I need a gator-ade plzkthx
Title: The Weight of the World.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, Mech Seckz, Kinky stuff?
Pairings: Silverstreak (Prowl) x Jazz
Characters: Jazz, Silverstreak (Prowl).
Summary: When Jazz returned from a long mission, all he wanted was a cube of energon and a good recharge. Someone had other plans.
Notes: vericus claimed to be sorely lacking in the smut department. sbx mentioned bondage. Prowl Silverstreak demanded akshun. My brain's gonna need a gator-ade after this. I think it melted. It's not a direct part of 'A Look Can Be Deceiving. A Touch Can Be Lethal'. But it's set in that continuity. I tried a slightly different approach with this, I apologize in advance for any inspiration I might have drawn from any of our wonderful writers in the TF community. Now, if you excuse me I need to like, feel my brain again. *collapses*
This song is played at some part of the fic (Involves Jazz doing something~). I suggest you play it while you read. ERA - Enae Volare Mezzo
Thanks to okami_myrrhibis for beta reading this for me.
Jazz dragged his weight along the halls of the Autobot Headquarters, feeling weary and exhausted after a very long mission. It had been a relatively simple mission, but the extended period of time he spent there, and the very small amounts of rest he could muster through its duration took its toll on the saboteur.
After handing an initial report to Optimus Prime, Jazz was allowed to return to his quarters with two orns off-duty. The visored mech was intending to make full use of those two orns, half tempted to spend at least one in recharge. And speaking of recharge, all he wanted at that moment was to reach his quarters, down some energon and drop on his berth for some well needed recharge time.
However, things weren't always bound to happen the way Jazz wanted, and no sooner had he crossed the threshold of his quarters, and the doors had barely shut down, a strong arm wrapped around the saboteur's neck. Jazz had little time to react, as his hands shot up to try to pry that arm away, something clicked against the side of his neck, sending a small shock through his systems - and the world was no more.
Jazz's body never made it to the ground. The dark maroon arm that had wrapped around the saboteur's neck was now holding him carefully against the frame of another mech. A second arm reached towards Jazz's legs, and a claw-tipped purple hand ran slowly along the saboteur's thigh, deliberately savoring the moment before sliding under the limp mech's knees, taking the unconscious saboteur to the berth placed at the other end of the room.
The maroon mech set Jazz down carefully in the berth, brushing the tips of his claws along the plates of Jazz's handsome face. With a soft, low chuckle the maroon mech discarded the shock device and headed for the small desk on the other side of the room, sub spacing several items he laid and arranged over the desk.
The mech marked as a Decepticon smiled to himself while he sorted through the items, and picked up two pieces. He headed back to the berth where Jazz lay offline and reached for his hands, securing a set of special handcuffs around the saboteur's wrists. The Decepticon then reached to wrap a dark blindfold around Jazz's visor, securing it tightly but not enough to be uncomfortable.
The Decepticon turned around, heading back to the desk where he picked a small container filled with data chips, shuffling through the chips until he found the one he was looking for. The maroon mech loaded the chip into the small music player Jazz kept in his quarters, but didn't play the contents just yet.
Instead, the Decepticon picked up a large energon cube and poured some of its contents into a couple of smaller cubes before he subspaced it again. The maroon mech sat down in the chair of the desk, taking one of the cubes, and sipping a little of its contents while he sorted and arranged the different items he still had laying on the desk, glancing in the saboteur's direction before a small smile crept into his lip components again. He was looking forward to the moment Jazz would online again.
--------------------
Jazz groaned softly, and began to move a little, making soft sounds that were the usual indication he was slowly coming online. When Jazz powered up his optics, he felt his primary fuel pump skip a beat as no image registered through his optics. He tried switching to night vision, then to infrared, and then to all four of his visor's specialized ranges but all returned absolutely no visual - Jazz was frightened.
The black and white mech tried to raise a hand to his face but found his arms were bound together, and panic kicked in.
Jazz was about to try and reach up again, trying to suppress an agitated noise, but the feeling of hands wrapping around his middle, and a body behind his own made him stop and turn his head to 'look' at whoever was behind him.
"Little Jazz is anxious? That blindfold is made with a material designed to block six different kinds of specialized vision."
Jazz shuddered involuntarily. The unexpected closeness and the low, sultry tone of that voice so close to his audio sent tremors over his frame. At least, though, he felt a little more at ease, recognizing that voice immediately. "What the slag is this?" Jazz asked with a shaky voice.
"I'm the one asking the questions here, Jazz."
Jazz shuddered once more, being reminded through this unorthodox method how sharp and sensitive his hearing became when he was deprived of his sight. The feeling of claw-tipped digits brushing idly over his mid section clued the saboteur about the current identity of his captor.
"Now," Silverstreak whispered so very close to Jazz's audio receptor. "These restrains are special. If you attempt to raise your arms too much, you'll receive a small discharge that'll inhibit the motor function of your arms for a few kliks."
Jazz shuddered again, not exactly sure of what was happening but decided to be obedient for now, and not test his bonds. He felt Silverstreak's hands retreat and the weight of his body shift. It was only by grace of the sensitive sensory net contained within the two stubby horns protruding from his helmet that Jazz could tell his captor had left the berth and was walking away. The saboteur pushed himself to a sitting position, using his enhanced hearing to try to get any idea of what his captor was doing.
He could hear the sounds of objects being moved around at the distance, and with what sensory information his horns were able to provide, Jazz guessed Silverstreak was looking for something in his desk.
"Did you know you have some very interesting dreams, Jazz?" Silverstreak asked, and Jazz could almost see the smirk on his lip components.
"I do?" the saboteur asked innocently, still feeling weary and disconcerted.
"Oh, you do." Silverstreak's smile grew a little and he stalked back to Jazz with a red laser nightstick in his hand. "You're very vocal, too."
Jazz had the decency of looking embarrassed when he realized what the maroon Decepticon was talking about. A soft chuckle indicated to him Silverstreak was standing before him, looking down at him. "Your voice, Jazz, is the most delightful sound to ever grace my audio receptors."
Jazz shuddered, the sultry quality of his captor's voice along with his currently oversensitized hearing were doing a fine job to arouse him despite the awkwardness of his situation.
"I want to hear that sweet voice of yours pleading, and begging me."
Now Jazz was certain Silverstreak was kneeling in front of him. "What makes ya think I'll give ya that pleasure?"
Silverstreak chuckled softly and brushed the tip of a claw along the back of Jazz's leg, watching the other mech shudder. "You will. But if you want to resist, go ahead --I rather enjoy the challenge."
Jazz felt a streak of defiance growing on him. He may be blinded and bound, but that didn't mean he would give in so easily to his captor's desires. If Silverstreak wanted a challenge, Jazz was going to give him a challenge.
Jazz heard a soft clicking sound, and the room was immediately filled with music. The saboteur raised an optic ridge - he hadn't expected this. Jazz had to admit, however, the music was rather soothing, a soft but rhythmic beat that produced a very low but steady vibration against his horns. The saboteur had to bit back a moan. Just the sound of the music filtering through his audio receptors, and the soft sound waves brushing his horns were unexpectedly stimulating. "Cheater..." Jazz breathed softly.
