Author's note: For this story to make sense, some background information might be in order. The inspiration for it came from my two other stories I've posted on here: Control and Captured. Control simply because it inspired me to delve further into Prowl/Jazz kink land, and Captured because it was an AU where the original idea of having Jazz pictured as a Decepticon came from. So if you wonder what's up with the Decepticon Jazz thing in this story, that's the explanation as to where that idea originated.

Warnings: AU. Also please note that this story features slash of the very much kinkier variety, and hence falls into the "Don't like, don't read, please" category.

Disclaimer: Nothing in here belongs to me, except for my own twisted imagination.

Jazz smirked as he looked down on the mech kneeling on the floor in front of him, hands bound behind him, his head bowed, optics locked on the ground.

"Well, looks like your little Autobot buddies aren't coming for you, are they?" Jazz' voice was dripping with disdain. "I would have thought that a second in command at least would be important enough to have a rescue attempt staged on his behalf, but apparently I was wrong."

Jazz was slowly walking around the captive as he spoke, coming to a stop somewhere behind Prowl's back. The tactician tensed. Not having the other mech in his field of vision was unnerving, seeing as how it made him unable to anticipate and steel himself for whatever Jazz' next course of action would be.

Prowl waited with growing apprehension for a kick, for a shove, for a slap, for something, but nothing happened. The only indication that Jazz was still standing there was the silence being broken by the sound of quiet breathing behind him. Prowl wondered what thoughts were currently going through Jazz' mind, what brutal and degrading treatment he was planning to inflict.

Jazz' mocking voice suddenly cut through the near-silence, like a laser scalpel searing through metal. Vicious. Harsh.

"Or perhaps, your so called 'friends' don't actually want you back? Perhaps they're even glad to finally have gotten rid of that disliked, uptight commanding officer of theirs?"

The voice fleeted closer. Jazz was bending down over him, his hands resting almost lovingly on Prowl's shoulders, his lips in a close position to his left audio sensor as Jazz was now almost whispering to him.

"But as I'm sure you already know, we'll take good care of you. Really good care. Don't you worry." The voice was sweet and slippery, like a parody of how a lover would speak to his bondmate. And the unspoken promises contained in it made a shiver pass through Prowl.

The hands on his shoulders tightened, fingers painfully digging into the metal beneath them.

"Yes, I can assure you that you will indeed have a most interesting time here at Decepticon headquarters, Autobot!"

Several days had now passed since Jazz had issued those promises. And he had made good on them. Prowl's initial determination to stubbornly put up resistance, to make a show of defiance, had rapidly slipped away.

Now he was trapped in a most pitiful position, his hands strung up in chains above his head, rusty metal firmly encircling his wrists, chafing the delicate dermal plating. Jazz had adjusted the chains so that they just barely allowed his feet to touch the ground enough not to have his arms half pulled out of their sockets from supporting too much of his weight. Prowl's captor was once again circling him, like an eagle would its prey before it struck.

"So, have you been enjoying yourself so far? I sure know that I have."

Prowl knew better than to respond to Jazz' taunt. And the saboteur didn't seem to be interested in hearing an answer either; his words were just another way of asserting his dominant position over Prowl.

"Tell me, Autobot, what do you think about being my little... pet?"

Now that was clearly a question that wasn't rhetorical. Jazz wanted an answer to that, to purposely make Prowl squirm as he tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't compromise too much of whatever was left of his pride, while at the same time not provoking Jazz enough to result in an outburst of violence. Prowl hesitated.

A hard slap to his face told him that his answer had taken too long and Jazz' patience had run out.

"I asked you a question, you worthless scrap heap!"

The second in command gritted his teeth. Sure the pain of his now stinging cheek was minor in comparison, but the sudden outlash had taken him quite unprepared.

Jazz seemed to calm down again. Instead of following up with further violence, he cupped the chin of the chained mech and forced it upwards, making Prowl look him directly in the optics. And then, in sharp contrast to the recently delivered slap, a couple of fingers were suddenly tracing the Autobot's jaw line, surprisingly gently, as if they were trying to caress away the pain their owner had just caused.

Prowl's reaction was automatic and instinctive; he yanked his head away from the offending fingers.

The resulting anger in the other mech was immediate. Anger that Prowl had dared to rebel against his captor. Dared to refuse him. Jazz' displeasure was manifested in a punch to the prisoner's midsection, one that would surely have had him double over had the chains not held him up. Prowl grunted in pain from the impact, and then hung still, panting.

Jazz' voice was harder than ever when he spoke. "You really are one ungrateful little glitch of an Autobot. You should be thankful Megatron decided to give you to me after your capture. Had you been handed over to any of my fellow Decepticons, I can assure you that your fate would have been a lot harsher than this."

Prowl didn't doubt the truth of this statement. As unkind as Jazz' treatment of him had been, he could only begin to imagine the horrors he would have had to suffer through if he had ended up in the hands of a Decepticon like Starscream, for instance. Or Soundwave. Or...

