Challenge day 12
Title: It's More than a Feeling - What you don't know... (12/30)
Day: Sept 12
Prompt: "Yes, I know I said that, but I actually meant…"
Verse: G1 AUish
Rating: Heavily R?
Words: 2140
Other Characters:
Warnings: A bit smutty. Food kink, light bondage, domination? I'm not even sure. Let's just go with a few fetishes there. Nothing too heavy I think.
Summary: At first Jazz admitted the attraction was a fetish of his own.
Notes: For the Sexy September challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy Anniversary to all in the pxj community, here's to many more to come. This piece is not beta-read so feel free to correct me. Belated again, my electric power has been gone for long periods of time lately so I could not properly submit this until now. Be prepared by a 'spam' by yours truly while I catch up. This piece goes along with my A look can be deceiving. A Touch can be lethal, verse. One day I'll finish that, I swear.
Jazz woke up in a mild state of alarm. He couldn’t remember what had happened when he entered his and Prowl’s quarters and his sudden black out was plenty of reason for concern to begin with, when he found his arms to be bound his alarm became outright worry, were they attacked? Where was Prowl?
“Took your time, mm?”
Jazz looked to his left and found a pair of familiar maroon colored legs. He groaned and relaxed against the cold floor. “Ya need t’stop doin’ that. Next time would it kill ya t’ask if I wanna come t’play?”
“Were is the fun in that?” the legs drew closer and closer until they were at mere inches of Jazz’s face. “Besides I thought it was you who wanted me to come out and play?”
Jazz shuddered at the delicious purr in that voice and brushed the faintest of kisses to the black foot within his reach. “Mmm...”
The mech knelt down and brushed a finger along Jazz’s roof. “I believe you said we needed some...what did you call it? Play a little rough?”
Jazz turned his face to look up at the dark face of his lover. “I know I said that but I actually meant somethin’ like pullin’ out the handcuffs.”
“You weren’t specific...” red optics glinted in the dim lit room as dark lips brushed along a stubby helm horn. “...beloved.”
Jazz purred and shuddered, the voice of his lover always sent shivers through his systems. “Ain’t complainin’.”
“You aren’t?”
“Okay, not complainin’ too much.” Jazz watched his lover as the maroon mech helped to roll him around so he was laying on his back. “Now that ya got me, though, whatcha gonna do wit’ me?”
“Whatever comes to mind.” The mech turned around and headed for the desk where he had a collection of items spread out. Jazz watched his lover running his optics hidden behind the visor along the maroon, indigo and silver frame of Prowl -or Silverstreak as he was code named when he was decked in his Decepticon appearance. For as long as their relationship had existed Silverstreak had been an active part of his and Prowl’s relationship.
At first Jazz admitted the attraction was to a little fetish of his own, finding a safe way to fulfill a fantasy of giving up control and power to a Decepticon without putting in danger countless lives, where he could just give in when in a real scenario he’d fight to death against an interrogator or the will of any Decepticon captors he’d ever faced. Silverstreak was the Decepticon he could surrender to, and get off on it.
But as time went by Jazz realized it was growing to become more, Silverstreak was Prowl’s way to give an outlet to his darker side in a manner of speaking, a way to do the things the ‘good cop’ would not so readily agree with. It was not the good cop playing to be the bad cop, but the bad cop trying to be good. When they came to Earth, Jazz saw Prowl’s Decepticon disguise as something similar to the shy and goody two shoes librarian that became a dominatrix at night, it wasn’t fully accurate, though -Prowl had bound him and ‘faced him senseless more times as himself, than he had as Silverstreak-but it was the closest he could come to link his behavior to.
In a way, Jazz believed that Prowl used his Decepticon disguise as a way to dominate not his mate, but perhaps a way to tell himself the Decepticon badge he wore as Silverstreak was but a mere facade for the true fierceness of the Autobot behind the disguise, and a reminder that Decepticon persona came to be for a reason and the good Prowl had a long way ahead of himself to fulfill his personal mission. The reminder that Silverstreak did not come to be by his own choice, but became one half of his salvation from the void of insanity that threatened to consume him. Jazz knew with no little amount of pride, that he was the other half.
