Title: Poisonous Spell (3/?)

Character(s) / Pairings(s): JazzXProwl

Rating: M

Warnings: SLAHS! M/M! Don't like don't read!

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Author's Note:

- IT IS DONE! WOHOO! LOL too bad this many words don't count as NaNo T.T



Prowl stood, still as a statue, in front of the storage doors on the lowest levels of their base; right where the tracker had led him to. The hallways were dimly lit, no bot came down to this specific storage area except to take inventory or collect the crates with the materials needed. Prowl absently made a note to bring up the lack of security during the next officer's meeting.

The datapad that had been slipped into his subspace was held tightly in his servo, arms falling limp to his sides. The message inscribed on it had left his emotions running rampant in his spark, blinding and confusing him. Already, he couldn't remember how he had gotten from his quarters to where he stood, nor did he remember just how he had managed to evade everyone in the hallways. The SIC walking seemingly aimlessly toward a secluded and rarely populated area was sure to be noticed. Primus Red Alert was going to fritz when he found out. If he hadn't already.

It didn't matter though.

Not at the moment.

He was here and there was only one thing he could do; find the mech that had left him the note.

That was it.

There was no endgame to his plan. The scenarios his battle computer presented him with were exaggerated, impossible, and those that made some logical sense were pushed aside by his spark.

There was only one way to find out what was going on, who the mech that had left him the note was, and what his intentions were; that meant going into the room.

He didn't stop to think of what would happen if this was a trap. His spark had already decided it was not, and it had a lot more influence over him than his processor.

Prowl took deep breaths to get some cool air to wash over his stressed systems. Too many emotions were tearing at him, each worse than the other. Anxiety for what awaited him on the other side. Fear, he tried really hard to believe it was fear of it being a trap, even if the idea had already been rejected by his spark. He didn't want to admit what really scared him: he feared disappointing the mech he would soon meet, he feared the disgust on his faceplates when he discovered how 'cold' and 'emotionless' Prowl was. Everyone on the base had reacted like that when they met him, and the prospect of the mech that had a grasp on his spark reacting the same way sent so much fear through his spark that his frame tensed in panic, doorwings shaking in distress. What if he wasn't what the visored mech had envisioned as his other half?

The intense emotions were overriding everything his battle computer came up with: he should report his findings, there was an intruder on the base, if this was the same mech he had met no the battlefield, he was a Decepticon! He should have alerted security the moment he had received the datapad.

All that was forgotten, his spark guiding him.

The doorwinged mech shook his head, trying to regain some semblance of control and rationality. It was illogical. He didn't understand how this mech; a mech whom he had never talked to nor even knew his name, had caused so much emotions to assault him. Onlining his optics, he sent the command for the doors to open, determined to see this through.

The hiss that echoed though the hall as they parted seemed ominous; the lights didn't work, only darkness welcoming him. It seemed fitting, he thought, slowly entering the room. Their first encounter had been in a wide, visible, and noisy terrain, their departure dramatic and grim.

Here, they'd have no distractions, no gunshots flying, no possible separation.

No excuse to run.

That thought sent a pang of hurt through his spark. Yes, although blurry, he remembered that desperate attempt where his spark had called out for it's other half, begging him to take the pain away, to hold him and comfort him. Only to see the mech turn and run, not even once deigning to look back.

In that moment where his spark had been in command, the action had almost sent him into stasis; he had felt betrayed. But once he was back to full functioning, Prowl had given it some thought and saw the logic in the mech's action; if he had stayed, he would have been killed or imprisoned and interrogated. His spark had grudgingly accepted his reasoning.

Now though, whatever started here, he was determined to see it till its conclusion; he would not let the visored mech go this time.

The doors closed leaving Prowl in utter darkness. He nervously waited until his optics adjusted to the lack of light, making out the figures inside. The room was packed with crates, the messy way they had been left in formed narrow passages that ran through the room resembling an endless maze. There were no cameras, no possible way of knowing what was going on in the room, and even if there were, the crates would be enough to hide anything that happened.

It was the perfect hiding spot for an assassin.

