Mind the signs 5
We now return you to your irregularly scheduled crack.
The giant robots are not mine. The crazy has gotten to my headspace again. I believe at some point I said these guys descend to frat-boy-ish behavior when I toss them together.
Rated: M
"‘Prowl gasped at the sight of Jazz’s spike, it was extremely long and thick. 'I can’t wait to feel that inside me,' he moaned with desire.
Jazz leant forward, teasing Prowl’s doorwings with quick servos. 'Want to-want to feel you, Prowler-'
The saboteur wedged a leg between Prowl’s, groaning as his spike brushed against the other’s thigh. They pressed their bodies together and-‘”
Prowl broke off and lowered the datapad connected to his wrist-port to stare at the miscreant seated on the other side of his desk. “I’ve always known you were insane Sideswipe,” he intoned drolly, “But now I have proof.”
The front-liner squirmed under his scrutiny. “I can explain,” he said bravely.
Prowl raised one optic ridge then glanced down at the datapd in his servo as if to say, really Sideswipe? You can explain this? Go ahead and try. Your pitiful excuses will amuse me.
It was scary how well he resembled Megatron right at this moment.
“It’s the humans, sir,” Sideswipe said quickly.
“The humans,” Prowl repeated dryly. He swept his gaze over his office as though looking for these aforementioned humans and, when none of them spontaneously appeared in front of him, returned his attention back to his lone culprit. “The humans…made you write this. You, a capable Autobot warrior who is several times their size.”
Pull the other Sideswipe. Or maybe just go jump off a cliff and save yourself from the punishment that I’m going to give you. It’ll be less painless.
It was amazing what Prowl could express with his body language, especially when he was as blank faced and rigid as he was at this moment.
“Well yes, it was the humans. I’d noticed that they are obsessed with sex. It’s everywhere in their media, their music, their television, on the internet. Everywhere. And they are willing to pay money for it. So I thought there must be some way of making money from that. And-”
Prow exvented gustily. “‘Jazz pushed his spike into Prow’s valve,’” he read tonelessly. "‘The two mechs moaned at the sensations unfurling through their bodies.’”
Sideswipe flinched at his superior’s deadpan delivery. “Sir? Seriously, could you not read it that like that? You are butchering a work of art.”
He was soundly ignored. “‘Jazz began to thrust wildly into Prowl’s valve,’” the tactican continued on. “’He pressed his lips against Prowl’s and they exchanged a hot kiss-‘”
“Seriously Prowl. Could you just stop and let me explain?” Sideswipe pleaded. He was startled when the room’s third occupant broke down and started giggling helplessly.
“Frag no, Siders, this is hilarious,” Jazz somehow declared between bursts of laughter. Prowl gave the saboteur a patient look but obligingly stopped reading and waited for Sideswipe’s answers.
“Alright, look. I figured I could make some money for us by selling a fictionalized account of the war except I decided to sex it up a lot because apparently that’s a strategy that works well on humans. And the humans are really obsessed with the pair of you, so that’s why I used you. I’m sorry, I should have asked-“
“According to your account, Jazz spends much of his time interfacing his way through the Decepticon forces to gather intel,” Prowl replied blandly over Jazz's non-stop giggles. “Not only is this grossly inaccurate but I doubt we will ever be able to salvage his reputation to placate the humans.”
“Well, er, I wasn’t going to tell them what he really does,” Sideswipe argued feebly. He was aware of the twin disbelieving stares leveled on his helm and shrunk down in his seat. “I had to make stuff up.”
“Like the mech genitalia?” Prowl inquired flatly.
“Yes, like the mech genitalia,” the front-liner replied sullenly. Really, he’d thought that had been a brilliant stroke on his part.
“Mech genitalia!” Jazz snickered as he tried to get control of his laughter. “Of all ridiculous- you gave us human genitalia! Oh Siders, what-? Why would you even-?”
“I had to make it relatable to them!” the frontliner protested. “They’re organics, it has to be something they recognize or they wouldn’t be interested-!”
