What Happens When You Aren’t Looking
Title: What Happens When You Aren’t Looking
Author: AotA
Rating: R for mech/mech
Warnings: Slash, not-sticky interfacing
Characters: Smokescreen/Jazz, Prowl, Blaster
Setting: movieverse
Notes: SmokescreenxJazz, Out of sight, out of mind tf_rare_pairing Challenge, Day 20. This is late because of various RL issues.
Smokescreen did as he always did and sowed confusion on the plane of battle. He “cheated” his way through gambling that was, for him, mere children’s play-simple calculations made with each hand, or throw, or call-that he had long since decided was more fun with his mind pleasantly hazed with high grade. When he could, he would then slip away and let no mech think anything of it.
Jazz would slip through enemy lines and into their bases and, depending on the orders of the orn, assassinate, sabotage, collect intelligence, just generally wreck havoc, or otherwise undermine the enemy’s forces. When safe on home grounds, he would party long, hard, loud, and late into the orn. As soon as the high grade he had “encouraged” Sideswipe to provide had sunk into the party goers’ brains and led them into a stupor, he would slip away, unnoticed, like the saboteur he was.
They would meet in Jazz’s quarters, intertwine their frames just inside Smokescreen’s door, and tumble in an old empty room long gone unused. Sometimes they would interface over Prime’s desk for the rush from doing it fast, dirty, and without the owner’s knowledge. Other times they might pass by a knowing Prowl as he left his office on his way to crash the latest party and he would give them a nod and his office security codes, letting them merge their sparks in the safety of their secret holder’s domain.
As soon as the door closed and locked, Jazz sinuously twined about Smokescreen and pressed against his back where he could take full advantage of the span of his sensor wings, arms wrapping around the other mech’s waist.
He slowly nibbled his way across slim sensor wings and when he reached the tip, he traced the line where red and blue met back down to the base with his glossa, enjoying the full body shudder it got him. Jazz chuckled, sending vibrations through his bonded’s sensitive wings and getting a glower from his golden visor. Smokescreen huffed and pushed Jazz back, away from his sensor wings. “If you want to tease, I’ll show you a tease,” he said in a playfully severe tone as he fished through a conveniently placed drawer and pulled out a pair of energon cuffs with a notable smirk. Gotta love Prowl’s sense of organization…
Jazz watched his bonded carefully. This could prove to be… interesting. If he could get those cuffs from Smokescreen, then he could play with him for a good long while. Smokescreen’s smirk broadened. Jazz was making no attempt to conceal his thoughts.
Smokescreen twirled the cuffs around one claw, caught the free cuff with his other hand and opened them both with an audible click. In a smooth, velvety purr, that he had calculated entirely to have a particular effect on his bonded, Smokescreen said, “You want them? You’ll have to take them from me.”
Jazz’s optics blazed and he pounced even before Smokescreen had finished speaking. The tactician sidestepped him nimbly, having anticipated his bonded’s lunge.
They wound up in a faceoff. “Who’s the tease now?” Jazz asked intensely, engine revving in anticipation.
“Who said I’m teasing?” Smokescreen replied smoothly, but the light of his optics told a far different story than the calm of his voice.
Jazz snorted, “You’re an unshelled liar or I’m scrap.”
Smokescreen laughed loudly. These games had been a part of their courtship since the very beginning. They would fence with words and posturing even as they read each other perfectly.
Jazz loved the fun loving, easy going, and oft times rather lewd mech, as well as the mech who was a coldly calculating dirty fighter when times called for it.
Smokescreen loved the irrepressible and spirited mech who got along with mostly everyone, irreverent and sensational. He also loved the mech who could kill you before you knew he was standing behind you when he was in mission mode.
Despite the necessity that they keep their bonding under wraps, and the likelihood of discovery, they never regretted the path that their lives had taken.
Jazz stalked forward toward his bonded and skimmed silver armor against rich, smoky blue, gliding lightly over the plates. His claws trailed tantalizingly over red hip plating. “You know you want to give them to me,” Jazz cooed.
Smokescreen danced back slightly, “I’m not that easy.”
Jazz smirked, claws still hanging out in midair, “I love the challenge.” He wiggled them suggestively.
