A/N: My first Transformers fic! And just for the fun of it, I thought I'd do some non-typical Prowl/Jazz sticky! Mmm….my favourite. Don't ask where I got the idea. I was just thinkin that Prowl is usually on top in most of the fics I've read…so I wanted Jazz-man on top!
Dislaimer: I do not in any way own Transformers – they belong to other people who became filthy rich.
I've been bad, Jazzy
Prowl grimaced as he adjusted the Transformer sized apron over his chassis, glad that he decided not to go with the full maids outfit – it would have been more embarrassing and mortifying than the situation already was. Sighing, the Praxian realised it was the only way he could make it up to Jazz really. It was all his fault…
Prowl was at his desk, halfway through a large stack of datapads, completely determined and absorbed in his work. He didn't even notice when his lover and bondmate Jazz walked through the door with two cubes of energon, whistling a merry tune.
"Hey babe," the saboteur greeted, placing one of the cubes in front of him.
"Hello Jazz. How was your mission?" inquired Prowl, helm not even looking up to speak directly to Jazz, but the other mech didn't mind. Jazz simply grinned, sprawling himself in the chair in front of the desk.
"Too easy. Ya'd think that they'd cova' up the entrances Ah've gone in before, or at least put some sensors or something.' 'Cons are getting' arrogant Ah guess," Jazz chuckled.
Placing another datapad on the finished stack, the chevroned mech allowed himself a wry smile. Even though Jazz had a 98% success rate on all his missions, it didn't stop Prowl from worrying each time. Finally looking up, Prowl replied with a soft smile, "I'm glad you are home Jazz." He accompanied a thought with a pulse of affection through their bond before going back to his work.
"Good ta be back Prowler. Whaddaya say ya ditch the datapads and accompany me to our quarters so Ah can use this new oil on ya? Edible, high-grade flavoured…" Jazz winked his visor, "Ya know ya want to."
"Sorry Jazz, but no, later perhaps," said Prowl firmly, scrolling down his current datapad – a security report form Red Alert.
Maybe it was the mission stress coming back to haunt him, or maybe it was because he had not been intimate with Prowl for the past two weeks because of their schedules, but Jazz sighed heavily, cheerfulness gone as he said, "Ya always say that. They're gonna be there when ya get back, and Ah know ya can do 'em on time. C'mon Prowl, take a break, Ah've missed you."
And maybe for Prowl it was the same: the stress of work, the nights of doing nothing more than recharging with his beloved, that his mood turned sour as well.
"Jazz, I have no time for your silly games now. I said later. Go and recharge," he muttered darkly.
"No! Ah don't want cha babe, Ah need ya. Ya got me achin' for ya!" Jazz protested. He wanted to feel Prowl with him again, within his valve and spark preferably.
"And I need you to leave me alone. I'm sorry if you wanted a bondmate as a booty call whenever you needed it, but I can't be that mech. Now leave me be, and I might see you later," growled Prowl. But as soon as the harsh words were out of his vocaliser, Prowl wished he could swallow them back up again. Jazz's faceplate went from angry to anguished, and the tactician saw a streak of a coolant tear trickle down his face before he turned and fled out the room.
Realising what he had done, Prowl tried to reach through their bond, only to be met with a wall of anger and sorrow.
And for one and a half weeks after that incident, the whole base had been on edge. Jazz was rarely seen, and Prowl had been fruitlessly trying to corner the saboteur to pour out his spark on apologies. It made Prowl feel like the worst bondmate ever, that he had made the love of his life cry like that. So now, he was trying to make up for it – trying to see what Jazz would do if it was the other way around.
The day before, they had met and apologised, and Prowl felt like it hadn't of been enough – Jazz had still not come back to their quarters last night, even if they parted on better terms then they had been on for the past week or so.
So now, Prowl had Jazz to meet him in their quarters.
Looking in the mirror again, Prowl grimaced at the apron and twitched his doorwings. But this had to be done. To show his devotion…his desire…his love, to try and take back all that he had said.
Picking up a tray with a cube of energon on it, Prowl waited behind an alcove that usually held his desk (he had moved it to the opposite wall) and tried to be 'in character,' like a servant waiting for their master. Taking a deep vent, the Praxian saw, more than heard the door cycle open and shut.
