Secret Santa delivery Part 2

[vejiraziel]

Happy Christmas to all of who celebrate it, we have some awesome fills for our secret santas. Without further delay, let us deliver the goodies!


from camfield to wicked3659

There were many things that Prowl accepted as just inherently... Jazz. Things like dancing with anyone and everyone that he could find to blow off steam after a long day. Like barging in to Prowl’s office and demanding make out sessions during work hours. He understood that Jazz needed those things, even if he never expressly told Prowl why they were important.

There were also things that Prowl refused to accept because they made absolutely no logical sense.

Like why when they were in a crowded social setting Jazz had to hang on to his left doorwingtip. Or why if Prowl paid the least bit of attention above acknowledgement to another bot in public, he ended up with a hand stroking his pelvic plate the klick they sat down while Jazz talked to someone else.

Which was maddening. Either fess up to being gropey or stop it Jazz.

Jazz just grinned and shrugged, claiming it under his proprietary rights of being Jazz.

Prowl grumbled, kvetched, and accepted. There wasn’t much else he could do.

Except for now. Right now, he did not accept that this was a proprietary right of being Jazz. This was public molestation. Worse, this was in a public setting with a great number of other Autobots.

See: Party.

His one hand held an energon cube, the other curled tight in a fist on the tabletop. “Jazz, I will kill you if you don’t remove your hand.”

The other black and white mech just grinned, leaning his chin on his visible hand. “Aw, now Prowler, we both know yah wouldn’ do any such thing.” Below the table ledge, his other hand drew patterns into Prowl’s crotchplate, nonsense swirls with the occasional dirty glyph thrown in.

Of course he wouldn’t. That would bring attention that he did not want over to where they were sitting. Attention that Jazz knew he didn’t want on him, and so capitalized on. “You’re treading a fine line, Jazz.” Because this was the sort of thing that ended up with Prowl sleeping in his office, snarling about Jazz being Jazz. The fact that he could feel his spike pinging to be pressurized and his systems tingle with strands of charge... “Hand. Off. Jazz.”

And Pit damn him, Prowl knew that look and it wasn’t the ‘I’m going to comply’ kind he wanted.

“Ah think yah might jus’ need a little distraction, t’ have fun, yah know? This is a party after all, Prowler.” Jazz’s fingertips arranged themselves at the corners of his panel and before Prowl could snarl another threat he’d jolted charge straight through them.

The noise that came out of Prowl was some kind of cross between modem and stripped gear.  “Jazz!”

Jazz wrapped his hand around the newly pressurized spike and began to stroke. “Prow~ler.”

It didn’t help that he’d activated his hand magnets, and even on low power Prowl could feel them drag against his spike.  He opened his mouth to say... something, but whatever it was was cut off by a groan when Jazz suddenly squeezed gently.

Oh he was going to kill the other black and white. Just as soon as he could find a way to get out of here without overloading or flashing half of the crew.

-------------------


From anonymous to camfield

Jealous

Oh, Jazz wasn't a mech that gotjealous easily. Nope, not him. He was open, friendly and trusted Prowlimplicitly. Also, if one was truthful, it was Jazz who got more offers andopportunities for trysts on the side. He never took them, but he was aware thathe simply ran in circles where such an offer was easily made, especially bymechs who didn't know he was in a serious relationship.

Mechs that did know and offeredanyway... well, those were a different problem altogether. He tried to discouragethem fast, but some simply didn't seem to want to understand.

But Jazz knew how did deal with thatas well.

What he didn't know how do deal withwas this: Prowl talking to a slender blue mech with an excitement and happinessJazz had rarely seen before. Worse, the stranger seemed no less taken withProwl, and both had steadily closed the appropriate distance between eachother, until there was barely one.

Prowl probably didn't notice whatkind of display he gave with his wings fluttering, shyly looking away and backand smiling as if the other mech was Prima himself. Even other mechs had takennotice and were now looking discretely towards Jazz, who tried his best not tojump across the room to mark what was his.

'He's just talking', he repeatedagain in his own processor, holding his cracking cube of Energon.

The other mech laughed, and Prowljoined in, doorwings rising a bit higher - again.

'Just talking.'

But what were they talking aboutthat had Prowl looking this interested? That he was laughing? And why was thismech now taking Prowl's hand?! Prowl just smiled, letting his right hand restin the stranger's ones, who observed it like a precious gem.

Jazz took a deep gulp of hishighgrade, tasting instead of the sweet burn nothing but bitterness. Again helooked towards them, trying to find reasons that Prowl looked so much happierthan with Jazz. Maybe this mech was more interesting to Prowl than Jazz. Theyhad their differences, their arguments. Everyone knew that... and really, theyhadn't been together for that long. Barely two vorns...

Again Prowl and the other mechlaughed. And then, the other one let Prowl's hand go and instead touched thedoorwing!

Jazz froze.

Enough.

He put the cube on the table andstood up. Driven by an unspeakable anger, while at the same time feelingcompletely ridiculous, he walked through the partying crowd, towards the pair.Prowl spotted him first, and greeted him - to Jazz's relief - with a smile. Theother mech didn't seem as happy, but Jazz couldn't care less at the moment. Allhe saw was Prowl, his Prowl.

