hips and pulled him even closer, holding him in place. Sideswipe froze, realising Jazz intended to take in his whole spike, inching himself down slowly down its length, as Sideswipe remained rooted in place, trying his best not to overload at that moment.
Prowl took the opportunity to speed up his rhythm. Jazz's moan was barely a tremble around the head of the Sideswipe’s spike, earning a shout from frontliner. Prowl didn’t let up, and Sideswipe witnessed how Jazz's whole body shivered in an overload, clearly not the first overload of the evening. Jazz sucked hard on the spike as he lifted his head, slowly dislodging it from his throat with a comedic pop when it cleared from his lips .
Sideswipe was struck with an idea. When Jazz attempted to move back to the spike after catching his breath, Sideswipe gripped his head and pulled it back, his other hand gripping his own spike. Now there was no holding back. He saw Jazz's visor brighten, realising what was happening, as Sideswipe forced his head in place, jerking himself. It took only few strokes to hit his overload. He grunted, aiming his spike at Jazz's face . Jazz smiled, uncaring of the hot transfluid splattered across his face.
Sideswipe vented heavily, comprehending his deed so apparently on Jazz, who licked away what he could reach. Jazz then flinched, prompting Sideswipe to look up at Prowl, who had pushed against Jazz. Prowl pulled himself free, his spike rapidly depressurizing. Prowl was too quick to hide his spike, coaxing the knot down and back in the sheath before Sideswipe to catch a good glimpse of it.
“Uh, so yeah.” Sideswipe had grown painfully aware that he was now the third wheel as Jazz heaved himself up and Prowl already had a couple of rags in his hands, extending one to Jazz, who accepted it once he was able to sit up. Sideswipe wasn’t included of the post-coital ceremony, and he grew uncomfortable being there.
“Did we push you?” Prowl turned serious, regarding Sideswipe as his wings straightened.
“No.” Sideswipe retorted, shaking his head. “I just...” He trailed off, averting his gaze. “I just gotta go. Gotta clean myself up.” There wasn’t much to clean on him, just what was under the spike cover and his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Jazz, who had his face full of rag, wiping away Sideswipe’s fluids. Not wishing to hang around to wait for Jazz’s reaction, Sideswipe turned around and left, heading straight for the washracks.