Jazz loved everything about Prowl and found so much excitement whenever Prowl would let his ‘darker side’ come out to play, he could fight back, resist, not give in right away, and yet give complete control of himself to Prowl knowing that his lover would take care of him after the sweetest of tortures. When he was Prowl, there was tenderness, playfulness even some deviousness. But when Prowl was Silverstreak all these things took to a more wicked and methodical mixture of coolness and passion. He was not afraid to hurt Jazz for Jazz’s own pleasure, he didn’t need to be physical either, Prowl knew how to play him with a vicious and cruel sweetness that could have Jazz begging for release in a matter of minutes.
Different cubes of energon were laid close to him and Jazz realized he had not refueled before his lover decided an impromptu session of their own brand of foreplay was in order. Jazz braced himself for the sweet torture he knew was to come. On Cybertron energon was so precious and hard to come by that the idea of using it for their love making was like a frivolous decadence, but neither of them could resist it when it became a favored toy to play with before or during their intercourse.
On Earth its very abundance was reason enough to incorporate it more often into their play time, specially when Prowl donned his Decepticon disguise. “Ya really are into th’mood aren’t ya?” Jazz purred, watching Prowl sort through the cubes, there was an orange cube that was a ‘flavored’ mix of sorts containing different types of natural earth oils mixed in to give it a different taste but was a hardly any more potent than mid grade was. Prowl glared at him and Jazz knew the game was on.
“Do you remember? How rare energon used to be back in Cybertron? How we’d allow not a drop to go to waste?” Prowl murmured tipping the orange cube over his hand, allowing a single droplet to fall over a clawed finger, bringing it to his lips to lap away the neon fluid. Jazz watched his lover purposefully, he knew he was being baited on and his role was to resist, which in itself was a hard task because Prowl conveniently waited until he was quite a bit low in his reserves to make him hunger for the energon.
“I remember.” Jazz muttered, sitting up and wiggling to ease a little the position of his bound arms as he watched Prowl literally play with his food. A sight that by this point in their relationship managed to turn him on faster than he would have liked to admit. “Not the finest high grade but always did its job.”
“Yet energon is so abundant here, we could very well be swimming on it.” Prowl parted his lips, having angled his head in a way Jazz could see the action without obstructions. Jazz watched with rapt attention as Prowl tipped the cube again, following the descent of the flowing fluid from its receptacle to Prowl’s parted lips part of it splashing over his lips, a drop or two falling over his cheek or to his jaw and, oh, how Jazz wished he could go there and lick it clean.
Still, Jazz held back allowing that streak of defiance to rule him and make him fight back and make Prowl work for the pleasure of seeing his mate overloading at his feet. Prowl seemed to ignore him for the most part, licking his own lips clean and bringing his clawed fingers to smear away the energon. “You must be low on energon.” He commented off hand as he finished the orange cube. Jazz cursed inwards, knowing now he wouldn’t get to taste that mix.
“Now why would I tell ya that?” Jazz’s defiance was in full swing, though, playing the field just as they both expected.
“There’s so much here, I thought I might share this abundance with you, Autobot.” Prowl murmured, slipping further into his Silverstreak role. “Under certain conditions.”
“Thanks but I’m fine here.”
Prowl shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jazz watched as Prowl opened a small (for their standards) tin can that made him bite back a groan. How in Primus’ name did Prowl get his claws on energon sour crystals? The name crystals wasn’t completely correct, for they weren’t fully hard crystals but rather a gel like packet wrapped in a solid layer that melted away under the temperatures of their intakes. Jazz used to love those things back in Cybertron and had not sampled one in...probably before Earth began to harbor life. This was so not fair and Jazz fond himself divided between keeping his defiance up or crawl to Prowl for a taste of the confections.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen a pair of these, haven’t you?” Prowl drawled picking one of the translucent, pearlescent confections bringing it to his lips. “Do you even remember what they taste like, Jazz?” Prowl didn’t take the goody into his mouth, rather just brushed it against his lips. “I’m sure you would like to have one, wouldn’t you?”
“I ain’t goin’ t’beg.” Jazz’s words were out before he even realized he was speaking. Defiance was it, then.
