I swear there'll be more IC after this.
Title: Nocturne in the Moonlight.
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Mech seckz and weirdness all around.
Pairings: Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Were!Prowl, Vampire!Jazz.
Summary: Prowl takes pride on the tight control he has over himself. When his self control is affected by unnatural circumstances he doesn't take it well. Jazz is only too happy to help his mate with his problems and relive him of his worries.
Notes: I did this one mainly for the sake of a bit of crack and can be blamed on huntingospray. The smut was actually longer than this, but I decided to trim it down or I'd never finish it. XP
Prowl was irritable, that much Jazz could tell. It wasn't that Prowl never became easily irritable, but it was a relative rarity he'd get this bad for so long. True, Jazz knew the past few days had been everything but kind to his mate, and things weren't looking like they would improve any time soon.
Prowl took pride on the tight control he had over himself, over his emotions, over every aspect of his life where he had an iota of direct influence. For someone like Prowl losing control of himself unwillingly was the worst thing that could ever happen. Jazz knew very well if Starscream showed his face plates anywhere near Prowl, the air commander would probably return to the Nemesis missing at least a wing.
Prowl's recently acquired and incredibly adorable --at least in Jazz's opinion-- ears were pressed almost flat against his helm, a sure sign that Prowl was not in the best of moods, but then again Prowl rarely was in a good mood since said appendages became part of the Datsun. No, Prowl was incredibly, easily irritable, and more than once he had taken his frustration and anger on other mechs, something Prowl would never do under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances, and Prowl wasn't himself, neither was Jazz for that matter.
Jazz glared with mild disgust at the cube of energon he was holding in his claw-tipped hands. He didn't want to drink it, he knew very well where it came from and he wasn't exactly eager to drink what was pretty much another mech's blood. Which was worse was that the first few times he couldn't identify who was the donor, but a four days and 30 cubes later he could tell which mech had willingly donated half processed energon to sustain him. Knowing better than to go against Ratchet's orders Jazz took a sip of the cube's contents, and despite his best efforts to not attempt to savor the fluid, Jazz managed to determine the sample probably came from Skyfire this time. Drinking the rest of the cube's contents in one quick gulp, Jazz shuddered and shook his head a little -- the larger the mech who donated the energon was, the stronger it felt when he drank it, almost like high-grade but without its inebriating properties.
With that unsavory task done, the Porsche made his way to his mate, currently seated in a transformer sized bean bag Jazz had custom made, with a portable terminal as company Prowl tried his best to go through his daily reports and other routine. Unable to sit still in his desk's chair for more than a few minutes, Prowl resorted to take a portable terminal, take possession of Jazz's beloved bean bag chair where he could roll and move all he wanted, and attempt to work. Attempt was the keyword.
Prowl was restless, constantly moving around and although that didn't disturb his concentration per se, it was frustrating him greatly. Moving around to find a new comfortable position every few minutes and taking the time to settle down were slowing down his work too much for the tactician's taste.
Jazz took a seat next to his mate on the floor of their quarters, reaching a hand to stroke the other's back, all the while making sure Prowl could see what he was going to do. Under their current state, Prowl didn't like to be touched unexpectedly --Jazz found that the hard way when Prowl pushed him and pounced on him hard enough to hurt. Cliffjumper almost lost a leg when he tried a similar feat, and even Mirage made it a point to stay always visible around Prowl.
Prowl's door wings drooped a little, silently granting Jazz permission to touch him. The Porsche smiled a and stroked his lover's roof gently in a soothing gesture. Prowl's ears flickered a little and the tension seemed to drain out of his frame a just a bit. Prowl was so distraught, and there was little Jazz could do to help him. Sure, Jazz wasn't in a bed of roses himself, he wasn't keen in his inability to stay out in the bright sunlight for more than a few minutes before his plating began to heat up dangerously, forcing him to remain mostly within the confines of the Ark. And his new diet wasn't something he was enthusiastic about either.
But Prowl... for a very orderly creature like him, to become the embodiment of chaotic and unpredictable was a very hard blow. Jazz's problems had more to do with the limitations and special requirements his body presented him in his current state. Prowl's were behavioral, and affected his personality greatly. To someone other mechs labeled as 'control freak' that loss of control over himself was frustrating, and absolutely terrifying. And Prowl was showing the signs of both in copious amounts.