In greeting, he touched Prowl'sdoorwing as well - an open intimate gesture that made clear that Jazz was atleast family or lover. Yes, he was staking his claim, so? That mech should'venever attempted it first.

“Prowl, how do you like the party sofar?” he asked jovially, trying to hide his irrational reactions from hislover. “I see you've met someone.”

The gesture had done what hisapproach had not - soured the blue mech's expression. Prowl didn't seem tonotice this. “Jazz, may I introduce you do Steamer, a scientist from the Stanixregion. He's one of the best in the area of quantum physics for space bridgedevelopment.” Prowl's excitement was clear.

“I see,” answered Jazz dryly andsized up his competition. He wasn't bad looking, freshly polished with nicehighlights and fins on both sides of his helmet. Intelligent too, if thecredentials were true. Yeah, he could see what Prowl might see in that mech. Hewanted to hit Streamer. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Same,” came the cool answer back,no doubt with the same sentiment behind it. It seems as if Streamer was just ashappy about Jazz's existence as Jazz about his. “Prowl has mentioned you.”

Jazz's smile became sharper, assomething in his spark roared. “Yes? What did he say?”

Streamer gave him a cool glance:“Not much, besides that you're not the scientific kind. It must be difficult, Iguess not to be able to speak with your lover about the things you do at work.”

Prowl frowned a bit and seemed towant to say something, but Jazz was too fast: “Not really, we can speak aboutthe results and have other interests as well besides work.” He stepped closerto Prowl and put an arm around his waist. The contact relaxed him, turned downhis aggressions. “Now, I'm a bit tired... can we go home, Prowl?”

The Praxian gave him a surprisedglance. It was far earlier than usual for Jazz to leave a party. Then, heglanced from Jazz to Streamer and back. It was clear that for a moment hedidn't want to leave the entertaining conversation, but in the end he nodded:

“Of course, Jazz.” He gave Steameran apologetic smile. “It was nice speaking to you.”

Streamer sighed and for anastrosecond glared at Jazz, before answering: “It's a pity that you have to goalready. Can't you stay a bit longer?”

Prowl hesitated, but Jazz shook hishead: “We really have to get up early tomorrow. I'm sorry, Streamer.” Like pit,he was.

Prowl now openly frowned, but beforehe could say something, Jazz leaned over and gave him a deep kiss: “Later,” hewhispered, hoping that Prowl would understand.

His lover thankfully did, nodded,and said: “It seems we really have to go. Until next time, Streamer.”

A klick later, they had left theparty and the building and stood outside on the street. It was mostly desertednow with only a mech passing by every few breems. Slowly, they began walkinghome. Thankfully, it wasn't that far to their apartment.

Prowl gave his lover a questioningglance: “Would you please explain to me, what this just was?”

“Ah,” Jazz squirmed. He didn't getjealous easily, and really this had been the first time. “I... I just had thefeeling that Streamer liked you a bit too much.”

Prowl nearly stopped. “That's it?”He shook his head. “I nearly thought you would tell me that he fits a profile ofa criminal or something...”

The blush that began to spreadacross Jazz's face was completely involuntary. “I just... well, he was just toointense.”

“You were jealous.” Prowl soundedmore amused than angry.

“Rightfully so,” huffed Jazz. “Hewanted you in a berth, moaning his name!”

Prowl put his arms around Jazz andpulled him closer. Jazz leaned against him, feeling the strong spark behind thearmour, the quiet hum of the Enforcer engine.

“Sure that this isn't your fantasy?”asked Prowl.

Jazz shivered when he heard thewords directly next to his audio receptors. He could feel Prowl's warm platingagainst his, in sharp contrast to the cool night wind surrounding them both.“If you ask like that...”

Prowl kissed his helmet gently,lovingly. “I do ask like that. So? You really think Steamer wanted me?”

The Praxian leant down, and nibbledon Jazz's throat cables playfully. Something that had never failed to raiseJazz's core temperature before.

“Yes. Prowler, you should've seenhim...” Prowl took the thickest cable in his mouth, and Jazz's explanationfaltered as hands started roaming his body.

“Mmh,” rumbled the Enforcer inunderstanding and slowly pushed him backward, then sideways, all the whilekissing his neck and touching fleetingly Jazz's hot spots. When the smallermech's back hit a wall, they were in a dark side alley, protected by mostglances. Jazz was now trapped between the rough, cold wall on his back, and thewarm front of his lover, who slowly pressed against him, pinning him there.“How did you know he wanted me?” Prowl whispered, his hands slowly dipping intoJazz's seams at his hip, desire in every word.

Jazz nearly moaned. “He looked atyou... with these optics.”

“Really, he just looked?” In Prowl'svoice was a smile, and he pinched a cable on Jazz's left leg between twofingers and squeezed. Just enough, that Jazz was caught between pleasure andpain.

A gasp left Jazz's mouth, andwishing to reciprocate, he put his hands on Prowl's back, finding the jointsthat connected Prowl's doorwings with the rest. The tremble that went throughthe Praxian was proof enough that he had found the sweet spot he had searchedfor.

“Jazz?” rumbled Prowl as his engineheated up. “What did he do?” He let his thump caress the closed interfacepanel, going in small circles.

Jazz's hidden vice was to have Prowlgoing all dominant. He felt his core temperature shot up, as he shuttered hisoptics and let himself fall into the sensations.