"Yo Prowler-" Jazz started, but stopped when he saw what Prowl was wearing. A pale blue apron with white polka dots, and holding a tray with energon on it. Re-booting his optics behind his visor, Jazz wondered if he was seeing right. Yep, still there. The black and white fought a giggle – his mate looked uncomfortable and it was adorable!
"Your evening energon Master. I trust that everything was well at work today?" asked Prowl, trying to be sweeter than usual in tone.
Jazz almost laughed again, but then reigned it in when his processor caught up to him and realised what Prowl was doing. Playing along, Jazz shrugged and grumbled, "Tirin.' Some bot did a few things that were annoyin,' but Ah'm sure Ah'll get over it." Scooping up the energon cube, Jazz tiled his helm and looked scrutinisingly at his 'servant.' "Are ya hidin' anythin' from me sevant?" he asked, pretending to play the suspicious master.
Baby blue optics widening innocently, Prowl bowed and replied, "No Master, not anything at all."
"Ya're lyin.' Ya doorwings twitched twice. Means ya're lyin' and ya have one chance to tell me the truth," Jazz frowned, crossing his arms. He was beginning to enjoy this.
"Master…I…oh Master I am ashamed," said Prowl, sinking to his knees, hands clasped in front of him pleadingly. Inside, Prowl was also enjoying this…relinquishing of control. He shuttered his optics prettily, and caught Jazz's sly smirk before the saboteur hid it and growled at him.
"Tell me, it's my right as ya Master!"
Whimpering, Prowl bowed his head ashamedly and whispered, "I've been bad Jazzy."
Prowl yelped however, when an obsidian hand lightly knocked him over the helm before Jazz raised his voice and yelled, "Did Ah eva allow ya to call me by my mates nickname for me? Ah am Master to ya!"
"No Master, oh please don't punish me!" whimpered Prowl. It made him feel ridiculous as well as enjoying it, but it was all for Jazz.
Jazz pretended to consider before huffing and murmured, "Prepare my berth, and Ah might talk about it wit'cha."
Prowl leapt to his pedes, doorwings twitching in anticipation as he hurried to their berthroom, slipping in the door and going to the bedside to pull back the metallo-mesh covers. He bowed again as Jazz swept into the room, and watched, rapt, as Jazz slowly stalked towards the berth before slowly undulating his beautiful black and white frame over it. Prowl couldn't help himself as his cooling fans turned on at the sight.
The other black and white looked up sharply as he heard Prowl's cooling fans turn on, but kept himself in character. "Like whatcha see servant? Answer me."
"Master is very strong, and his frame beautiful," the doorwinged mech said softly.
"Hmm, glad ya think so. But Ah know ya've been bad Prowler. Ah know. About stealing my rust sticks and energon goodies, takin' more than ya ration of energon, when Ah'm not here Ah know ya sleep on my berth and pretend that ya drivin' ya spike into me. Ya dream of bein' in control. Ain't gonna happen. Ah am the Master, don't cha forget it," smirked Jazz. Optics watched under the visor as Prowl sank to his knees again, as he begged. 'Ah can so get used ta that,' Jazz thought.
"Please Master, what can I do to make it up to you? I will be good from now, promise," begged Prowl. Oh, he know he shouldn't but he was getting so turned on by their little role play.
Retracting his visor and grinning in a way that had his bondmate shuddering with desire, Jazz checked, "Anythin'?"
Prowl nodded eagerly.
Crooking a finger in invitation and patting his lap, Jazz soon had a lap full of hot Datsun. "Mmm," he murmured, lips hovering near Prowl's audio, "ya'd think ya were too eager for this. Mmm…but Ah don't mind. It's my right after all. Now this," he fingered the bow knot holding the apron in place at the small of Prowls back, "must go." And with that, he ripped the knot, yanked the apron over Prowl's helm (much to his surprise) and in one fluid movement, tossed it away and flipped them around so he was straddling Prowls hips, just above the warm crotchplate.
"Master…oh Master I-"
"Shh. Ah'm gonna take what ah want," Jazz grinned fiendishly, before covering Prowls mouth in a heated, passionate kiss. Prowl moaned at the contract, pressing up for more and reaching for Jazz's helm.
