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JoyRide, J-Hook, and G-Force came online together, constructed as a trine of Seekers. Their builders had intended for the three to be sent off and trained as warriors for Pax Cybertronia, but it quickly became clear that they were unsuited for front-line positions. Instead, the trio were sent to one of the new temples, the home cathedral of the Lady of Ambition. If all went well, the warframes would act as temple guards. If not, then at least they would have the means to find their way in the world. Even if they weren't being sent for specific training, it was common for new constructs to spend their first few vorns in the care of a temple, somewhere they could learn and become attuned with their frames, build skills, and perhaps find a calling to religion.
The first thing JoyRide had noticed was that the temple was beautiful. He had seen the Primal Basilica in Iacon just after his construction. While clearly a testament to the architect's skill, it's grey eminence felt cold. Every unadorned stone seemed to judge him. Every utilitarian pillar stood to make him feel small. Though it was the main temple of Primus, father to all Cybertronian life, it felt more like a tomb.
Ambition's temple, though, had warmth to it. Pink and amber colored stones made up the entryway, carved with flora and flourish that that drew him through into a vast worship hall that bustled with life. Dedicants and clergy mingled, the latter distinguished by golden, star-like markings painted on their faceplates. Some of the higher ranking priests wore veils and robes, covering both face and frame in homage to the goddess's power to go unseen.
JoyRide's optics had skimmed past all of that, though. At the end of the worship hall, surrounded by offerings of flowers and finery, sat the temple's Lady. For a moment, he mistook her for one of the priestesses. He'd never expected a goddess, full of power, to be so small. (JoyRide would later realize that she was only small in comparison to other flight capable frames. In reality, she was as tall as any standard wheeled civilian.)
It must have only been a klik, but in that brief time it felt like the sight of her was engraved into his memory chip. The sleek lines of petite wings. The sunlight, let in from a skylight above her throne, glinting off of her golden, crown-like finials and helmcrest. Pink plating and exposed ivory protomesh. And, above all of the noise of a new temple, he could hear her laugh, clear and melodic. Her optics swept over the crowd before they seemed to land on him. Her derma curved into a smile. The gesture was so small, but JoyRide would swear to anyone who would listen and several that wouldn't that her smile was for him and no one else.
It wasn't just the one time either. JoyRide couldn't help but watch the Lady of Ambition any time she was in his line of sight. And the more he stared, the more he felt for her. Soft things at first. Love. Devotion. The need to prove his worth and draw her gaze. But before long, he was feeling other things as well. A heat in his circuits. The rush of energon in his fuel lines. The almost overwhelming desire to put his servos on her frame.
The longer JoyRide stayed at the temple, the stronger the feelings became. Before he knew it, even his subconscious was yearning for her, leaving him with vivid dreams during every recharge. Visions of ivory thighs and fluttering wings linger when he wakes, almost as if they're taunting him.
The worst of it, however, was during his guard training. It wouldn't be so bad if Lady Ambition wasn't an ever present fixture in the courtyard. Most cycles, she simply watches. JoyRide can almost feel violet optics following his every lunge and feint. The attention always puts him on edge. As much as he loves trying to show off for her, it feels like she sees every little mistake.
More than once, Lady Ambition took his nerves as lack of discipline. JoyRide would be hard pressed to count the number of times she approached him when he faltered, but he could recount vividly the soft touch of slender servos sliding over his plating. The way his fuel pump thundered as she moved him into the proper stance, servos unafraid to wander where they need to manuever him as the goddess desired. In moments like that, it's hard to keep his cooling fans in check. He would rather overheat than let the roar of his fans betray how much just the innocent touches affect him.
His dreams were full of her servos after incidents like that. Her slender digits touching and caressing wherever they pleased, dipping between plates and tracing hidden seams. They would cup his jaw and stroke his cheeks, tender and loving as his fantasy of the goddess whispered soft praise into his audials.
