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“C’mon, mech,” Jazz’ s voice was calm, but the grin on his face was wicked as he flicked the switch on the device in his hand gratefully back to the ‘off’ position. “You aren’t giving up now, are you?”
Prowl shook his head weakly, leaning into his bonds and pulling in deep, shuddering vents through rattling fans in the brief reprieve. Jazz’s free hand came up beneath his sagging helm, lifting his chin and tracing a thumb over his abused lip, running over the split where Prowl’s denta had pierced it with his efforts not to cry out. That had happened earlier, before he’d given in and shouted until his vocalizer crackled with static that still popped even now as he gasped for cooler air. That thumb pressed lightly against the injury, and Prowl hissed and whimpered, but did not speak.
“Hmm, good,” Jazz said. He pulled back and reached to the side and took up another of the wired electrodes he’d been systematically adding to Prowl’s frame over the course of the last hour. “It’d be a shame to get this far, to come so close, and not make it all the way.” He dragged the end of it along Prowl’s cheek before stepping around behind him, searching for a place to attach it. Deft fingers stroked along the wires already trailing from the Praxian’s doorwings, their ends clipped onto various points around the edges and more nestled at the base. The sensory panels trembled weakly with echoes of the electricity that Jazz had just sent surging through his frame. His arms and legs likewise shook in their restraints from the shocks that had poured in through the leads attached to the joints beneath his armor.
“You’re almost there,” Jazz said encouragingly. “You can take it, just a little more.” Finding an open space in his left hip, Jazz stroked the cables soothingly before carefully securing the lead. “There’s only one more after this,” he murmured against his audial. “You know what that means?”
Prowl nodded, bracing himself as much as possible for the onslaught of torment that would come when Jazz triggered the device. It was the best kind of torment, though – the charge burned hot enough to hurt but not enough to cause lasting damage, despite what his overburdened and confused systems were telling him, and the pain provided a grounding counterpoint to the pleasure the other, less powerful set of leads sent singing through his frame from their contact points on his interface array. Jazz had finished attaching those more delicate ones first, following the biolights running along his rigid spike and around the rim of his throbbing valve. Prowl’s glowing anterior node pulsed and flickered beneath the lead clipped to it, begging for more of that tickling heat.
It got it as Jazz flipped the switch again, warmth and pleasure bursting across node clusters while his struts bowed and plating crackled with painful arcs from the higher voltage. Together the sensations consumed him, shutting down the higher functions of his processor and narrowing the world down to the dual pain/pleasure inputs. His mouth fell open wordlessly and his optics glowed over-bright, too far gone in the moment to be aware of Jazz counting down the time and watching him carefully before switching off the electricity at the end of the interval, just before Prowl could overload.
Prowl sobbed as the sensations vanished, so close to the edge he almost gave in and begged Jazz to stop and just finish him. That was what had always wound up being too much for him in the past the other times they’d tried this – not the pain of the electrodes, but the overload denial. Jazz swore up and down it was worth the wait to stretch it out as long as possible, but Prowl had never managed to let him get so close to attaching all the electrodes before. Now…his hands curled and uncurled reflexively as he struggled to bring himself back under control. One more…just one more…
“Ohhh, Prowl,” Jazz breathed eagerly. “Look at you. Just look at you.” This time he didn’t linger over it, he just picked up the final lead and placed it up under Prowl’s bumper. He circled one headlight firmly before standing clear, the anticipation on his face almost as stark as Prowl’s desperation. “Last one!”
The whole world lit up. Charge leapt off his plating as lubricants dripped to the floor, and Prowl felt certain he would shatter as he arched into and away from the electricity, accomplishing neither. All sense of time was gone, and Jazz could have held him there for seconds or days for all Prowl could tell. Nothing mattered but what he could feel, and that feeling was building, and building, until–
–half the electrodes went dead, the pain vanishing as the feed from leads running to his array intensified–
–“Now, Prowler,” Jazz commanded. “Overload for me.”
Helpless to do anything but obey, Prowl fell over the edge at last. A stream of transfluid erupted from his spike and his valve rippled around nothing, the spasms travelling up through his abdominal plating and causing his whole frame to jerk uncontrollably. He cried out as the wave continued to carry him, the ecstasy lasting long past the initial break until at last it and he were completely and utterly spent. The bonds caught him as he fell limp against them, and Jazz, remote turned off and finally set aside, stepped up to cradle his helm in his hands.
“You did it, Prowl,” he whispered thickly. “I’m so proud of you.”