Breaking off the kiss, Jazz shook his head, "Don't be greedy now. Ah might decide to go and make ya scrub the floors." And with that, he clashed his lipplates with his lovers once again, hands pinning both of Prowls to the berth and twining his glossa with the others. Jazz purred into the kiss, engine revving as his own cooling fans clicked on. Prowl wiggled underneath him, obviously overwhelmed with the amount of sensory data coursing through his circuits after so long of being dormant.
Breaking the kiss again, Jazz leant back and hummed, "Ooh, Ah'm not sure if ya want this. Do ya want this?"
"Master Jazz, please, let me show you," panted Prowl, feeling himself positively ache for Jazz. He knew what he had been missing.
Climbing off Prowl and sitting at the foot of the berth, Jazz slowly enunciated, "Show me."
Carefully adjusting his doorwings among the pillows on their berth, Prowl coyly traced his hands down his chassis and moaned, "Master…oh…I want to feel your hands on me…rubbing my wires and feeding my circuits with desire. Only you…only you should be allowed to touch me Master, no-one else." Jazz almost moaned as well, when Prowl's left hand reached back to trail over the edge of a doorwing, igniting sensors among the edge, while his other hand crept down to the joint where his leg met his hips and dug into a sensor cluster there.
Resisting his urges, Jazz encouraged, "Go on…where else?"
With a soft click, Prowl's lower interface panel opened, showing his wet valve, a film of purple lubricant over the entrance and starting to drip down to the covers. Biting his lower lip, Prowl looked directly at Jazz shyly and whispered, "H-here too Master. I want you to…ooooh," Prowl's speech broke off as he drew a finger over the opening of the wet slit, smearing the lubricant around.
"What, servant?" asked Jazz, optics not moving from where Prowl was playing with his valve.
"Want you to…take me Master, as you wish because I am devoted to you and you only," Prowl said, injecting those words with all the sincerity he could, before plunging the white finger that was teasing the outer sensors into his valve with a low cry of ecstasy. He fingered himself slowly at first, noting how tight he was because Jazz hadn't used it recently, before speeding up, trying not to break the game and let the cry of 'Jazz' fall from his lips.
The black and white saboteur licked his lips slowly as he saw Prowl's finger move rapidly within his valve, coating it with lubricant. His optics flared as he watched Prowl add another finger and scissor himself repeatedly, panting 'Primus.' Jazz thought he had never seen such a delicious thing in his life.
Cheekily now, Jazz ordered, "Halt."
Mewling from the loss of his own fingers, Prowl pulled them out. "Lick them clean," Jazz ordered.
Prowl did, making sure Jazz could see clearly his glossa as it slipped between his white digits and cleaned up the sweet, yet tangy taste of his own lubricant.
Looking on in satisfaction, Jazz slid his legs wide and opened his upper panel to release his spike, saying, "Ah'm still not convinced. Ah think…ya need to suck some spike." His hardware stood stiff in the air for Prowl's optics to see how hot he was, how much he was enjoying this game.
Prowl's optics feasted on Jazz's spike like a rare jewel. They were roughly the same size in spike size and length, but Jazz's was just a bit thicker than his own, which was slightly longer and had a more flared tip. "Oh Master, you honour me," Prowl breathed, swaying both his hips and doorwings as he crawled closer to Jazz's smooth black plated spike.
Jazz hummed again as Prowl's warm ex-vents ghosted over his sensitive spike.
Prowl, looking up worshipfully at his love, pressed a kiss to the tip of the spike before kissing a line down the spike to the base before running his glossa back over that invisible line of kisses, feeling Jazz shiver in pleasure from the gesture. He felt a hand come down and stroke his sensitive chevron. "Good servant," he heard Jazz purr. He let out a sound of appreciation back before reaching the tip of the spike. He twirled his glossa around the thin slit in the head once before relaxing his throat cables and swallowed Jazz spike.
Losing himself, Jazz cried out, "Prowl, babe…uuuuhhh!"
Prowl merely smiled around the spike, nuzzling his nasal ridge against the black pelvic plating, before withdrawing to the head and sucking on it like an energon pop. Hollowing his cheeks, Prowl sank his mouth down again, zig-zagging his glossa all around the underside while increasing the suction, and began to bob his head.
The saboteur couldn't keep his wits about himself, especially when Prowl was mouthing his spike like that, so he simply sat back and watched the bobbing white helm with the striking red chevron. Oh, after their interface session, Jazz was going to let Prowl know exactly how treasured he had made him feel. Their argument felt so petty now, compared to the sheer chemistry that sparked between them.