“Is that why Prowl is a blushing virgin who I had to break into the world of adulthood and sexy fun times?” Jazz cut in brightly, still trying to get his mirth under control.
“Well, er-“
At this point, even Prowl’s ironclad control couldn’t last. The corner of his faceplates twitched. This was a bad sign of impending volcanic eruption. “I believe you have outdone yourself,” he said tightly before returning his attention to the datapad. “‘The speed of Jazz’s thrusts sped up-‘“
Sideswipe leapt to his pedes and hastily vacated Prowl’s office, never mind that his punishment was probably going to be much, much worse for breaking the rules so blatantly in front of his two COs. But he wasn’t going to remain there and listen to Prowl read smut, smut that he, Sideswipe had written, in the most monotonous voice in existence. It was torture. It was pure evil. Some mechs just didn't have an appreciation for genius.
With Sideswipe gone, Prowl disconnected the datapd then melted it away into nothing with his acid rifle. “That mech is a lunatic,” he declared before giving a quiet but undignified snort of amusement. Jazz weakly waved a hand at him, unable to speak. Prowl tried to keep his faceplates smooth but soon he was quietly chuckling.
Jazz managed to gain control of himself long enough to gasp out in a falsetto, “’Oh Prowl, your valve is amazing!’
‘Take me Jazz! Take me harder!’
‘Prowl!’
“Jazz!’
‘Proooooowl!’
‘Jaaaaaazz!’”
The tactician gave Jazz a helpless look. “Should I be disturbed at how easily you did both our voices just then? I've never even heard my voice go that high.”
Jazz gave a lazy grin. “Nah. Just enjoy my the rest of my recital, I’ve been practicing and waiting for this ever since Sider’s book got published,” he confessed. “He has so many terrible lines, it’s practically gold.”
Prowl gave an indulgent wave. “Continue then.”
“‘The two were quickly approaching overload,’” Jazz narrated dramatically, “‘Their bodies gyrated in unison, matching each other movements. It was perfection. It felt so good. It was ecstasy. Jazz thrust wildly and then sent a magnetic charge through Prowl’s doorwings. The tactician overloaded with a feral howl-‘"
“…those are sensor panels and they are not sensitive,” Prowl murmured quietly.
“-Hush you, don’t logic this train wreck. ‘Jazz was dragged into his own overload by the sight of Prowl’s rapturous face-’”
“You have got to be joking.” Prowl didn’t do rapture. Or anything else rather than his stoic, blank face.
“‘He collapsed onto Prowl’s prone form, venting wildly. The two lay quietly in each other’s’ arms for several long breems. Then Prowl roused himself. ‘I love you,’ he confessed quietly.
‘I love you too,’ Jazz replied. The saboteur’s spike was still pressurized-‘”
“Oh dear Primus, it goes on?”
The saboteur flashed him a sharp smile. “Prowl, we have twenty five more chapters of this to get through. Brace yourself, we're in for a long haul.”
It was at that point that Prowl’s door was pinged. Prowl checked his visitor’s ID and then signalled the door to open, allowing Optimus’s majestic bulk to fill the room. “I just saw Sideswipe run down the hall like he had Unicron on his tailpipe,” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Apparently he is quite happy to write his torrid romances but not to hear them being read out loud,” Prowl replied smoothly. Already, he had begun to sort through the work he had piled up, running data analysis and combat simulations. Multi-tasking was the only way he ever managed to get anything done.
Optimus raised an optic ridge and glanced questioningly at Jazz. “You’ve come just in time, Boss-Bot, for the good stuff!” the saboteur exclaimed.
The Prime couldn’t help himself, he grimaced involuntary. And took a big step away from Jazz. Just in case he needed to make a quick exit. He wasn't deeply uncomfortable with this stuff. Nope. Not at all. “If the good stuff is what I think it is, I’d rather not,” he replied.
Jazz waved a hand in denial. “I was just going to skip to the ending,” he said.