His spark squashed that thought as soon as it presented itself, stubborn to the end.

His first steps were slow, soundless. Prowl felt an inexplicable urge to shout 'I'm here!', and he glared down at his chest-plates right where they were hiding his spark.

The silence that reigned in the room seemed louder than any stereo blasting full volume, echoing over the large room. He dared not make any noise afraid even the tiniest sound would disrupt some sort of balance, make him vulnerable, fasten his inevitable meeting with the visored mech.

Concentrating on the task at hand, Prowl sub-spaced the datapad and took out the tracker that had been left with it. Following the small red dot that appeared on the small screen, he entered one of the passages made by the crates. He walked through the small space sideways, the tips of his doorwings almost brushing with the crates behind him. It was incredibly dark, but his fine tuned sensors, apart from his sensory panels helped him navigate as well as if there were light. Following the coordinates for a few more seconds, he stepped into a small bubble made by the crates. Four towers at least three times his height reached for the ceiling, but the space wasn't big. Granted, he could stretch his doorwings freely again, but the space could hold at least three mechs Ironhide's size side to side.

Looking down at the tracker, he frowned as he saw the dot right where he was standing. Running his sensors over the small space, he could detect nothing. Frown deepening, and growing more and more suspicious by the moment, he made to turn and head back when his doorwings picked up the slight, barely there shift in the air flow. In an instant, all his defense systems and battle computer came online full force, drowning the screaming of his spark. The tracker disappeared replaced with his acid pellet. Weapon in his servo he turned quickly to face his opponent, only for a force to ram into him, sending him backwards into the closest crate. Prowl hissed in pain as his doorwings were crushed and tried to raise his acid pellet.

His opponent was quicker though, and before he knew it his weapon was sent flying, hitting a crate with a loud clank, a frame pressed into his, pinning him between the crates and his attacker. A pede had skillfully neutralized his left pede and he could not spare his other unless he wanted to lose the little balance he had.

Prowl gasped when invisible servos were suddenly on his doorwings, magnetic waves pulsing through his throbbing sensors, gently, soothingly, almost apologetically. His servos latched automatically to the frame that seemed intent on merging with him, finger digging into seams.

He tensed as his neck was nuzzled, warm breath caressing the side of his face.

"Found ya." Was whispered into his audios in what seemed like a desperate and relieved sigh.

Prowl tried to push the mech off him, but only managed to make the other lean back a little, and the tactician came face to face with a red visor. A very familiar red visor.

He froze, making the other's servos stop their tender ministrations, the light from both their optics giving them enough enough light to see each other's faces. Prowl couldn't believe it. He didn't need to be able to see the mech to recognize that visor. He hadn't wanted to believe this was possible, even if his spark had known from the beginning. He slowly brought up a servo to gently caress the mech's cheek, as if trying to see if he was real.

Leaning into the soft touch, Jazz brought their chassis together again, and both gasped at the sudden flare of their sparks.

At the recognition.

"It's you." Breathed Prowl in wonder, spark almost purring in content.

"'Course it is." Jazz replied smirking.

'Silly mech', thought Jazz, already fond of his mech. 'Who else would he be?'

Before both knew what was going on, Jazz was fervently kissing Prowl, and the tactician found himself responding. Servos started roaming, touching, caressing, and pulling at the other.

Small pants, moans, and groans escaped each vocalizer as a hot spot was located and teased.

Jazz growled in the other's mouth, biting at his lower lip-plate. Prowl automatically granted him access and was greeted with a glossa determined on exploring every inch of his mouth. Moaning, the black and white brought his servos to the visored mech's sides, pulling him even closer to his frame and massaging the seams on his hips.

Parting with a low groan at the touch, Jazz latched onto Prowl's neck, sucking and biting hard, intent on marking the other as his. The winged mech moaned and threw his head back to allow more access.

Jazz started grinding his hips with the other's causing them both to moan at the friction, their desire increasing with each second that passed.