"I thought you enjoyed music, Jazz." the maroon Decepticon chuckled with amusement, watching the slightly smaller mech trying to fight back the effect the rhythmic beat was having on him.
"Shut up!" the saboteur tried his best to ignore the music, trying to focus his hearing on something else, but the soft music drowned any other sounds within his vicinity. The music was oddly sensual but also relaxing, it was almost too much of a good thing for a mech like Jazz.
Jazz pondered his options, having given up trying to ignore the music. His only solution was to stop the sweet torment by stopping the music altogether. He tried to calculate the location of the player, using his hearing and the neural net in his horns, and raised his hands slowly with intention of using his magnetic field to knock the player away.
"I don't think so." The maroon Decepticon stood up quickly and pressed the tip of the nightstick against Jazz' shoulder, releasing a small electric charge that spread across the whole arm. Jazz cried out softly and jerked away from the instrument, and his arms fell limp on his lap.
"What the slag was that?!" Jazz turned to where he could feel Silverstreak was currently standing.
"Laser nightstick," the Decepticon replied matter-of-fact.
"I don't think I'm likin' the direction this is goin'," Jazz admitted, feeling genuinely uneasy now.
"Is that so?" Purple clawed digits wrapped gently around the Autobot's chin, "You know you can end this, Jazz."
Jazz shuddered violently, knowing what the other mech was implying, and that streak of defiance surged anew. "Ya ain't goin' t'hear me beg."
"Very well then."
The saboteur braced himself, expecting a second electric discharge. Instead, a hand reached for his arm, pulling him up firmly, dragging him several steps away from the recharge berth, closer to the music player, and thus closer to the source of the delightful sensations the music and its vibration were producing on him.
Jazz couldn't hold back a soft whimper while a shiver ran through his frame, his plating beginning to heat up steadily. The vibration of the sound waves against his horns was becoming intoxicating, so pleasant, so... so good.
The Autobot made a soft little sound when the music ended abruptly, and with it that delicious torture he was beginning to enjoy. His disappointment was short-lived, however, and a new melody played, a little more upbeat but still following a similar style to the previous melody.
Jazz felt the arms of his captor wrapping loosely around his waist, and his chest plate pressed firmly against his back. "You like this, don't you?" Silverstreak whispered softly against Jazz's audio. All Jazz could do was nod and whimper softly, surrendering to the sensation. "Dance, Jazz."
The saboteur moaned but complied, bringing his hands to his chest, and slowly beginning to sway his body, following the beat of the music as much as he could while still held in the loose embrace of the Decepticon behind. The song gained in beat, and Silverstreak's hold around his waist loosened, coming to rest his hands against his hips, allowing the black and white mech to move more freely.
The vibration of the sound waves and the clawed digits now tracing his sides were driving Jazz to the peak of his arousal. Driving him so close, yet not quite far enough to reach overload, it was a delicious torture, and, despite himself, Jazz found he was enjoying it.
Silverstreak's lip components brushed against Jazz's shoulder, prompting a whimpering moan from the smaller mech. With his vision gone his tactile sense improved as well, and with his plating as oversensitized as it was in this stage of arousal, that caress felt ten times more intense.
"Primus...!" Jazz breathed, pressing himself back against his captor, trying to feel more of the other mech while his body moved gently to the beat of the melody. The feeling of Silverstreak's body moving slowly along with his own made Jazz whimper in delight, he wanted those claw-tipped hands to move over his chassis, to touch him. He wanted to feel that body rubbing against his own, and those lips currently brushing against the lower edge of his helm to do more than dispense just feather touches.
But he wasn't going to ask for it. It would be too easy to just give in and let his captor have his way, and Jazz knew he could stand more than this, at least for a while.
Silverstreak swayed with him, raising the volume of the music just a little more, and Jazz cried out softly when the vibration grew in strength, tormenting his horns with the sensorial input that almost made his knees fail him. So engrossed with the delicious vibration gracing his horns, and the delightful sensation the music produced in his audios, Jazz could barely register the noise of his internal fans trying so desperately to cool him down.
Jazz was on the verge of overload, and yet the music couldn't stimulate him further; he knew he needed Silverstreak's intervention, his bound limbs restricting what he could touch, and the maroon mech behind him was quick to stop him if he attempted to touch his bumper and headlights. Still, he didn't want to beg. He didn't want to give in to his tormentor's desire.
"Say it, Jazz," Silverstreak whispered against his audio once more, and Jazz couldn't help but toss his head back with a whimpering moan, but no plea came from his vocal processor. The maroon mech chuckled softly. "What a stubborn mech you are."
Jazz disregarded the other mech's words, but shivered in pleasure at the sound of that husky voice against his sensitive receptor, feeling his need for overload kicking up a notch. His plating was heating up so much that his horns were picking up the raise of temperature and sending overheating warnings to his systems.
"You're as stubborn as you're beautiful, Jazz," the saboteur heard the other mech's voice with a more familiar, and kinder tone taking over.
Before Jazz could say anything, the tip of a claw brushed slowly against one of his horns, tracing the appendage from base to tip. A choked cry was followed by the wild flaring of Jazz's energy field when his overload hit him before he collapsed offline.
Silverstreak caught him once more and set him down in the ground gently. "The game isn't over, yet." The maroon mech's lip components curved in a gentler smile as he sat on the ground against the desk, holding Jazz against him and watching the slightly smaller mech in his arms.
-----------------------------
Jazz groaned heavily as he came online once more, feeling disoriented once again after the powerful overload he had experienced. He groaned in annoyance when he realized he was still blind-folded, which only meant his captor was still lingering around. The black and white mech checked his internal chronometer to find out how long he had been offline and grumbled lightly at the results. Two joors to reboot was a clear sign of just how drained he had been if his overload had knocked him offline for that long. And to make things worse, he was still feeling rather drained, barely able to acknowledge he was half sitting.
"Welcome to the land of functioning parts."
Jazz groaned again and resisted the urge of slam his head against the nearest hard surface. Perhaps Silverstreak would bore of him if he offlined quickly this time. And drained as he was at that moment, the possibility didn't seem too farfetched.
Luck, however, was hardly on his side, and Jazz felt the edge of an energon cube pressed lightly against his lips.
"Drink," Silverstreak ordered.
Determined to make things as hard as he could for the Decepticon, Jazz tilted his head back as much as possible and turned it to the side lightly. His clear display of defiance earned him an amused chuckle. "Very well. If that's how you want to play..."
The saboteur shuddered lightly, not sure what to expect from his captor now. He could force him to drink the fluid through the electric charges of his nightstick, or perhaps force his mouth open in other just as painful ways. But once again, Silverstreak surprised him with his chosen course of action.
