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Title: Pleasure Caste: I Got Nothing To Do and All Day To Do It (01/??)
Verse:WFC AU
Rating: PG
Characters: Hound, Jazz, mentions of other bots, random enforcer who's not really random.
Warnings: Driving after drinking multiple intoxicating beverages.
Summary: As far as first meetings went...well, it could have been a lot worse.
Notes: The bunnies mobbed me a bit. It might be a good idea to take a quick look over here. I've put up some hopefully useful info concerning what my brain has done to this verse.






“Hrrrm…haaaaah…siiigh…”

Hound wanted to sigh himself but knew better than to do so. He had to remain strong. To acknowledge even the slightest of bored noises would encourage the other to just keep on. The Delta kept his optics fixated on the datapad in his hand.

“Graaaah…arrrg…” the noises continued, accompanied by the sounds of a restless body flipping back and forth.

Ignore him. He just wants attention, Hound thought.

A huge rush of air followed another flip. The noises grew loader and more frequent, almost turning musical before dulling out again. Hound tolerated four more repetitions of this process before caving in.

“Is there something I can help you with, Alpha Maestro?” Hound asked.

“I’m so bored!” the Alpha drawled out.

Hound gave in to a sigh. “You could always take a look at these reports yourself, sir, if you have nothing better to do.”

“Nah, that’s what Ah got you for. Besides, they’re always the same. ‘Profit margins within range,’ or, ‘Training sessions are on schedule.’ Boring.”

“With all due respect, the bottom Beta is suppose to be the one to handle these affairs,” Hound said. “Why you continue to refuse to promote one of the Betas to the position and have me continue to fill in escapes me.”

The Alpha flopped back over onto his back, arms making random motions in the air as he thought. “Well, Lancer is alright, Ah guess, but she only has the patience to look over journals released from the Science castes. Tryin’ at make her sit down and read a status report is harder ta do than catchin’ turbofoxes without a cycle. Tracks already has an over-inflated ego. Promoting him to bottom would probably make it expand so much that we wouldn’t ‘ave enough room to house the sudden growth.”

Hound had to agree. Both points were sound. Still, “You’re going to have to find a bottom Beta at some point. I can’t keep filling in for the role. I’m only a Delta.”

The Alpha frowned up at the ceiling, remaining silent. The sound of a chair scooting backwards had him turning his head and watching Hound cross the room to sit on the edge of the berth. They locked gazes.

“Maestro - Jazz,” Hound said, worry showing through his serious front, “you’re my friend. As such, I’m not afraid to tell you that you need to do something about this. You know that bottom Betas are more than just accountants to keep track of the Alpha’s dealings and I can’t fill those roles. You need to find someone who does.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” Hound gave his Alpha a dirty look which was summarily ignored with practiced ease. “Look, Alpha Elita-1 will be hosting a party for some council members in a few orns. Why don’t you go? You haven’t seen her or her bottom in awhile. Take the chance to catch up and think about who you want as a bottom.’

“You’re not goin’ ta let this go, are ya?” the Alpha said. A wry smile formed on his face at Hound’s affirmative. “Alright, I’ll go. I make no promises, mind you, but I’ll think on it.”

“Good. That’s all I can ask for.”

~*~


Jazz’s sensors hummed with the pleasant after affects of drinking too much high-grade. He did the best to ignore the feeling, instead trying to concentrate on where he was driving and the difficult task of not crashing into anyone’s aft. The Alpha was certain that he was failing in regards to staying center in his lane but at least he hadn‘t run over anyone yet. It was hard to pay attention to where his wheels went when his mind kept drifting back to his conversation with Elita.

She had meant well, he knew that. Jazz just didn’t like that fact that just about everyone he knew was ganging up on him on this particular matter. Seriously, it wasn’t like a bottom Beta was required. They were nice to have around, certainly, but an Alpha could do the job just fine without one with a little help now and then.

At least, that’s what Jazz figured. He had never had a bottom Beta so he couldn’t really say that with any sort of certainty. But with the way all the other Alphas talked about and interacted with their bottom Beta’s, Jazz figured he was missing out on something.

