Tattoo (Part 2 - End)
Title: Tattoo (Part 2 - End)
'Verse: 2007/09 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Smut.
Notes: Etchings line kindly donated by sakon76
Jazz made his way through the corridors to Prowl’s office, a bounce in his step and a smile on his faceplates. While any bot coming across him might attribute the Solstice’s good mood to being finally cleared for duty (in Jazz’s opinion Ratchet was a nanny-bot, in Ratchet’s opinion Jazz had gone to track down Ravage with Prowl because he wanted to fritz the medic into deactivation, in the rest of the bots’ opinion Jazz was glitched for wanting to do work), it wasn’t the main reason the saboteur was practically dancing through the base.
Prowl’s door opened and Jazz came face to face with the mech primarily responsible for his elation. The tactician leant forward to brush a chaste kiss against the silver mech’s lips, causing Jazz’s smile to widen.
“Oi, get a room you two!”
Jazz smirked at Sideswipe, the other silver bot covering his optics and making a face at them, and felt Prowl chuckle. Then he froze when the tactician’s hands drifted lower until they were perched just above the Solstice’s aft. Looking back at Prowl in shock, Jazz heard the chevroned mech murmur, tone pitched to carry over to the frontliner twin.
“My office is the closest. Shall we heed Sideswipe’s advice?”
“Wha- Frag! Get some other room! I’m always getting sent there for lectures!”
“If you didn’t get into so much trouble, you would have less cause to be in there, Sideswipe.”
The Corvette’s sputter was cut off by Prowl stepping backwards, taking a stunned Jazz with him and letting the door shut with a decisive click.
= = =
Once inside, the doorwinged mech let him go and Jazz located his vocaliser from wherever it had run off too after Prowl had implied they’d be getting it on in the tactician’s workspace.
“Prowler?”
“Ratchet commed to tell me you were cleared for duty, and I assume you were coming to see me about that.”
“Yeah, I was.” Jazz firmly told his systems to calm down, ignoring the vague disappointment he felt. The progression of their relationship, vorns of working on said progression notwithstanding, was still very recent after all.
“Fortunately, I’d taken into account your return to duty and the rosters from tomorrow onwards are already adjusted as needed.”
Jazz blinked, then wondered just why he was surprised. Prowl wasn’t known as the most efficient bot in the Autobots for nothing. Shaking his head, he offered an alternative. Any time he could spend with Prowl was a good thing, in his opinion.
“Well then, since that’s taken care of, maybe I could spend the rest of today helping you clear your workload? Free up an hour or two to go out for a drive?”
“It’s been cleared, and I had something else planned for our free time.”
Jazz looked away, vague disappointment congealing into something cold and heavy in his spark before Prowl’s words registered. The tactician kissed him again, this time not quite so innocently, pulling away to look a panting Ops mech in the visor, gaze heated.
“So, what did you have planned?” Jazz let one hand wander flirtatiously over the engravings that covered the other bot’s chestplates, quite pleased with his steady tone, regardless of his racing systems.
“Since you’ve expressed such an interest in the art, I was thinking of inviting you over to look at some etchings.”
The mischievous light in Prowl’s optics prompted a laugh from the silver mech.
“I can’t believe you managed that with a straight face.” Jazz ran a thumb over the tactician’s cheek. “Gorgeous and with a sense of humour. Primus, I’m a lucky glitch.”
He claimed another kiss, then pulled a willing Prowl out of the chevroned mech’s office.
“C’mon, I’m always interested in a little ‘art appreciation’.”
= = =
He’d been about to bring the lights in his rooms to full brightness when Jazz stopped him.
“Don’t, I want to be able to see the full effect.” The saboteur murmured, pressing lips to the lines carved into his shoulder. Prowl nodded and feeling a little self conscious, took a hesitant step away from Jazz, calling up the necessary subroutines for each set of tattoos.
He activated the patterns on his shoulders first, the engravings glowing to life at his command, then looked back at Jazz for approval. Encouraged by the saboteur’s appreciative sigh, he turned on the spot to fully display them for the Solstice, drawing his fingers along the lit markings, from the top of one arm to the base of his throat, glancing coyly at the silver mech as he did so. Prowl decided that he had to be doing something right, judging by the hungry look that gleamed in the mech’s visor. Optics half shuttered, he triggered the ones located on his chestplates, controlling their activation so that their light seemed to follow his hand as it trailed downwards to splay its digits against his abdominal plating.