Jazz whimpered softly when the maroon mech's lips pressed against his own in a gentle kiss, and the saboteur realized all too soon why he was being kissed. He could feel the warm, slightly sticky energon remnants on Silverstreak's lip components. The Decepticon had taken a sip of the cube's contents and deliberately left traces of the fluid on his lips, traces he was now transferring to Jazz's lip components.
Despite his best efforts, the sweet scent of the fresh energon and the feeling of the fluid against his lip components made it hard for Jazz not to give in and taste the energon. Against his better judgment, the saboteur parted his lips just a little to taste the brew on his captor's lips and found himself quickly trying to clean any trace of the energon off Silverstreak's lip components, savoring the warm, mild brew.
The Decepticon chuckled softly and pulled away lightly, watching Jazz's now flustered face as the blinded mech's glossa cleaned all remnants of the fluid on his lips. The maroon mech pressed the cube to Jazz's lips, and smirked when all traces of resistance were discarded by the black and white mech, Jazz's black digits wrapped around his hand to steady the cube, drinking it's contents quickly but carefully.
Jazz shuddered visibly while he swallowed the sweet energon. It was a mild brew of high-grade, strong enough to give him a boost of energy but not enough to inebriate him right away. When the first cube was gone, Silverstreak pressed a second to the saboteur's lips who accepted it readily. Jazz didn't realize how low his energon levels were until he tasted the first few drops of the fluid.
"Satisfied?"
Jazz nodded lightly, letting go of his captor's hands. The saboteur wouldn't have minded a third cube, but he wasn't about to ask for more. It was bad enough he accepted the first two in the first place.
Silverstreak gathered the other mech on his arms, pulling him up to stand and laughing softly when Jazz had some difficulty standing on his own, and leaning a little against the Decepticon. "You're very, very stubborn, Jazz."
"Ain't that the truth," the saboteur turned his head a little to face the Decepticon.
"Even that stubbornness must have a limit, and I'm eager to find it," Silverstreak spoke softly against Jazz's audio, sending a new streak of shivers running over the black and white mech's body. "You know what I found while you were out?"
"Should I care?" Jazz tilted his head away from Silverstreak's, realizing for the first time there was still music playing in the room but to a much lower volume, far more bearable for his heightened senses. The vibration was but a gentle caress to his horns, far more soothing than stimulating.
"I think you should," Silverstreak replied and brushed his lip components against the back of Jazz's neck. One hand wrapped around Jazz's waist again, and the other brushed that accursed nightstick along his side in a deliberately slow but teasing motion. "Did you know your hands are extremely sensitive?"
At that, Jazz froze for a moment, half wondering what Silverstreak had been up to while he was offline, but decided he really didn't want to know. Instinctively, the saboteur closed his hands into fists to protect the preternaturally sensitive fingertips.
Silverstreak's nightstick ran along Jazz's arm, brushing against the back of his hand, pressing firmly against the middle of it, releasing small electric pulses. It took all of the saboteur's might to remain standing, glad to have Silverstreak behind him to steady him.
After a few kliks of such pleasurable torture, Jazz couldn't help himself anymore and began to make and release fists, trying to fight back the pleasant sensation produced by the electric pulses coursing through his sensitive hands, the tips of his black digits felt so deliciously numb and tingly. Jazz could barely feel when Silverstreak began to lead him down to the ground, too engrossed in the feeling on his hands. Suddenly, Jazz wished he could just hold onto that nightstick he had come to love and hate at the same time.
The maroon Decepticon watched the Autobot laying on the ground, trembling at the sensations and uttering little sounds of pleasure, and his spark stirred with desire. Jazz was so beautiful and desirable like this, it took a great effort to keep his own arousal in check. This wasn't for him, after all, but for the trembling mass of need that Jazz was at that moment.
"Do you like that, Jazz?" the Decepticon asked huskily, pressing his lip components against the side of Jazz's helm while he pulled the nightstick away for a moment, laughing a little when Jazz whimpered in response. "Patience, little Jazz."
The Autobot saboteur moaned again, feeling incredibly aroused already. Primus, this mech was good.
Silverstreak moved around Jazz's body, fidgeting with the restrains around the saboteur's wrists, pressing a hatch in one of the cuffs to release a short chain, allowing his captive a little more movement. "You're a very tactile mech, aren't you?"
Jazz didn't bother to reply; instead he tilted his head against the cool ground below, wondering how long he'd be able to withstand Silverstreak's advances. "I know you want to feel that again, Jazz." The black and white mech felt his captor taking hold of one of his hands and trace gentle circles on the middle of his palm. "Just say it, and I'll give you what you want."
But Jazz made no sound. The saboteur wondered how long it would take him to knock himself unconscious if he hit the back of his head against the ground as hard as he could. "Suit yourself." Silverstreak chuckled and brought one of Jazz's hands to his face, idly running the tip of a claw over Jazz's thumb, and watching the slightly smaller mech squirm for a moment, and whimper in delight.
Silverstreak nuzzled his cheek against Jazz's hand, feeling the smooth, and already heated up plating of those nimble black fingers that could be so lethal. "Mmm, aren't we a little hot now? Maybe I should help to cool you down," Silverstreak purred and brought one of Jazz's fingers to his mouth, his lip components brushed lightly against the tip of that black digit before parting them to allow his glossa to flicker over the fingertip.
Jazz's choked cry and arching back demonstrated the saboteur's opinion about his Decepticon captor's maneuver. Jazz scolded himself mentally with what little processing power he had left, restraining himself from demanding more attention. His temperature was rising quickly and he knew it wouldn't take much more to overload him.
Silverstreak ran his glossa slowly and teasingly along the oversensitized fingertips, tracing patterns with it over the smooth heated surface before he took a finger into his mouth and suckled on it slowly and sensually. Jazz could do nothing more than cry out and arch his back again. He was close.
The maroon Decepticon released the finger, chuckling softly when Jazz mewled in disappointment before he took another finger into his mouth, repeating the process - he knew Jazz wouldn't last much longer.
Silverstreak continued his work on Jazz's hand and fingers while he reached for his nightstick and pressed it against the palm of Jazz's unattended hand, sending those delicious electric impulses through it. Jazz cried softly again and wrapped his fingers around the instrument, shuddering violently at the sensation. The feeling was far more intense and delightful and almost tipped the black and white mech over the edge to his overload. Almost.
The Decepticon released Jazz's hand and pried the nightstick off Jazz's other hand, smirking at the resistance the saboteur put about parting with his new favorite object. "Well, Jazz?"
Primus be slagged, Jazz was beyond caring about his pride, his defiance, and anything else that wasn't overloading already. "Please..."
"That's a good mech," Silverstreak whispered softly and brought his face to Jazz's placing soft kiss on Jazz's lip components. "You've earned your reward, beloved." The maroon mech kissed the saboteur once more and brought the tip of his nightstick to press against the base of one of Jazz's horns, releasing a rapid succession of electric pulses against it, sending the saboteur spiraling down into a powerful overload.
Powerful as it was, however, the overload didn't manage to offline the quivering Autobot this time, but was a very close call.
