Methods of Persuasion (2/3)
The not-quite-smut bunny struck again, this time, thankfully, it waited until I was done with stuff and had a free moment. There's a third part too.
Title: Methods of Persuasion (2/3)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: M
Pairing/s: Prowl/Optimus. Implied Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Not quite smut.
When exactly, he wondered, had his Commander become more than a mech he followed out of duty and honour? When had responsibility and obligation become care and, dare he say it, love? He’d been by Sentinel’s side for so long, and the loss of the great mech had almost undone him, but he’d pulled together and kept on going, for the Autobots, for his duty, and for the new Prime.
He’d first met Optimus when the new Prime entered his office for the first time. The mech was awkward in his new body, and hopelessly lost in the sea of bureaucracy that characterised much of High Command. He’d stepped in, holding the new Prime’s hand, and thankfully, the mech had learnt fast, and learnt well.
At first, he’d not been impressed, though he decided to reserve judgement until their new leader was settled, but gradually, he came to realise that though this mech was different from Sentinel, that difference was not a bad thing, and even more gradually, came to admit that Optimus could possibly be a better leader than Sentinel. This mech cared. Cared about the mechs under his command, as individuals as much as a singular force. Cared, even for the Decepticons, whom so many in the Autobots had already condemned to the Pit. Cared, even for him, the unheralded, unnoticed SIC, and going out of his way to make sure Prowl knew it.
Then, he’d had to withdraw, to let the new leader face his people without a crutch, present a strong, determined face to their world and their foes. He’d gone back to being the Prime’s SIC, falling into familiar patterns set with Sentinel. He missed Optimus, but decided that for the sake of the Autobots, he had to let go. Then, he met Jazz.
Jazz filled a void he’d not realised was there. The mech cared for him too, and he found himself caring back. He’d not known what to do about these new sensations and processes, and Jazz had shown him, guided him like he once did Optimus. In return, he held Jazz when the saboteur found his job getting too much for him, when Jazz lost a member of an already small and tight knit squad, and gave him a place to come back to instead of dashing off in search of the next distraction, the next coolant high. He put thoughts of his Commander out of his mind, and when Jazz brought up the topic, felt much amusement at himself for not noticing that Optimus loved them both.
At his current lover’s suggestion, he was now making his way to his Prime’s office. The larger mech was caught up in thinking again, and Prowl didn’t particularly care what about right now, he was going to take Prime’s mind off it right away. With a quick comm. to Jazz, and an internal snicker at the reply, he rested a hand on a familiar red shoulder, startling the mech into looking up at him, air intakes huffing in surprise before he spoke.
“Can I help you, Prowl?”
“Yes sir. Jazz informs me I have been terribly remiss in my duties.”
“Oh?” Optimus’s confusion was clear. And he delighted in being the cause.
“Oh yes. I’ve been neglecting my Prime.” He purred the last two words out, perfectly aware of how they would sound to the mech in front of him, no matter how innocent and logical a reason he came up with.
“Tell Jazz he’s mistaken, I’m fine.” Optimus’s systems were running harder now, and his voice had acquired a quaver.
“Jazz would insist he doesn’t make mistakes.” He straddled his Commander’s lap and wrapped black and white arms about his neck, rendering Optimus speechless. Prowl found he liked the effect he was having on the Prime.
“Prowl?” Definitely a quaver, and he chuckled lightly, leaning closer to be nose to nose with the mech.
“Yes, my Prime?” His Commander shuttered his optics at that, trying futilely to regain a shred of composure. Only to be thwarted as Prowl decided to explore tempting neck cables with light, questing digits and gentle nibbles.
“Prowl, what are you doing?” He wasn’t doing a good enough job, if Optimus could still ask questions.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Optimus?” Interesting, the mech below him shuddered at the sound of his name. He was feeling playful, a side Jazz had finally managed to bring out in him, and they had used it to great effect when Optimus thought they didn’t notice him watching. “Or, if I didn’t, being who I am, that Jazz would let it slide?”
“I didn’t mean to-” Time to demonstrate just why Prowl was Head Tactician, fingers locating and caressing one of the many hot spots he knew Optimus had. When the mech had gathered his wits again, he tried talking once more.
“Why are… you doing this?” His tactics were working, distracting the large mech barely restraining himself from pressing back against his touch.
“You’re stressed, my Prime. Ratchet says it’s not good for you. And Jazz most emphatically decrees an overload to be the best stress relief a bot can have. I find myself minded to agree.”
“Please, don’t.” Optimus never pleaded like this, and he stopped, hands resting on the mech’s chassis.
“Optimus.” He gently turned Optimus’s face back to meet his optics, understanding why the mech was protesting.
“This is not a duty, I want this.” He stroked the side of a blue helm, seeking the switch to retract the facemask, revealing overheated faceplates and fetchingly parted lips. He leant in again, touching lips plates to Optimus’s in a chaste kiss. “I want you.”
“Wait... your… What about Jazz?” One more thing to love about his Prime, the mech always tried his best to do what was right.
“Jazz sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here due to scheduling conflicts.” He kissed Optimus again. “However, he did remind me that I am in charge of scheduling around here, and as such, he’d better be available next time. That is, if you are amenable to the idea.” Prowl rested against the Autobot leader for now, waiting for an answer.
“I… believe I can be persuaded.” He had to laugh in response to this, and directed a smirk at Optimus.
“Then, by all means, I should persuade away?”
“Please do.”
Grinning, the tactician bent to the task, pausing to whisper just loud enough for the cameras to pick up.
