Warning! Contains some slash now and will have much more slash later! Don't like slash or yaoi, please don't read. You've been warned! Thanks!
Edited by the wonderful Taralynden
Confident, intelligent, witty, charming, persistent.
Those were just some of the qualities Jazz held and he was thankful for every single one of them. He'd have to call on every ounce of said qualities and more if he was to obtain what he wanted. And what he wanted sat across the conference table from him in the form of a gorgeous black and white tactician. The vibrant red chevron gracing his helm and lustrous black and white doorwings adorning his back made him an exotic treat to the saboteur's optics.
Few mechs had that same make. In fact, in all his time he could only name two similar frame types; Smokescreen and Bluestreak. Although intriguing in their own way, neither had grabbed his attention. Not like this one. No, this one made Jazz itch to touch. Made him want to run his hands across and along those regal doorwings, press his mouth to that red chevron and nip at it, kiss him slow and thoroughly as he mapped out the other's mouth with his glossa. Fantasies blossomed in his mind as he continued to drink in the sight of the new tactician.
The meeting and its speakers had long since become background noise, uninteresting and unimportant. His visor afforded him the ability to look like he was paying attention to the front of the room while really he was focused solely on the shiny tactician. At one point he must have noticed or at least felt Jazz's heavy gaze as the tactician turned his head slightly to cast a glance in the saboteur's direction. And Jazz didn't bother to hide his leering grin. The tactician merely shot him a short glare and disapproving frown before returning his attention back to the speaker.
Oh, this mech was as straight laced, uptight, and restrained as they came. Jazz doubted he was all that different behind closed doors. That was ok though. For Jazz that meant a challenge and the payoff would be even better, all the more sweet when he would finally reduce the rigid tactician to moaning, whimpering, and writhing beneath him.
Images began to play themselves out in his mind and Jazz had to force himself to leave that line of thought as his systems gave a spike of heat that flowed through his lines. It would do him no good to get all revved up in the middle of a meeting.
Primus, he wanted that mech! Jazz had to have him…would have him, and he would use every ability he had to ensnare and possess the tactician. Prowl would be his.
Prowl couldn't find a logical reason as to why the head of the Special Ops branch and soon to be named Third in Command had set his sights on him. The visored mech, designation Jazz, had seen fit to place himself in Prowl's way ever since his introductory meeting. Prowl had tried to ignore him at first, figuring the mech was just being overly friendly as Jazz was to all the Commander's crew but then he noticed Jazz doing things out of character, or more to the point, things he hadn't done prior to Prowl's arrival.
Take the record vaults for example. Before Prowl's arrival, Jazz hadn't visited the record vaults in vorns. Prowl took notice that Jazz's name was showing up with more frequency under his own every time he returned to the record vaults for research material. Then it started that Jazz would "suddenly" happen upon him there and announce himself with the line "Fancy seein' you here". This was usually followed by Jazz generously offering to forfeit his own search in order to aid Prowl's but Prowl was always quick to turn him down. It was clearly a facade of some sort and the praxian was both curious and cautious as to what Jazz was looking for in this exchange.
Prowl was a early morning mech and from everything he had gathered, Jazz was not. So Prowl was rightly shocked when morning after morning he found himself running into Jazz just outside his quarters as he was leaving for his office. And Prowl was quickly finding that every corridor he turned down, there was Jazz. Every time he went to the rec area to get energon, no matter the time of day or night or the intervals between visits, there was Jazz. The mech spontaneously appeared everywhere.
Enough was enough, Prowl had tried to ignore the problem and hope Jazz would lose interest and wander away, however that was not the case. This was not the first time Prowl has had an over ambitious admirer. He'd do what he'd done before, he calmly explained to Jazz he simply had no interest in any kind of liaison and that Jazz should focus his attentions elsewhere, on some other bot who would be more receptive to Jazz's advances than Prowl was himself. And that should have ended of the matter. However, Prowl had never met a mech like Jazz.
At the end of Prowl's 'I think you should look elsewhere' speech, Jazz simply nodded and grinned before asking. "So, hows about you an' I go get a couple a cubes 'a high grade? Find some place cozy."
Prowl frowned, at the reply, he felt he had made no mistake and had been very clear with Jazz.
"Perhaps I should start over. I -"
The saboteur began to lean into Prowl, the tactician's words catching in this throat as he was forced back into the wall. Jazz placed a hand on either side of the praxian, just above the splayed doorwings.
"Why don't we go on back ta my place 'an you can start that speech over as many times as ya like." Jazz grinned, almost purring the words at Prowl. "I promise ta listen."
Prowl could only stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback by the blatant suggestiveness of Jazz's tone. He pushed himself away from the wall and away from Jazz who had yet to lose that grin. He turned around sharply and began to walk away, doorwings drawn back and twitching minutely in irritation. He had talked to Jazz in as open and logical manner as possible and the stubborn mech had simply refused to listen. As if to confirm Prowl's thoughts, he heard Jazz call out to his retreating back,
"My door's always open to you, Prowlie! Anytime."
Prowl froze mid-step for a brief moment then continued walking away, forcing himself not to look back or respond to Jazz. It would only spur him on. Jazz was simply being...difficult.
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