Jazz could barely feel the moment his captor ended their kiss and moved to fumble again with the handcuffs that kept him restrained. He was too tired to want to acknowledge anything other than how good it felt to lay against the cool ground.
Silverstreak produced a third cube of energon and helped the black and white mech into a sitting position, bringing the cube to Jazz's lips. Still in a daze, the saboteur accepted the cube readily, drinking its contents hungrily. When the cube's contents were consumed entirely, the maroon mech discarded the cube and finished undoing the handcuffs, releasing Jazz's arms.
Jazz whimpered softly, curling against the strong body without bothering to get rid of the blindfold still wrapped over his visor. He took notice of just how heated up Silverstreak's plating was and smiled a little to himself. Jazz brought his hands to the maroon mech's chest stroking the smooth surface, and feeling his still oversensitized fingertips send really pleasant sensations to his CPU. Jazz moaned softly; it felt so good to touch the other mech, he felt himself shiver and whimper again in desire. He wasn't expecting to become aroused again so easily just by touching the taller mech, but obviously his whole body had other plans.
"Jazz," Silverstreak tried to take the black hands away from his chest, but Jazz brought his lips to his jaw, brushing them gently along the warm plating. "Please..." Jazz whispered and pressed his body more against the maroon mech's. "Please...! Oh, Prowl, please...!" Jazz's lip components brushed invitingly against his lover's.
Prowl felt the call of Jazz's spark and shuddered lightly. The maroon mech pushed Jazz gently against the ground, claiming his mate's lips in a searing kiss - how could he deny his lover's wishes?
Jazz mewled into the kiss, returning the affection with all his might, and his hands pressed firmly against the hood of his mate's chest, rubbing up and down and releasing little magnetic pulses over the headlights, prompting a low groan from his lover's vocalizer. The saboteur's internal temperature was already high, and he knew it wouldn't take him much to reach sensory overload once more.
Prowl's currently claw-tipped hands ran over Jazz's body frantically, feeling his own temperature rising steadily, indulging on being able to experience overload with his lover this time.
Jazz broke their kiss, bringing his hands up to Prowl's shoulders to push him away a little. "Let me see ya..." Prowl moaned softly at their broken contact but obliged, reaching to undo the knot that held the blindfold to Jazz's head.
When the material fell away, Jazz watched Prowl's face for a moment before he heard a clicking sound, watching the purple and maroon of his mate's armor fade back to porcelain white and jet black. Those glowing red optics switched to a gentle, intense blue. Jazz cupped Prowl's head with his hands, pulling him down for a loving but passionate kiss.
Prowl returned the kiss with as much passion, bringing a hand up to one of Jazz's horns, beginning to stroke and stimulate it gently, alternating the pressure in the places he knew would give his mate the most pleasure. Jazz cried softly into the kiss, sliding a hand down to one of the tactician's headlights, groping and massaging there while his other hand reached down to Prowl's waist, giving a few teasing touches to his mate's door wings before he settled to grope Prowl's aft.
The tactician groaned at the assault and paid in kind, sliding his own hand under Jazz's body, reaching for the gentle curve of his saboteur's aft. Jazz voiced his appreciation with a bump of his hips against Prowl's.
Jazz broke the kiss once more, moving away from his mate just enough to snap his chest plate open, exposing his chamber and then his spark for his mate. The military strategist followed the smaller black and white's lead, and soon pressed his chest against Jazz's. Both cried out softly at the first contact, still a new experience for them both, the sparks touched briefly, then Prowl pulled away for a moment before pressing back against Jazz's chest, seeking admittance into his lover's soul.
Jazz arched against Prowl, pressing his spark firmly against Prowl's, finally allowing tendrils of light to extend from his spark towards Prowl's, establishing a link of information between them both, welcoming his mate into his mind, body and soul, and diving at the same time into that pool of timelessness that was Prowl's soul where they could feel each other not only physically. Where they could just be. Where they could indulge in undiluted pleasure and love.
Both mechs arched into each other, silent cries of pleasure and flaring streaks of energy the telltales of their overload.
Jazz groaned softly, so energy spent it was a surprise to himself he was still online. He could feel his chest plates snapping shut after his connection with Prowl ended, and the hands of his mate wrapping around him to pick him up and carry him to the berth. Jazz would have protested the ground felt too pleasantly cold to want to move to the berth, but he was beyond caring at the moment, contenting himself with cuddling weakly against the tactician.
When Jazz felt himself laid on the berth and Prowl climbed on it next to him, the smaller black and white curled closer to Prowl. "What was all that 'bout?" he asked softly, not really sure his processor was up to the task of understanding what had happened, but he wanted to know nonetheless.
"Call it a reprieve," Prowl answered honestly.
"A reprieve?" Jazz quirked an optic ridge behind his visor.
"The first time we connected sparks, I saw something. The burdens of this war, and the burdens of your position in Special Operations." the tactician brushed a white finger gently along the side of the saboteur's helm. "You wanted just once to be able to give up. To surrender yourself and not put thousands of lives at stake. Just once, you wanted to be able to just give in, to forget it all, and not condemn your comrades."
Jazz tried to process what the other mech was saying, slowly, perhaps a little too slowly for his liking, Jazz could understand the reasoning behind his mate's actions. "Ya were tryin' t'give me release?"
"Every one of us carries heavy burdens in this war, Jazz," Prowl kissed the crest of the saboteur's helm. "Optimus Prime needs someone to relieve him of his burden. Someone to lose control to. Mirage needs someone to ease him. Bumblebee needs someone to reassure him. Red Alert needs someone to keep him going. Ratchet needs someone to keep him grounded and not succumb to the losses."
Jazz considered Prowl's words for a moment, understanding where he was heading. "You don't let yourself be someone else's burden, despite the heavy weight you carry in your shoulders. Your team mates can openly seek comfort or reassurance. But you restrain yourself despite that heavy need to, at least once, just surrender, without fearing for the consequences of your actions over others. You've been through so much despite your youth, and that's a weight I'm more than willing to help you carry, Jazz."
"Prowl..." Jazz brushed his black digits along his mate's face, touching the plates that composed the tactician's handsome face. "For someone who's all cold logic an' facts, ya're incredibly empathic..."
"I'm not." Prowl shook his head but smiled gently to his mate. "I see things from afar in a cold light. I see the facts and the logical roots of those facts. But when it comes to you things are a little different."
Jazz nodded in understanding. "Thank ya, Prowl." the saboteur kissed Prowl's lips gently before he settled down against the tactician. "Prowl?"
"Yes, Jazz?"
"I'm willing ta help ya carry your own burdens, too, ya know?" Jazz traced a finger along Prowl's chevron.
"You already do it, Jazz." The tactician smiled again and kissed his mate's lips. "Recharge now or Ratchet will have my hide if I keep you from your recharge cycle any longer."
Jazz chuckled softly and nodded. "Pleasant recharge, Prowler. Love you."
"Love you." Prowl wrapped his arms around Jazz and held him close to his frame, watching the saboteur slip into some much needed recharge. "And you're my reprieve."