“Beg?” Prowl chuckled. “Why would I make you beg? You can have one if you’re a good little Autobot.”
Jazz shuddered, finding it hard to hold back how affected he was by everything Prowl was doing, the carefully modulated tone of his voice, his choice of words, every little motion was methodical and purposeful. All combined for the sake of driving him to sweet and tortuous madness, and he was becoming more and more turned on by it all.
“You really must be feeling hungry, mm?” Prowl set down the candy and picked a blue cube with some low grade. “Come to me Jazz. You can have all you want...all you need to do is come and take it.”
“An’ submit to ya.” Jazz looked away trying to avoid watching Prowl feast on the energon while his own levels were dropping with the excitement and his body’s temperature raising steadily forcing his cooling system to kick into life and thus burning more of the energon he was already low on.
“I have all the time in the world, Jazz.” Prowl murmured while he picked the candy he had been playing with before, dipping it on the blue cube before he brought it to his lips, taking the coated confection in his mouth. Jazz cursed himself when he side glanced to look at him, catching a decent view of Prowl as he sampled the confection.
“I hate ya.” Jazz shuddered finding his resolve weakening along with his body but still clinging desperately to whatever amount of his pride and defiant nature he could grasp. Jazz’s levels dropped dangerously and he knew either the game was over since Prowl wouldn’t allow him to starve himself to stasis, or his ‘Decepticon’ lover would make sure Jazz would get enough energon to continue functioning without being sated.
Jazz leaned forward to topple over, falling with his cheek against the cold ground, nuzzling it, taking comfort on its refreshing coolness. “Jazz, Jazz...always so stubborn.” Prowl’s footsteps could be heard and Jazz groaned softly, watching that black foot against his face, a part of him wanted to kiss it, another wanted to bite on it despite the futility of the act.
“You know I always get why I want. Must you make it so hard for yourself, beloved?” Prowl purred and brushed his lips along a face plate paler than his own.
“Can’t let th’game end too soon, now can I?” Jazz muttered softly, feeling so exhausted and yet still so heated.
“Apparently.” Prowl reached for the cube of blue energon and making sure Jazz could see him, he poured some of it on his cupped hand. “You’re thirsty aren’t you? So hot...and this energon is so cool...”
“I really hate ya,” Jazz groaned weakly looking at that energon with longing.
“You say that as if I cared.” Prowl brought his hand down to Jazz’s face and Jazz could no longer hold himself back, dignity be damned. He raised his head as much as he could and he lapped the cool energon like a kitten would its milk.
“Good mech.” Prowl smirked, wicked red optics flashing in satisfaction as he leaned in to murmur against a sensitive horn. “I believe you deserve a reward.”
Jazz shuddered at the vibration of Prowl’s voice against his horn, finding he no longer cared about anything other than submit to what Prowl decided to to with him. Prowl helped Jazz up enough to lead him to the place where he’d laid out the spread of energon. Prowl fed him the different types of energon he had brought over, sometimes just tipping the contents of a cube directly into his mouth, some times covering his claws with the fluid for Jazz to lap and lick clean.
Jazz’s ‘prize’ came when Prowl placed one of the confections between his lips leaning over for Jazz to take the confection from him with his own lips, as his arms were still bound. Jazz was only too happy to take the goody and savor the slow, sensual kiss that came as bonus. He was so worked over and excited that the kiss and the taste of the candy dissolving in his mouth was all it took to drive him to a first overload, his cry of pleasure being swallowed by Prowl’s quite talented mouth.
Jazz slumped against Prowl, watching his mate’s paint job dissolve from maroon to black and white and the red optics turn to blue. “Are you alright?” Prowl asked as he held Jazz to himself, reaching with his free hand to undo the restrains.
“Yeah...jus’ a little tired.” Jazz snuggled against Prowl, smiling when he felt Prowl’s fingers rubbing at his wrists and slowly help him change his arms’ position.
“Good. Get some rest, then.” Prowl kissed Jazz’s forehead then looked down at him with a wicked smile, half of his frame shifting to his Decepticon colors. “Because this is just the beginning, beloved.”