Jazz slid his hand down to Prowl's hips, brushing his fingers there tentatively, and Prowl's wings twitched a little, granting permission. Jazz's hand slid lower along Prowl's hips to his aft where the base of his back strut would be, the black aft was sporting a new body part Jazz found as adorable as Prowl's ears, but that Prowl seemed to dislike even more because everyone wanted to touch it. The Porsche brushed his clawed fingers down along the length of Prowl's white tail. To the untrained optic, the tail seemed to be covered in fur, but in reality it were all diminutive metal spikes, so thin that they were actually flexible enough to move along with the tail elegantly in swift motions. If any mech tried to comb the hair upwards, the spikes would stab the offending hand.
But much as Prowl disliked his tail, the appendage was pretty sensitive and Jazz's administrations over the tail served to relax him further, and his engine began to purr softly in appreciation. Jazz smiled a little more and moved closer to place a soft kiss against one of Prowl's ears. "Ya ain't goin' ta finish any reports like this, Prowler," he murmured against Prowl's helm, stroking his mate's tail soothingly.
"Tell me something I don't know," Prowl practically growled, glaring at his portable terminal's screen as if he was trying to melt it with the power of his glare alone.
"Why don't ya put that down for a little an' try to relax? Glarin' at the reports ain't gonna make them fix themselves." Feeling Prowl's body tense again, Jazz nuzzled the ear he'd previously kissed, and his hand trailed back up to Prowl's roof to try to soothe the Datsun.
"I should have sent this to Prime about an hour ago." Prowl tensed even more, feeling his frustration growing with every clicking sound produced by the keyboard of his terminal. "I can't delay this any longer."
Jazz sighed heavily and decided to change tactics. "All right, babe, that's quite enough." Carefully, the saboteur reached to pry his lover's hands away from the keyboard, holding Prowl's own sharp clawed hands between his own, brushing his lips lightly against each claw tip. "This ain't workin' an' yer gonna feel worse if you keep tryin' t'work like this. It's time for a break."
Prowl growled a little but relented and allowed Jazz to turn off the terminal. The Autobot saboteur moved the terminal away and reached again to stroke his mate's back, helping Prowl to settle down on the bean bag chair. Prowl was content enough to rest on the plush seat and let his mate stroke his back to relax him.
"Feelin' hungry?" the Porsche asked softly, idly brushing a claw tipped finger along the edge of one of Prowl's ears, grinning a little when Prowl flickered that ear.
"A little," Prowl murmured softly, resting his head on his forearms, feeling so relaxed at the time that he could have fallen into recharge right there.
"'Kay, why don't ya move ta th'berth an' I'll go get ya some energon?"
Prowl nodded lazily and stretched while Jazz made his way out of their quarters. As the tactician laid down in the berth his optics caught a glimpse of his mate's back, watching the way Jazz's new 'wings' formed by his cape framed his back so beautifully, accenting his very delectable shape, and Prowl couldn't stop the soft purring of his engine. The Datsun wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or just go with the flow and quite literally pounce on his mate the second the saboteur moved back into the room. The feral side of him demanded he quenched the sudden hunger for the Porsche that had taken over him, and for the first time the logical side of Prowl was in agreement.
Neither had the time, or the mind to spend some intimate time together after the incident that left them in their present forms, but the Autobot tactician decided it was time to change that. Prowl's tail flickered lightly while the Datsun seated himself in the berth, getting ready to pounce on Jazz as soon as the saboteur's aft touched their bunk.
Jazz came back into the room with a tray and a couple of cubes of energon. In his present condition Prowl's olfactory sensors were as sharp and developed as Hound's, and he spared a moment to take in the scent of the energon, identifying both cubes were regular energon, therefor both were for him. Jazz set the tray down by a small table next to the berth and seated himself on the recharging platform. The second Prowl was sure Jazz's weight was fully on the berth, the tactician practically pounced on the saboteur, smirking at Jazz's surprised gasp.
"Prowler?" Jazz asked warily as he found himself trapped under the other mech's body. Prowl's engine rumbled loud enough to convey his intentions. The Porsche made a sound between a gasp and a squeak, Prowl's ruby optics glowed brightly with barely restrained lust and need, and a small, pleasant shudder ran through Jazz's frame. "Ya sure ya wanna do this now, babe?"