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, Mech Seckz, Kinky stuff?
Pairings: Silverstreak (Prowl) x Jazz
Characters: Jazz, Silverstreak (Prowl).
Summary: When Jazz returned from a long mission, all he wanted was a cube of energon and a good recharge. Someone had other plans.
Notes: vericus claimed to be sorely lacking in the smut department. sbx mentioned bondage. Prowl Silverstreak demanded akshun. My brain's gonna need a gator-ade after this. I think it melted. It's not a direct part of 'A Look Can Be Deceiving. A Touch Can Be Lethal'. But it's set in that continuity. I tried a slightly different approach with this, I apologize in advance for any inspiration I might have drawn from any of our wonderful writers in the TF community. Now, if you excuse me I need to like, feel my brain again. *collapses*
This song is played at some part of the fic (Involves Jazz doing something~). I suggest you play it while you read. ERA - Enae Volare Mezzo
Thanks to okami_myrrhibis for beta reading this for me.
Jazz dragged his weight along the halls of the Autobot Headquarters, feeling weary and exhausted after a very long mission. It had been a relatively simple mission, but the extended period of time he spent there, and the very small amounts of rest he could muster through its duration took its toll on the saboteur.
After handing an initial report to Optimus Prime, Jazz was allowed to return to his quarters with two orns off-duty. The visored mech was intending to make full use of those two orns, half tempted to spend at least one in recharge. And speaking of recharge, all he wanted at that moment was to reach his quarters, down some energon and drop on his berth for some well needed recharge time.
However, things weren't always bound to happen the way Jazz wanted, and no sooner had he crossed the threshold of his quarters, and the doors had barely shut down, a strong arm wrapped around the saboteur's neck. Jazz had little time to react, as his hands shot up to try to pry that arm away, something clicked against the side of his neck, sending a small shock through his systems - and the world was no more.
Jazz's body never made it to the ground. The dark maroon arm that had wrapped around the saboteur's neck was now holding him carefully against the frame of another mech. A second arm reached towards Jazz's legs, and a claw-tipped purple hand ran slowly along the saboteur's thigh, deliberately savoring the moment before sliding under the limp mech's knees, taking the unconscious saboteur to the berth placed at the other end of the room.
The maroon mech set Jazz down carefully in the berth, brushing the tips of his claws along the plates of Jazz's handsome face. With a soft, low chuckle the maroon mech discarded the shock device and headed for the small desk on the other side of the room, sub spacing several items he laid and arranged over the desk.
The mech marked as a Decepticon smiled to himself while he sorted through the items, and picked up two pieces. He headed back to the berth where Jazz lay offline and reached for his hands, securing a set of special handcuffs around the saboteur's wrists. The Decepticon then reached to wrap a dark blindfold around Jazz's visor, securing it tightly but not enough to be uncomfortable.
The Decepticon turned around, heading back to the desk where he picked a small container filled with data chips, shuffling through the chips until he found the one he was looking for. The maroon mech loaded the chip into the small music player Jazz kept in his quarters, but didn't play the contents just yet.
Instead, the Decepticon picked up a large energon cube and poured some of its contents into a couple of smaller cubes before he subspaced it again. The maroon mech sat down in the chair of the desk, taking one of the cubes, and sipping a little of its contents while he sorted and arranged the different items he still had laying on the desk, glancing in the saboteur's direction before a small smile crept into his lip components again. He was looking forward to the moment Jazz would online again.
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Jazz groaned softly, and began to move a little, making soft sounds that were the usual indication he was slowly coming online. When Jazz powered up his optics, he felt his primary fuel pump skip a beat as no image registered through his optics. He tried switching to night vision, then to infrared, and then to all four of his visor's specialized ranges but all returned absolutely no visual - Jazz was frightened.
The black and white mech tried to raise a hand to his face but found his arms were bound together, and panic kicked in.
Jazz was about to try and reach up again, trying to suppress an agitated noise, but the feeling of hands wrapping around his middle, and a body behind his own made him stop and turn his head to 'look' at whoever was behind him.
"Little Jazz is anxious? That blindfold is made with a material designed to block six different kinds of specialized vision."
Jazz shuddered involuntarily. The unexpected closeness and the low, sultry tone of that voice so close to his audio sent tremors over his frame. At least, though, he felt a little more at ease, recognizing that voice immediately. "What the slag is this?" Jazz asked with a shaky voice.
"I'm the one asking the questions here, Jazz."
Jazz shuddered once more, being reminded through this unorthodox method how sharp and sensitive his hearing became when he was deprived of his sight. The feeling of claw-tipped digits brushing idly over his mid section clued the saboteur about the current identity of his captor.
"Now," Silverstreak whispered so very close to Jazz's audio receptor. "These restrains are special. If you attempt to raise your arms too much, you'll receive a small discharge that'll inhibit the motor function of your arms for a few kliks."
Jazz shuddered again, not exactly sure of what was happening but decided to be obedient for now, and not test his bonds. He felt Silverstreak's hands retreat and the weight of his body shift. It was only by grace of the sensitive sensory net contained within the two stubby horns protruding from his helmet that Jazz could tell his captor had left the berth and was walking away. The saboteur pushed himself to a sitting position, using his enhanced hearing to try to get any idea of what his captor was doing.
He could hear the sounds of objects being moved around at the distance, and with what sensory information his horns were able to provide, Jazz guessed Silverstreak was looking for something in his desk.
"Did you know you have some very interesting dreams, Jazz?" Silverstreak asked, and Jazz could almost see the smirk on his lip components.
"I do?" the saboteur asked innocently, still feeling weary and disconcerted.
"Oh, you do." Silverstreak's smile grew a little and he stalked back to Jazz with a red laser nightstick in his hand. "You're very vocal, too."
Jazz had the decency of looking embarrassed when he realized what the maroon Decepticon was talking about. A soft chuckle indicated to him Silverstreak was standing before him, looking down at him. "Your voice, Jazz, is the most delightful sound to ever grace my audio receptors."
Jazz shuddered, the sultry quality of his captor's voice along with his currently oversensitized hearing were doing a fine job to arouse him despite the awkwardness of his situation.
"I want to hear that sweet voice of yours pleading, and begging me."
Now Jazz was certain Silverstreak was kneeling in front of him. "What makes ya think I'll give ya that pleasure?"
Silverstreak chuckled softly and brushed the tip of a claw along the back of Jazz's leg, watching the other mech shudder. "You will. But if you want to resist, go ahead --I rather enjoy the challenge."
Jazz felt a streak of defiance growing on him. He may be blinded and bound, but that didn't mean he would give in so easily to his captor's desires. If Silverstreak wanted a challenge, Jazz was going to give him a challenge.
Jazz heard a soft clicking sound, and the room was immediately filled with music. The saboteur raised an optic ridge - he hadn't expected this. Jazz had to admit, however, the music was rather soothing, a soft but rhythmic beat that produced a very low but steady vibration against his horns. The saboteur had to bit back a moan. Just the sound of the music filtering through his audio receptors, and the soft sound waves brushing his horns were unexpectedly stimulating. "Cheater..." Jazz breathed softly.