“What happens in the ending?” Prime wondered cautiously.
“More human style interfacing,” Jazz replied. Seeing that Optimus was about to flee, he added, “But I changed it to make it more interesting. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Interesting,” Prowl repeated flatly. He eyed the saboteur dubiously. “Much of Sideswipe’s story could fall under the category of ‘interesting.’ As in, ‘we really need to find out the reason his coding is so warped…and then remove all traces of whatever aberration has arisen. And then check with Vegma Sigma so it never happens again.’”
The saboteur was unphased by his comrades’ disbelief. “’Jazz thrust into Prowl’s valve, groaning at the sensation. It was so tight, so perfect. He wanted to stay there forever-!’"
Optimus turned to leave the room but was halted by the next line.
"‘…And that was when his spark gave out due to the sheer amount of interfacing he’d done over the past few orns,'” Jazz finished with a very smug grin. "The fragging end."
Optimus shuttered his optics in gobsmacked confusion while Prowl gave a very undignified snort of amusement. “Bravo,” he said, “I applaud your decision to kill yourself off and escape from this terrible story. Any chance you could persuade Sideswipe to kill me in the inevitable sequel which he is going to write despite all orders to the contrary?”
“But Prowl! We had so much uh, interfacing to do. And I think there’s something called a sparkling that we created and you ‘carry’ apparently.”
There was a startled burst of static from Prime’s corner of the room. Jazz and Prowl both calmly glanced at their superior officer as he tried to collect himself. “Cybertronian pregnancy?” he questioned, staring at Prowl’s frame in horror and no doubt trying to rid his processor of the mental image it had created.
Prowl gave a resigned exvent as Jazz grinned brightly. “Don’t ask,” the SIC advised.
“But how-?”
“No.”
“Why-?”
“No.”
“Sideswipe?”
“Will never be understood. Ever.”
Optimus stared at his two closest friends. “I dread to think what you are going to do to him,” he said.
Prowl smiled.
Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, bearer of the Matrix, shivered.
In fear.
The giant robots are not mine. The crazy has gotten to my headspace again. I believe at some point I said these guys descend to frat-boy-ish behavior when I toss them together.
Rated: M
"‘Prowl gasped at the sight of Jazz’s spike, it was extremely long and thick. 'I can’t wait to feel that inside me,' he moaned with desire.
Jazz leant forward, teasing Prowl’s doorwings with quick servos. 'Want to-want to feel you, Prowler-'
The saboteur wedged a leg between Prowl’s, groaning as his spike brushed against the other’s thigh. They pressed their bodies together and-‘”
Prowl broke off and lowered the datapad connected to his wrist-port to stare at the miscreant seated on the other side of his desk. “I’ve always known you were insane Sideswipe,” he intoned drolly, “But now I have proof.”
The front-liner squirmed under his scrutiny. “I can explain,” he said bravely.
Prowl raised one optic ridge then glanced down at the datapd in his servo as if to say, really Sideswipe? You can explain this? Go ahead and try. Your pitiful excuses will amuse me.
It was scary how well he resembled Megatron right at this moment.
“It’s the humans, sir,” Sideswipe said quickly.
“The humans,” Prowl repeated dryly. He swept his gaze over his office as though looking for these aforementioned humans and, when none of them spontaneously appeared in front of him, returned his attention back to his lone culprit. “The humans…made you write this. You, a capable Autobot warrior who is several times their size.”
Pull the other Sideswipe. Or maybe just go jump off a cliff and save yourself from the punishment that I’m going to give you. It’ll be less painless.
It was amazing what Prowl could express with his body language, especially when he was as blank faced and rigid as he was at this moment.
“Well yes, it was the humans. I’d noticed that they are obsessed with sex. It’s everywhere in their media, their music, their television, on the internet. Everywhere. And they are willing to pay money for it. So I thought there must be some way of making money from that. And-”
Prow exvented gustily. “‘Jazz pushed his spike into Prow’s valve,’” he read tonelessly. "‘The two mechs moaned at the sensations unfurling through their bodies.’”