"You don't want to?" Prowl asked softly, his voice so low and sensuous even as he asked such innocent question that Jazz had to bit back a soft moan.
"I do. Jus' wanted t'make sure ya were certain about this," Jazz whispered and wrapped his arms around Prowl's neck, pulling the Datsun's face closer to his own until their lip components brushed against each other. "I know these days have been hard on ya..."
Prowl wasn't in the mood to talk, however, and communicated this to Jazz through pressing their lips together, kissing the saboteur in that way he knew could make Jazz's knees go weak --it was a good thing they were laying on the berth. "All I know at the moment," Prowl trailed as he brushed the tip of his glossa along Jazz's very kissable lips, "Is that I want you. I want you so badly." Prowl growled the last part and pressed his lips against Jazz's once more with added urgency.
If Jazz had any intention, as minimal as it could have been, to object to Prowl's desires, it was quickly melted away by the sensual growl in his mate's declaration and subsequent kiss. The Porsche reciprocated the gesture with as much passion, feeling his own need for Prowl spiking as Prowl's glossa pushed its way into his mouth, seeking the saboteur's.
Jazz groaned suggestively into the kiss pulling Prowl as close as he could manage, a leg brushed against the Datsun's side, prompting a shudder from the tactician. Claw tipped hands quickly found their way over Jazz's frame, seeking, exploring. The Porsche gasped into the kiss and arched against Prowl's frame as a particularly sensitive area was graced with the touch of those sharp claws. Little licks and laps were dispensed upon the tactician's glossa, pleading silently for more of his touch, and Prowl wasn't one to disappoint.
Jazz's hands were not still, seeking the places over his mate's modified frame that could give him pleasure, eventually sliding back to the Datsun's tail, stroking the base of it with teasing but gentle circles over it. Prowl gasped and tensed, pushing away from Jazz just a little before a wicked smile spread over his lip components, baring his fangs in what Jazz could only describe as one of the most predatory and sexy smiles Prowl ever addressed at him. He had no time to think about the fact for long, because Prowl was quickly over him again, devouring his mouth with his own, glossa mapping out the cavity, brushing over dental plating and Jazz's newly acquired fangs. The kiss, however turned out to be far too brief for the Porsche's liking. But Prowl had other plans.
Jazz gasped as he found himself forced to lay on his side over the berth, feeling Prowl's weight shift as the taller mech's glossa began to run over his whole frame in small, but decidedly sensual licks. The saboteur groaned and shivered as realization dawned on him: Prowl was bathing him as if he were a cat, glossa running in small laps all over him, and thorough mech as Prowl was, he left virtually no part of his plating unattended.
The small licks ignited the sensory nodes under the plating, making each little brush of that glossa tingle so pleasantly. Yet, the contact of the glossa was brief, efficient and methodical in every stroke. Jazz arched in pleasure, digging the claws of a hand in the nearby side table, trying desperately to hold onto something as Prowl's attentions drifted down to his middle and legs. Jazz tried to reach for Prowl's helm, intending to at least return some of the affection or tease his love's ears, but the tactician batted his hand away, growling lowly in warning.
Once satisfied with his work over Jazz's side, Prowl shifted his weight again, forcing Jazz to lay face down and his ministrations renewed over the smaller mech's back. Prowl nibbled playfully on the tip of Jazz's cape's neck then fidgeted with his roof, unlocking it gently and reached underneath to extract Jazz's door panels. Jazz choked a cry of pleasure as Prowl began to 'clean' a door wing, glossa running along the plating while a claw-tipped hand stroked the inside of the wing, massaging and squeezing gently the soft leather of the interiors.
The saboteur cried out his love's name, bucking under Prowl's weight as his sensitive door panels were assaulted by Prowl's glossa and hand. The tactician pressed his claws a bit harder against the soft leather, racking them along the interiors, being careful not to damage the material and therefor cause pain to his mate. His free hand moved down along Jazz's back, claws running agonizingly slowly along the roof, tracing the racing stripes as he trailed down, stopping at the Porsche's black aft, cupping it on his free hand before he groped it playfully. Prowl laughed softly when Jazz yelped a little in surprise.