Jazz felt like he was in the Matrix. His search was finally over! Primus when he saw his mech in that hallway it had driven him crazy. He would be lying if he said he had waited patiently for the doorwinger's arrival. More than anything he wanted his mech in his arms. When he heard the doors open, he'd been filled with giddy excitement! It had briefly crossed his mind that the mech may have called security, or doubted him, but his spark had set him to rights and not another thought like that dared present itself.

Oh and when his beautiful Praxian stepped into the small space he'd made sure was suitable for them to talk, he had lost it. He wanted, no; he needed to touch. His spark had screamed in outrage as a hiss of pain had left his mech's vocalizer. How could he have hurt him!

He should have been more careful! Jazz hadn't really known what he would do once they were face to face, but his spark had taken over and the next thing he noticed was the pure want and love he felt toward the other.

Prowl was aware that he should not be doing this. He had no clue who the mech ravishing him was, what his name even was! Frag it, the mech was a Decepticon! On normal occasions, Prowl would have never allowed another to touch him as this mech currently was. But by Primus it felt so good, so normal, so right. His spark was at ease with this new development, demanding him to let this happen, to not question it. Lost in his musings, he was startled by a small 'click' and a groan from the other mech.

Prowl froze, wings twitching. Noticing the change, Jazz stopped his ministrations and leaned back a bit, so they could both stare at each other.

Panting, Prowl met the other's visor, before his gaze turned down to see that the other mech had released his spike and now stood proudly between them. The tactician let out a small moan at the sight of the large and thick spike, his valve pulsing in want.

His more rational side came knocking at this lust filled and hazy processor. Was he really going to allow such a thing?

"Hey, " Called the other.

Slowly, Prowl looked at the visored mech, suddenly aware that his doubts and fears were quite visible on his usual blank face. A different kind of click was heard in the darkness and the tactician was surprised when the red visor retracted, crimson optics meeting his azure ones. For a moment, both mechs just stared at each other, the light from their optics enough to let them see their faces, Prowl's arms hanging limply at his sides, while Jazz was supporting himself on the Praxian with both arms on the crates.

"Hey, " He called again, well aware that he still didn't know his other half's name. "Let me claim ya." He whispered huskily. Primus he needed this mech, he needed to mark what was his now!

Prowl's processor spun at the sudden request. He took another moment to stare into those optics, seeing the longing, the want, the pure need to claim him. They also let him know, that he wouldn't hurt him.

As of that moment, his spark overrode every thought from his logic center and battle computer.

"Yes." He breathed, the simple word coming straight from his core.

No more could be said as his mouth was claimed again. Servos once more free to roam everywhere.

Pinned as he was between the wall and the mech whose name he still did not know, he let go of the mouth that seemed intent on eating him and kneeled, quickly bringing his servo to stroke the base of the large spike as his mouth engulfed it.

Jazz let out a sound between a growl and a lustful moan, his crimson optics darkening even more in arousal. The sudden pleasure had him digging his claw like servos in the surface of the crate that had been supporting Prowl. He hung his head between his arms and looked down at the mech as he was sucked. A sudden thought that his Praxian had probably done this before made the crate suffer from his claws as they dug in deep into the hard metal.

Prowl managed to deep throat him and was mimicking the clenching of a valve, making the mech above him moan wantonly. Jazz started thrusting roughly into that delicious mouth, only for Prowl to bring his servos up to the slim hips to keep them from banging and crushing his head against the crate.

The visored mech groaned but kept thrusting as much as the servos would allow him. Not once did he take his optics of the beautiful doorwinger. Primus he could feel the mech's glossa circling his spike as he added pressure to it. It was the most erotic thing he had felt in a long time.

Not being able to handle the teasing, he dug his claws even deeper and brought them down with such force that sparks went flying, leaving long claw marks behind while he tried to keep in the roar that wanted to escape his vocalizer. Willing himself to push back so that his spike was free of that sinful mouth, he bent to grab the stunned doorwinger and brought him to his pedes, once more crushing him against the crate and fiercely claiming his mouth.

Surprised but quickly adapting, Prowl let the other's glossa taste himself. He yelped as a servo was suddenly on his panel, which seemed to automatically open at the other's touch.