“Of course you do,” Smokescreen said condescendingly, as though talking to a pet.
This time, when Jazz lunged, Smokescreen wasn’t prepared and they wound up in a tangle against the door, the cuffs dropped to the floor and forgotten for the moment. Somehow, Smokescreen managed to wind up pinning Jazz against the door. “Not what you were attempting?” Smokescreen asked tauntingly.
“I’d say…” Jazz purred and then flipped the both of them over so he could pin Smokescreen face first against the door, “It was exactly what I was attempting.”
-=/\=-
Prowl paused as his door suddenly vibrated under his hand, then vibrated again with even more force behind it. He looked blankly at his door and consulted his chronometer. Another impact led to him removing his hand from the surface of his door and glancing up and down the corridor.
With no one in witness, he nonchalantly took a step back from his office door and continued on his way. He could do some work in the monitor room just as well as he could in his office.
Blaster looked up when he arrived, “Oh, hey Prowl, have you seen Jazz around?”
Prowl paused, “No I have not, though I am sure that he is busy getting into trouble somewhere.”
Blaster snickered, “Jazz isn’t always getting into trouble, Prowl.”
The tactician gave his a jaundiced look. “I’m sure,” he said wryly. Of course Jazz was always getting into trouble. The times that the rest of the crew didn’t know about were often a result of Prowl covering for him.
Prowl simply thought it ironic that no one seemed to catch on that there was more going on with their saboteur and diversionary tactician than they saw. Prowl also thought that his mechs should at least have realized that the both of them were more than they seemed simply by virtue of who they were and what they did.
-=/\=-
Jazz wasn’t sure how Smokescreen had managed to get the energon cuffs on him, but it had happened. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pout or anticipate what Smokescreen would do to him.
This was promising to be a long, long session.
…Jazz was so looking forward to it.
Smokescreen ran his claws down Jazz’s chest plates, striking sparks and scratching paint as he went. Jazz winced at the screech of sharpened alloys on hardened armor.
Smokescreen’s helm dipped lower and he laved the new scratches with his glossa, taking advantage of the spike in sensitivity in that area. When he pulled back slightly, he smiled a slow, wicked smile up at his silver saboteur.
Whoof, Jazz thought, That is hot. He said as much out loud.
“Do feel free to go wild.” Smokescreen’s mouth latched onto one of Jazz’s finlike audials and stimulated it mercilessly.
Jazz held off valiantly but eventually his visor shut off in sheer self defense, “Primus!”
Smokescreen paused and backed off once more to nuzzle Jazz’s neck, “I’m not Him, but I’m flattered that you’d think so.”
Jazz groaned, “…Fragger.”
“Delightfully so,” Smokescreen murmured smugly.
Jazz growled and his visor flicked to life, “Don’t… stop!” He jerked against his bonded’s languid nonchalance, jolting him with aggravation and need. He couldn’t just stop like that!
“Ah,” Smokescreen said slyly, “am I being a tease? My bad.” He just loved that particular turn of phrase and had stolen it from their Prime the first time he had heard it.
Jazz groaned again, “This is payback, isn’t it?”
“Payback for what?” Smokescreen just wanted to hear Jazz admit to it.
“Teasing you, slaggit!” Jazz barked.
A smug smile appeared on Smokescreen’s face and he finally let himself kiss Jazz senseless. Heat radiated off the both of them, so involved that Jazz completely forgot about the cuffs-at least until he tried to move.
“Hey, Smokey? Mind taking these off?” He wiggled his entire body for emphasis, not minding the sparks that the motion threw at all.
Smokescreen simply stared him straight in the visor and said in a low sensuous voice, “How about… no.” He proceeded to lavish attention on Jazz in ways that he normally couldn’t, simply because the personable mech always sought to return that attention, amplified.
When he was a pleasantly melted puddle of mech from multiple overloads, Jazz decided that maybe they should do this again sometime. It would be… fun.
-=/\=-
Later Prowl would come by when they were on monitor duty with a dour expression and place the cuffs in front of the other tactician. “Keep them,” would be the only thing said and he would depart the same way that he came, leaving a chagrined pair looking at each other over the cuffs. Eventually, Jazz would reach over with a grin and subspace the cuffs, sending a flirtatious wink towards Smokescreen.