"Glad t'see ya're findin' this funny...!" Jazz muttered and jumped again when he felt Prowl trace the tip of a claw over the seam where the back of a speaker panel joined his hip, earning a pleasured groan from his mate. Jazz whimpered and tried to turn around, determined to give Prowl some due payback, but before he could even begin to turn around he froze, feeling familiar lip components pressing in a chaste kiss against his aft.
Prowl gave him no chance to even begin to process what he had done, the tip of his glossa was now dipping into the joint between his aft and his leg, teasing the servos, wiring and circuitry partly exposed in that area. One white clawed hand pressed against Jazz's back, keeping the saboteur against the bunk while Prowl's mouth explored, and lapped the joint. His free hand was now trailing along the back of Jazz's thigh, stopping at the back of his knee joint to torment that area as well, reducing Jazz to a writhing, purring Porsche against the recharge berth. Prowl's hand continued its path down, stopping at Jazz's spoiler located on the back of his leg, stroking it and tracing its edges while the Datsun's mouth bestowed its attention over the other leg's joint.
Jazz lost all sense of time while Prowl practically bathed his body, murmuring somewhat coherent words of encouragement while he tried to return as much of the pleasure he was receiving. Prowl turned Jazz to lay on his back once more, this time bringing his attention to the blue panels on Jazz's hips, pressing his glossa against the cool glass while the tip of a claw racked gently against the other panel. Jazz's hips bucked under the assault and this time Prowl allowed his mate to sit up a little, one black clawed hand coming to rest against the back of his helm to stroke it with frenzy while the other went straight for his own door wings. Prowl purred against the blue panel shuddering under Jazz's touch over his wings.
Jazz's impassioned cries filled the room in what Prowl considered a rather erotic song, which only served to encourage him further and he scrapped the panel with his fangs, his tail began to trash about under Jazz's own touches. The Porsche's hand that was not busy with a door wing massaged the back of Prowl's neck, sliding under the edge of the helm to play with what wiring he found there. Jazz's own mouth was busy now nibbling and lapping on Prowl's chevron, suckling on the tips carefully before he kissed his way to an ear in between pleas for more of Prowl's touch, begging to be pushed into overload before he bit down on an ear, hard enough to make Prowl tense and cry in pain.
Jazz moaned and whimpered Prowl's name, then lapped gently and apologetically on the abused ear, whispering words of love and promises to be there for the tactician always, regardless of the situation. Prowl pushed himself away from Jazz's groin to claim his mate's mouth in a searing kiss, whispering his own words of love and promises to be there for Jazz in between little kisses, suckling on the smaller black and white's bottom lip, hands caressing his beloved at a frantic pace, driving Jazz closer and closer into that overload until the saboteur couldn't hold back anymore, crying out his overload so loud Prowl was sure someone had heard him, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Jazz's overload triggered his own, crying out his love's name before he all but collapsed on top of Jazz's frame.
Prowl groaned softly against Jazz's neck wiring, nuzzling under his chin, feeling particularly affectionate after their love making. Jazz moaned softly, still fairly sensitive after that intense climax. They stayed like that for a while, neither could tell exactly how long, but they did not care. Time was not important when they were relishing on each other's presence and the love they shared for each other. Jazz reached lazily for one of the cubes on the small table, nudging Prowl to sit up a little so he could drink it.
Prowl grunted softly, finding himself a little too comfortable on his current position to want to abandon it.
"C'mon, Prowler, ya need ta refuel, babe." Jazz nipped lovingly on one of Prowl's ears, trying to coax his mate into accepting the cube. Prowl sighed heavily and pushed himself up a little, accepting the cube he swallowed the fluid in one quick gulp, handing it back to Jazz and proceeded to drop himself back on the berth, no longer on top of Jazz but still resting his head in the space between jazz's neck and shoulder.
"Ya know," Jazz drawled as he shifted his position to lay better against his beloved while still allowing Prowl to rest his head against his neck. "I think I could get used t'this." Jazz brushed the tip of a black claw over Prowl's cheek.
"No way in the pit," Prowl mumbled drowsily, already beginning to fall into a deep, much needed recharge.
Jazz laughed softly, watching his mate fall into recharge. "We'll see, Prowler. We'll see."