“He touched you!”

Prowl increased the pressure againstthe panel, following the seams. “Mmh, where?” he asked and took Jazz's sensorhorn in his mouth. The warmth, the sensations left Jazz nearly speechless.

“Doorwing,” he pressed out, andtried to find with his hands the place on Prowl's, but he couldn't reach it.Instead all he felt was Prowl growing hotter, the engine rumbling against hisown, taking him down into the regions of hot lust.

“And you didn't like that?” Prowllicked Jazz's headlight. “Did you want him to pull of me?”

Fort he first time it occurred toJazz that maybe Prowl hadn't been oblivious at all. Maybe he had flirted withSteamer, because he had wanted to see what Jazz would do. Had done it all inplain view of Jazz...

“You...” he moaned. “You knew I waswatching?”

“Of course.” Prowl chuckled, thevibrations running through Jazz, pooling right in the hot area of his valve. “Ithink everyone knew you were watching. Everyone but poor Steamer.”

“Oh.” Prowl's fingers grew moredemanding, wanting entry and Jazz's panel slid aside without further thought.“You... manipulator!”

The air was cool on his headedequipment, but all Jazz's could see was Prowl's smirk, the amusement and fierylove in his optics. “Mh, yes.”

Then, Prowl leant forward and caughtJazz's mouth finally in the long awaited, deep kiss that sent pure electricitythrough Jazz and meant nothing more than: Mine. Love. Forever.

Jazz gave as good as he got andclaimed the other mouth as his. He pulled the Praxian closer, until he wasnearly painfully squeezed against the fall, feeling only the heat and Prowl andnothing else.

Then, Prowl broke the kiss, and justas Jazz wanted to moan in disappointment, snapped his hips forward, finallyentering the smaller mech.

When they left the side alley a joorlater arm in arm, they both were happy.

-------------------



From gilded_orchid to vejiraziel

Sparse rays of the early morning sun peeked through the wintry blue sky to cast a pale yellow-white sheen over bits and pieces of the powdery white expanse of Mount St. Hilary. The branches of the evergreen trees in the distance were weighted down with mounds of fresh snow, while tall banks of snow rose high against their trunks. The few rays of light soon disappeared as clouds moved overhead and snowflakes began to lazily drift towards the ground.

It was a stunning vista; very picturesque, very placid, and very, very unexpected.

This was not what had been forecast on the weather channels; it was supposed to be cold, yes, maybe an inch or two of rain; snow wasn’t due for another two weeks. Prowl gently snapped off a piece of the (admittedly impressive) icicle ridge above the Ark’s entryway. The fang-like piece of ice quickly melted in his palm and he flicked the tiny puddle of water away with a negligent gesture.

Prowl frowned as he revisited the week’s forecast on his data pad, just in case he’d been mistaken. Not that he was. But, you know. Just in case.

“It was supposed to be 40 degrees today. This is not 40 degree weather.” Prowl muttered as he began making preparations to cancel his plans to head into Portland for the sheriff’s department charity function. His companion delicately shifted his right door panel aside as he ducked around to get a better look at the unexpected weather.

“Whoa. Mama Nature certainly didn’t get that memo!” Jazz’s visor glowed a brilliant icy-blue in surprise as the saboteur took in the sprawling winter wonderland.

“Hn.”

Jazz ignored Prowl’s non-committal grunt and tilted Prowl’s data-pad so he could see the weeks forecast. The weekly forecast had been replaced by a red ticker strip with the words “Winter Storm Warning”, and advisories for accumulating heavy snow with predictions of upwards of 5 inches of snow in the local area. “Be prepared for snow covered roads and limited visibilities…well that kills your plans.”

“I know. It looks like it kills everyone’s plans, actually.”

“Not mine!” Jazz countered cheerfully. “Mirage and I were going to hijack one of the conference rooms and watch The Nutcracker.”

“Well, fine. It kills everyone who was planning on leaving the ship’s plans.”

//It’s also killed my camera on the southwest ridge. Since you two are already at the door, might I trouble you to reattach the power cabling? It looks like it was knocked out of place by the wind overnight.// Jazz glanced up at the speaker above the Ark’s entryway as Red Alert broke into their conversation.

“Gotcha covered, Red. Stop glarin’, Prowl.”

“No one needed to know that, Jazz.”

//I have cameras all about, Prowl. I saw you anyway.//

“Aw, give it a rest Prowl. You know you wanna explore this cool weather.” Jazz grinned at his deliberately bad pun.

“No, I really don’t. And I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so fascinated by all this snow. You’ve seen snow before.”

“Actually…only on TV.”

“Nonsense. Winter of 1985.”

“I was down south in Texas with ‘Bee on a recon mission. Didn’t even get back until April.”

“1986, then.”

“In Florida. Recon mission.”

“1987.”

“Kuwait. Smokescreen. Shadowing Swindle.”

“1988.”

“Spent most of that year in Houston with Perceptor and Wheeljack. The NASA thing.”

Prowl didn’t bother enquiring about any of the other years, just turned a suspicious gaze on his smirking partner. “I’m starting to wonder about how you’ve consistently managed to avoid the worst of the weather. Every. Year.”

Jazz shrugged jovially. “Mere circumstance, Prowl. ‘Sides, I’m here now, right? Not exactly avoidin’ things, am I?”