Author: AotA
Rating: R for mech/mech
Warnings: Slash, not-sticky interfacing
Characters: Smokescreen/Jazz, Prowl, Blaster
Setting: movieverse
Notes: SmokescreenxJazz, Out of sight, out of mind tf_rare_pairing Challenge, Day 20. This is late because of various RL issues.
Smokescreen did as he always did and sowed confusion on the plane of battle. He “cheated” his way through gambling that was, for him, mere children’s play-simple calculations made with each hand, or throw, or call-that he had long since decided was more fun with his mind pleasantly hazed with high grade. When he could, he would then slip away and let no mech think anything of it.
Jazz would slip through enemy lines and into their bases and, depending on the orders of the orn, assassinate, sabotage, collect intelligence, just generally wreck havoc, or otherwise undermine the enemy’s forces. When safe on home grounds, he would party long, hard, loud, and late into the orn. As soon as the high grade he had “encouraged” Sideswipe to provide had sunk into the party goers’ brains and led them into a stupor, he would slip away, unnoticed, like the saboteur he was.
They would meet in Jazz’s quarters, intertwine their frames just inside Smokescreen’s door, and tumble in an old empty room long gone unused. Sometimes they would interface over Prime’s desk for the rush from doing it fast, dirty, and without the owner’s knowledge. Other times they might pass by a knowing Prowl as he left his office on his way to crash the latest party and he would give them a nod and his office security codes, letting them merge their sparks in the safety of their secret holder’s domain.
As soon as the door closed and locked, Jazz sinuously twined about Smokescreen and pressed against his back where he could take full advantage of the span of his sensor wings, arms wrapping around the other mech’s waist.
He slowly nibbled his way across slim sensor wings and when he reached the tip, he traced the line where red and blue met back down to the base with his glossa, enjoying the full body shudder it got him. Jazz chuckled, sending vibrations through his bonded’s sensitive wings and getting a glower from his golden visor. Smokescreen huffed and pushed Jazz back, away from his sensor wings. “If you want to tease, I’ll show you a tease,” he said in a playfully severe tone as he fished through a conveniently placed drawer and pulled out a pair of energon cuffs with a notable smirk. Gotta love Prowl’s sense of organization…
Jazz watched his bonded carefully. This could prove to be… interesting. If he could get those cuffs from Smokescreen, then he could play with him for a good long while. Smokescreen’s smirk broadened. Jazz was making no attempt to conceal his thoughts.
Smokescreen twirled the cuffs around one claw, caught the free cuff with his other hand and opened them both with an audible click. In a smooth, velvety purr, that he had calculated entirely to have a particular effect on his bonded, Smokescreen said, “You want them? You’ll have to take them from me.”
Jazz’s optics blazed and he pounced even before Smokescreen had finished speaking. The tactician sidestepped him nimbly, having anticipated his bonded’s lunge.
They wound up in a faceoff. “Who’s the tease now?” Jazz asked intensely, engine revving in anticipation.
“Who said I’m teasing?” Smokescreen replied smoothly, but the light of his optics told a far different story than the calm of his voice.
Jazz snorted, “You’re an unshelled liar or I’m scrap.”
Smokescreen laughed loudly. These games had been a part of their courtship since the very beginning. They would fence with words and posturing even as they read each other perfectly.
Jazz loved the fun loving, easy going, and oft times rather lewd mech, as well as the mech who was a coldly calculating dirty fighter when times called for it.
Smokescreen loved the irrepressible and spirited mech who got along with mostly everyone, irreverent and sensational. He also loved the mech who could kill you before you knew he was standing behind you when he was in mission mode.
Despite the necessity that they keep their bonding under wraps, and the likelihood of discovery, they never regretted the path that their lives had taken.
Jazz stalked forward toward his bonded and skimmed silver armor against rich, smoky blue, gliding lightly over the plates. His claws trailed tantalizingly over red hip plating. “You know you want to give them to me,” Jazz cooed.
Smokescreen danced back slightly, “I’m not that easy.”
Jazz smirked, claws still hanging out in midair, “I love the challenge.” He wiggled them suggestively.
“Of course you do,” Smokescreen said condescendingly, as though talking to a pet.