Jazz just stared at him and thanked the powers that be that tomorrow was his day off.
Day: Sept 12
Prompt: "Yes, I know I said that, but I actually meant…"
Verse: G1 AUish
Rating: Heavily R?
Words: 2140
Other Characters:
Warnings: A bit smutty. Food kink, light bondage, domination? I'm not even sure. Let's just go with a few fetishes there. Nothing too heavy I think.
Summary: At first Jazz admitted the attraction was a fetish of his own.
Notes: For the Sexy September challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy Anniversary to all in the pxj community, here's to many more to come. This piece is not beta-read so feel free to correct me. Belated again, my electric power has been gone for long periods of time lately so I could not properly submit this until now. Be prepared by a 'spam' by yours truly while I catch up. This piece goes along with my A look can be deceiving. A Touch can be lethal, verse. One day I'll finish that, I swear.
Jazz woke up in a mild state of alarm. He couldn’t remember what had happened when he entered his and Prowl’s quarters and his sudden black out was plenty of reason for concern to begin with, when he found his arms to be bound his alarm became outright worry, were they attacked? Where was Prowl?
“Took your time, mm?”
Jazz looked to his left and found a pair of familiar maroon colored legs. He groaned and relaxed against the cold floor. “Ya need t’stop doin’ that. Next time would it kill ya t’ask if I wanna come t’play?”
“Were is the fun in that?” the legs drew closer and closer until they were at mere inches of Jazz’s face. “Besides I thought it was you who wanted me to come out and play?”
Jazz shuddered at the delicious purr in that voice and brushed the faintest of kisses to the black foot within his reach. “Mmm...”
The mech knelt down and brushed a finger along Jazz’s roof. “I believe you said we needed some...what did you call it? Play a little rough?”
Jazz turned his face to look up at the dark face of his lover. “I know I said that but I actually meant somethin’ like pullin’ out the handcuffs.”
“You weren’t specific...” red optics glinted in the dim lit room as dark lips brushed along a stubby helm horn. “...beloved.”
Jazz purred and shuddered, the voice of his lover always sent shivers through his systems. “Ain’t complainin’.”
“You aren’t?”
“Okay, not complainin’ too much.” Jazz watched his lover as the maroon mech helped to roll him around so he was laying on his back. “Now that ya got me, though, whatcha gonna do wit’ me?”
“Whatever comes to mind.” The mech turned around and headed for the desk where he had a collection of items spread out. Jazz watched his lover running his optics hidden behind the visor along the maroon, indigo and silver frame of Prowl -or Silverstreak as he was code named when he was decked in his Decepticon appearance. For as long as their relationship had existed Silverstreak had been an active part of his and Prowl’s relationship.
At first Jazz admitted the attraction was to a little fetish of his own, finding a safe way to fulfill a fantasy of giving up control and power to a Decepticon without putting in danger countless lives, where he could just give in when in a real scenario he’d fight to death against an interrogator or the will of any Decepticon captors he’d ever faced. Silverstreak was the Decepticon he could surrender to, and get off on it.
But as time went by Jazz realized it was growing to become more, Silverstreak was Prowl’s way to give an outlet to his darker side in a manner of speaking, a way to do the things the ‘good cop’ would not so readily agree with. It was not the good cop playing to be the bad cop, but the bad cop trying to be good. When they came to Earth, Jazz saw Prowl’s Decepticon disguise as something similar to the shy and goody two shoes librarian that became a dominatrix at night, it wasn’t fully accurate, though -Prowl had bound him and ‘faced him senseless more times as himself, than he had as Silverstreak-but it was the closest he could come to link his behavior to.
In a way, Jazz believed that Prowl used his Decepticon disguise as a way to dominate not his mate, but perhaps a way to tell himself the Decepticon badge he wore as Silverstreak was but a mere facade for the true fierceness of the Autobot behind the disguise, and a reminder that Decepticon persona came to be for a reason and the good Prowl had a long way ahead of himself to fulfill his personal mission. The reminder that Silverstreak did not come to be by his own choice, but became one half of his salvation from the void of insanity that threatened to consume him. Jazz knew with no little amount of pride, that he was the other half.