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Mech seckz and weirdness all around.
Pairings: Prowl x Jazz.
Characters: Were!Prowl, Vampire!Jazz.
Summary: Prowl takes pride on the tight control he has over himself. When his self control is affected by unnatural circumstances he doesn't take it well. Jazz is only too happy to help his mate with his problems and relive him of his worries.
Notes: I did this one mainly for the sake of a bit of crack and can be blamed on huntingospray. The smut was actually longer than this, but I decided to trim it down or I'd never finish it. XP
Prowl was irritable, that much Jazz could tell. It wasn't that Prowl never became easily irritable, but it was a relative rarity he'd get this bad for so long. True, Jazz knew the past few days had been everything but kind to his mate, and things weren't looking like they would improve any time soon.
Prowl took pride on the tight control he had over himself, over his emotions, over every aspect of his life where he had an iota of direct influence. For someone like Prowl losing control of himself unwillingly was the worst thing that could ever happen. Jazz knew very well if Starscream showed his face plates anywhere near Prowl, the air commander would probably return to the Nemesis missing at least a wing.
Prowl's recently acquired and incredibly adorable --at least in Jazz's opinion-- ears were pressed almost flat against his helm, a sure sign that Prowl was not in the best of moods, but then again Prowl rarely was in a good mood since said appendages became part of the Datsun. No, Prowl was incredibly, easily irritable, and more than once he had taken his frustration and anger on other mechs, something Prowl would never do under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances, and Prowl wasn't himself, neither was Jazz for that matter.
Jazz glared with mild disgust at the cube of energon he was holding in his claw-tipped hands. He didn't want to drink it, he knew very well where it came from and he wasn't exactly eager to drink what was pretty much another mech's blood. Which was worse was that the first few times he couldn't identify who was the donor, but a four days and 30 cubes later he could tell which mech had willingly donated half processed energon to sustain him. Knowing better than to go against Ratchet's orders Jazz took a sip of the cube's contents, and despite his best efforts to not attempt to savor the fluid, Jazz managed to determine the sample probably came from Skyfire this time. Drinking the rest of the cube's contents in one quick gulp, Jazz shuddered and shook his head a little -- the larger the mech who donated the energon was, the stronger it felt when he drank it, almost like high-grade but without its inebriating properties.
With that unsavory task done, the Porsche made his way to his mate, currently seated in a transformer sized bean bag Jazz had custom made, with a portable terminal as company Prowl tried his best to go through his daily reports and other routine. Unable to sit still in his desk's chair for more than a few minutes, Prowl resorted to take a portable terminal, take possession of Jazz's beloved bean bag chair where he could roll and move all he wanted, and attempt to work. Attempt was the keyword.
Prowl was restless, constantly moving around and although that didn't disturb his concentration per se, it was frustrating him greatly. Moving around to find a new comfortable position every few minutes and taking the time to settle down were slowing down his work too much for the tactician's taste.
Jazz took a seat next to his mate on the floor of their quarters, reaching a hand to stroke the other's back, all the while making sure Prowl could see what he was going to do. Under their current state, Prowl didn't like to be touched unexpectedly --Jazz found that the hard way when Prowl pushed him and pounced on him hard enough to hurt. Cliffjumper almost lost a leg when he tried a similar feat, and even Mirage made it a point to stay always visible around Prowl.
Prowl's door wings drooped a little, silently granting Jazz permission to touch him. The Porsche smiled a and stroked his lover's roof gently in a soothing gesture. Prowl's ears flickered a little and the tension seemed to drain out of his frame a just a bit. Prowl was so distraught, and there was little Jazz could do to help him. Sure, Jazz wasn't in a bed of roses himself, he wasn't keen in his inability to stay out in the bright sunlight for more than a few minutes before his plating began to heat up dangerously, forcing him to remain mostly within the confines of the Ark. And his new diet wasn't something he was enthusiastic about either.
But Prowl... for a very orderly creature like him, to become the embodiment of chaotic and unpredictable was a very hard blow. Jazz's problems had more to do with the limitations and special requirements his body presented him in his current state. Prowl's were behavioral, and affected his personality greatly. To someone other mechs labeled as 'control freak' that loss of control over himself was frustrating, and absolutely terrifying. And Prowl was showing the signs of both in copious amounts.