A vicious gleam could be seen in Jazz' optics as he spoke again. "You obviously don't appreciate how lucky you are that you belong to me and not someone else. But we can easily rectify that. I can assure you that there are many other Decepticons who would love it if I let them "borrow" you for a little while... " He let the sentence trail off, letting the terrifying consequences of his suggestion fully sink into the Autobot before he continued.

"And I think the 'Con who shall get the privilege of having his way with you for the rest of the day, will be... Motormaster." The saboteur put additional, deliberate stress on the last word, as if he were trying to force it into the other mech's audio sensors.

Of course, it was entirely unnecessary as the name in question didn't need any further embellishments to drive home the viciousness of its owner. Motormaster was well known among the Autobots as one of the cruelest, most sadistic mechs that had ever been spawned. Even the members of his own gestalt team feared him. And to think of what he would do to a captive Autobot if given the opportunity...

Prowl shuddered involuntarily at the thought, the minute movement not going unnoticed by Jazz.

"Should I take it as a shiver of excitement over the wonderful time the two of you are surely going to have together?" he mocked, cold sarcasm dripping from every word.

Prowl swallowed. Not just oral fluid, but his pride too. "No, please... Don't do this." he managed to press out, voice tiny.

Jazz was obviously satisfied by the other mech's pleading. Prowl guessed that he had been waiting for it and was now savoring the triumph. "Very well then, I will let your insolence pass for this time. But refuse to submit to me again, and you know what will happen."

The last syllable had barely left Jazz' mouth before a smile – a vicious, greedy smile –appeared on his face as he eyed the mech in front him. "But let's put all that behind us for now and turn our attention towards more... pleasurable activities, shall we?" he said, almost purring into Prowl's audio sensors, eliciting a gasp from the Autobot as the meaning behind the words sank in.

Again, Prowl's reaction had smug satisfaction paint itself upon Jazz' face. His fingers were now drawing little circles and lines on Prowl's chassis, almost absent-mindedly.

"Looking forward to them already, I hear." Jazz' words were like sharp arrows of contempt piercing through his armour. Ridiculing him. Mocking him.

"But I'm afraid you'll just have to hang tight for a while before we start. I have more important matters to attend to first." With those words, he exited, leaving Prowl slumping in his chains, breathing heavily.

An eternity seemed to have come and gone. Prowl had no idea how much time had actually passed since Jazz had left him there in almost total darkness, the chains binding him digging deeper and deeper into his wrists. But he knew well that Jazz did not have any important business elsewhere that he needed to see to. Leaving Prowl like this, making him wait in apprehension for what was coming next, was simply a way to assert their relative positions. A way to show that Jazz was the one in command, and Prowl the helpless prisoner who could be treated any way his captor wanted.

He also knew well what sort of activities Jazz had in mind for him, and his circuits were almost curling at the mere thought. The torturous wait was almost unbearable.

At long last, the door opened, and his captor stepped back in. He paused for a while to take in the sight of the chained mech, and then without any obvious hurry made his way up to him. He came to a halt just inches from the other mech, effectively invading the private space that Prowl had long since lost all rights to.

"Glad to see you haven't gone anywhere, Autobot. Would have been a real shame, considering what fun we're gonna have, you and me."

An arm was snaking its way around Prowl's midsection, and he was pulled into a possessive embrace by the saboteur. He could feel Jazz' hot breath on his chin; obvious lust radiating in waves from the mech. Hands had started to move up and down his torso. Prowl just hung there, motionless, silent, as Jazz was working on him. Then the touches stopped.

"Hmm, I wonder if I should let you remain chained like this, or continue right here on the floor instead...?" he pondered aloud, brow furrowing a bit as were he fretting over some sort of important tactical decision in a battle. A few seconds fleeted by as Prowl waited tensely, and then a black hand reached up. The chains clanked as they were undone, and Prowl almost grunted in relief as his hands were finally freed.

It was only through sheer willpower, seeing as how his strength was almost gone, that Prowl managed to remain standing and avoid collapsing on the floor as the chains unlocked. He didn't have the time to revel in this small victory for very long though. A hard, but very much expected shove had him crumble to his knees on the hard floor.

"I thought I had already made it clear that you are to kneel in my presence, slave! Or perhaps you need another whipping to finally get the point?" Jazz threatened menacingly.

'Prowl's pain receptors tingled at Jazz' words. No, he most certainly didn't need that.

He took a deep breath and let his self-preservation instinct take over.

"No, I'm... sorry."

"You're sorry, what?"

Prowl knew exactly what word Jazz was wanting to hear, the one that he had first stubbornly refused to speak out, in spite of the highly persistent persuasion he had been subjugated to. But in the end the saboteur had brought him to his breaking point and he had relented. He also knew that Jazz would pry it out of him now as well, one way or the other. Might as well be the easy way this time.

"Master."

Jazz grinned, glee lighting up his face like a beacon. "Pleased to see you're learning. And here I was starting to think that you were to dense to learn even the most simple things."