"Ngh, yeah, like that," murmured Jazz. Prowl went all the way back down again, clenching his throat cables around the thick spike in his mouth and humming.
Knowing he wasn't going to last too much longer if Prowl kept going, Jazz gently guided Prowls helm off his spike with a wet 'pop', and snickering, "Well, ya've showed me how much ya want it. Ah want ya to lean back and open that pretty valve of yours. Ah think ya've deserved it."
Voice dropping to a low, excited purr, Prowl said, "Master, I receive your reward humbly." Leaning back against the pillows again, Prowl spread his legs almost shyly, once again exposing that dripping, wet valve for Jazz's optics.
Taking his member in hand and shuffling himself forward to line himself up, Jazz let their bond wash open.
"Jazz-" Prowl interrupted himself with a whine of pleasure as Jazz slowly slid in to the steamy grip of his valve. They both forgot the game they played as the pleasures they had denied themselves for over three weeks now hit them in force.
"Prowler, ya feel so good," groaned Jazz, holding Prowls face in his hands and pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach – his neck tubing, cables, cheeks, chevron, mouth, anything that was Prowl. Prowl slid a hand up to Jazz's sensory horns, tweaking them gently, while the other clamped Jazz's waist to him as the spike filled him completely.
"Uh…move, please take me," whispered Prowl sensually.
And Jazz did, beginning with long, smooth thrusts into Prowl's valve, never stopping kissing Prowl or touching him, digging his fingers into the sensitive cluster of nerve circuits in Prowl's doorwings or in seams of his frame, before transitioning to shorter, pounding thrusts that hit sensors within Prowl's valve, making him arch and writhe in desire.
Prowl locked his heels around Jazz, inadvertently tightening his valve walls around Jazz, making them both keen in pleasure. He couldn't get enough of Jazz: his aft, his sensory horns, his wonderfully smooth plating as the bot he loved pounded into him, making him feel so good.
"Please Jazz…I'm gonna…ooooh, I'm close!' panted Prowl, drawing those full lipplates to his own to give a passionate kiss, allowing Jazz full access to his mouth.
"Me too babe…Love ya," murmured Jazz, leaning their foreheads together as they neared completion. Strings of lubricant were drawn out of Prowl's valve with every thrust Jazz gave – a pressure, deep within them, coiling and growing and growing and growing…
…before it crashed around them, overwhelming them both as they cried out each others names in unison, Jazz thrusting through his overload as transfluid shot out into Prowl's greedy, clenching and spasming valve. Prowl clutched desperately at Jazz's shoulders as he rode out the overload, finally whispering, "I love you too Jazz…so much." Jazz grinned down at him, pulling out gently once their bodies had finished trembling in overload and giving him a light kiss.
"Love ya more," Jazz replied, content just to lie on Prowl's front.
Smiling back, feeling so full and satisfied, Prowl retorted cheekily, "Nah…I love you more."
They both burst out laughing, and Jazz cuddled closer to Prowl, stroking the headlights on his hood.
"Ah forgave ya yesterday Prowler…why all this?" Jazz asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.
Shuttering his optics, Prowl replied, "I thought that there was something missing. You didn't come back last night to keep talking it over so I thought I should utilise…drastic measures."
Jazz giggled again, "Well, that was great acting babe. If Ah didn't know ya better, Ah woulda assumed ya were the faithful submissive servant! Even if it was a bit a' fun 'n' games, Ah'm glad ya did this for me. When ya sucked my spike the way ya looked at me…like it was ya mission in life…Ah felt so treasured."
Nodding, optics shining with love, Prowl murmured, "I'm glad. Next time I'm an aft again, tell me, or walk away and come back the next day after I've finished with kicking myself for being such an idiot. Ok?"
"Deal. As long as ya do the same for me," mumbled Jazz, staring to cycle down into recharge and tucking his head in Prowl's warm neck. "Oh and Prowl?"
Laughter was in Jazz's voice as he said, "Ah love it when ya're bad."
A/N: So...how'd I do? I'm sorry if I butchered Jazz's accent and Prowl's personality (but he was role-playing, I have a slight excuse). Reviews are loved. PROWL AND JAZZ 4EVA!