This time, when Jazz lunged, Smokescreen wasn’t prepared and they wound up in a tangle against the door, the cuffs dropped to the floor and forgotten for the moment. Somehow, Smokescreen managed to wind up pinning Jazz against the door. “Not what you were attempting?” Smokescreen asked tauntingly.
“I’d say…” Jazz purred and then flipped the both of them over so he could pin Smokescreen face first against the door, “It was exactly what I was attempting.”
-=/\=-
Prowl paused as his door suddenly vibrated under his hand, then vibrated again with even more force behind it. He looked blankly at his door and consulted his chronometer. Another impact led to him removing his hand from the surface of his door and glancing up and down the corridor.
With no one in witness, he nonchalantly took a step back from his office door and continued on his way. He could do some work in the monitor room just as well as he could in his office.
Blaster looked up when he arrived, “Oh, hey Prowl, have you seen Jazz around?”
Prowl paused, “No I have not, though I am sure that he is busy getting into trouble somewhere.”
Blaster snickered, “Jazz isn’t always getting into trouble, Prowl.”
The tactician gave his a jaundiced look. “I’m sure,” he said wryly. Of course Jazz was always getting into trouble. The times that the rest of the crew didn’t know about were often a result of Prowl covering for him.
Prowl simply thought it ironic that no one seemed to catch on that there was more going on with their saboteur and diversionary tactician than they saw. Prowl also thought that his mechs should at least have realized that the both of them were more than they seemed simply by virtue of who they were and what they did.
-=/\=-
Jazz wasn’t sure how Smokescreen had managed to get the energon cuffs on him, but it had happened. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pout or anticipate what Smokescreen would do to him.
This was promising to be a long, long session.
…Jazz was so looking forward to it.
Smokescreen ran his claws down Jazz’s chest plates, striking sparks and scratching paint as he went. Jazz winced at the screech of sharpened alloys on hardened armor.
Smokescreen’s helm dipped lower and he laved the new scratches with his glossa, taking advantage of the spike in sensitivity in that area. When he pulled back slightly, he smiled a slow, wicked smile up at his silver saboteur.
Whoof, Jazz thought, That is hot. He said as much out loud.
“Do feel free to go wild.” Smokescreen’s mouth latched onto one of Jazz’s finlike audials and stimulated it mercilessly.
Jazz held off valiantly but eventually his visor shut off in sheer self defense, “Primus!”
Smokescreen paused and backed off once more to nuzzle Jazz’s neck, “I’m not Him, but I’m flattered that you’d think so.”
Jazz groaned, “…Fragger.”
“Delightfully so,” Smokescreen murmured smugly.
Jazz growled and his visor flicked to life, “Don’t… stop!” He jerked against his bonded’s languid nonchalance, jolting him with aggravation and need. He couldn’t just stop like that!
“Ah,” Smokescreen said slyly, “am I being a tease? My bad.” He just loved that particular turn of phrase and had stolen it from their Prime the first time he had heard it.
Jazz groaned again, “This is payback, isn’t it?”
“Payback for what?” Smokescreen just wanted to hear Jazz admit to it.
“Teasing you, slaggit!” Jazz barked.
A smug smile appeared on Smokescreen’s face and he finally let himself kiss Jazz senseless. Heat radiated off the both of them, so involved that Jazz completely forgot about the cuffs-at least until he tried to move.
“Hey, Smokey? Mind taking these off?” He wiggled his entire body for emphasis, not minding the sparks that the motion threw at all.
Smokescreen simply stared him straight in the visor and said in a low sensuous voice, “How about… no.” He proceeded to lavish attention on Jazz in ways that he normally couldn’t, simply because the personable mech always sought to return that attention, amplified.
When he was a pleasantly melted puddle of mech from multiple overloads, Jazz decided that maybe they should do this again sometime. It would be… fun.
-=/\=-
Later Prowl would come by when they were on monitor duty with a dour expression and place the cuffs in front of the other tactician. “Keep them,” would be the only thing said and he would depart the same way that he came, leaving a chagrined pair looking at each other over the cuffs. Eventually, Jazz would reach over with a grin and subspace the cuffs, sending a flirtatious wink towards Smokescreen.