"I thought you enjoyed music, Jazz." the maroon Decepticon chuckled with amusement, watching the slightly smaller mech trying to fight back the effect the rhythmic beat was having on him.
"Shut up!" the saboteur tried his best to ignore the music, trying to focus his hearing on something else, but the soft music drowned any other sounds within his vicinity. The music was oddly sensual but also relaxing, it was almost too much of a good thing for a mech like Jazz.
Jazz pondered his options, having given up trying to ignore the music. His only solution was to stop the sweet torment by stopping the music altogether. He tried to calculate the location of the player, using his hearing and the neural net in his horns, and raised his hands slowly with intention of using his magnetic field to knock the player away.
"I don't think so." The maroon Decepticon stood up quickly and pressed the tip of the nightstick against Jazz' shoulder, releasing a small electric charge that spread across the whole arm. Jazz cried out softly and jerked away from the instrument, and his arms fell limp on his lap.
"What the slag was that?!" Jazz turned to where he could feel Silverstreak was currently standing.
"Laser nightstick," the Decepticon replied matter-of-fact.
"I don't think I'm likin' the direction this is goin'," Jazz admitted, feeling genuinely uneasy now.
"Is that so?" Purple clawed digits wrapped gently around the Autobot's chin, "You know you can end this, Jazz."
Jazz shuddered violently, knowing what the other mech was implying, and that streak of defiance surged anew. "Ya ain't goin' t'hear me beg."
"Very well then."
The saboteur braced himself, expecting a second electric discharge. Instead, a hand reached for his arm, pulling him up firmly, dragging him several steps away from the recharge berth, closer to the music player, and thus closer to the source of the delightful sensations the music and its vibration were producing on him.
Jazz couldn't hold back a soft whimper while a shiver ran through his frame, his plating beginning to heat up steadily. The vibration of the sound waves against his horns was becoming intoxicating, so pleasant, so... so good.
The Autobot made a soft little sound when the music ended abruptly, and with it that delicious torture he was beginning to enjoy. His disappointment was short-lived, however, and a new melody played, a little more upbeat but still following a similar style to the previous melody.
Jazz felt the arms of his captor wrapping loosely around his waist, and his chest plate pressed firmly against his back. "You like this, don't you?" Silverstreak whispered softly against Jazz's audio. All Jazz could do was nod and whimper softly, surrendering to the sensation. "Dance, Jazz."
The saboteur moaned but complied, bringing his hands to his chest, and slowly beginning to sway his body, following the beat of the music as much as he could while still held in the loose embrace of the Decepticon behind. The song gained in beat, and Silverstreak's hold around his waist loosened, coming to rest his hands against his hips, allowing the black and white mech to move more freely.
The vibration of the sound waves and the clawed digits now tracing his sides were driving Jazz to the peak of his arousal. Driving him so close, yet not quite far enough to reach overload, it was a delicious torture, and, despite himself, Jazz found he was enjoying it.
Silverstreak's lip components brushed against Jazz's shoulder, prompting a whimpering moan from the smaller mech. With his vision gone his tactile sense improved as well, and with his plating as oversensitized as it was in this stage of arousal, that caress felt ten times more intense.
"Primus...!" Jazz breathed, pressing himself back against his captor, trying to feel more of the other mech while his body moved gently to the beat of the melody. The feeling of Silverstreak's body moving slowly along with his own made Jazz whimper in delight, he wanted those claw-tipped hands to move over his chassis, to touch him. He wanted to feel that body rubbing against his own, and those lips currently brushing against the lower edge of his helm to do more than dispense just feather touches.
But he wasn't going to ask for it. It would be too easy to just give in and let his captor have his way, and Jazz knew he could stand more than this, at least for a while.
Silverstreak swayed with him, raising the volume of the music just a little more, and Jazz cried out softly when the vibration grew in strength, tormenting his horns with the sensorial input that almost made his knees fail him. So engrossed with the delicious vibration gracing his horns, and the delightful sensation the music produced in his audios, Jazz could barely register the noise of his internal fans trying so desperately to cool him down.
Jazz was on the verge of overload, and yet the music couldn't stimulate him further; he knew he needed Silverstreak's intervention, his bound limbs restricting what he could touch, and the maroon mech behind him was quick to stop him if he attempted to touch his bumper and headlights. Still, he didn't want to beg. He didn't want to give in to his tormentor's desire.
"Say it, Jazz," Silverstreak whispered against his audio once more, and Jazz couldn't help but toss his head back with a whimpering moan, but no plea came from his vocal processor. The maroon mech chuckled softly. "What a stubborn mech you are."
Jazz disregarded the other mech's words, but shivered in pleasure at the sound of that husky voice against his sensitive receptor, feeling his need for overload kicking up a notch. His plating was heating up so much that his horns were picking up the raise of temperature and sending overheating warnings to his systems.
"You're as stubborn as you're beautiful, Jazz," the saboteur heard the other mech's voice with a more familiar, and kinder tone taking over.
Before Jazz could say anything, the tip of a claw brushed slowly against one of his horns, tracing the appendage from base to tip. A choked cry was followed by the wild flaring of Jazz's energy field when his overload hit him before he collapsed offline.
Silverstreak caught him once more and set him down in the ground gently. "The game isn't over, yet." The maroon mech's lip components curved in a gentler smile as he sat on the ground against the desk, holding Jazz against him and watching the slightly smaller mech in his arms.
-----------------------------
Jazz groaned heavily as he came online once more, feeling disoriented once again after the powerful overload he had experienced. He groaned in annoyance when he realized he was still blind-folded, which only meant his captor was still lingering around. The black and white mech checked his internal chronometer to find out how long he had been offline and grumbled lightly at the results. Two joors to reboot was a clear sign of just how drained he had been if his overload had knocked him offline for that long. And to make things worse, he was still feeling rather drained, barely able to acknowledge he was half sitting.
"Welcome to the land of functioning parts."
Jazz groaned again and resisted the urge of slam his head against the nearest hard surface. Perhaps Silverstreak would bore of him if he offlined quickly this time. And drained as he was at that moment, the possibility didn't seem too farfetched.
Luck, however, was hardly on his side, and Jazz felt the edge of an energon cube pressed lightly against his lips.
"Drink," Silverstreak ordered.
Determined to make things as hard as he could for the Decepticon, Jazz tilted his head back as much as possible and turned it to the side lightly. His clear display of defiance earned him an amused chuckle. "Very well. If that's how you want to play..."
The saboteur shuddered lightly, not sure what to expect from his captor now. He could force him to drink the fluid through the electric charges of his nightstick, or perhaps force his mouth open in other just as painful ways. But once again, Silverstreak surprised him with his chosen course of action.