Sometimes he caught himself staring at her servos in his waking hours, committing every curve and gesture to memory. They way they wrapped around the haft of her halberd when she did combat demonstrations. The beckoning curl of a single, slim digit. Even the way they rested when doing nothing captivated him. He imagined the way they would feel in his, perfect and small. He even imagined taking them into his intake, laving attention with his derma and glossa on not just them but her whole frame as well to show her how much he adored her.
All of that is bearable, though. Things that test his faith, of course, but things that he can bear in silence. Until he can't.
It's not even anything dramatic that nearly breaks his resolve. Nothing more than what he endures every day. (Though 'endure' makes it seem like he doesn't love living under the gaze of his Lady.) No, it's something so simple that only he would notice, because he notices everything that Lady Ambition does.
She spills something. Though to say that's the reason would be leaving out so much. Graceful, gorgeous Lady Ambition spills energon on her servo. The act already drew JoyRide's attention, but he continues to stare as she lifts her servo to her intake. Her glossa darts out, running over the seams as she cleans the palm before taking a wet digit into her intake. JoyRide can almost feel his plating rattle as he takes in the sight before his gaze darts upwards. The sight just above, however, chills his fuel pump and sets it racing all at once. Lady Ambition's vibrant violet optics are fixed on him as surely as his are fixed on her.
It's all JoyRide can do to get out of the worship hall without making it too obvious that he's running away. As soon as he's alone, tucked away in an alcove in some back hallway, his fans click on, roaring so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts. His array aches as it signals for attention insistently, and it's a struggle to deny ping after ping to relieve the pressure. He leans against the cold stone of the temple walls, trying to let the heat leech out of him. The memory of her slender servos and the intensity of her gaze almost haunt him, and charge defiantly crackles through his circuits as he tries to think of anything else but his desire to feel the caress of those sacred derma.
It feels like it takes forever to calm his processor. Every time he thinks he's got a handle on himself, the far too realistic sensation of phantom digits groping and caressing his plating renews his overactive imagination. He almost swears he can feel another frame's heat against him, small and slim. It feels like if he just reaches out, he could hold her in his arms.
Abruptly, JoyRide makes up his mind. If he had just spoken to someone when these feelings began, they wouldn't be such a burden now. J-Hook and G-Force were out of the question; they would laugh at his plight until his spark erupted from embarrassment. He wasn't particularly close with anyone else at the temple, so confiding in other friends wasn't an option either. No, he needed a place free of judgement where his sin could be forgiven.
Confession wasn't a common practice in the house of Lady Ambition, but it did have a dedicated place of solitude. Most confessed sins were things like becoming slothful and failing the cardinal tenet of self betterment. Certainly, his confession would feel out of place among such mundane matters, but his barely contained lust for his goddess was weighing so heavily on his mind that it was affecting his ability to concentrate during his guard shifts.
The confessional is more of a full room than a booth, made to accommodate winged devotees. While JoyRide was vaguely aware that other temples had dividers, this one didn't in an effort to make the experience more personal. Two seats, both wide enough to fit two frames seated side-by-side, sit opposite one another. A small bell over the door chimes when he enters, a call to the clergy to let them know a petitioner is waiting.
JoyRide can't help but fidget as he waits, perched on the edge of his seat. He picks at a seam, pulling up a chip of paint in the short interim before someone joins him. For a moment, the Seeker is caught off guard. The priestess is one of the veiled clergy, so he can't necessarily see any of her defining features, but something feels… off. She stays silent, tilting her helm towards him in a gesture that beckons him to begin. While JoyRide wasn't aware that any of the veiled ones had taken vows of silence, he knew better then to question the clergy.
"May the Lady forgive me, for I have become distracted from my Ambition." When the priestess doesn't speak. He continues. "My concentration has been… split. F-for a while, honestly. I just… I can't take my mind off of our Lady. She… she fills my every waking thought and follows me into my dreams."
He pauses, his vents shaky as his mind is once more filled with thoughts of pink and ivory. His servos tremble, and he tries to focus on keeping them still as he continues.
