Challenge Day 2
Title: It's More than a Feeling - Baby, You're Sick (02/30)
Day: Sept 02
Prompt:"Piss me off and we'll see just how submissive I am."
Verse: Shattered Glass AU
Rating: R to be safe
Words: 908
Other Characters: Mention of Ricochet.
Warnings: Implied violence, suggestion of non-con.
Summary: He knew he was not the submissive others thought he was.
Notes: For the Sexy September challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy Anniversary to all in the pxj community, here's to many more to come.. Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me. I...yeah I have no excuse for this other than Jazz made me do it. This is part of my SG Verse.
Tired blue optics watched the finger that trailed in an almost seductive way along the contours of his chest plates, seemingly finding particular fascination on the shape of a headlight, tracing the contours without diving into the seam or caressing the glass, entertained only by tracing the contours.
"Ya know...I had t'put up a big fight fer ya." A voice purred seductively as cold lips brushed against his chevron. "Everyone wanted a piece o' you, an' not in a good way."
"Forgive me if I don't find myself any more relieved to be in your hands instead."
A chuckle next to his audio let him know he'd just managed to either amuse, or frag off his current host.
"Ya should, Prowler." The word was purred with a particularly heavy inflection, black hands coming to trace the seam of a cheek. "Ya have no idea what th'others could do t'ya."
Prowl managed a scowl despite his exhaustion, the warm tones bellied the true nature of the being that held him hostage. "And I'm supposed to understand your ministrations do not qualify as unpleasant?"
Rich laughter filled the darkened room and Prowl felt arms wrapping around him, a stubby horn brushed almost intimately against his helm. Prowl didn't like that at all, it was a touch that had no place coming from this one mech. It was the touch of a lover, of a companion, meant to be affectionate and full of a care that Prowl couldn't bring himself to believe this mech felt that kind of emotion. Having his hands cuffed behind his back while one of his legs was shackled to the berth did very little to help change his original assessment of the situation.
"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl..." Jazz shook his head and nuzzled against Prowl's shoulder, his arms wrapped loosely around the other mech's body. "D'ya think bein' my...reward, is unpleasant? Be glad I fought with th'figurative dental plates and claws for ya. Ricochet would not be this merciful."
Prowl sneered. "This, is merciful?" He shifted his leg to rattle the shackles and strong chains that held him prisoner to emphasize his point.
"Yer not dead." Jazz stated matter of fact, pushing away finally, sauntering around the room in search for something. "An' believe me, death would be what you would ask for after a couple of breems with my...darling brother."
"You say that as if death scared me."
Jazz shook his head, picking a cube of energon from a table pressed against the wall. He played with the cube for a moment. "No, I know what's in those optics of yours, Prowler."
Prowl was beginning to grow more and more annoyed every time that nickname came out of Jazz's lips. "Do you now?"
Jazz chuckled and turned around stepping closer to Prowl but stopping at arms' length. "Ya see...yer almost a dead mech walkin', Prowl. I know 'bout your brothers, your beloved brothers that my boss entertained himself with for a few moments." Jazz studied Prowl for a reaction but found none, only the tired optics that always seemed to be missing something. "Ya want t'be dead, Prowl. Ya don't want t'keep on goin' because without yer brothers yer nothin'."
Prowl did not answer but deep inside he felt anger bubbling within. If Jazz noticed anything he didn't show, merely carrying on with his verbal tirade. "If Ricochet had kept ya you would've just laid there, takin' everythin' he did. Submissive...allowin' him to do whatever he wanted, t'defile you jus' so ya could've died already."
Prowl felt a finger tracing his cheek again, his anger growing with each word spoken. "Little submissive Prowl. Will ya just lay down there an' take whatever I fling at you? I wonder..."
Prowl glared at Jazz and the glow of his optics was enough to force Jazz to take a step back, not in shock but to appreciate the sight better.
"Piss me off and we'll see how submissive I am." Prowl's words were spoken with a mixture of coldness that seemed to mismatch the fire that was now burning in his optics.
Jazz smiled with satisfaction but this was not the kind Prowl would expect from that mech. There was no wicked amusement or some sort of twisted satisfaction in that smile. For a moment Prowl found his anger subsiding, finding himself at a loss of how to describe that smile. It was almost...a genuinely pleased smile, almost happy and sincere, and that only served to disturb Prowl more than anything.
Jazz sauntered to Prowl, setting the cube on the berth through the gap between Prowl's legs. "That's jus' what I wanted t'hear." He purred and cupped Prowl's helm, stroking the back of it with a gentleness that felt even more disturbing now that Prowl wasn't so sure it was just a mockery of an actual caress.
"What do you want from me, Jazz?" Prowl asked, feeling the mech tipping his head up, a little too close to Jazz's for his comfort.
"What I want, Prowl?" Jazz murmured softly, the smile still in place though a little faded as he brought their faces even closer, his lips brushed gently against Prowl's cheek, trailing down. "I want this ember to burn bright as a sun. I want yer passion, I want your hatred. I want your revenge." Jazz's lips stopped against the corner of Prowl's lips, pursing lightly on the softest of kisses.
"I want your love."