Jazz whimpered softly when the maroon mech's lips pressed against his own in a gentle kiss, and the saboteur realized all too soon why he was being kissed. He could feel the warm, slightly sticky energon remnants on Silverstreak's lip components. The Decepticon had taken a sip of the cube's contents and deliberately left traces of the fluid on his lips, traces he was now transferring to Jazz's lip components.
Despite his best efforts, the sweet scent of the fresh energon and the feeling of the fluid against his lip components made it hard for Jazz not to give in and taste the energon. Against his better judgment, the saboteur parted his lips just a little to taste the brew on his captor's lips and found himself quickly trying to clean any trace of the energon off Silverstreak's lip components, savoring the warm, mild brew.
The Decepticon chuckled softly and pulled away lightly, watching Jazz's now flustered face as the blinded mech's glossa cleaned all remnants of the fluid on his lips. The maroon mech pressed the cube to Jazz's lips, and smirked when all traces of resistance were discarded by the black and white mech, Jazz's black digits wrapped around his hand to steady the cube, drinking it's contents quickly but carefully.
Jazz shuddered visibly while he swallowed the sweet energon. It was a mild brew of high-grade, strong enough to give him a boost of energy but not enough to inebriate him right away. When the first cube was gone, Silverstreak pressed a second to the saboteur's lips who accepted it readily. Jazz didn't realize how low his energon levels were until he tasted the first few drops of the fluid.
"Satisfied?"
Jazz nodded lightly, letting go of his captor's hands. The saboteur wouldn't have minded a third cube, but he wasn't about to ask for more. It was bad enough he accepted the first two in the first place.
Silverstreak gathered the other mech on his arms, pulling him up to stand and laughing softly when Jazz had some difficulty standing on his own, and leaning a little against the Decepticon. "You're very, very stubborn, Jazz."
"Ain't that the truth," the saboteur turned his head a little to face the Decepticon.
"Even that stubbornness must have a limit, and I'm eager to find it," Silverstreak spoke softly against Jazz's audio, sending a new streak of shivers running over the black and white mech's body. "You know what I found while you were out?"
"Should I care?" Jazz tilted his head away from Silverstreak's, realizing for the first time there was still music playing in the room but to a much lower volume, far more bearable for his heightened senses. The vibration was but a gentle caress to his horns, far more soothing than stimulating.
"I think you should," Silverstreak replied and brushed his lip components against the back of Jazz's neck. One hand wrapped around Jazz's waist again, and the other brushed that accursed nightstick along his side in a deliberately slow but teasing motion. "Did you know your hands are extremely sensitive?"
At that, Jazz froze for a moment, half wondering what Silverstreak had been up to while he was offline, but decided he really didn't want to know. Instinctively, the saboteur closed his hands into fists to protect the preternaturally sensitive fingertips.
Silverstreak's nightstick ran along Jazz's arm, brushing against the back of his hand, pressing firmly against the middle of it, releasing small electric pulses. It took all of the saboteur's might to remain standing, glad to have Silverstreak behind him to steady him.
After a few kliks of such pleasurable torture, Jazz couldn't help himself anymore and began to make and release fists, trying to fight back the pleasant sensation produced by the electric pulses coursing through his sensitive hands, the tips of his black digits felt so deliciously numb and tingly. Jazz could barely feel when Silverstreak began to lead him down to the ground, too engrossed in the feeling on his hands. Suddenly, Jazz wished he could just hold onto that nightstick he had come to love and hate at the same time.
The maroon Decepticon watched the Autobot laying on the ground, trembling at the sensations and uttering little sounds of pleasure, and his spark stirred with desire. Jazz was so beautiful and desirable like this, it took a great effort to keep his own arousal in check. This wasn't for him, after all, but for the trembling mass of need that Jazz was at that moment.
"Do you like that, Jazz?" the Decepticon asked huskily, pressing his lip components against the side of Jazz's helm while he pulled the nightstick away for a moment, laughing a little when Jazz whimpered in response. "Patience, little Jazz."
The Autobot saboteur moaned again, feeling incredibly aroused already. Primus, this mech was good.
Silverstreak moved around Jazz's body, fidgeting with the restrains around the saboteur's wrists, pressing a hatch in one of the cuffs to release a short chain, allowing his captive a little more movement. "You're a very tactile mech, aren't you?"
Jazz didn't bother to reply; instead he tilted his head against the cool ground below, wondering how long he'd be able to withstand Silverstreak's advances. "I know you want to feel that again, Jazz." The black and white mech felt his captor taking hold of one of his hands and trace gentle circles on the middle of his palm. "Just say it, and I'll give you what you want."
But Jazz made no sound. The saboteur wondered how long it would take him to knock himself unconscious if he hit the back of his head against the ground as hard as he could. "Suit yourself." Silverstreak chuckled and brought one of Jazz's hands to his face, idly running the tip of a claw over Jazz's thumb, and watching the slightly smaller mech squirm for a moment, and whimper in delight.
Silverstreak nuzzled his cheek against Jazz's hand, feeling the smooth, and already heated up plating of those nimble black fingers that could be so lethal. "Mmm, aren't we a little hot now? Maybe I should help to cool you down," Silverstreak purred and brought one of Jazz's fingers to his mouth, his lip components brushed lightly against the tip of that black digit before parting them to allow his glossa to flicker over the fingertip.
Jazz's choked cry and arching back demonstrated the saboteur's opinion about his Decepticon captor's maneuver. Jazz scolded himself mentally with what little processing power he had left, restraining himself from demanding more attention. His temperature was rising quickly and he knew it wouldn't take much more to overload him.
Silverstreak ran his glossa slowly and teasingly along the oversensitized fingertips, tracing patterns with it over the smooth heated surface before he took a finger into his mouth and suckled on it slowly and sensually. Jazz could do nothing more than cry out and arch his back again. He was close.
The maroon Decepticon released the finger, chuckling softly when Jazz mewled in disappointment before he took another finger into his mouth, repeating the process - he knew Jazz wouldn't last much longer.
Silverstreak continued his work on Jazz's hand and fingers while he reached for his nightstick and pressed it against the palm of Jazz's unattended hand, sending those delicious electric impulses through it. Jazz cried softly again and wrapped his fingers around the instrument, shuddering violently at the sensation. The feeling was far more intense and delightful and almost tipped the black and white mech over the edge to his overload. Almost.
The Decepticon released Jazz's hand and pried the nightstick off Jazz's other hand, smirking at the resistance the saboteur put about parting with his new favorite object. "Well, Jazz?"
Primus be slagged, Jazz was beyond caring about his pride, his defiance, and anything else that wasn't overloading already. "Please..."
"That's a good mech," Silverstreak whispered softly and brought his face to Jazz's placing soft kiss on Jazz's lip components. "You've earned your reward, beloved." The maroon mech kissed the saboteur once more and brought the tip of his nightstick to press against the base of one of Jazz's horns, releasing a rapid succession of electric pulses against it, sending the saboteur spiraling down into a powerful overload.
Powerful as it was, however, the overload didn't manage to offline the quivering Autobot this time, but was a very close call.