Jazz moved, an arm reaching for him. An arm that Prowl caught hold of, interlacing his fingers with the saboteur’s as he trapped the limb behind Jazz’s own frame, eliciting a quick breath from the Solstice. The tactician’s free hand tapped a playfully stern finger against the visored mech’s parted lips as he whispered teasingly.
“You can look, but you can’t touch.” He stole a kiss. “Not until I say you can.”
“Prowler…”
The doorwinged mech ignored the pleading murmur, moving away and beckoning for the other mech to follow as he set off the tattoos twined around his upper limbs. Jazz pursued, mesmerized by the play of light over the tactician’s frame as more patterns lit up, nearly stalling when Prowl eased back onto the berth, bending one tattooed leg oh so invitingly. The Solstice hovered just above the tactician, visibly reining in the desire to touch, and Prowl smiled, reaching up to guide the saboteur onto his lap.
“Touch me, Jazz.”
Engines revving at the command, Jazz feverishly scattered kisses along Prowl’s forehead and chevron. The tactician wrapped an arm about the Ops mech to bring them closer, and Jazz’s hands ran along his spinal struts, pausing at the small of his back when their lips connected. Then Prowl found himself being nudged to lie back, doing so with Jazz atop him, neither breaking the kiss for a moment.
The visored mech pulled away first, cooling fans whirring audibly in the quiet room. Another kiss was laid onto Prowl’s chevron as the tactician took advantage of his proximity to mouth Jazz’s neck cables, running exploratory fingers along silver flanks, lingering over plating as distinctively marked as his own before Jazz kissed him again.
“Don’t think about that tonight. I’m still here, and I’m all yours.”
Prowl’s intakes hitched, and the saboteur trailed his glossa over the markings littering the other mech’s chassis, watching the tactician shudder under the tender assault. Jazz kissed the glyphs he discovered hidden in the patterns Sunstreaker had worked into Prowl’s plating, the symbols for Courage, Protection, Strength and Cunning, marvelling at how aptly they described the tactician. When the visored mech had covered every last tattoo currently visible on tactician’s chassis, he murmured softly into Prowl’s audio.
“What about the ones on your doors?”
Doorwings quivered against the berth, and Jazz stroked the pinned appendages gently.
“I know they’re sensitive and that the tattoos make ‘em even more so. Will you trust me?”
A sparkbeat, then a nod and light was blazing across the panels. The Ops mech took a moment to imprint the sight of the chevroned bot lying under him, all his tattoos active, into his memory banks, then kissed the mech, swallowing the moan that escaped the tactician when the marks on his doors were caressed.
“Vigilance and Wisdom. So perfect for you.”
Prowl tried to focus on the mech touching him, tried to return the favour by seeking out the gaps in Jazz’s plating, caressing the wires and sensitive cables hidden beneath it, and flaring his energy fields to stimulate the sensors he couldn’t reach. A heated groan told the tactician he’d achieved his objective, but Prowl lost the battle when a magnetic pulse from the Solstice rolled over his doors, making him very aware of the heightened sensory input the tattoos afforded him and drawing a static laced moan from his vocaliser.
“Jazz!”
“M’here, lover.”
Jazz panted, kissing him slowly. Unbeknownst to the tactician, his tattoos had flashed once, then gone dark after his cry. But as the Ops mech drew gentle magnetic waves over Prowl’s frame, the engravings would brighten under his hands, responding to the stimuli. Fascinated, Jazz toyed with the effect, lighting Prowl’s tattoos one after another as the mech beneath him writhed and whimpered, playing the tactician like a finely tuned instrument, making him sing with pleasure.
“So beautiful, Prowl.”
One last pulse and the tactician was arching against the saboteur, his overload tipping Jazz over the brink as well.
= = =
Jazz cuddled against his lover, systems purring contentedly as Prowl hummed with similar satisfaction. The Solstice pecked the other mech lightly on the lips, then shot him a devious smirk. The tactician raised an optic ridge at him and Jazz drawled, tone light.
“Y’know, the thing about art appreciation is, it really needs to be done repeatedly to get the full effect.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Prowl gasped when the saboteur bombarded his doorwings with light magnetic waves, tattoos flaring with each pulse. Jazz’s visor flashed and he purred, hands already busying themselves over Prowl’s trembling frame.
“Oh, yes.”