Prowl’s suspicious gaze turned flat. “We’re having a chat later, you and I.”

Before Jazz could reply, one of Red Alert’s camera drones skittered over to them, a power cord wrapped around it.

//Just in case it’s snapped, not loose.// Red Alert explained.

*************************************************************************************

“It really is gorgeous out here.” Jazz finished reattaching the cable-luckily unplugged instead of snapped-and stood up to examine their surroundings. The bits of green pine needles and cones could be seen from underneath the white blanket of snow capping the surrounding forest, and steady flurries of snow whipped around on the on the whistling wind.

“Enjoy it while it’s still untouched, then, because dirty snow is disgusting.”

Jazz grimaced. “I bet.”

“But it can still be nice.” Prowl angled his door panels so that the freshly falling flakes could land on them, quite liking the sensation of snow falling on them. Prowl paused, gazing at Jazz’s back for a long moment. “You should try it.”

Jazz glanced over at his companion. “Yeah…that’s not happening.”

“Why not? Aren’t you the one who insists that full immersion is the only way to appreciate something new?”

“That’s different.”

Prowl shot Jazz an arch look, which only served to rile the saboteur up. “It ís different! You’re just fixated on my door panels!”

Prowl couldn’t deny that he did have the slightest of obsessions with them. Guilty as charged and all that. He’d been delighted once he realized what the reformatting had done for Jazz’s primary mode. Jazz already had sensors that were advanced enough to rival Red Alert’s own in some areas, but Teletran had obviously decided to favor the easiest solution when it came to their reformats, and for Jazz that meant his doors had been readjusted to stand out proudly from his back with all the delicate wiring of his audio/visual systems contained within.

Everything reacted on them-noise, wind, touch-the sensors couldn’t be tuned down without seriously impacting his natural capabilities. Jazz had made it all of three terrestrial days dealing with the over-sensitized appendages before he’d snapped and hacked his own trans-scans, readjusting his wings so that they folded flat, safely hidden by his back kibble. Prowl had been crushed at the removal of one of his new favorite things about his lover, but had made it his own personal quest to coax Jazz into releasing them whenever possible.

Sometimes it took a lot, sometimes it was as simple as pouncing on the mech and throwing the back kibble across the room after successfully dodging the instinctive attacks before Jazz settled down and realized that no, he wasn’t in actual danger-though Prowl would be, once the saboteur got around to being annoyed at his lover.

Prowl ran a finger across Jazz’s back. “Trust me?”

“This doesn’t end in you molestin’ me out in the open for all n’ sundry to see?”

“….”

“Prowl…I swear to Primus, I ain’t hesitatin’ to kick you off this ledge if you try ‘n have me hemmed up ‘gainst the side of the Ark in the next few seconds.”

“……….fine.”

Jazz stared suspiciously at him for another few moments, then sighed and reached for the latch that would reveal those wonderful, wonderful door panels. Once free, he handed Prowl the curved piece of armor and flexed one, then the other. The chill wind set his sensors alight as it moved across the rarely exposed plating, and as tiny flurries of snow settled on the white expanse of Jazz’s armor, the panels would jerk and hitch and flutter, causing the saboteur to twitch every once in a while.

Prowl observed quietly, watched as a large snowflake-one of the largest he’d seen in perhaps ever-landed against Jazz’s panel, causing the mech to gasp and twitch, and the beginnings of an idea to suddenly shimmer into being. There was no way he’d be able to talk the saboteur into letting him actually…but maybe….

Jazz very politely ignored the (relatively) quiet revving of Prowl’s engine save to shift his stance out a bit, just enough to lash out with a quick leg strike if need be. He also ignored Prowl’s amused huff of laughter.

They remained in a companionable silence for a bit longer, until Jazz’s visor picked up on movement in the distant tree line. “Hey, I think it’s one of those baby deer Hound was going on about earlier…”

“Oh?” Prowl followed Jazz’s gaze, spotting a sleek brown figure in the distance. Hound had been going on about the small herd of deer he’d spotted for the last two weeks, and he remembered the spy trying to convince a few of the others to help him set up feeders to get them through the winter season. From what he could make out, it was indeed one of the younger of the species, neither as tall as any of the others they’d seen recently, nor sporting any of the antlers that would mark it as mature. It wasn’t moving as graceful as the other deer he’d seen before, either. It was almost as if it were…

“I think it’s hurt or trapped-it looks like it’s stuck…” Jazz muttered.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Well, Hound will never forgive us if we don’t help it.” Jazz muttered, already starting to head towards the fawn.

*************************************************************************************

“Ugh.”

Jazz was not a mech obsessed with appearances, but even he couldn’t hold back a disgusted huff as he examined his door panels. The rarely exposed panels hadn’t actually been damaged, per se, just positively covered in ragged scratches. Ratchet had been gracious enough to buff them out, and now the deep gray metal of his armor peeked through in blotchy patches. It…was not a good look.

“Hurting?” Prowl queried as he strode into his quarters, the door sliding shut behind him and locking with a quiet “click”.

“Nothin’ but my pride.” Jazz groused as he turned this way and that in front of the mirror. This was not his finest hour, for certain!

“Well, I imagine pride is a small price to pay for saving that fawn’s life.”