Jazz loved everything about Prowl and found so much excitement whenever Prowl would let his ‘darker side’ come out to play, he could fight back, resist, not give in right away, and yet give complete control of himself to Prowl knowing that his lover would take care of him after the sweetest of tortures. When he was Prowl, there was tenderness, playfulness even some deviousness. But when Prowl was Silverstreak all these things took to a more wicked and methodical mixture of coolness and passion. He was not afraid to hurt Jazz for Jazz’s own pleasure, he didn’t need to be physical either, Prowl knew how to play him with a vicious and cruel sweetness that could have Jazz begging for release in a matter of minutes.
Different cubes of energon were laid close to him and Jazz realized he had not refueled before his lover decided an impromptu session of their own brand of foreplay was in order. Jazz braced himself for the sweet torture he knew was to come. On Cybertron energon was so precious and hard to come by that the idea of using it for their love making was like a frivolous decadence, but neither of them could resist it when it became a favored toy to play with before or during their intercourse.
On Earth its very abundance was reason enough to incorporate it more often into their play time, specially when Prowl donned his Decepticon disguise. “Ya really are into th’mood aren’t ya?” Jazz purred, watching Prowl sort through the cubes, there was an orange cube that was a ‘flavored’ mix of sorts containing different types of natural earth oils mixed in to give it a different taste but was a hardly any more potent than mid grade was. Prowl glared at him and Jazz knew the game was on.
“Do you remember? How rare energon used to be back in Cybertron? How we’d allow not a drop to go to waste?” Prowl murmured tipping the orange cube over his hand, allowing a single droplet to fall over a clawed finger, bringing it to his lips to lap away the neon fluid. Jazz watched his lover purposefully, he knew he was being baited on and his role was to resist, which in itself was a hard task because Prowl conveniently waited until he was quite a bit low in his reserves to make him hunger for the energon.
“I remember.” Jazz muttered, sitting up and wiggling to ease a little the position of his bound arms as he watched Prowl literally play with his food. A sight that by this point in their relationship managed to turn him on faster than he would have liked to admit. “Not the finest high grade but always did its job.”
“Yet energon is so abundant here, we could very well be swimming on it.” Prowl parted his lips, having angled his head in a way Jazz could see the action without obstructions. Jazz watched with rapt attention as Prowl tipped the cube again, following the descent of the flowing fluid from its receptacle to Prowl’s parted lips part of it splashing over his lips, a drop or two falling over his cheek or to his jaw and, oh, how Jazz wished he could go there and lick it clean.
Still, Jazz held back allowing that streak of defiance to rule him and make him fight back and make Prowl work for the pleasure of seeing his mate overloading at his feet. Prowl seemed to ignore him for the most part, licking his own lips clean and bringing his clawed fingers to smear away the energon. “You must be low on energon.” He commented off hand as he finished the orange cube. Jazz cursed inwards, knowing now he wouldn’t get to taste that mix.
“Now why would I tell ya that?” Jazz’s defiance was in full swing, though, playing the field just as they both expected.
“There’s so much here, I thought I might share this abundance with you, Autobot.” Prowl murmured, slipping further into his Silverstreak role. “Under certain conditions.”
“Thanks but I’m fine here.”
Prowl shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jazz watched as Prowl opened a small (for their standards) tin can that made him bite back a groan. How in Primus’ name did Prowl get his claws on energon sour crystals? The name crystals wasn’t completely correct, for they weren’t fully hard crystals but rather a gel like packet wrapped in a solid layer that melted away under the temperatures of their intakes. Jazz used to love those things back in Cybertron and had not sampled one in...probably before Earth began to harbor life. This was so not fair and Jazz fond himself divided between keeping his defiance up or crawl to Prowl for a taste of the confections.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen a pair of these, haven’t you?” Prowl drawled picking one of the translucent, pearlescent confections bringing it to his lips. “Do you even remember what they taste like, Jazz?” Prowl didn’t take the goody into his mouth, rather just brushed it against his lips. “I’m sure you would like to have one, wouldn’t you?”
“I ain’t goin’ t’beg.” Jazz’s words were out before he even realized he was speaking. Defiance was it, then.
