Update? Why yes, thank you. I'm sorry peoples, my school work has taken over my life. It's midterm/project/wemakeyousuffer time at college and my free time has flown far far away from me. I'm sorry to say that the updating might follow this slow timeline for a little while. That is, until spring break comes around and then I should be able to get a bit more done. Quarter schools just go so fast and I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment. Thanks for staying with me, though, and I hope this chapter comes across okay. It's my second attempt at an overload chapter and I can only hope that it reads different than the Twins/Ratchet one.
Much love again goes to Kesera who was kind enough to wade through my first draft and offer wonderful beta-like responses. The gratitude and appreciation for the lack of grammar and spelling mistakes goes must humbly to her. I also want to do a shout out to three other people who've managed to keep me sane throughout these turbulent waters of school work with their helpful words and wonderful conversations. Azkadellia, Dragowolf, ryagelle—thank you all so much for everything and know that, even though I may take forever to respond to you, it really means a lot to me that you continue to talk with me.
Once again, as well, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! It helped me keep up with my work and, strangely enough, made me study. So thank you lots, peoples!
Another round of thanking goes to those who were kind enough to help me out with my misspellings and whatnot in the previous chapters: The Greatest Boba Fett Fan, .groove, and Azkadellia.
And with that, please enjoy the Prowl/Jazz goodness!
Edit: .groove and ryagelle have once again been kind enough to point out my (freaking IRRITATING) spelling errors once again, so thank you for that!
"The cake is a lie." Jazz said, face straight and visor flashing in the florescent light.
Prowl, needless to say, was a little confused at the statement. His constantly typing digits froze above the keyboard of his computer station and he slowly turned in his chair to face the grinning mech leaning against the entrance to his office. An entrance that the visored mech hadn't even knocked on before entering. Fingers twitching, Prowl filed that small insubordination away for a second in favor of trying to puzzle out what exactly the mech before him meant by his rather obscure comment.
And got nothing.
Prowl resisted the urge to growl in frustration. He had one of the most sophisticated battle computers that had ever been constructed and still he found it almost completely impossible to predict the other black and white mech. In fact, the only thing he could predict was his unpredictability. With a resigned sigh of his intakes, Prowl relaxed his fingers completely and turned fully to face the still grinning mech (if anything the damned smirk had gotten bigger) that was now a little within his doorway, "…what?"
Grin growing to proportions where Prowl was surprised that it didn't split his faceplates in half, Jazz fully stepped away from the doorway and the automatic door whooshed closed behind him, "Nothing. Just wanted to get your attention, Prowlie."
An almost undetectable tick twisted up the corner of one of Prowl's optic ridges at the nickname. An unobservant mech would have missed it completely. Jazz, however, was the head of Special Ops. He was made for observing things.
Catching the slight twitch, Jazz's optics glinted under the visor, "So…now that Ido have your attention, Prowlie," twitch, "I just wanted to know what you had planned for the rest of the day. I have it on good authority that you're off duty right now, Prowlie," another twitch and Jazz was thrilled to realize that it was starting to become more and more prominent as he continued on, "and since I am, too, I'm here to make sure that you take this break and come with me to get some energon and then it's off to the recharge berth for you. Got that, Prowlie?"
"Jazz…" Prowl growled, decorum temporarily forgotten. If there ever was a mech that could get under his skin it would be the saboteur before him. Jazz hummed low in his throat. It didn't seem to have taken much to push Prowl over the edge today. He must really be in some serious need of recharge.
"Yes, yes," Jazz interrupted, striding over to Prowl and tugging him to his feet by an arm, "The whole, 'You're being insubordinate again, Jazz!' and 'You can't do that, I'm a superior officer!' or 'I know my limits!' Blah, blah. We all know how it's gonna turn out, so let's just skip that part, m'kay?" Jazz continued on, tugging lightly at the appendage in his grip. When Prowl refused to respond in any way to his impersonation or insistent nudges, Jazz grew concerned and looked back at the other mech's face.