For all the roughness Jazz had displayed, he carefully, tentatively felt his mech's valve, gently circling the rim with his fingers feeling the warm lubricants that had gathered, earning a moan from the doorwinger. Upon realizing that he had no seal though, he growled into his Praxian's audio.

"Ya gonna tell meh who took yer seal so Ah can kill 'im fer touching what's mine?"

Prowl moaned at the sudden possessiveness but couldn't manage a reply as a finger penetrated his valve. He had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.

"From now on, yer mine!" The winged mech groaned as the finger thrusted in and out of his valve and automatically spread his legs farther.

The visored mech's mouth latched back onto his neck, nibbling on his neck cables. Prowl's servos gripped Jazz shoulder's, fingers digging into the seams trying to find an anchor as the pleasure took over him. He tried to keep his moans as low as possible, the thought of the sounds of their passion echoing through the room and being heard by others (no matter how low that possibility), almost seeming like a betrayal to the mech he was clinging to.

Jazz's other servo moved all over his frame, teasing and encouraging. He added a second finger and scissored carefully, not wanting to hurt his mech. Prowl moaned and rolled his hips, trying to make those fingers move faster and deeper.

The visored mech chuckled at the desperate attempts.

"Eager much?" He asked huskily, only to receive a groan as his fingers hit a particularly sensitive node.

The moaning mess he had reduced his mech to was a sight that would always be seared into his processor. The Praxian's valve felt tight, his warm lubricants coating Jazz's fingers.

Primus the sounds the Praxian made had him almost overloading! Like liquid velvet only he was privy to hear. And only he would ever hear such sounds from his mech!

Easing his fingers out, he drowned the displeased whine from his mech with a kiss, bringing his wet fingers up. Parting, Jazz made a show of sucking on his fingers seductively, pleased by how his mate-to-be's optics darken even more in arousal at the sight.

"So good." He moaned, spike dripping pre-cum in anticipation.

Prowl didn't respond ducking his head in embarrassment. Instead, he shyly rocked his hips against the other's, making Jazz smirk. Oh he was going to have so much fun teasing this mech in the future. He was so cute embarrassed!

Kissing his mech passionately, his servos grabbed at Prowl's thighs, quickly pulling at them as he pressed against the hot frame to keep the doorwinger pinned against the crate. Instinctively, Prowl wrapped his legs around the visored mech's hips, body completely covered by the other's frame.

Jazz mewled as the doorwinger's arms came around his neck for support, nuzzling his neck, Jazz carefully let go of one of the thighs, servo snaking between them, grasping desperately at his spike and giving it a few long strokes to relieve some of the pressure building.

Groaning, he guided it to his beloved's entrance, and in one slow and precise moment Jazz buried himself in his Praxian's wet valve. Moans left them both, Prowl's legs tightening around the mech's waist, burying his helm in Jazz's neck as pleasure assaulted him.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, panting at the sensations coursing through their frames.

"Okay?" Jazz asked, barely restrained. The velvet heat he encountered was slowly ridding him of his control. Never before had Jazz felt so much want coupled with possessiveness in his life.

Prowl took long deep breaths to calm himself. It had been so long since another had touched him like this, far too long. His mech's spike was spreading him deliciously, activating so many sensors he thought he would overload any moment.

Nodding, he found himself rocking his hips and could't help but smile at the groan he received.

Jazz could feel how tense the doorwinger was, his sensor panels twitching, and as much as he wanted to pound into his Praxian's valve, he had no desire to hurt his mech, only bring him pleasure. He started thrusting slowly, rolling his hips and wiggling them sideways to spread his mech more.

Prowl gasped as a thrust hit a sensitive nodes, back arching. Lost in a haze of bliss, he tightened his legs even more trying to bring that spike deeper, a whine escaping his vocalizer.

Smirking, Jazz upped his speed, both servos gripping Prowl's thighs tightly as he thrusted deep into his mech.

Mouths met again, glossas dancing in a fight for dominance. One of Prowl's servos ran over the sensor horns on Jazz's helm, a moan being growled into his mouth. His other servo stayed around the visored mech's neck, keeping him from falling, though he doubted he ever would, what with his mech crushing him against the crate and the fierce grip on his thighs.