“And Optimus, just so you know, Jazz is on security monitor duty, alone, right, now.”
Title: Methods of Persuasion (2/3)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: M
Pairing/s: Prowl/Optimus. Implied Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Not quite smut.
When exactly, he wondered, had his Commander become more than a mech he followed out of duty and honour? When had responsibility and obligation become care and, dare he say it, love? He’d been by Sentinel’s side for so long, and the loss of the great mech had almost undone him, but he’d pulled together and kept on going, for the Autobots, for his duty, and for the new Prime.
He’d first met Optimus when the new Prime entered his office for the first time. The mech was awkward in his new body, and hopelessly lost in the sea of bureaucracy that characterised much of High Command. He’d stepped in, holding the new Prime’s hand, and thankfully, the mech had learnt fast, and learnt well.
At first, he’d not been impressed, though he decided to reserve judgement until their new leader was settled, but gradually, he came to realise that though this mech was different from Sentinel, that difference was not a bad thing, and even more gradually, came to admit that Optimus could possibly be a better leader than Sentinel. This mech cared. Cared about the mechs under his command, as individuals as much as a singular force. Cared, even for the Decepticons, whom so many in the Autobots had already condemned to the Pit. Cared, even for him, the unheralded, unnoticed SIC, and going out of his way to make sure Prowl knew it.
Then, he’d had to withdraw, to let the new leader face his people without a crutch, present a strong, determined face to their world and their foes. He’d gone back to being the Prime’s SIC, falling into familiar patterns set with Sentinel. He missed Optimus, but decided that for the sake of the Autobots, he had to let go. Then, he met Jazz.
Jazz filled a void he’d not realised was there. The mech cared for him too, and he found himself caring back. He’d not known what to do about these new sensations and processes, and Jazz had shown him, guided him like he once did Optimus. In return, he held Jazz when the saboteur found his job getting too much for him, when Jazz lost a member of an already small and tight knit squad, and gave him a place to come back to instead of dashing off in search of the next distraction, the next coolant high. He put thoughts of his Commander out of his mind, and when Jazz brought up the topic, felt much amusement at himself for not noticing that Optimus loved them both.
At his current lover’s suggestion, he was now making his way to his Prime’s office. The larger mech was caught up in thinking again, and Prowl didn’t particularly care what about right now, he was going to take Prime’s mind off it right away. With a quick comm. to Jazz, and an internal snicker at the reply, he rested a hand on a familiar red shoulder, startling the mech into looking up at him, air intakes huffing in surprise before he spoke.
“Can I help you, Prowl?”
“Yes sir. Jazz informs me I have been terribly remiss in my duties.”
“Oh?” Optimus’s confusion was clear. And he delighted in being the cause.
“Oh yes. I’ve been neglecting my Prime.” He purred the last two words out, perfectly aware of how they would sound to the mech in front of him, no matter how innocent and logical a reason he came up with.
“Tell Jazz he’s mistaken, I’m fine.” Optimus’s systems were running harder now, and his voice had acquired a quaver.
“Jazz would insist he doesn’t make mistakes.” He straddled his Commander’s lap and wrapped black and white arms about his neck, rendering Optimus speechless. Prowl found he liked the effect he was having on the Prime.
“Prowl?” Definitely a quaver, and he chuckled lightly, leaning closer to be nose to nose with the mech.
“Yes, my Prime?” His Commander shuttered his optics at that, trying futilely to regain a shred of composure. Only to be thwarted as Prowl decided to explore tempting neck cables with light, questing digits and gentle nibbles.
“Prowl, what are you doing?” He wasn’t doing a good enough job, if Optimus could still ask questions.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Optimus?” Interesting, the mech below him shuddered at the sound of his name. He was feeling playful, a side Jazz had finally managed to bring out in him, and they had used it to great effect when Optimus thought they didn’t notice him watching. “Or, if I didn’t, being who I am, that Jazz would let it slide?”
“I didn’t mean to-” Time to demonstrate just why Prowl was Head Tactician, fingers locating and caressing one of the many hot spots he knew Optimus had. When the mech had gathered his wits again, he tried talking once more.
“Why are… you doing this?” His tactics were working, distracting the large mech barely restraining himself from pressing back against his touch.
“You’re stressed, my Prime. Ratchet says it’s not good for you. And Jazz most emphatically decrees an overload to be the best stress relief a bot can have. I find myself minded to agree.”
“Please, don’t.” Optimus never pleaded like this, and he stopped, hands resting on the mech’s chassis.
“Optimus.” He gently turned Optimus’s face back to meet his optics, understanding why the mech was protesting.
“This is not a duty, I want this.” He stroked the side of a blue helm, seeking the switch to retract the facemask, revealing overheated faceplates and fetchingly parted lips. He leant in again, touching lips plates to Optimus’s in a chaste kiss. “I want you.”
“Wait... your… What about Jazz?” One more thing to love about his Prime, the mech always tried his best to do what was right.
“Jazz sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here due to scheduling conflicts.” He kissed Optimus again. “However, he did remind me that I am in charge of scheduling around here, and as such, he’d better be available next time. That is, if you are amenable to the idea.” Prowl rested against the Autobot leader for now, waiting for an answer.
“I… believe I can be persuaded.” He had to laugh in response to this, and directed a smirk at Optimus.
“Then, by all means, I should persuade away?”
“Please do.”
Grinning, the tactician bent to the task, pausing to whisper just loud enough for the cameras to pick up.
“And Optimus, just so you know, Jazz is on security monitor duty, alone, right, now.”