Jazz slid his hand down to Prowl's hips, brushing his fingers there tentatively, and Prowl's wings twitched a little, granting permission. Jazz's hand slid lower along Prowl's hips to his aft where the base of his back strut would be, the black aft was sporting a new body part Jazz found as adorable as Prowl's ears, but that Prowl seemed to dislike even more because everyone wanted to touch it. The Porsche brushed his clawed fingers down along the length of Prowl's white tail. To the untrained optic, the tail seemed to be covered in fur, but in reality it were all diminutive metal spikes, so thin that they were actually flexible enough to move along with the tail elegantly in swift motions. If any mech tried to comb the hair upwards, the spikes would stab the offending hand.
But much as Prowl disliked his tail, the appendage was pretty sensitive and Jazz's administrations over the tail served to relax him further, and his engine began to purr softly in appreciation. Jazz smiled a little more and moved closer to place a soft kiss against one of Prowl's ears. "Ya ain't goin' ta finish any reports like this, Prowler," he murmured against Prowl's helm, stroking his mate's tail soothingly.
"Tell me something I don't know," Prowl practically growled, glaring at his portable terminal's screen as if he was trying to melt it with the power of his glare alone.
"Why don't ya put that down for a little an' try to relax? Glarin' at the reports ain't gonna make them fix themselves." Feeling Prowl's body tense again, Jazz nuzzled the ear he'd previously kissed, and his hand trailed back up to Prowl's roof to try to soothe the Datsun.
"I should have sent this to Prime about an hour ago." Prowl tensed even more, feeling his frustration growing with every clicking sound produced by the keyboard of his terminal. "I can't delay this any longer."
Jazz sighed heavily and decided to change tactics. "All right, babe, that's quite enough." Carefully, the saboteur reached to pry his lover's hands away from the keyboard, holding Prowl's own sharp clawed hands between his own, brushing his lips lightly against each claw tip. "This ain't workin' an' yer gonna feel worse if you keep tryin' t'work like this. It's time for a break."
Prowl growled a little but relented and allowed Jazz to turn off the terminal. The Autobot saboteur moved the terminal away and reached again to stroke his mate's back, helping Prowl to settle down on the bean bag chair. Prowl was content enough to rest on the plush seat and let his mate stroke his back to relax him.
"Feelin' hungry?" the Porsche asked softly, idly brushing a claw tipped finger along the edge of one of Prowl's ears, grinning a little when Prowl flickered that ear.
"A little," Prowl murmured softly, resting his head on his forearms, feeling so relaxed at the time that he could have fallen into recharge right there.
"'Kay, why don't ya move ta th'berth an' I'll go get ya some energon?"
Prowl nodded lazily and stretched while Jazz made his way out of their quarters. As the tactician laid down in the berth his optics caught a glimpse of his mate's back, watching the way Jazz's new 'wings' formed by his cape framed his back so beautifully, accenting his very delectable shape, and Prowl couldn't stop the soft purring of his engine. The Datsun wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or just go with the flow and quite literally pounce on his mate the second the saboteur moved back into the room. The feral side of him demanded he quenched the sudden hunger for the Porsche that had taken over him, and for the first time the logical side of Prowl was in agreement.
Neither had the time, or the mind to spend some intimate time together after the incident that left them in their present forms, but the Autobot tactician decided it was time to change that. Prowl's tail flickered lightly while the Datsun seated himself in the berth, getting ready to pounce on Jazz as soon as the saboteur's aft touched their bunk.
Jazz came back into the room with a tray and a couple of cubes of energon. In his present condition Prowl's olfactory sensors were as sharp and developed as Hound's, and he spared a moment to take in the scent of the energon, identifying both cubes were regular energon, therefor both were for him. Jazz set the tray down by a small table next to the berth and seated himself on the recharging platform. The second Prowl was sure Jazz's weight was fully on the berth, the tactician practically pounced on the saboteur, smirking at Jazz's surprised gasp.
"Prowler?" Jazz asked warily as he found himself trapped under the other mech's body. Prowl's engine rumbled loud enough to convey his intentions. The Porsche made a sound between a gasp and a squeak, Prowl's ruby optics glowed brightly with barely restrained lust and need, and a small, pleasant shudder ran through Jazz's frame. "Ya sure ya wanna do this now, babe?"