Day: Sept 02
Prompt:"Piss me off and we'll see just how submissive I am."
Verse: Shattered Glass AU
Rating: R to be safe
Words: 908
Other Characters: Mention of Ricochet.
Warnings: Implied violence, suggestion of non-con.
Summary: He knew he was not the submissive others thought he was.
Notes: For the Sexy September challenge @ prowlxjazz. Happy Anniversary to all in the pxj community, here's to many more to come.. Many thanks to mmouse15 for kindly beta reading this for me. I...yeah I have no excuse for this other than Jazz made me do it. This is part of my SG Verse.
Tired blue optics watched the finger that trailed in an almost seductive way along the contours of his chest plates, seemingly finding particular fascination on the shape of a headlight, tracing the contours without diving into the seam or caressing the glass, entertained only by tracing the contours.
"Ya know...I had t'put up a big fight fer ya." A voice purred seductively as cold lips brushed against his chevron. "Everyone wanted a piece o' you, an' not in a good way."
"Forgive me if I don't find myself any more relieved to be in your hands instead."
A chuckle next to his audio let him know he'd just managed to either amuse, or frag off his current host.
"Ya should, Prowler." The word was purred with a particularly heavy inflection, black hands coming to trace the seam of a cheek. "Ya have no idea what th'others could do t'ya."
Prowl managed a scowl despite his exhaustion, the warm tones bellied the true nature of the being that held him hostage. "And I'm supposed to understand your ministrations do not qualify as unpleasant?"
Rich laughter filled the darkened room and Prowl felt arms wrapping around him, a stubby horn brushed almost intimately against his helm. Prowl didn't like that at all, it was a touch that had no place coming from this one mech. It was the touch of a lover, of a companion, meant to be affectionate and full of a care that Prowl couldn't bring himself to believe this mech felt that kind of emotion. Having his hands cuffed behind his back while one of his legs was shackled to the berth did very little to help change his original assessment of the situation.
"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl..." Jazz shook his head and nuzzled against Prowl's shoulder, his arms wrapped loosely around the other mech's body. "D'ya think bein' my...reward, is unpleasant? Be glad I fought with th'figurative dental plates and claws for ya. Ricochet would not be this merciful."
Prowl sneered. "This, is merciful?" He shifted his leg to rattle the shackles and strong chains that held him prisoner to emphasize his point.
"Yer not dead." Jazz stated matter of fact, pushing away finally, sauntering around the room in search for something. "An' believe me, death would be what you would ask for after a couple of breems with my...darling brother."
"You say that as if death scared me."
Jazz shook his head, picking a cube of energon from a table pressed against the wall. He played with the cube for a moment. "No, I know what's in those optics of yours, Prowler."
Prowl was beginning to grow more and more annoyed every time that nickname came out of Jazz's lips. "Do you now?"
Jazz chuckled and turned around stepping closer to Prowl but stopping at arms' length. "Ya see...yer almost a dead mech walkin', Prowl. I know 'bout your brothers, your beloved brothers that my boss entertained himself with for a few moments." Jazz studied Prowl for a reaction but found none, only the tired optics that always seemed to be missing something. "Ya want t'be dead, Prowl. Ya don't want t'keep on goin' because without yer brothers yer nothin'."
Prowl did not answer but deep inside he felt anger bubbling within. If Jazz noticed anything he didn't show, merely carrying on with his verbal tirade. "If Ricochet had kept ya you would've just laid there, takin' everythin' he did. Submissive...allowin' him to do whatever he wanted, t'defile you jus' so ya could've died already."
Prowl felt a finger tracing his cheek again, his anger growing with each word spoken. "Little submissive Prowl. Will ya just lay down there an' take whatever I fling at you? I wonder..."
Prowl glared at Jazz and the glow of his optics was enough to force Jazz to take a step back, not in shock but to appreciate the sight better.
"Piss me off and we'll see how submissive I am." Prowl's words were spoken with a mixture of coldness that seemed to mismatch the fire that was now burning in his optics.
Jazz smiled with satisfaction but this was not the kind Prowl would expect from that mech. There was no wicked amusement or some sort of twisted satisfaction in that smile. For a moment Prowl found his anger subsiding, finding himself at a loss of how to describe that smile. It was almost...a genuinely pleased smile, almost happy and sincere, and that only served to disturb Prowl more than anything.
Jazz sauntered to Prowl, setting the cube on the berth through the gap between Prowl's legs. "That's jus' what I wanted t'hear." He purred and cupped Prowl's helm, stroking the back of it with a gentleness that felt even more disturbing now that Prowl wasn't so sure it was just a mockery of an actual caress.
"What do you want from me, Jazz?" Prowl asked, feeling the mech tipping his head up, a little too close to Jazz's for his comfort.
"What I want, Prowl?" Jazz murmured softly, the smile still in place though a little faded as he brought their faces even closer, his lips brushed gently against Prowl's cheek, trailing down. "I want this ember to burn bright as a sun. I want yer passion, I want your hatred. I want your revenge." Jazz's lips stopped against the corner of Prowl's lips, pursing lightly on the softest of kisses.
"I want your love."