"Ahh Primus!" Prowl moaned, only parting to allow his internals some time to cool.

Jazz's mouth latched back onto his Praxian's neck, sucking and biting hard with a growl.


The space around them started heating up, the smell of their passion drifting through the small enclosure. The lubricants from Prowl's valve and pre-cum from Jazz's spike mixed together and were flushed out every time Jazz slid out allowing for the fluid to drip down to the floor, only to make seductive wet noises as he thrusted back in.

Jazz's thrusts started to grow rougher, almost frantic as he felt his charge slowly disappear. A displeased whine escaped him and suddenly Prowl was torn back to his fears.

What was wrong? What had he done wrong? Had he already disappointed his lover?

"Frag!" Jazz growled panting, stopping his movements. Prowl stayed silent and as still as possible. Was he already going to be thrown away?

"Not enough!"

Prowl's wings wilted, emotions of hurt, denial, and fear running through him unbeknownst to the visored mech.

Jazz let his helm fall with a clank on his mech's shoulder, still panting.

"Need… more. Need ya! Need all of ya! Open yer chest-plates!" He demanded.

Prowl froze.


Open his chest-plates?


Even with all the doubts running rampant in his processor, as if his body was trained to follow every command made by his lover, his chest-plates opened barring his spark to the other, the small enclosure shining with the pure light. The fragile glass that was his spark chamber shielding his spark from the outside world still closed.

Jazz moaned, looking down at his Praxian's spark. He was pleased that it seemed like no one had touched his lover there. As it should be.

"So beautiful." He murmured, opening his own chest-plates, spark chamber quickly unsealing leaving his spark exposed.

Gently he started thrusting again, eliciting a groan from Prowl, half his worries already buried under the pleasure.

"Become mine." Jazz pleaded. He would not take this mech without knowing the other wanted this as well. No matter if his spark was screaming to take him and compete their sparks.

Prowl gave a small moan, his spark answering on his behalf, his chamber's glass opening up to the other.

Jazz kissed Prowl trying to convey how thankful he was to this show of trust. Parting, he made sure to lock optics with his soon-to-be-mate, the promise of never hurting him clear.

"Mine, mine, mine, mine!" Jazz snarled possessively, bringing their sparks together.

Prowl couldn't hold the scream as their coronas meshed, so much bliss assaulting him.

Then, he lost all concious thought.


They both could just make out the outside world: Prowl felt the spike pounding in him, Jazz loving the feel of his mech's valve squeezing around him.

But it was still not enough, they both felt it now. Deepening their merge, their material bodies stopped existing.

They became two presences lost in a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Flashes of the other's life, his dreams and goal, fears and hurts, everything that made them who they were was presented without reservation to the other.

Here, there was no place for doubts, only trust.

Deafened by the noises and data, they felt bare and vulnerable as the storm suddenly stopped, giving way to a white sea of calmness.

In the middle, both sparks studied the other, taking everything they had learned in, going through the worst memories, their darkest times, the crimes they committed, their wrongs and defects.

Each offered their forgiveness, their understanding, their acceptance.

Happy memories, their joys and dreams, were easily accepted and supported. Promises of protection, fidelity, and love whispered tenderly.

Both glided toward the other, circling each other in an official greeting as mates. And for the first time, they could refer to the other by their given names.

~ Prowl ~ One called out to his mate.

~ Jazz ~ Answered the other, full of love.

As one, they let themselves merge together; the explosion of pleasure that hit them bordering on pain, had them both trying to get away yet desperately clinging to the other.

Slowly they started to blend into the other, a pressure growing, stretching, and suddenly, they felt something tear.

A moment of pain and fear as they felt something shift, before a wave of ecstasy took them both into darkness.


... I feel evil, and smug about it.. *is bricked*

I actually had thought to double the length of this by adding another part half done but I am not happy with it and do not want to ruin this, which I am happy with. So.. yeah..


Oh and I really really really need opinions because while I had the rest planned out I kinda.. hit a brick wall...