Without warning, rough hands brutally and unceremoniously shoved the second in command on his back onto the floor. A fraction of a second later, his captor was looming ominously over him, one of his knees resting painfully on the tactician's chassis. Prowl lay still, breathlessly waiting for what Jazz' next move would be.

"Yes, you're my little toy to do with as I please. And I'm going to show you just that tonight. Show you that you're mine... in every sense of the word!" the saboteur hissed.

With that, Jazz seemed to relax into a somewhat more benevolent mindset as he positioned himself comfortably on top of the other mech's prone form. A leer met Prowl as he briefly dared to look into the optics of the saboteur.

Then Jazz' hands were once again roaming over his body, exploring its every corner and angle. Claiming him. The touches were not exactly harsh, but they lacked the tenderness and carefulness that one would have expected from a bondmate. Of course, it was all deliberate, to show that Jazz was simply taking what he wanted from Prowl, being fully in a position to disregard the needs and wants of the other mech. If the touches had been able to speak, their only words would have been You belong to me.

The hands had wandered into an opening between two of his armour plates, grabbing hold of the wires hidden beneath. They became somewhat less rough as they handled the delicate wiring as to not damage their precious toy.

Mixed with the obvious discomfort of having someone touch his delicate circuitry without the required gentleness was another feeling that Prowl had known would make itself known sooner or later during Jazz' ministrations. Pleasure. Indeed, Jazz enjoyed being able to make his captive find pleasure in the whole demeaning experience. To show that he was a master of pleasure and not only of pain, being able to give any of the two as he liked.

And Prowl's body eventually betrayed him as Jazz expertly twisted the fine circuitry in his talented fingers. The saboteur sat up and smirked at him, a couple of fingers still working on the wires they held.

"Well, well, so you actually are enjoying yourself, aren't you? Who would have thought that the Autobot second in command would take pleasure in being ravished by a Decepticon? What would your little Autobot friends say if they knew about that? Knew that their uptight commanding officer perhaps isn't so uptight after all?"

Prowl could feel shame burning deep inside him. Shame that he was indeed enjoying this, something that no proud Autobot officer should be doing. Yes indeed – Jazz was right – what would his comrades have thought had they seen him now, like this? Most likely, they would lose all respect for him. But he couldn't help himself. He moaned softly as Jazz grabbed onto a new bundle of wires and stroked them almost gently.

Jazz only smirked. "Overload for me, slave!" he hissed, voice authoritative and demanding.

And Prowl did. He couldn't have stopped it even if he had wanted to. For a wonderful moment, all his logic circuits shut down, finally allowing him to enjoy the pleasure surging through him without any feeling of guilt and shame holding him back.

When it was over, Prowl just lay panting, optics dimmed. He was vaguely aware that one of Jazz' arms was draped over his chassis, fingers still playfully teasing some of his wiring.

Suddenly Prowl's transmitter beeped, and the deep, booming voice of Optimus Prime could be heard.

"Suspected Decepticon activities in sector 5A. Prowl, gather your team at the command center; we have to investigate what's behind this."

At the sound of the Autobot leader's voice, Prowl stood up and quickly made for the door. "Come on Jazz, you heard him. We have to hurry."

Jazz smiled as he watched the second in command. It was always amusing to see how quickly he would snap back to reality after one of their little games when real life came calling. Particularly after the whole "Decepticon captive" game, which happened to be Prowl's favorite setting.

And while Jazz admitted that he had initially been a bit disturbed when he had found out about his bondmate's unusual fetish, he had soon realized that this was Prowl's only way in which he could, if only temporarily, escape and forget the heavy burden of responsibility he was carrying around on his shoulders everyday. Without that outlet, which only his bondmate Jazz could provide, Prowl might eventually have succumbed to the pressure a 'Bot in his position was constantly under. And for Prowl, Jazz was willing to do anything.

Prowl's insisting voice was calling for him again, and Jazz interrupted his musings and hurried after his beloved bondmate.

End note: Well, don't know if I managed to lead any of you readers into believing that this was for real, or if you saw this kind of ending coming miles away... I suppose the title might have given things away somewhat. But in any case, this little piece was actually quite difficult to write seeing as how I had to struggle with so many of the sentences to make them consistent with both a "play" setting and a "real" setting. I'm not sure how well I actually succeeded, so please let me know what you thought of it!

Also, I'm kinda surprised that I have yet to encounter any Prowl/Jazz slash fics where Prowl is a real sub, seeing as how it stereotypically tends to be people with lots of power and/or responsibilities who are into being dominated. Somehow it just felt so obvious, and I thought that someone ought to have grabbed on to that idea earlier, which is sort of why I wanted to explore it in a fic of my own. (And if you should happen to know of any other fics of this nature, do let me know please!)

And in case anyone is wondering why the AU warning is there, well, can you really imagine canon G1 Prowl and Jazz being into this sort of activities? I mean, really? ;)

(And in case anyone else is wondering, yes, the two 'Bots did take a break for real life between scene one and two...)