It turned out that the poor creature had indeed been trapped by a fallen branch, so Jazz had ventured into the tree line in order to free it. That task was easily done, but it seemed that falling branches were a common winter danger, for no sooner had he freed the fawn than did another, heavier limb fall, heavy with snow. Jazz could have easily dodged out the way, but doing so would have meant endangering the fawn once more, so the saboteur had remained in place, allowing the limb to slide down his back-and door panels-with a horrific screech. The damage was all superficial, and he doubt it even bothered Jazz after the initial shock, but…well, the paint would never be the same.

“Man, Bambi better be damn grateful.” Jazz muttered.

“Oh, come now…it’s not that bad.” Prowl

“I look like I have cyberpox.” Jazz’s voice was flat as he took in the giant splotches across his door paneling.

“….”

“Stop. Laughing.”

Prowl dutifully wiped the smirk off of his face, though his optics glittered with humor at Jazz’s expense. “I thought you said the animal was cute?”

“Not any more, it ain’t.” Finished with his self-examination, Jazz glanced over his shoulder at his lover. “This should be a pretty easy job; can I borrow your airbrush right quick?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Prowl murmured, waving aside Jazz’s request.

“Ain’t such a big deal, and besides-this would eat into that calligraphy thing you dig…”

“I’ll work something out. I have a wealth of time suddenly at my disposal, thanks to the snow.” Prowl cut him off firmly, pulling a black lacquered box off of his shelving.

Jazz sighed, but acquiesced, figuring he would make it up to Prowl later. He was the very picture of steady discipline; arms out at his sides, stance perfectly steady, head held straight.

“That’s not going to wind up being comfortable after a while. There’s a better position for this.” Prowl cautioned as he sat the kit on a nearby chair and pulled it next to Jazz.

There was a flitter of something…off…in Prowl’s tone. It was just a shade too innocuous to be trusted, just the wrong side of anticipatory to be anything but dangerous, and Jazz didn’t dare doubt that Prowl was Up To Something.

Jazz’s features took on a suspicious expression as he gazed at Prowl, who’d been in a rather odd mood ever since they’d gone out in the snow. “Yeah…never mind about all this. I’ll just get Blaster to-“

“Nonsense. Blaster doesn’t need to be brought into this.”

“Prowl…”Jazz began to drop his arms, suddenly wary of what he’d set himself up for as Prowl’s gaze went far away for a moment then slowly began to heat as the tactician focused back on him with a startling intensity.

“I have an idea.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.” Jazz muttered as Prowl drew him backwards until he was flush against the tactician’s torso.

Prowl’s hands left where they’d been resting on his hips and ghosted up his sides, under and over his arms and back up to his shoulders, where they came to rest. “Kneel for me?” Prowl’s voice was dark and husky next to his audial, and a rush thrummed through Jazz’s systems.

“What are you playing at, mech?”

“You’ll see.”

Because that was reassuring. Jazz didn’t bother to hide the small quirk of amusement that tugged at his mouth at Prowl’s odd mood. Still, he wasn’t going to lie to himself and pretend he wasn’t at all intrigued by what Prowl was planning.

Opting to just see where things ended up, Jazz complied and gracefully sank down to the floor with Prowl guiding the action. “Okay, now just…work with me on this.” Prowl requested as he leaned over and began to gently nudge and shift at Jazz until he was bowed almost completely over, his bumper resting on his thigh plating and his arms slightly bent and resting flat on the floor, stretched out just enough to arch his back out and fully expose his door panels to Prowl from any angle.

“Comfortable?”

Comfortable? Jazz considered the question. He was balanced perfectly on his knees, and the placement of his arms served to brace his body against the potentially rigorous position; the curve of his back wasn’t too deep at all, and his door panels weren’t stressed. “I’m good.”

“Excellent.” Prowl took a moment to appreciate the picture Jazz made, all strong lines and smooth planes, and his door panels were just large enough to handle what he had in mind without the glyphs being too tight of a fit. It would make for a striking result. Prowl slowly circled Jazz, contemplating the best angle to work at.

This was fantastic, Jazz kneeling, arms braced just so, those delightful door panels flared wide as their owner employed all of his considerable restraint to not twitch or tremble while Prowl finally, finally got to indulge himself without having to worry about his elusive lover slipping away to do Primus only knew what, or getting sidetracked with a sudden diversion because Jazz was always flitting from one thing to another, showing up just long enough to make his mark before wandering off, looking for the next.

The image had been struck in his mind all day long, ever since those heavy flakes of snow began to fall on Jazz’s rarely exposed panels, a momentarily exquisite accent that melted away all too soon, only to be replaced by another just as unique, just as fleeting. He would replicate it, add in an elegant scrawl of…silver? Yes. Silver, definitely silver. Silver over broad planes of pure white, maybe a bit of gold here and there to surprise the optic, but not detract from the effect…

Prowl’s engine purred, and his expression went completely lecherous for a moment before smoothing back over into its usual calm façade.

“Okay; optics off.”

“Prowl…you been readin’ some of Carly’s dirty books again?”

“No, you spoilsport! Just…humor me.”

“Haven’t I already?” Jazz countered, but complied with the request anyway, powering his visor down and letting himself settle into the sensation of complete darkness.