Sideswipe flinched at his superior’s deadpan delivery. “Sir? Seriously, could you not read it that like that? You are butchering a work of art.”
He was soundly ignored. “‘Jazz began to thrust wildly into Prowl’s valve,’” the tactican continued on. “’He pressed his lips against Prowl’s and they exchanged a hot kiss-‘”
“Seriously Prowl. Could you just stop and let me explain?” Sideswipe pleaded. He was startled when the room’s third occupant broke down and started giggling helplessly.
“Frag no, Siders, this is hilarious,” Jazz somehow declared between bursts of laughter. Prowl gave the saboteur a patient look but obligingly stopped reading and waited for Sideswipe’s answers.
“Alright, look. I figured I could make some money for us by selling a fictionalized account of the war except I decided to sex it up a lot because apparently that’s a strategy that works well on humans. And the humans are really obsessed with the pair of you, so that’s why I used you. I’m sorry, I should have asked-“
“According to your account, Jazz spends much of his time interfacing his way through the Decepticon forces to gather intel,” Prowl replied blandly over Jazz's non-stop giggles. “Not only is this grossly inaccurate but I doubt we will ever be able to salvage his reputation to placate the humans.”
“Well, er, I wasn’t going to tell them what he really does,” Sideswipe argued feebly. He was aware of the twin disbelieving stares leveled on his helm and shrunk down in his seat. “I had to make stuff up.”
“Like the mech genitalia?” Prowl inquired flatly.
“Yes, like the mech genitalia,” the front-liner replied sullenly. Really, he’d thought that had been a brilliant stroke on his part.
“Mech genitalia!” Jazz snickered as he tried to get control of his laughter. “Of all ridiculous- you gave us human genitalia! Oh Siders, what-? Why would you even-?”
“I had to make it relatable to them!” the frontliner protested. “They’re organics, it has to be something they recognize or they wouldn’t be interested-!”
“Is that why Prowl is a blushing virgin who I had to break into the world of adulthood and sexy fun times?” Jazz cut in brightly, still trying to get his mirth under control.
“Well, er-“
At this point, even Prowl’s ironclad control couldn’t last. The corner of his faceplates twitched. This was a bad sign of impending volcanic eruption. “I believe you have outdone yourself,” he said tightly before returning his attention to the datapad. “‘The speed of Jazz’s thrusts sped up-‘“
Sideswipe leapt to his pedes and hastily vacated Prowl’s office, never mind that his punishment was probably going to be much, much worse for breaking the rules so blatantly in front of his two COs. But he wasn’t going to remain there and listen to Prowl read smut, smut that he, Sideswipe had written, in the most monotonous voice in existence. It was torture. It was pure evil. Some mechs just didn't have an appreciation for genius.
With Sideswipe gone, Prowl disconnected the datapd then melted it away into nothing with his acid rifle. “That mech is a lunatic,” he declared before giving a quiet but undignified snort of amusement. Jazz weakly waved a hand at him, unable to speak. Prowl tried to keep his faceplates smooth but soon he was quietly chuckling.
Jazz managed to gain control of himself long enough to gasp out in a falsetto, “’Oh Prowl, your valve is amazing!’
‘Take me Jazz! Take me harder!’
‘Prowl!’
“Jazz!’
‘Proooooowl!’
‘Jaaaaaazz!’”
The tactician gave Jazz a helpless look. “Should I be disturbed at how easily you did both our voices just then? I've never even heard my voice go that high.”
Jazz gave a lazy grin. “Nah. Just enjoy my the rest of my recital, I’ve been practicing and waiting for this ever since Sider’s book got published,” he confessed. “He has so many terrible lines, it’s practically gold.”
Prowl gave an indulgent wave. “Continue then.”
