Time Interpretations: Astrosecond= about .5 Earth seconds, Cycle= about 1 Earth hour, Joor= about 1 Earth day, Orn= about 2 Earth weeks

Basis: G1

Pairings: JazzxProwl (small RatchetxIronhide)

EnJoY!

[ May 3rd - 4:23 AM ]

Ratchet sat at his desk, slowly and tiredly sipping at a now-cold cube of energon, the datapad which he was reading's screen being the only light in the room besides the medic's optics.

He couldn't seem to peacefully recharge; he couldn't stop thinking about how strange Ironhide had been acting all joor... the way he just about was pinning him to the wall in the hallway, straddling his waist. His breath didn't smell like high grade, but he was sure acting like it. Then he remembered the way he leaned in to nip at his neck cables, causing the medic to jump out of both startlement and the wave of energy and heat that had just burst through his frame.

He remembered the way Ironhide's lips lingered loosely on Ratchet's... the way the medic himself was about to shut off his optics and just give in before Prowl wondered down the hallway and Ironhide walked away before anyone saw anything, let alone do anything to the medic.

The memory faded as said mech opened the med bay doors with a loud "woosh".

Ratchet looked up from the wall he was staring at while daydreaming to lock optics with the tactician.

"Prowl." he said, standing up. "What are you doing here?"

"My servo's killing me... I was trying to avoid you at this time as much as I could, but I eventually cracked. I didn't want to wake you, but..." he looked up from his clenching servo to gaze at Ratchet. "... I see you're already up. What are you doing?"

"Oh, I just, couldn't recharge very well," he replied. He then got rather quiet, walking over to a berth and gesturing Prowl to sit on it.

"Hm. Is, there anything I can help you with?" the datsun offered.

"No, no... I'm fine, just had a strange day today. Or, yesterday, I should say."

Prowl let a tiny smile flicker across his faceplate, then sat down on the berth as Ratchet walked back over from retrieving a tool.

"So what did you do again?" the medic asked.

"I honestly do not know. I was fighting in the common training room, went a few rounds with Jazz and Bumblebee, but nothing more than what I usually do."

"Interesting..." the red and white mech mumbled almost to himself. Then he spoke up. "I think I see the problem."

Prowl looked down at where Ratchet was kneeling to look at his servo. He then saw the medic pull out a thick, metal "splinter", as the humans would probably call it, with thin, metal pliers and a confused look on his faceplate. He let out a gasping hiss of pain as Ratchet pulled the last of it out completely.

Ratchet immediately placed the "splinter" on a nearby tray and applied a cooling gel to the open wound in the palm of Prowl's servo.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But I had to get it out. If you hadn't come to see me, it would have for sure become infected, and I might have even had to replace your servo."

The tactician just looked at Ratchet with wide optics. "For a, a... splinter? That's rediculous... I didn't even do anything - "

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this, thing..." he interrupted. "But while I examine it, I want you to go back to recharge and let your self-repairing systems work on it."

Prowl sighed at stood up. "Thanks, Ratch'. I owe you one."

Ratchet simply waved it off as Prowl turned and walked out the med bay, clenching his sore servo.

Jazz looked over from the ceiling to the doors being opened, watching Prowl step through and still clenching his servo while letting the doors shut behind him.

"Did ya get it fixed?" Jazz asked in a tired voice.

"Yes, it's fine," Prowl replied, looking up at the un-Jazz-y tone. "Are you okay?"

The saboteur laid back down on his back on the berth and sighed. "Yeah, Prowl..."

Prowl kept staring at him, eventually walking over, hopping on the berth, and placing both pedes on either side of his lover.

"You don't really look like it..." he whispered into his audio. He then licked it, earning a mewl from him and a firm grasp to his hip plating.

The tactician gasped himself, slightly surprised at Jazz's sudden movements. "...Ughh... something, on your mind?" he asked.

Jazz barely made out a muffled "No" as he dug his faceplate into Prowl's neck cables. "I just need you..."

Prowl smirked slightly and started digging digits into wires all over the Porsche's body. Jazz lifted both servos up around Prowl's shoulders and neck, bringing him down and planting a hot, wet, passionate kiss on the datsun's lips.

One servo went to play with a doorwing while the other groped the back of his neck. "Prowl..." he murmured, panting. "...Need... you..." he finished as they broke the kiss.

Prowl grinned and gazed down into that beautiful indigo visor on the handsome faceplate. He could tell the optic color was more deeper than normal, and it seemed as if Jazz was straining. He figured all his lover needed was just a nice, hard 'facing, but then the Porsche grabbed onto Prowl's hips and he clicked open his own interfacing panel.

Prowl heard a desperate cry escape Jazz's vocals. Although more than happy to oblige, Prowl wondered what was making Jazz so, energetic...

"Prowl..." the mech panted. "Take me... so hard... rough... uuughh..."