'Verse: 2007/09 Transformers
Characters: Jazz. Prowl.
Rating: M
Warnings: TF cussing. Smut.
Notes: Etchings line kindly donated by sakon76
Jazz made his way through the corridors to Prowl’s office, a bounce in his step and a smile on his faceplates. While any bot coming across him might attribute the Solstice’s good mood to being finally cleared for duty (in Jazz’s opinion Ratchet was a nanny-bot, in Ratchet’s opinion Jazz had gone to track down Ravage with Prowl because he wanted to fritz the medic into deactivation, in the rest of the bots’ opinion Jazz was glitched for wanting to do work), it wasn’t the main reason the saboteur was practically dancing through the base.
Prowl’s door opened and Jazz came face to face with the mech primarily responsible for his elation. The tactician leant forward to brush a chaste kiss against the silver mech’s lips, causing Jazz’s smile to widen.
“Oi, get a room you two!”
Jazz smirked at Sideswipe, the other silver bot covering his optics and making a face at them, and felt Prowl chuckle. Then he froze when the tactician’s hands drifted lower until they were perched just above the Solstice’s aft. Looking back at Prowl in shock, Jazz heard the chevroned mech murmur, tone pitched to carry over to the frontliner twin.
“My office is the closest. Shall we heed Sideswipe’s advice?”
“Wha- Frag! Get some other room! I’m always getting sent there for lectures!”
“If you didn’t get into so much trouble, you would have less cause to be in there, Sideswipe.”
The Corvette’s sputter was cut off by Prowl stepping backwards, taking a stunned Jazz with him and letting the door shut with a decisive click.
= = =
Once inside, the doorwinged mech let him go and Jazz located his vocaliser from wherever it had run off too after Prowl had implied they’d be getting it on in the tactician’s workspace.
“Prowler?”
“Ratchet commed to tell me you were cleared for duty, and I assume you were coming to see me about that.”
“Yeah, I was.” Jazz firmly told his systems to calm down, ignoring the vague disappointment he felt. The progression of their relationship, vorns of working on said progression notwithstanding, was still very recent after all.
“Fortunately, I’d taken into account your return to duty and the rosters from tomorrow onwards are already adjusted as needed.”
Jazz blinked, then wondered just why he was surprised. Prowl wasn’t known as the most efficient bot in the Autobots for nothing. Shaking his head, he offered an alternative. Any time he could spend with Prowl was a good thing, in his opinion.
“Well then, since that’s taken care of, maybe I could spend the rest of today helping you clear your workload? Free up an hour or two to go out for a drive?”
“It’s been cleared, and I had something else planned for our free time.”
Jazz looked away, vague disappointment congealing into something cold and heavy in his spark before Prowl’s words registered. The tactician kissed him again, this time not quite so innocently, pulling away to look a panting Ops mech in the visor, gaze heated.
“So, what did you have planned?” Jazz let one hand wander flirtatiously over the engravings that covered the other bot’s chestplates, quite pleased with his steady tone, regardless of his racing systems.
“Since you’ve expressed such an interest in the art, I was thinking of inviting you over to look at some etchings.”
The mischievous light in Prowl’s optics prompted a laugh from the silver mech.
“I can’t believe you managed that with a straight face.” Jazz ran a thumb over the tactician’s cheek. “Gorgeous and with a sense of humour. Primus, I’m a lucky glitch.”
He claimed another kiss, then pulled a willing Prowl out of the chevroned mech’s office.
“C’mon, I’m always interested in a little ‘art appreciation’.”
= = =
He’d been about to bring the lights in his rooms to full brightness when Jazz stopped him.
“Don’t, I want to be able to see the full effect.” The saboteur murmured, pressing lips to the lines carved into his shoulder. Prowl nodded and feeling a little self conscious, took a hesitant step away from Jazz, calling up the necessary subroutines for each set of tattoos.
He activated the patterns on his shoulders first, the engravings glowing to life at his command, then looked back at Jazz for approval. Encouraged by the saboteur’s appreciative sigh, he turned on the spot to fully display them for the Solstice, drawing his fingers along the lit markings, from the top of one arm to the base of his throat, glancing coyly at the silver mech as he did so. Prowl decided that he had to be doing something right, judging by the hungry look that gleamed in the mech’s visor. Optics half shuttered, he triggered the ones located on his chestplates, controlling their activation so that their light seemed to follow his hand as it trailed downwards to splay its digits against his abdominal plating.