Jazz could barely feel the moment his captor ended their kiss and moved to fumble again with the handcuffs that kept him restrained. He was too tired to want to acknowledge anything other than how good it felt to lay against the cool ground.
Silverstreak produced a third cube of energon and helped the black and white mech into a sitting position, bringing the cube to Jazz's lips. Still in a daze, the saboteur accepted the cube readily, drinking its contents hungrily. When the cube's contents were consumed entirely, the maroon mech discarded the cube and finished undoing the handcuffs, releasing Jazz's arms.
Jazz whimpered softly, curling against the strong body without bothering to get rid of the blindfold still wrapped over his visor. He took notice of just how heated up Silverstreak's plating was and smiled a little to himself. Jazz brought his hands to the maroon mech's chest stroking the smooth surface, and feeling his still oversensitized fingertips send really pleasant sensations to his CPU. Jazz moaned softly; it felt so good to touch the other mech, he felt himself shiver and whimper again in desire. He wasn't expecting to become aroused again so easily just by touching the taller mech, but obviously his whole body had other plans.
"Jazz," Silverstreak tried to take the black hands away from his chest, but Jazz brought his lips to his jaw, brushing them gently along the warm plating. "Please..." Jazz whispered and pressed his body more against the maroon mech's. "Please...! Oh, Prowl, please...!" Jazz's lip components brushed invitingly against his lover's.
Prowl felt the call of Jazz's spark and shuddered lightly. The maroon mech pushed Jazz gently against the ground, claiming his mate's lips in a searing kiss - how could he deny his lover's wishes?
Jazz mewled into the kiss, returning the affection with all his might, and his hands pressed firmly against the hood of his mate's chest, rubbing up and down and releasing little magnetic pulses over the headlights, prompting a low groan from his lover's vocalizer. The saboteur's internal temperature was already high, and he knew it wouldn't take him much to reach sensory overload once more.
Prowl's currently claw-tipped hands ran over Jazz's body frantically, feeling his own temperature rising steadily, indulging on being able to experience overload with his lover this time.
Jazz broke their kiss, bringing his hands up to Prowl's shoulders to push him away a little. "Let me see ya..." Prowl moaned softly at their broken contact but obliged, reaching to undo the knot that held the blindfold to Jazz's head.
When the material fell away, Jazz watched Prowl's face for a moment before he heard a clicking sound, watching the purple and maroon of his mate's armor fade back to porcelain white and jet black. Those glowing red optics switched to a gentle, intense blue. Jazz cupped Prowl's head with his hands, pulling him down for a loving but passionate kiss.
Prowl returned the kiss with as much passion, bringing a hand up to one of Jazz's horns, beginning to stroke and stimulate it gently, alternating the pressure in the places he knew would give his mate the most pleasure. Jazz cried softly into the kiss, sliding a hand down to one of the tactician's headlights, groping and massaging there while his other hand reached down to Prowl's waist, giving a few teasing touches to his mate's door wings before he settled to grope Prowl's aft.
The tactician groaned at the assault and paid in kind, sliding his own hand under Jazz's body, reaching for the gentle curve of his saboteur's aft. Jazz voiced his appreciation with a bump of his hips against Prowl's.
Jazz broke the kiss once more, moving away from his mate just enough to snap his chest plate open, exposing his chamber and then his spark for his mate. The military strategist followed the smaller black and white's lead, and soon pressed his chest against Jazz's. Both cried out softly at the first contact, still a new experience for them both, the sparks touched briefly, then Prowl pulled away for a moment before pressing back against Jazz's chest, seeking admittance into his lover's soul.
Jazz arched against Prowl, pressing his spark firmly against Prowl's, finally allowing tendrils of light to extend from his spark towards Prowl's, establishing a link of information between them both, welcoming his mate into his mind, body and soul, and diving at the same time into that pool of timelessness that was Prowl's soul where they could feel each other not only physically. Where they could just be. Where they could indulge in undiluted pleasure and love.
Both mechs arched into each other, silent cries of pleasure and flaring streaks of energy the telltales of their overload.
Jazz groaned softly, so energy spent it was a surprise to himself he was still online. He could feel his chest plates snapping shut after his connection with Prowl ended, and the hands of his mate wrapping around him to pick him up and carry him to the berth. Jazz would have protested the ground felt too pleasantly cold to want to move to the berth, but he was beyond caring at the moment, contenting himself with cuddling weakly against the tactician.
When Jazz felt himself laid on the berth and Prowl climbed on it next to him, the smaller black and white curled closer to Prowl. "What was all that 'bout?" he asked softly, not really sure his processor was up to the task of understanding what had happened, but he wanted to know nonetheless.
"Call it a reprieve," Prowl answered honestly.
"A reprieve?" Jazz quirked an optic ridge behind his visor.
"The first time we connected sparks, I saw something. The burdens of this war, and the burdens of your position in Special Operations." the tactician brushed a white finger gently along the side of the saboteur's helm. "You wanted just once to be able to give up. To surrender yourself and not put thousands of lives at stake. Just once, you wanted to be able to just give in, to forget it all, and not condemn your comrades."
Jazz tried to process what the other mech was saying, slowly, perhaps a little too slowly for his liking, Jazz could understand the reasoning behind his mate's actions. "Ya were tryin' t'give me release?"
"Every one of us carries heavy burdens in this war, Jazz," Prowl kissed the crest of the saboteur's helm. "Optimus Prime needs someone to relieve him of his burden. Someone to lose control to. Mirage needs someone to ease him. Bumblebee needs someone to reassure him. Red Alert needs someone to keep him going. Ratchet needs someone to keep him grounded and not succumb to the losses."
Jazz considered Prowl's words for a moment, understanding where he was heading. "You don't let yourself be someone else's burden, despite the heavy weight you carry in your shoulders. Your team mates can openly seek comfort or reassurance. But you restrain yourself despite that heavy need to, at least once, just surrender, without fearing for the consequences of your actions over others. You've been through so much despite your youth, and that's a weight I'm more than willing to help you carry, Jazz."
"Prowl..." Jazz brushed his black digits along his mate's face, touching the plates that composed the tactician's handsome face. "For someone who's all cold logic an' facts, ya're incredibly empathic..."
"I'm not." Prowl shook his head but smiled gently to his mate. "I see things from afar in a cold light. I see the facts and the logical roots of those facts. But when it comes to you things are a little different."
Jazz nodded in understanding. "Thank ya, Prowl." the saboteur kissed Prowl's lips gently before he settled down against the tactician. "Prowl?"
"Yes, Jazz?"
"I'm willing ta help ya carry your own burdens, too, ya know?" Jazz traced a finger along Prowl's chevron.
"You already do it, Jazz." The tactician smiled again and kissed his mate's lips. "Recharge now or Ratchet will have my hide if I keep you from your recharge cycle any longer."
Jazz chuckled softly and nodded. "Pleasant recharge, Prowler. Love you."
"Love you." Prowl wrapped his arms around Jazz and held him close to his frame, watching the saboteur slip into some much needed recharge. "And you're my reprieve."