Red Silks, 4
Jazz’s servos closed tighter around his beautiful companion’s generous hips as the Praxian’s lipplates pressed into his. The young noble’s spark flared in its casing as he shared his first ever kiss. He was paralyzed by both anxiety and excitement. Here he was, with the most beautiful mech he had ever seen in his lap, and Jazz did not even know what to do with his servos, never mind his mouth. Though he had not expected to impress the aerialist courtesan with his non existent skill, Jazz had hoped to have some sort of intuitive knowledge, but he had none at all to lean on. Though Prowl, whether that was the performer’s true designation or not was unknown to Jazz, was the picture of elegant sensuality, his frame lightly warm under Jazz’s servos, Jazz’s own was blazing how and his cheekplates grew hotter with this realization. Of course, he was gawky and awkward, Jazz had not expected to be suave but this was somewhat worse than Jazz had feared he would be. Ricochet would never been allowed to know or Jazz would never hear the end of it.
“Do not be nervous,” Prowl told him in a soft, husky voice. “You came to me to learn pleasure, allow me to teach you.”
“Primus,” Jazz cursed as his spike tried to pressurize then and there.
He was not sealed; Jazz had been self servicing since he was in his youngling vorns but there was no comparison, none at all between what he did alone in his berthroom and what he wanted to do with this beautiful mech. Jazz could not think of anything much worse than creaming his panel before they even interfaced. Prowl kissed him again, soft pecks on his mouth, hard kisses and Jazz was quickly swept up in it. His fans revved, a sharp contrast to the whispers of the Praxian’s cooling systems. As Jazz parted his lips and sucked in more air, Prowl sucked his lower lip and Jazz’s charge jumped, as did his servos. He kissed Prowl, full of hunger as his servos fell on Prowl’s bare aft segments and squeezed. His array, scorching hot, ground into Prowl’s.
“Take me to the berthroom,” Prowl said, breathless. He brushed his thumbs over Jazz’s audial horns. “I will show you how to take pleasure and how to give it.”
“Please,” Jazz gasped, genuinely desperate, too desperate for the moment to be embarrassed by it.
Prowl smiled as he slipped from Jazz’s lap with sensuous grace. Jazz wondered what it would feel like to dance with him. Considering how beautifully he danced in the silks, Jazz was sure he would be an incredible dance partner. As Prowl beckoned him, Jazz stood, mentally willing his panel to stay shut. There was no way he could survive the embarrassment if he chased after this beauty with his spike hanging out. Somehow, he managed to keep himself together. His spark continued to pulse quickly in wildly and Jazz wondered if a mech could die from arousal. Though he was not drooling, Jazz was sure his lust was potent in his field, despite his efforts to keep a lid on it but Prowl only smiled softly, pale optics glittering. When Prowl gestured for Jazz to get onto the berth, Jazz obeyed, too glossa-tied to do more than watch hopefully for some instruction.
“A couple may interface without removing their armour,” Prowl revealed, standing at the foot of the berth. “Some preferred it.”
“Do you?” Jazz asked.
Despite how revealing the aerialist armour was, Jazz wanted quite badly to see what the scraps of armour were hiding but if Prowl preferred to keep his scant armour on, Jazz would abide it. He did not want to be a selfish lover, not to this courtesan, not to the bride Ori would one mega-cycle settle on for him. Perhaps a noble bride would prefer to be armoured, perhaps that was the proper thing and Jazz would abide it. Perhaps, Prowl would know. As Jazz watched and wondered, Prowl brought his servos to the centre of his chassis and he popped the hidden latches. The bustier fell open and the Praxian’s wells spilled out. Jazz swallowed hard. Prowl had large, heavy wells with large, stiff golden nozzles. They jiggled as Prowl leaned forward and pulled his thong, made of latex and not any kind of metal, down until he stepped out of it.
“No,” Prowl replied. “There is more opportunity for intimacy and pleasure when protoform and protoform meet.”