Prowl soon had his own panel open, spike emerging slowly as he stroked Jazz's erected one. He brushed the tip against the entrance of Jazz's valve, making him call out Prowl's name as he grit his denta. "PLEASE!" he shrieked. "PROWL..."

Prowl wasn't sure how just this was making the mech so aroused, but he thought of it as no big deal. He thrust his thick spike in as far as it could go, making Jazz scream as he pounded into it, faster, harder.

Prowl picked up the pace each time Jazz grunted and keened, eventually seeing the look of pain of his faceplate. He almost stopped thrusting completely as Jazz looked like he was about to explode, but the saboteur's overload took him with him.

"PLEEEEEASE...!" Jazz practically screamed as he overloaded hard.

Jazz bucked wildly upwards into Prowl's hips, looking into the his optics while still "in pain". Prowl kept thrusting his spike even faster, offlining his optics and feeling the tight, lubricant-soaked valve clench hard around it. He then felt the long, hot pulses of transfluid shooting out deep into the valve, making Jazz gasp even deeper and moan louder, denta still gritted.

Prowl's thrusts became weaker, and he soon fell limp on top of Jazz, groaning. He nipped at a nearby neck cable, earning a few mewls from the mech in the process.

He murmured Prowl's name again, rubbing his bare interfacing equipment against Prowl's. The datsun was a little surprised; usually, after an overload as hard as that, Jazz would be drifting off into recharge about now. He set the back of a servo across Jazz's chassis, similar to the act of a human placing it to someone's forehead to check their temperature. Prowl pulled it away with a look of shock... to make sure he felt it right he scanned Jazz's frame thoroughly. Sure enough, Jazz had a virus that was making his internal temperature spike drastically, and apparently issuing strange cravings.

When Jazz onlined, he didn't move. He felt like he couldn't move. He just stayed there, optics fixed on the ceiling.

"Jazz." said a soft voice.

Jazz managed to turn his helm to face the tactician, but still didn't say anything.

"Are you okay?" the voice finished.

Jazz slowly nodded his helm as if he wasn't sure it was the right answer. "I think so."

Prowl kept gazing at him, faceplate merely centimeters from his. He leaned in to brush his lips against Jazz's cheak plating, kissing it, and working his way over to the saboteur's lips.

"I'm just worried about you," he muffled, pulling away.

But Jazz shot up both servos around the back of his helm and pulled him in to a forceful kiss. He barely pulled his lips away before tilting his head and diving back in, flickering his glossa everywhere it could possibly reach inside Prowl's mouth.

"Mmmnn..." Prowl moaned with a smirk.

Jazz didn't say anything; he just feverishly kissed Prowl until he pulled himself away, looking at Jazz in concern.

"What?" asked Jazz, rather impatiently, noticing how Prowl was looking at him.

"I scanned your systems last night... you weren't acting, yourself... and I found a small virus."

Jazz's visor glowed a brighter blue, showing he was now more awake. "How did I get a virus?"

"I don't know. I was going to take you to Ratchet if - "

"NO!" the Porsche shrieked. "No way, I am not going to med bay just for a virus. Knowing Ratch', he'll want me to stay for, Primus knows how long, doing rediculous tests, and it's a waste of time!"

Prowl looked down at his lover and smiled. "Alright, fine. I won't make you. But if you get any worse, I am. Is that understood?"

Jazz nodded and smiled back, but quickly frowned and tossed his helm back, letting out a quiet, long groan.

"Jazz? W-What's wrong?"

He didn't answer. Just made the groaning louder as he grit his denta.

"JAZZ?" he asked, noticing the bright blue optics were now turning almost purple-black.

He sat up and cupped both servos around Jazz's faceplate, yelling at the saboteur to respond. Purple "sweat" streamed from Jazz's faceplating, and he started to shiver. Hard.

He jumped off the berth and ran down the hall to the wash racks, ignoring strange looks passing mechs were giving him, grabbed a wash cloth, and ran back to Jazz's quarters.

He gently patted his faceplating with the damp cloth, soaking up the energon sweat and brushing the plating gently with his other servo for comfort. "Jazz..." he whispered. "Jazz, come on..."

Jazz started panting, still shivering, clenching either side of the berth with his servos as Prowl swiped the cloth over his forehelm.

Prowl was relieved when his tension lessened, and the Porsche onlined his optics to look at Prowl. He was still shivering and sweating, but not as bad as before. He reached up both servos weakly, grasping on to Prowl's hips and he tried to pull himself up to say something.

Prowl threw the cloth down on the floor, still brushing Jazz's faceplate, leaning in to hear his words better.

But Jazz couldn't make it. He fell back onto the berth, offlining his optics.

"Jazz?"

The only thing that he could hear was the faint humming of Jazz's cooling vents trying to cool him down.

"Jazz... answer me... " he started to sweat, hoping that it was just a stasis lock from the virus.

"JAZZ, please!" he shouted, slightly shaking the mech.

Still silence.