"I feel like I'm possessed. My body betrays my desire and it's only a matter of time before my resolve crumbles. I want… to hold her. Wrap her in my arms and press kisses to her cheeks and lips and anywhere else she—"
JoyRide cuts off abruptly as he realizes how much he's saying. He covers his intake, faceplate flushed with embarrassment. Several moments of silence pass between them before the soft voice of the priestess surprises JoyRide out of his panic.
"To unburden yourself, you have to give up all of your thoughts. Go on."
After a moment, JoyRide does as he's told. Something about her voice makes him want to hear it again.
"I dream about putting my servos on her… And about her putting her hands on me. Sometimes, I could swear I feel them when I'm alone. I've never... I'm afraid that if I act on these thoughts, even on my own, that she'll know. That she'll be disgusted with me. I want to protect her. It's my Ambition to be her head guard. But I'm plagued by this desire to have her. It frightens me..."
A soft click, barely audible preludes the whirring of cooling fans. For a moment, JoyRide is worried the soft sound is coming from him. He's mortified at the thought of becoming so aroused while trying to give confession of all things. It quickly becomes apparent, through, that it is not the Seeker.
The priestess shifts in her seat, and JoyRide feels his intake tighten as he gets a better look at her. Slim servos sit in her lap, folded neatly but full of tension. Her legs shift, and the tip of a golden pede peeks from under the fabric. But what really rattles JoyRide's plating is the bright glow of violet optics pinned on him through the priestess's veil.
As much as he wants to shrink into himself or run away, JoyRide sits frozen. The horror of the situation is just starting to sink in when the 'priestess' stands and closes the short distance between them. Those slender servos gather her robe and bring the hem higher and higher, exposing the pink plating of her legs until she can easily slip into his lap. It takes all of JoyRide's self control to keep from grabbing onto her, his servos gripping the cushioning of his seat tightly.
"Is there more? You don't have to hold anything back, my Joy."
JoyRide trembles at the pet name. His goddess calls him hers. His intake dries and the glyphs catch in his vocalizer as he tries desperately to give her the answer she desires. Instead, all he can manage is a whimper as Lady Ambition takes his hands, bringing them to rest on her robed frame. His shyness is quickly lost as he pulls her chassis tight against his. A soft chuckle urges him to speak again, his vocalizer staticky.
"I want to worship you. Not just as my goddess… I want everything that I am to be yours. A-and I want everything you are to be mine. Oh, my spark's Ambition, I-I… I love you."
The goddess laughs, and her wings flare up beneath the robe. JoyRide's spark feels like it's ready to burst as he listens to the beautiful, joyous sound. Her servos cup his cheeks and urge him to lean in until her derma press against his, separated only by the veil. JoyRide makes a soft sound, melting into the kiss as he tightens his grip. Through the fabric, he can feel the heat of her frame against his.
A dream. This is all just a dream.
But no dream has ever felt so real. So perfect. Her servos slip down, palms pressing against his cockpit before she pushes him back just enough to break the kiss. JoyRide doesn't try to resist, shivering as she lowers her voice.
"Your claim of Ambition is worthy and your confession has been received. If I'm what you want, my sweet guard, then all you have to do is strip away this robe and veil. That will be your penance."
JoyRide nods eagerly, quickly trying to find the fastenings of the fabric. As tantalizing as her form is while clothed, he wants to prove his desire and devotion. His servos search blindly for ties or clips, growing frustrated when it seems there are none. Meanwhile, Lady Ambition runs her hands up and down his cockpit.
"Having trouble? My poor, sweet Joy. Did you know that the pretty peach panels on your wings glow when your emotions run high? It's so cute… I can always tell when you're thinking about me."
A rush of warmth tells him that his cheeks are flushed. He grumbles with frustration as he continues to fumble, all too aware of her watchful gaze. She leans into his hold, humming softly.
"You're trying to be so gentle for me… How cute. But, my Joy, aren't you my fierce warrior? Don't you want to ravish me? I promise, I can take a little rough treatment."