Prowl nodded, his own door panels twitching as satisfaction-and anticipation-coursed through him. “Very nice. Now don’t move. I can’t stand an unsteady canvas.”

“…Canvas!? You aren’t--” Jazz demanded, his visor turning back on in a flare of panicked white-blue.

“I am.” Prowl corrected him placidly, flipping the case’s lid up, then opening the middle at the seams to reveal several tiers of paint and ink with an airbrushing tool set proudly in the center. The next layer was a single drawer that held a set of brushes, while the two lowest sections of the case each contained three small drawers which housed various tips for the brush, which he began to search through. “I did say that I would work something out.”

“What!? Hold up, now! I’m not one of your canvases, Prowl…”

“Actually, you make for a fantastic one.” Jazz really, really did, to be perfectly honest about it. Prowl stroked a hand down the center of Jazz’s back, fingers deftly slipping in between the cracks in his armor to massage the suddenly strained wiring that controlled his door panels. It was an effective trick for anyone possessing the appendages; for someone like Jazz, who had much more sensitive sensors than the average bot?

Prowl smirked as Jazz’s systems revved and he all but melted into a puddle of saboteur. “It’ll be worth your while…”

Jazz didn’t doubt that for an instant; being with Prowl was always an experience, but every once in a while the mech stumbled across an idea that just flat revved his engines so hard that it was practically guaranteed to require an act of Primus to pry him out of Prowl’s clutches. Prowl’s latest inspiration was definitely in that category judging from how the mech had been acting; matter of fact, the last time Prowl’d been like this, it had ended with him trying to explain three blown fuses and a fried balance gyro to Ratchet while his utterly unrepentant lover lounged back in Jazz’s quarters, using his vintage high-grade stash to celebrate a job well done.

And bots said Prowl was boring.

Resigning himself to the inevitable, (not that it was such a hardship at all) Jazz sent a quick comm to Mirage canceling their plans for the day-he was going to be useful for frag all by the time Prowl got this out of his systems.

He received a reply a few moments later to “have fun”, the message positively dripping with Mirage’s sly humor. Fragger.

“Optics off. And remember, for what I have in mind to work you’re going to have to be still and listen quietly.”

“Mmhmmm.” Jazz murmured, already settling back into that calm darkness as his visor dimmed once more.

Prowl reached for the airbrushing tool, then paused before setting it back in place and reaching for one of the larger brushes and the canister of white paint. “A very long, long time ago, there was a powerful ruler of Praxus who lost his sight after a terrible accident. The grandiose beauty of Cybertron’s Golden Age was lost to him, leaving naught but a drowning blackness.” Prowl began to deftly paint long, even streaks of white across Jazz’s left door panel, draw a startled gasp then a soft whimper as the sensations registered. “Despite his vast riches, nothing could be done to restore his sight. Eventually, he sank into a deep depression, and his friends and advisors feared that he would end his life, such was his misery.” Prowl reached for a canister of sealant, carefully spraying it over the freshly painted expanse of Jazz’s door panel. It had been one of Wheeljack’s lesser projects-not that Sunstreaker or Tracks had ever thought it such-a simple dalliance in functional science using the scraps from a new compound he’d been concocting to produce a quick drying agent for Grapple and Hoist that had quickly been appropriated by the rest of the Ark.

The sudden burst of cold sealant elicited another gasp and Jazz’s arms trembled ever so slightly as he fought down the urge to twitch the door panel away.

Prowl waited for Jazz to calm, resting the flat of his hand against Jazz’s back. After a long moment, he continued. “At their wits end, the ruler’s companions resolved to find the ruler a lover, a mate to ease his spark’s despair. They searched to and fro across all of Praxus, determined to succeed.” Grand, sweeping strokes back and forth accompanied Prowl’s words as he turned his attention to the right door panel, and Jazz clawed at the floor with a low moan, battling down the urge to arch into the sensation that flared across his door panel and radiated through his body.

An answering curl of pleasure rose in Prowl and he leaned forward into Jazz’s personal field, basking in the swirl of surprise/anticipation/want that colored it with every stroke of his brush. Finally done with the application of white paint, Prowl placed it back in the box and reached for the can of wax and the soft polishing cloth he’d been gifted by Tracks the previous year.

“The companions’ search would ultimately be futile, but extremely fortuitous for they left their ruler open to the masses. Many took advantage of the companions’ absence to attempt to ingratiate themselves to their ruler, with no success.” Prowl applied liberal dollops of wax to Jazz’s panels as he spoke, causing his lover’s shoulders to tense and release with each firm stroke. “There was one, however, who was exceedingly clever; an adroit explorer that was far too good at getting into places he was not supposed to be-including the private chambers of Praxus’ ruler. The explorer quietly slipped onto the ruler’s berth, raising him back to awareness with masterful caresses along his panels…” Prowl began to work the wax into Jazz’s panels with maddeningly soft touches designed to tease and inflame but ultimately offer no sort of relief to the desire he was carefully building “his helm…” Prowl continued as he tended the wax with one hand, letting the other drift up to caress Jazz’s audials “his chest, all over his body.” Prowl’s hand traveled back down Jazz’s sides, earning a low croon of his name, Jazz’s voice pleasure-dark and rich with want.

“There between the ebb tide in his wits and the rising tide of his passion, the ruler gave himself over to his unseen lover, unable-unwilling-to end the mysterious interlude, and lost his spark in the bargain.”