"Prowl?" Jazz questioned, staring into the blank optics before him.
Prowl, on the other hand, was overcome by the strangest of feelings. At Jazz's touch, everything seemed to stop. He knew it was impossible, his CPU wasn't damaged, but it was almost as if time had…come to a halt. Other things just…weren't there. Everything had narrowed down to Jazz's hand griping his arm and Jazz's lips slowly forming words that he realized he should be hearing but the noise just seemed to filter smoothly around him.
"…Prowl? Man, are you okay? Should I get Ratchet—" Jazz started when suddenly Prowl sprang into motion, throwing the startled saboteur off his feet and tumbling them both to the floor.
Prowl had come to the completely rational and logical decision that Jazz was talking too much. He didn't need to be, there was absolutely no reason for him to be talking. And really, his frame was so nice and pleasantly cold and Prowl just realized that he was hot. Burning from the inside and the only thing that seemed cool to him was the startled mech underneath him. Pressing his chassis against the squirming mech, Prowl growled into Jazz's neck, nuzzling the exposed wiring absentmindedly.
Jazz, who had started a train of objections the moment Prowl had knocked him to the ground, halted with an embarrassed squeak at the tactician's actions, "Prowl? You've got to stop doing that, man. I mean…it's not like you're hard on the optics or anything, but I—"
Jazz just needed to stop talking, Prowl decided. In conjunction with his thoughts, he stretched his neck up and sealed his lips over the open ones of the saboteur mid-word, halting the flow of noise and, by the choked sound he could feel as much as hear, the flow of air as well. Skimming his mouth from the slack one under him and onto jaw and neck, Prowl continued to nuzzle lightly at the exposed wires, nipping and licking at the circuitry.
Prowl growled again as the body beneath him shuddered in response. Jazz muted his vocal processors to hold back the moan, staring wide eyed at the second in command that was currently mouthing his neck components. What the slag? He had come in here to help him get some rations, not to help him get off! With another nip at his neck that caused his vocal processors to screech with the effort of continuing to obey his commanded muting, however, Jazz came to the decision that hey, if Prowl wanted help with the second far be it for him to refuse. It wasn't like it had to mean anything—
Apparently deciding that Jazz was now thinking far too much and not doing far enough, Prowl rolled off him and reached out a hand and grasped Jazz's arm in a rough parody of the previous situation, dragging him from the floor into his adjacent quarters and onto the recharge berth. Landing on his side as Prowl slipped in next to him, Jazz decided that he really had been thinking far too much and they could just figure it all out after.
Reaching a hand out to tempting doorwings and running a finger lightly down the inside of one to the seam where the two appendages met, Jazz surged into Prowl's mouth—passive role be damned, Prowl's not the only one who knew a thing or two. Gasping at the sudden sensory information, Prowl's optics shuttered and his whole frame vibrated.
Jazz grinned and brushed his hand against the doorwings again, drawing a straight invisible line from tip to tip, loving the tremors it created in the bot next to him.
"Jazz…" Prowl wined, and Jazz froze cold. He had never heard that tone from the tactician before. So needy and vulnerable. It made him so…so—something. Jazz's spark ached.
And suddenly Jazz wanted this to mean something.
"Prowlie…" Jazz breathed and disentangled one hand from doorwings to run it lightly down the tactician's face, smoothing over cheek and jaw and feathering over lips. Whimpering slightly, Prowl brought both hands up, cupping Jazz's cheeks before fingering the switch that would retract Jazz's visor. Moving his hand to cup the back of Prowl's trembling ones, Jazz helped him nudge open the switch and with a slight whisper of air Jazz's face was revealed completely.
Glancing optic to optic for the first time, Jazz spared a moment of confused puzzlement. The removal of his visor had once again directed his attention to Prowl's optics and how they seemed a bit…dulled. He only had a second to even consider the notion before lips were once again devouring his and hands refused to remain idle, as sneaky and slithering digits slipped down his chassis and found the cracks where his armor plating met to lightly stroke sensitive bundles of wire.