"You don't want to?" Prowl asked softly, his voice so low and sensuous even as he asked such innocent question that Jazz had to bit back a soft moan.
"I do. Jus' wanted t'make sure ya were certain about this," Jazz whispered and wrapped his arms around Prowl's neck, pulling the Datsun's face closer to his own until their lip components brushed against each other. "I know these days have been hard on ya..."
Prowl wasn't in the mood to talk, however, and communicated this to Jazz through pressing their lips together, kissing the saboteur in that way he knew could make Jazz's knees go weak --it was a good thing they were laying on the berth. "All I know at the moment," Prowl trailed as he brushed the tip of his glossa along Jazz's very kissable lips, "Is that I want you. I want you so badly." Prowl growled the last part and pressed his lips against Jazz's once more with added urgency.
If Jazz had any intention, as minimal as it could have been, to object to Prowl's desires, it was quickly melted away by the sensual growl in his mate's declaration and subsequent kiss. The Porsche reciprocated the gesture with as much passion, feeling his own need for Prowl spiking as Prowl's glossa pushed its way into his mouth, seeking the saboteur's.
Jazz groaned suggestively into the kiss pulling Prowl as close as he could manage, a leg brushed against the Datsun's side, prompting a shudder from the tactician. Claw tipped hands quickly found their way over Jazz's frame, seeking, exploring. The Porsche gasped into the kiss and arched against Prowl's frame as a particularly sensitive area was graced with the touch of those sharp claws. Little licks and laps were dispensed upon the tactician's glossa, pleading silently for more of his touch, and Prowl wasn't one to disappoint.
Jazz's hands were not still, seeking the places over his mate's modified frame that could give him pleasure, eventually sliding back to the Datsun's tail, stroking the base of it with teasing but gentle circles over it. Prowl gasped and tensed, pushing away from Jazz just a little before a wicked smile spread over his lip components, baring his fangs in what Jazz could only describe as one of the most predatory and sexy smiles Prowl ever addressed at him. He had no time to think about the fact for long, because Prowl was quickly over him again, devouring his mouth with his own, glossa mapping out the cavity, brushing over dental plating and Jazz's newly acquired fangs. The kiss, however turned out to be far too brief for the Porsche's liking. But Prowl had other plans.
Jazz gasped as he found himself forced to lay on his side over the berth, feeling Prowl's weight shift as the taller mech's glossa began to run over his whole frame in small, but decidedly sensual licks. The saboteur groaned and shivered as realization dawned on him: Prowl was bathing him as if he were a cat, glossa running in small laps all over him, and thorough mech as Prowl was, he left virtually no part of his plating unattended.
The small licks ignited the sensory nodes under the plating, making each little brush of that glossa tingle so pleasantly. Yet, the contact of the glossa was brief, efficient and methodical in every stroke. Jazz arched in pleasure, digging the claws of a hand in the nearby side table, trying desperately to hold onto something as Prowl's attentions drifted down to his middle and legs. Jazz tried to reach for Prowl's helm, intending to at least return some of the affection or tease his love's ears, but the tactician batted his hand away, growling lowly in warning.
Once satisfied with his work over Jazz's side, Prowl shifted his weight again, forcing Jazz to lay face down and his ministrations renewed over the smaller mech's back. Prowl nibbled playfully on the tip of Jazz's cape's neck then fidgeted with his roof, unlocking it gently and reached underneath to extract Jazz's door panels. Jazz choked a cry of pleasure as Prowl began to 'clean' a door wing, glossa running along the plating while a claw-tipped hand stroked the inside of the wing, massaging and squeezing gently the soft leather of the interiors.
The saboteur cried out his love's name, bucking under Prowl's weight as his sensitive door panels were assaulted by Prowl's glossa and hand. The tactician pressed his claws a bit harder against the soft leather, racking them along the interiors, being careful not to damage the material and therefor cause pain to his mate. His free hand moved down along Jazz's back, claws running agonizingly slowly along the roof, tracing the racing stripes as he trailed down, stopping at the Porsche's black aft, cupping it on his free hand before he groped it playfully. Prowl laughed softly when Jazz yelped a little in surprise.