Hazy, half-formed thoughts about possible bottom Betas were pushed out of his processor as several whoops pierced through the dark night. Jazz checked his speed and cussed. No wonder he had been running abreast of all the other Cybertronians on the road.

Maybe he should have accepted Elita’s offer to stay for the night. But no, he had recognized an offer of comfort and at that moment, coupled with her words, it had been too much. He had had to leave before he suffocated under his friends’ well-meaning care. From the look in her bottom Beta’s optics as Jazz left, Jazz figured that he at least understood.

Jazz pulled off to the side of the lane and waited for the enforcer to transformer before following suit.

“Identification code,” the enforcer barked out. Jazz, familiar with the procedure from his tag-alongs when he had been a cultural investigator, rattled off the number without protest.

Then the world decided to tilt sideways.

Only Jazz’s quick locking of his joints made him stand his position. The world continued to tilt before snapping back into place. The pleasant humming that had followed him from the party increased in intensity, little pinpricks of pressure turning into rough caresses that made his sensor net flare with pure sensation. Jazz couldn’t withhold a stuttered gasp but the enforcer didn’t notice, too busy looking up Jazz’s information on a datapad.

Jazz searched through his memory files looking for something that might explain his sudden feeling of having been drinking copious amounts of high-grade for all of the night. He hadn’t consumed that much while he had been at the party, not enough for his sudden overcharge state.

Wait. He had been swiping random containers off of passing Omega’s serving platters while he mingled, barely looking at the contents before knocking them back. One of the last ones he had had had been a small cube, barely bigger than his thumb. Jazz didn’t remember the name of it but the cute tagline was hard to forget: “Double the fun later on!”

Of course that fun had to be now.

“Alpha Maestro, while I am sure that you enjoy special privileges that other Cybertronians of your rank don’t have, I’m afraid that you are still liable for your actions,” the enforcer said but most of it flew over Jazz’s helm. The enforcer’s voice made Jazz focus his processor’s wandering attention back on him but it wasn’t what kept it there.

Had the enforcer been so…handsome before? The light from the street lamps glinted off the enforcer’s frame like an alluring halo and the sharp contrast of black on white had Jazz resisting the urge to trail a finger along the divide between the two. The enforcer’s optics were a shade of severe blue, glowing just bright enough to stand out from the shadows the street lamps threw across the his face. Yes, the entire effect was very pleasing to look at.

“Excuse me?” The enforcer frowned down at Jazz. Jazz blinked and belatedly realized that he had said that last bit out loud.

“You, you are very pretty,” Jazz slurred out, all of the sudden wanting to let the enforcer know just how good he looked. He looked good enough to eat, actually. I wonder if he tastes as good as he looks, Jazz wondered before he found himself face-full of chassis.

Jazz felt more than heard the enforcer startle at the sudden contact. The enforcer grabbed Jazz by the arms and pushed him away, only to have to keep his grip as Jazz’s knees refused to lock. The foreign contact sent shivers down Jazz’s struts.

“Sir, are you all right?” Jazz heard from far away.

“Yesh. Perfectly right.”

The enforcer fell silent. Jazz was content with watching the little bits of static dance across his vision until the enforcer tugged his arm to gain his attention, sending more pleasurable signals across his frame. “Sir, I’m reading a high level energy flux in your emission field. Have you been drinking tonight?”

“Maaaaaybe,” Jazz giggled out.

“Alpha Maestro, I’m going to have to bring you down to the station for the night until your charge dissipates. I ask you to wait quietly until the bus comes by to pick you up.”

“Ah know somethin’ that we can do to pass the time…” Jazz said, processor back on how handsome the enforcer looked in the night light and not on his current situation.

The look the enforcer directed at him was almost enough to kill the overcharge rushing through his circuits.

“I will overlook your comment due to your current state and your caste rank but I suggest that you do not make another overturn if you value staying out of a cell.” The enforcer walked Jazz over to the street railing, motioning for him to sit down. “I ask you again to wait quietly until the bus comes.”

Jazz did what was asked of him, the enforcer’s tight voice piercing through the haze his processor was floating in and making some common sense return. He settled down on the cold metal, resigning himself to a long night in inhospitable company, and hoped that Hound wouldn‘t blow a gasket when he found out.
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