Moaning unabashedly, Jazz closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sensation. Dragging his own fingers down and then back up doorwings, he earned himself an answering groan. Smirking to himself, Jazz slipped his fingers into the seam where the doorwings met the edge of Prowl's armor plating and caressed the special bundle of wires where the information nets of both wings met before being routed to Prowl's CPU.
Crying out uncontrollably, the tactician shuddered and tossed in Jazz's grip, unable to control his movements as Jazz ruthlessly attacked the bundle of wires, sending light electrical impulses into the node. With shaking arms, Prowl brought a hand up to Jazz's neck and meshed it into the exposed wiring. Jazz felt the invasion and his optics widened. Frag, he couldn't possibly know how sensitive his vocal processors were—
Jazz screamed out himself as he found out that, yes, Prowl seemed to know exactly how sensitive they were as he stroked and rubbed the wires and sensitive control boards that made up his vocal system. He started to send small electrical shocks of his own and Jazz faltered for a second in his own pulses. It was all the time Prowl needed to gain some semblance of control over himself and he reached behind Jazz with his unoccupied hand, using his leverage to pull the unresisting mech closer against him until with the screech of metal on metal the fronts of their frames were flush against each other.
Jazz, with the small part of his CPU that wasn't involved with the flashing warnings of overheating and that wasn't at the mercy of the fingers imbedded in his throat, noted how well they fit together. All angles and lines, he figured that their frames would have been uncomfortable this close, but the only feeling he got from this closeness was…comfort. Contentment.
Though the sound of both their internal fans was overwhelmingly loud in the stillness of the room, Jazz could still hear the breathy voice that was whispered over his audios, "Jazz…please."
Contentment. For a mech who constantly dealt with lies and deceit, contentment—complete and utter giving with no ulterior motives—was something that Jazz had thought he wouldn't ever get the chance to experience. Gasping at the overwhelming emotion that accompanied another electrical burst from fingertips, Jazz could only mumble with more air than actual tone, "Whatever you need, Prowlie."
Prowl gasped in response and continued to send pulses that steadily increased in intensity. Pushing off his own overload, Jazz grabbed onto the bundle of wires that his hand was still loosely clenched around and began to send his own electrical signals as well. Arching into the touch, Prowl moaned and twisted, nevertheless keeping a strong hold on his own pulses.
Jazz's spark pulsed with emotional and physical pleasure as each burst of electricity was followed by an echoing reminder of Prowl's request, its glow strengthening as it began to swell with want. Unable to hold back the sudden imminent and harsh need emanating from his pounding spark, Jazz choked back a cry as it thrust itself towards the mech before him as if trying to get through both their casings and frames and merge with Prowl's of its own volition. An answering cry assured him that his spark wasn't the only one with thoughts of escaping.
Gasping, his intakes raging to take in more air to cool his severely overheated systems, Jazz tipped his head down to rest it against Prowl's own panting face. Brushing lax lips just under Prowl's left optic, Jazz sent one last blast of energy from his fingers before Prowl arched almost painfully towards him and screamed out as his systems overloaded. Jazz's spark, connected to the other only through where their frames touched, still felt the overflow as Prowl slipped into coursing waves of pleasure, the flood of electricity zigzagging back to Jazz a complementary signal just as Prowl sent his last conscious burst of electricity into Jazz's neck.
Scream frozen in his throat as his system overloaded from the combined stimulus, Jazz stayed online long enough to see Prowl's form slump over onto his shoulder before his CPU crashed down and his optics off-lined, leaving him in the comfortable safety of recharge, holding and being held without a single unpleasant thought for the following morning.
Right. This chapter kind of felt like an "eh" chapter to me, which kind of makes me sad because I heart this couple so bad. Please feel free to tell me what you think in a review (Yes? Yes? Yes?) and next chapter actually has some plot development (like two sentences, really) and BeeSam once again! Yay!