Luckily, it doesn't take a genius to understand what she wants. His servos bunch in the fabric, taking two fistfuls before pulling. The fabric, thin as it is, tears easily. JoyRide shivers at the sound, making short work of the garment before he's able to toss it aside.
The moment he's able, his servos are on her bare plating. JoyRide leans in, pressing his derma against her chest plates as he pulls her tight against him. Lady Ambition gasps and squirms, lifting a hand to his helm and guiding his kisses up under the edge of the veil. He eagerly mouths at her neck, denta teasing at the sensitive cables.
Letting himself give in to his desire to explore, JoyRide slides a servo up her back. She gasps and lets out a soft moan as he presses against the joint of one of her wings, and he revels in being the one to draw such a perfect sound from his love. He presses again, biting gently at the same time. She yelps, her digit tips scratching against his helm as she writhes under his attention.
"My Joy… Did you forget? My veil."
JoyRide nods eagerly, though he's loathe to release his hold and let her settle back in his lap. A new wash of nerves falls over him as he lifts his servos to the edge of the veil. Her glowing optics seam to stare right through him as she flares her wings. Slowly, reverently, he lifts the veil up and away, marvelling at each feature he uncovers. Soft jawline. Plump derma and a quick glossa darting out to wet them. Smooth, ivory planes of her cheek plates. He nearly drops the veil when he uncovers her optics, both of them trained on his. Just a little further and he uncovers the golden crown of her helm crest and finials.
JoyRide drops the cloth to the side, letting out a soft exvent of admiration. Lady Ambition takes his servos, bringing them back to her body. She lifts up onto her knees, pressing tight against him and capturing him in another slow, consuming kiss. Without the veil between them, she slips her glossa into his intake and explores hungrily. JoyRide is happy to give her all of the access that she wants, moaning with abandon into the kiss as they touch one another.
When the Lady pulls back to stroke his cheeks, JoyRide can't help but whimper. He holds her close, pressing his face against her shoulder. It's easy to lose himself to the feeling of her digits on his plating, and he finds himself rambling.
"Oh, My Lady, thank you. You're s-so perfect. My beautiful Lady of Ambition. So perfect."
Soft derma brush against JoyRide's helm vents, the goddess's voice low and sweet in his audials. "Open yourself to me, my Joy. My love…"
The request is as good as his own command. His modesty panel springs open, spike pressurizing with near painful speed. He'd never let himself free before, not even when guaranteed solitude. Fear had always consumed him at the thought, paranoia that perhaps he's not truly alone. JoyRide feels his processor spin at the sensation of the pressure behind his panels finally being released.
He barely hears the sound of the goddess's own panel transforming away. As tempting as it is, JoyRide doesn't dare look down. He keeps his optics on his Lady's faceplate and the way her optics light up with excitement at the sight of him. Her gaze drags up his chassis.
"You're so handsome... Will you give yourself to me and none else?"
JoyRide nods, gasping as she leans in to draw her glossa over his helm vents. He holds her frame tight against him, as though he's trying to meld their chassis into one. He doesn't even realize he's begun babbling a prayer of thanks until the goddess presses another kiss to his lips and cuts him off. One slender servo slips down his frame, teasing at seams on its way. Gently, Lady Ambition guides his spike tip to her entrance. The kiss breaks.
"Are you ready, my Joy?"
Not trusting his voice, JoyRide nods and tightens his cons around her. Without further warning, she sinks down down to the hilt. She lets out a gorgeous cry as she's filled and stretched, the ailerons of her wings twitching with the overwhelming sensation.
Overwhelming. That's certainly how JoyRide would describe it. Heat pulses through his circuits, wild and electric. He presses his faceplate into the crook of the goddess's neck, letting out a choked sob. It's so much. Almost too much, his spike pulsing in a unfamiliar, almost uncomfortable way inside the tight heat of heavenly valve.