“‘The two were quickly approaching overload,’” Jazz narrated dramatically, “‘Their bodies gyrated in unison, matching each other movements. It was perfection. It felt so good. It was ecstasy. Jazz thrust wildly and then sent a magnetic charge through Prowl’s doorwings. The tactician overloaded with a feral howl-‘"
“…those are sensor panels and they are not sensitive,” Prowl murmured quietly.
“-Hush you, don’t logic this train wreck. ‘Jazz was dragged into his own overload by the sight of Prowl’s rapturous face-’”
“You have got to be joking.” Prowl didn’t do rapture. Or anything else rather than his stoic, blank face.
“‘He collapsed onto Prowl’s prone form, venting wildly. The two lay quietly in each other’s’ arms for several long breems. Then Prowl roused himself. ‘I love you,’ he confessed quietly.
‘I love you too,’ Jazz replied. The saboteur’s spike was still pressurized-‘”
“Oh dear Primus, it goes on?”
The saboteur flashed him a sharp smile. “Prowl, we have twenty five more chapters of this to get through. Brace yourself, we're in for a long haul.”
It was at that point that Prowl’s door was pinged. Prowl checked his visitor’s ID and then signalled the door to open, allowing Optimus’s majestic bulk to fill the room. “I just saw Sideswipe run down the hall like he had Unicron on his tailpipe,” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Apparently he is quite happy to write his torrid romances but not to hear them being read out loud,” Prowl replied smoothly. Already, he had begun to sort through the work he had piled up, running data analysis and combat simulations. Multi-tasking was the only way he ever managed to get anything done.
Optimus raised an optic ridge and glanced questioningly at Jazz. “You’ve come just in time, Boss-Bot, for the good stuff!” the saboteur exclaimed.
The Prime couldn’t help himself, he grimaced involuntary. And took a big step away from Jazz. Just in case he needed to make a quick exit. He wasn't deeply uncomfortable with this stuff. Nope. Not at all. “If the good stuff is what I think it is, I’d rather not,” he replied.
Jazz waved a hand in denial. “I was just going to skip to the ending,” he said.
“What happens in the ending?” Prime wondered cautiously.
“More human style interfacing,” Jazz replied. Seeing that Optimus was about to flee, he added, “But I changed it to make it more interesting. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“Interesting,” Prowl repeated flatly. He eyed the saboteur dubiously. “Much of Sideswipe’s story could fall under the category of ‘interesting.’ As in, ‘we really need to find out the reason his coding is so warped…and then remove all traces of whatever aberration has arisen. And then check with Vegma Sigma so it never happens again.’”
The saboteur was unphased by his comrades’ disbelief. “’Jazz thrust into Prowl’s valve, groaning at the sensation. It was so tight, so perfect. He wanted to stay there forever-!’"
Optimus turned to leave the room but was halted by the next line.
"‘…And that was when his spark gave out due to the sheer amount of interfacing he’d done over the past few orns,'” Jazz finished with a very smug grin. "The fragging end."
Optimus shuttered his optics in gobsmacked confusion while Prowl gave a very undignified snort of amusement. “Bravo,” he said, “I applaud your decision to kill yourself off and escape from this terrible story. Any chance you could persuade Sideswipe to kill me in the inevitable sequel which he is going to write despite all orders to the contrary?”
“But Prowl! We had so much uh, interfacing to do. And I think there’s something called a sparkling that we created and you ‘carry’ apparently.”
There was a startled burst of static from Prime’s corner of the room. Jazz and Prowl both calmly glanced at their superior officer as he tried to collect himself. “Cybertronian pregnancy?” he questioned, staring at Prowl’s frame in horror and no doubt trying to rid his processor of the mental image it had created.
Prowl gave a resigned exvent as Jazz grinned brightly. “Don’t ask,” the SIC advised.
“But how-?”
“No.”
“Why-?”
“No.”
“Sideswipe?”
“Will never be understood. Ever.”
Optimus stared at his two closest friends. “I dread to think what you are going to do to him,” he said.
Prowl smiled.
Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, bearer of the Matrix, shivered.
In fear.