“Beg?” Prowl chuckled. “Why would I make you beg? You can have one if you’re a good little Autobot.”
Jazz shuddered, finding it hard to hold back how affected he was by everything Prowl was doing, the carefully modulated tone of his voice, his choice of words, every little motion was methodical and purposeful. All combined for the sake of driving him to sweet and tortuous madness, and he was becoming more and more turned on by it all.
“You really must be feeling hungry, mm?” Prowl set down the candy and picked a blue cube with some low grade. “Come to me Jazz. You can have all you want...all you need to do is come and take it.”
“An’ submit to ya.” Jazz looked away trying to avoid watching Prowl feast on the energon while his own levels were dropping with the excitement and his body’s temperature raising steadily forcing his cooling system to kick into life and thus burning more of the energon he was already low on.
“I have all the time in the world, Jazz.” Prowl murmured while he picked the candy he had been playing with before, dipping it on the blue cube before he brought it to his lips, taking the coated confection in his mouth. Jazz cursed himself when he side glanced to look at him, catching a decent view of Prowl as he sampled the confection.
“I hate ya.” Jazz shuddered finding his resolve weakening along with his body but still clinging desperately to whatever amount of his pride and defiant nature he could grasp. Jazz’s levels dropped dangerously and he knew either the game was over since Prowl wouldn’t allow him to starve himself to stasis, or his ‘Decepticon’ lover would make sure Jazz would get enough energon to continue functioning without being sated.
Jazz leaned forward to topple over, falling with his cheek against the cold ground, nuzzling it, taking comfort on its refreshing coolness. “Jazz, Jazz...always so stubborn.” Prowl’s footsteps could be heard and Jazz groaned softly, watching that black foot against his face, a part of him wanted to kiss it, another wanted to bite on it despite the futility of the act.
“You know I always get why I want. Must you make it so hard for yourself, beloved?” Prowl purred and brushed his lips along a face plate paler than his own.
“Can’t let th’game end too soon, now can I?” Jazz muttered softly, feeling so exhausted and yet still so heated.
“Apparently.” Prowl reached for the cube of blue energon and making sure Jazz could see him, he poured some of it on his cupped hand. “You’re thirsty aren’t you? So hot...and this energon is so cool...”
“I really hate ya,” Jazz groaned weakly looking at that energon with longing.
“You say that as if I cared.” Prowl brought his hand down to Jazz’s face and Jazz could no longer hold himself back, dignity be damned. He raised his head as much as he could and he lapped the cool energon like a kitten would its milk.
“Good mech.” Prowl smirked, wicked red optics flashing in satisfaction as he leaned in to murmur against a sensitive horn. “I believe you deserve a reward.”
Jazz shuddered at the vibration of Prowl’s voice against his horn, finding he no longer cared about anything other than submit to what Prowl decided to to with him. Prowl helped Jazz up enough to lead him to the place where he’d laid out the spread of energon. Prowl fed him the different types of energon he had brought over, sometimes just tipping the contents of a cube directly into his mouth, some times covering his claws with the fluid for Jazz to lap and lick clean.
Jazz’s ‘prize’ came when Prowl placed one of the confections between his lips leaning over for Jazz to take the confection from him with his own lips, as his arms were still bound. Jazz was only too happy to take the goody and savor the slow, sensual kiss that came as bonus. He was so worked over and excited that the kiss and the taste of the candy dissolving in his mouth was all it took to drive him to a first overload, his cry of pleasure being swallowed by Prowl’s quite talented mouth.
Jazz slumped against Prowl, watching his mate’s paint job dissolve from maroon to black and white and the red optics turn to blue. “Are you alright?” Prowl asked as he held Jazz to himself, reaching with his free hand to undo the restrains.
“Yeah...jus’ a little tired.” Jazz snuggled against Prowl, smiling when he felt Prowl’s fingers rubbing at his wrists and slowly help him change his arms’ position.
“Good. Get some rest, then.” Prowl kissed Jazz’s forehead then looked down at him with a wicked smile, half of his frame shifting to his Decepticon colors. “Because this is just the beginning, beloved.”
Jazz just stared at him and thanked the powers that be that tomorrow was his day off.