Jazz moved, an arm reaching for him. An arm that Prowl caught hold of, interlacing his fingers with the saboteur’s as he trapped the limb behind Jazz’s own frame, eliciting a quick breath from the Solstice. The tactician’s free hand tapped a playfully stern finger against the visored mech’s parted lips as he whispered teasingly.
“You can look, but you can’t touch.” He stole a kiss. “Not until I say you can.”
“Prowler…”
The doorwinged mech ignored the pleading murmur, moving away and beckoning for the other mech to follow as he set off the tattoos twined around his upper limbs. Jazz pursued, mesmerized by the play of light over the tactician’s frame as more patterns lit up, nearly stalling when Prowl eased back onto the berth, bending one tattooed leg oh so invitingly. The Solstice hovered just above the tactician, visibly reining in the desire to touch, and Prowl smiled, reaching up to guide the saboteur onto his lap.
“Touch me, Jazz.”
Engines revving at the command, Jazz feverishly scattered kisses along Prowl’s forehead and chevron. The tactician wrapped an arm about the Ops mech to bring them closer, and Jazz’s hands ran along his spinal struts, pausing at the small of his back when their lips connected. Then Prowl found himself being nudged to lie back, doing so with Jazz atop him, neither breaking the kiss for a moment.
The visored mech pulled away first, cooling fans whirring audibly in the quiet room. Another kiss was laid onto Prowl’s chevron as the tactician took advantage of his proximity to mouth Jazz’s neck cables, running exploratory fingers along silver flanks, lingering over plating as distinctively marked as his own before Jazz kissed him again.
“Don’t think about that tonight. I’m still here, and I’m all yours.”
Prowl’s intakes hitched, and the saboteur trailed his glossa over the markings littering the other mech’s chassis, watching the tactician shudder under the tender assault. Jazz kissed the glyphs he discovered hidden in the patterns Sunstreaker had worked into Prowl’s plating, the symbols for Courage, Protection, Strength and Cunning, marvelling at how aptly they described the tactician. When the visored mech had covered every last tattoo currently visible on tactician’s chassis, he murmured softly into Prowl’s audio.
“What about the ones on your doors?”
Doorwings quivered against the berth, and Jazz stroked the pinned appendages gently.
“I know they’re sensitive and that the tattoos make ‘em even more so. Will you trust me?”
A sparkbeat, then a nod and light was blazing across the panels. The Ops mech took a moment to imprint the sight of the chevroned bot lying under him, all his tattoos active, into his memory banks, then kissed the mech, swallowing the moan that escaped the tactician when the marks on his doors were caressed.
“Vigilance and Wisdom. So perfect for you.”
Prowl tried to focus on the mech touching him, tried to return the favour by seeking out the gaps in Jazz’s plating, caressing the wires and sensitive cables hidden beneath it, and flaring his energy fields to stimulate the sensors he couldn’t reach. A heated groan told the tactician he’d achieved his objective, but Prowl lost the battle when a magnetic pulse from the Solstice rolled over his doors, making him very aware of the heightened sensory input the tattoos afforded him and drawing a static laced moan from his vocaliser.
“Jazz!”
“M’here, lover.”
Jazz panted, kissing him slowly. Unbeknownst to the tactician, his tattoos had flashed once, then gone dark after his cry. But as the Ops mech drew gentle magnetic waves over Prowl’s frame, the engravings would brighten under his hands, responding to the stimuli. Fascinated, Jazz toyed with the effect, lighting Prowl’s tattoos one after another as the mech beneath him writhed and whimpered, playing the tactician like a finely tuned instrument, making him sing with pleasure.
“So beautiful, Prowl.”
One last pulse and the tactician was arching against the saboteur, his overload tipping Jazz over the brink as well.
= = =
Jazz cuddled against his lover, systems purring contentedly as Prowl hummed with similar satisfaction. The Solstice pecked the other mech lightly on the lips, then shot him a devious smirk. The tactician raised an optic ridge at him and Jazz drawled, tone light.
“Y’know, the thing about art appreciation is, it really needs to be done repeatedly to get the full effect.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Prowl gasped when the saboteur bombarded his doorwings with light magnetic waves, tattoos flaring with each pulse. Jazz’s visor flashed and he purred, hands already busying themselves over Prowl’s trembling frame.
“Oh, yes.”