“Should I take off my armour?” Jazz asked.
“If you would like to,” Prowl replied. He stroked a servo down his spark chamber and between his wells. Jazz’s optics followed his servo’s path and then continued down. The tip of Prowl’s spike peaked out of his sheath, below it, Jazz saw the thick folds of the courtesan’s valve. “I would be pleased to show you all the pleasure points on your frame.”
“I won’t be able to stop myself from pressurizin’,” Jazz said, anxiously as he looked back up to Prowl’s face.
“There is no need to stop yourself,” Prowl replied, his optics remained patient and kind as they glittered. “I am pleased to incite such lust in you.”
It was probably a lie but Jazz would take it. He unclasped his armour, starting with his chestplate. Because of the knives hidden there, Jazz kept his bracers and chin guards on. Given Prowl had not removed his own, Jazz did not think the courtesan would pay any processor to it, not that he was all too likely to ask. As soon as there was no panel to keep it back, Jazz’s spike pressurized and he could not help but blush fiercely as Prowl looked him over with those moon-like optics and then crawled onto the berth. Jazz again swallowed hard as he watched the Praxian’s wells sway as he crawled towards him.
“You have a handsome spike,” Prowl said and Jazz’s plush darkened. “I will very much enjoy having it inside me.”
“I hope so,” Jazz squeaked and Prowl smiled.
“I will,” he replied. “You sought me out to teach you pleasure and I intend to teach you well.”
“I...” Jazz flushed. “Where do ya wanna start?”
“Perhaps you would enjoy playing with my wells?” Prowl offered, cupping his heavy bosoms in his servos and then fondling his nozzles. “My nozzles are so sensitive. A mechanism’s nozzles are connected to the same sensory network as their array. To stimulate them is to stimulate the array, the valve or spike more strongly influence, depending on the mechanism. For me, playing with my nozzles makes my valve so wet.”
“I would enjoy that,” Jazz said, feeling like his voice was high and reedy. “Did ya wanna lie down? ‘M afraid if ya kneel o’er me, I’ll overload just havin’ ya that close.”
“I would be pleased to lie down for you,” Prowl replied, and with easy grace, he laid back on his broad doorwings. “Perhaps you would like to kiss me?”
“Yeah, yes,” Jazz said. He was so close. Jazz shuffled to partially lie and partial sit at Prowl’s side.
“Here,” Prowl said, taking Jazz’s servo. “His me and I’ll show you how touch a lover’s well as you kiss me.”
Prowl’s protoform was soft and warm under Jazz’s servo, like the aerialist’s ventilations as Jazz brushed his lipplates against Prowl’s. He could feel Prowl’s sparkrate through this thin sentio-metallico. As Prowl’s servo covered his, Jazz caressed Prowl’s full well. Guided by the courtesan, Jazz kneaded Prowl’s well and rolled his stiff nozzle with his thumb. He tasted Prowl’s soft sighs and he Jazz kissed Prowl more deeply, sucking the Praxian’s lower lipplate as he had his. It seemed Prowl liked this, just as Jazz had and his chassis heaved as he took a deep intake, pressing his bosom into Jazz’s servo. Encouraged and emboldened, Jazz kissed Prowl with a passion perfectly matched by his berthmate. With his glossa, Prowl teased Jazz’s lipplates, teased them apart and the kissed deepened with Prowl brushing Jazz’s glossa with his own before retreating. Jazz followed his lead, teasing Prowl’s glossa with his own, tasting him.
“Mm,” Prowl sighed as they broke apart. Jazz panted, breathless. “You learn quickly, Jazz.”
“Y’re an inspirin’ teacher,” Jazz said. He looked over to Prowl’s chassis, to the well that was so full it spilled out around his servo. The nozzle stood straight and stiff on Prowl’s untouched well and Jazz felt his mouth water. “Can I kiss yer well?”
“I would like that very much.”