Jazz slowly began to come apart under his attentions, the lack of sight heightening all of his other senses so that every touch of his armor only further enflamed him and every word wreaked havoc with his senses, which in turn pushed him further along towards what promised to be a processor-blowing overload.

“The ruler, finally sated and deep in the lull of a long-absent peace, demanded to know the explorer’s name so that he could better address his spark’s captor.” Prowl caressed Jazz’s wings as he examined his handiwork, earning a squirm and hitching gasp for his troubles.

Best. Idea. Ever.

Prowl set the wax and polishing cloth aside, satisfied with the gleaming expanse of fresh white that was his canvas. Time to begin the most important part. Prowl reached for the silver paint and a thinner brush-one that would be well suited to Cybertronian calligraphy-and turned back to his lover.

“The explorer, however, knew the ruler would almost certainly seek him out using his name, at which point he would be punished for the breach in rank protocol since he was not a noble-if not by the ruler, then by his companions once they returned. Instead of revealing his name, the explorer offered the ruler a gift-a story.” Prowl dipped the calligraphy brush into the silver paint, dabbing away the excess portion before setting to work on the left panel. “The explorer described to the ruler in rich detail the latest world he had visited, once of ice and snow that gleamed under the chill light of a rapidly dying star.” As he spoke, Prowl applied the intricate glyphs of the relevant parts of the story-ice, snow, distant world, each one surrounded, hidden by the stylized snowflake he crafted for each one. Jazz cried out in earnest then, longing to move, to touch, to do anything to relieve the delicious torture he was enduring.

Prowl steadied Jazz’s arms as the mech shuddered, unable to hold back his body’s response as Prowl’s voice washed over his audials and through his lines. “At first, the ruler was hardly impressed by the story, but there, pressed against his invisible lover, images began to form in his mind’s optic, and he realized that he could visualize the explorer’s strange world, could see the images of snowy peaks and white dunes, could feel the delicate ice crystals dance on the breeze and settle on his armor as the explorer drew out everything he described, all of it, across his body. The ruler offlined from the intensity of it all, and when he came to he found himself alone in his chambers once more with no sign of his lover, just the memory of whispers of his name, a caress, a touch, and a new world still vibrant in his in memory. The ruler thought to commit the episode to writing, but he was a mech of very few words and thinking too long on the interlude would only drive him mad. In the end, he commended the essence of his experience to a poem just as fleeting and elusive as his phantom lover.” Prowl reached for another brush and his gold paint, scrawling a poem in gold amidst the flurries of snow and glyphs.

Stark, fragile beauty
Branches heavy with snow, ice.
Exquisite, fleeting!

It was a battle, he could tell, for Jazz to remain anything resembling still, and Prowl had halfway worried for the briefest of moments that his lover had actually clawed into the floor in his desperation. Prowl reached once more for the silver paint and decorated the left panel with a few more snowflakes and swirls of glyphs here and there for accents.

Satisfied, he reached for the canister of sealant and sprayed it once more over the panel, earning a panting cry from Jazz and an almost involuntary flutter of his door panel as the freezing cold substance washed over his door.

Prowl ran a soothing hand over the areas of Jazz’s back and sides he knew would help ease the saboteur away from the brink of overloading, away from that cliff of desire he was ready to tumble over at the slightest provocation. He still had another panel left, after all.

Once Jazz settled, Prowl softly caressed the right door panel, earning a helpless moan from Jazz. “The ruler was content for a time, and his companions marveled at the change in him, but as cycle after cycle passed with no sort of contact from his one-time lover, the ruler began to once more into loneliness and despair, his spark longing for the explorer.” Prowl was rewarded with wordless murmurs and soft gasps as he decorated the right panel with silver glyphs of “loneliness” and “obsession” and “longing” amidst a sprinkling of snowflakes.

“Consumed by the vivid memory of a world he’d never seen but had nonetheless experienced and driven to obsession for the mech who had so skillfully played his body like a cherished instrument, the ruler crafted a message, a plea that would be instantly recognizable to the one he sought.”

Frozen solitude-
In a world of one color
The sharp sound of wind.

“One cycle passed, and another, and yet another still, and the ruler despaired of ever seeing the explorer again. Determined to find another to ease his spirits, his companions set out again to find one that might ease their beloved ruler’s spark-ache. That same cycle, the ruler was roused by all too-familiar caresses and rejoiced in the presence of his missing lover. In truth, the explorer had not wished to abandon the ruler for so long, but he had been drawn off-world on another mission, and upon returning found it impossible to get to the rulers side until then.”

Prowl added in glyphs for “reunion” and “hope” as he continued the tale. “Afterwards, when both ruler and explorer were basking in the other’s presence, the ruler seized hold of the explorer’s hands, resolving to never release him again, lest he disappear again and leave his ruler mad with longing and want.” Prowl reveled in the rich timbre of Jazz’s voice as he drew a litany of pleas, whimpers and keening sighs from his lover with every flick and swish and twirl of his calligraphy brush. Prowl added in a few silver swirls of wind and snow around the golden verse, a scrawl of decorative brushwork there.