"Glad t'see ya're findin' this funny...!" Jazz muttered and jumped again when he felt Prowl trace the tip of a claw over the seam where the back of a speaker panel joined his hip, earning a pleasured groan from his mate. Jazz whimpered and tried to turn around, determined to give Prowl some due payback, but before he could even begin to turn around he froze, feeling familiar lip components pressing in a chaste kiss against his aft.
Prowl gave him no chance to even begin to process what he had done, the tip of his glossa was now dipping into the joint between his aft and his leg, teasing the servos, wiring and circuitry partly exposed in that area. One white clawed hand pressed against Jazz's back, keeping the saboteur against the bunk while Prowl's mouth explored, and lapped the joint. His free hand was now trailing along the back of Jazz's thigh, stopping at the back of his knee joint to torment that area as well, reducing Jazz to a writhing, purring Porsche against the recharge berth. Prowl's hand continued its path down, stopping at Jazz's spoiler located on the back of his leg, stroking it and tracing its edges while the Datsun's mouth bestowed its attention over the other leg's joint.
Jazz lost all sense of time while Prowl practically bathed his body, murmuring somewhat coherent words of encouragement while he tried to return as much of the pleasure he was receiving. Prowl turned Jazz to lay on his back once more, this time bringing his attention to the blue panels on Jazz's hips, pressing his glossa against the cool glass while the tip of a claw racked gently against the other panel. Jazz's hips bucked under the assault and this time Prowl allowed his mate to sit up a little, one black clawed hand coming to rest against the back of his helm to stroke it with frenzy while the other went straight for his own door wings. Prowl purred against the blue panel shuddering under Jazz's touch over his wings.
Jazz's impassioned cries filled the room in what Prowl considered a rather erotic song, which only served to encourage him further and he scrapped the panel with his fangs, his tail began to trash about under Jazz's own touches. The Porsche's hand that was not busy with a door wing massaged the back of Prowl's neck, sliding under the edge of the helm to play with what wiring he found there. Jazz's own mouth was busy now nibbling and lapping on Prowl's chevron, suckling on the tips carefully before he kissed his way to an ear in between pleas for more of Prowl's touch, begging to be pushed into overload before he bit down on an ear, hard enough to make Prowl tense and cry in pain.
Jazz moaned and whimpered Prowl's name, then lapped gently and apologetically on the abused ear, whispering words of love and promises to be there for the tactician always, regardless of the situation. Prowl pushed himself away from Jazz's groin to claim his mate's mouth in a searing kiss, whispering his own words of love and promises to be there for Jazz in between little kisses, suckling on the smaller black and white's bottom lip, hands caressing his beloved at a frantic pace, driving Jazz closer and closer into that overload until the saboteur couldn't hold back anymore, crying out his overload so loud Prowl was sure someone had heard him, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Jazz's overload triggered his own, crying out his love's name before he all but collapsed on top of Jazz's frame.
Prowl groaned softly against Jazz's neck wiring, nuzzling under his chin, feeling particularly affectionate after their love making. Jazz moaned softly, still fairly sensitive after that intense climax. They stayed like that for a while, neither could tell exactly how long, but they did not care. Time was not important when they were relishing on each other's presence and the love they shared for each other. Jazz reached lazily for one of the cubes on the small table, nudging Prowl to sit up a little so he could drink it.
Prowl grunted softly, finding himself a little too comfortable on his current position to want to abandon it.
"C'mon, Prowler, ya need ta refuel, babe." Jazz nipped lovingly on one of Prowl's ears, trying to coax his mate into accepting the cube. Prowl sighed heavily and pushed himself up a little, accepting the cube he swallowed the fluid in one quick gulp, handing it back to Jazz and proceeded to drop himself back on the berth, no longer on top of Jazz but still resting his head in the space between jazz's neck and shoulder.
"Ya know," Jazz drawled as he shifted his position to lay better against his beloved while still allowing Prowl to rest his head against his neck. "I think I could get used t'this." Jazz brushed the tip of a black claw over Prowl's cheek.
"No way in the pit," Prowl mumbled drowsily, already beginning to fall into a deep, much needed recharge.
Jazz laughed softly, watching his mate fall into recharge. "We'll see, Prowler. We'll see."