Soft servos smooth over his arms, and a sweet voice coos praise as JoyRide sobs into his goddess's shoulder. She's so good to him. So good and kind as his frame shudders in the aftermath of a very abrupt overload. Tender kisses to his helm punctuate her reassurances.
"It's okay, my love. So good for me… I know it's a lot, but you're doing so wonderfully. Take all the time that you need, beloved."
JoyRide manages another little nod, whimpering softly as his spike almost seems to ache. She feels so nice around him. Speaks so softly into his audial. Even though he's crying, she's still so tender. He's holding on so tight to her that surely he's leaving dents in her sacred frame, but she's so gentle with him nonetheless.
Oh to love and be loved by you.
A soft vent from the Lady makes JoyRide realize he's unconsciously started to roll his hips up into her. The sensation is so nice despite his tears. Her valve fits so snug around him, calipers squeezing deliciously. He feels light-headed, near delicious as his goddess whimpers with each twitch of his hips. Oh, does he need more. More of his Lady's heat. More of her sounds. Oh, he feels consumed with avarice and lust.
And oh, how very easy it is to give in and possess her. JoyRide tips forward, bringing them both to the ground. His tight grip keeps her from slipping off of his spike as he presses his Lady into the floor and begins to thrust desperately. As great as his drive to pull his hips back for friction, so too is his need to bury himself back into the slick heat. His wings tremble as he loses what small amount of composure he had, optical fluid still streaming down his cheeks.
As clumsy as his frantic humping is, the goddess writhes in his grasp as she moans with as much abandon as he moves. JoyRide mouths at her neck cabling, doubled over to give her every touch that he feasibly can. His digits dig into her seams, tugging her down onto him with every thrust.
Beneath her beautiful cries, he hears his own voice. Broken on his sobs, ones now of desperation rather than embarrassment, he whispers supplications into her audials. From asking forgiveness for his lack of control to reciting prayers thanking her for the gift of being allowed to touch her, let alone make love to her.
JoyRide can't keep his second overload from crashing over him as he feels divine calipers cycle down around him, dragging him into hip stuttering oblivion where all he's truly aware of is the goddess. Her body trapped beneath him. Her moans of pleasure. The glyphs of praise that barely make it to her glossa. And her servos. Deft things that grasp and touch him in the best of ways. Ways he wants only his beloved Lady of Ambition to caress him.
When he finally stops moving, his joints ache. From his hips up his spinal strut, dull pain radiates and promises to remind him of this long after he settles in to recharge. Gently, oh so gently, he lifts himself up to look down at his goddess. As he gives her space, she lifts her hands up to stroke his cheeks.
Instead of letting him pull away, she drags him back in for a deep kiss. JoyRide is more than happy to take her guidance. Who is he to deny his goddess kisses if she desires them? This time, he takes the initiative to lick into her intake, moaning as he tastes her. He's eager to explore her just as she explored him, glossa probing and lapping up the sweet sound of her whimpers.
Only when the goddess finally relaxes in his arms does he dare try to pull back. He shivers as his spike finally slips free, retracting it and letting his panels close. It's such an odd sensation, but surely he'll get used to it. Carefully, he unwinds his arms from around Lady Ambition. He did, indeed, leave dents behind from holding her too tightly, and its with reverence that he runs his digits over the transfers of his paint left in the grooves.
"Lonestar."
JoyRide blinks in confusion. "I'm sorry, my Lady?"
"My true designation. Only my head guard and high priest may know it."
As her words sink into his processor, JoyRide can practically feel his spark getting ready to burst. His plan to try and separate their tangled frames falls to pieces as he instead brings her back into his arms for another desperate, passionate kiss. Only her head guard and high priest. How honored can one mech be, to touch his goddess in ways no one else has and to know her truest name?
Lady Ambition — Lonestar — laughs against his derma, holding just as tightly to him as he does to her. Somewhere outside, the priests will be looking for her. His trine will try to find him. He hopes they'll be jealous. Or happy for him. A little of both, maybe. For now, though, Joyride is content to think of nothing but his goddess beneath him and all the ways he can be her Joy.