“Please,” the explorer begged, “In truth I cannot be detained, but I will leave you with more than what I left last time.” Reluctantly, the ruler agreed and the explorer, deciding the risk would be worth the potential reward, offered his spark to the ruler. Shocked at first, the ruler nonetheless could not find fault in the explorer, and they bonded in secret. They remained hidden away with each other until the ruler’s companions finally returned a few decacycles later, and the explorer slipped away once more. This time, however, the ruler carried in him the echo of another’s spark, and though he himself could not see, images of alien worlds and strange vistas would flash across his mind’s optic, and those he grew to cherish more than any of the things he had seen before his accident.”

Jazz screamed and arched into the unexpected stroke along his left door as Prowl touched up his work here and there, hurling Jazz right back to the brink with lights flashing behind his darkened visor, in his mind, all in shape of the glyphs Prowl was tracing along the unattended appendage.

“Please, for the love of Primus, do something!” Jazz demanded, barely able to maintain his pose as desire/need/frustration raged in his personal field.

Unable to resist such a plea, Prowl yanked Jazz up and backwards, pulling his lover flush against him as he ran his hands over Jazz’s expanse of white and black plating, hands delving into the seams between his armor pieces to tug at this bit of wiring, to twist that one, stroking over one node of sensors and barely caressing another. Unable to withstand the prolonged onslaught, Jazz’s systems flared with heat as he finally crashed into a long denied overload with a loud cry.

It was a long moment before he could even gather his wits enough to even attempt coherence, systems still running hot in the aftermath of one of the best overloads ever. His circuits thrummed with pleasure in the aftermath, and Jazz released a shuddering sigh as aftershocks sparked in his system. He finally reached the point that he felt coherent enough to online his optics, only to come face to face with a smirking tactician resting on top of him.

“I hope you’ve got more than that in you…I never finished my story.”

Jazz whimpered as Prowl reached for one of his brushes, optics alight with wicked glee.

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From vesryn to silberstreif




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Bonus ficlet for wicked3659's birthday
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Although he preferred a simpler way of life and wasn't always fond of the many ways the local sentient species wasted away their world --although there was much hope in their learning to appreciate and respect their beautiful world-- Prowl had to admit some of their recreational activities were definitely to his liking.
Snowboarding wasn't exactly a sport he expected to get into, he didn't particularly appreciate skating and surfing, but for some reason he seemed fond of sliding down a slope at high speeds over the snow. Perhaps the company and the snow had something to do with it.

"This is the most fun I've had in a while, my mech!"

Yes, definitely the company was a contributing factor.

"It is quite entertaining." Prowl looked ahead of him where the guardsmech was swaying left to right to maneuver his oversized snowboard to keep himself going in the right direction.
"It's a shame we don't have nothin' like this back in good ol' Cybertron." Jazz needed little instruction on how to use the snowboard after he watched Sari try it a few times to demonstrate and he fell in love with the activity right away.

"Sentinel would find a way to ban the activity on the grounds of it being too much fun, though." Prowl deadpanned, swaying to his left to right his snowboard and leaned forward to speed up enough so he could catch up to Jazz. "But you will always be welcome to come and stay over for some snowboarding away from the prying optics of a Magnus-wanna be."

"Much as I like the snowboarding, my mech, I rather prefer the company." Jazz looked over his shoulder and flashed a smile. "This world's amazing, so full of things I couldn't even dream of and I do have a good imagination."

"It's a wonderful place...if given a choice, I'd rather stay here forever than go back to Cybertron." Prowl admitted with a small smile. "There's so much I still have to learn about this place, but it's here, with the mechs I'm honored to call comrades and friends, that I feel I can reach the potential master Yoketron saw in me."

"I think you will exceed his expectations, ol' sensei would be proud t'see the mech you've become, Prowl. " Jazz managed a turn to move over to another patch of snow, flatter and more compact so they could keep on sliding, the mountain was certainly tall. "Y'know, I can't blame ya for wantin' to stay here...if I could, I'd dig the semi-permanent change of scenery."
Prowl followed Jazz, keeping up with ease due to his lighter frame offering less resistance to the wind. "Why can't you? A ninja of your skills would surely be appreciated by the Earth team."

"Just the Earth team?" Jazz teased with a smile.

Prowl looked away a little, looking the tiniest bit flustered. "You know what I mean. Don't make me say it word for word."

Jazz laughed, that rich and warm sound that often made Prowl shudder with warmth and desire. "The feeling's mutual, my mech." Jazz watched Prowl slide faster ahead of him with a little smirk, a good natured challenge like many others they had engaged in before.

Jazz never felt this kind of companionship and general desire to be close with other cyber ninja, even if Prowl never truly went through the rituals of formal branding of the Corps, as far as Jazz was concerned he was now a ninja through and through. Prowl had something fascinating about himself and for someone like Jazz, the desire to explore and get to know more about the things that made Prowl so interesting and fascinating kept him coming for more.

Jazz didn't think he'd ever truly figure out Prowl in full, and even if he did, he couldn't see himself growing tired of his company and was sure this world of wonders he chose to live in would bear witness to many special and memorable times in their lives.

They chased each other in the snowboards, quietly engaging in a dance with skill and harmony, their bodies moving in perfect tandem as they slid down the mountain, leaving their trails behind to be covered by the next snow fall or storm. Neither one would mind to keep on this dance, in the snow, the sea, the stars and far beyond.