To everyone who requested (You all know who you are!) and I apologize for the wait! This would have been up a few days ago but my internet cut out completely -_-
Whisked away part 4
Many evenings were a repeat occurrence. Sometimes Prowl was on a mission or he was in meetings with the high command and they did not interface until the next morning, and Prowl was usually more violent and demanding. Jazz never escaped with less than a few freely bleeding wounds and a multitude of dents that required Hooks attention the moment Prowl was out of the room (experience proved that Prowl didn't like people touching his things).
However, tonight would be different and quite frankly Jazz was scared.
Prowl had been away for a decacycle. A full decacycle of going cold turkey after interfacing multiple times a day – unless he had gone back on his word to Jazz and had used another mech to satisfy himself – left Jazz wondering how he was going to treat him when he returned. If under a full cycle made him vicious, how close to deactivation would this encounter leave him?
As it turned out, he needn't had worried about that. The Decepticon had thought of a game for them to play during his time on foreign shores.
On his mission, he had encountered a substance that caused hallucinations beyond their wildest imaginations. He put a pinch of it into a cube of high grade, swirled it and handed it to Jazz.
"Drink." He ordered, kneeling down in front of Jazz, who was sitting on his legs. Jazz took the cube and was about to take it all in one go, like he usually had to, before Prowl moved the cube away after one gulp. "Slowly." He purred, one thumb wiping away the energon that had escaped onto Jazz's lip. His faceplates flushed and he nodded, drinking it at a far more sedate pace.
He was already starting to feel the effects, random swirls dancing around the room and making his head spin. He looked over to Prowl and- were… were those hearts spinning around his helm?! They looked like the kind he'd seen Carly doodle in her notebook.
And he was enthralled with them.
Slowly crawling forwards, he reached up to try and touch them. His hand went straight through them instead, and they all disappeared into puffs of smoke.
How disappointing.
Nevertheless he was not to be deterred and he began to search for them again, only to have something else placed into his hands.
It was a long object, or at least he thought it was until he closed his digits around it and it evaporated in a similar way to how the hearts had, the smoke looking eerily like the smoke from a cigar, to find that he was now holding a key.
An awfully familiar key.
Jazz looked up at Prowl who simply nodded at him, gesturing for him to use it.
The collar that had remained clamped around his neck like a death sentence fell down to his knees with a clatter, and Jazz rubbed the space it had previously occupied. Free. It was free.
He was free.
Make a break for it or stay and see what Prowl had planned out?
In the end curiosity beat stupidity (he was in a base surrounded by Decepticons who thought he was dead – and if Prowl caught him…) and he simply looked up at Prowl again, who was silently contemplating Jazz's appearance.
While he no longer donned the thick black collar that made him look like a house cat, he still had that endearing look on his face and a curious glint in his optics. It was tempting.
He pulled Jazz's face towards his, hands cupping his cheeks, and pressed his lips to the others plump ones. Much to his delight Jazz reciprocated and threw his arms around the others neck, pulling him closer. Clearly, that drug was doing more than making him hallucinate.
Or the mech who had given it to him had lied.
He felt his hands inadvertently curl into fists, his claws scraping at his palm, mouth twisting into a snarl. Jazz noticed this change and pulled away, giving him a concerned look. Was he doing something wrong?
Quickly rubbing the back of his helm to assure Jazz he'd done nothing wrong – how could his Jazz do anything wrong? – Prowl forced himself to calm down.
He would have to trust them. After all, they knew the consequences being a lair.
Harshly biting down on Jazz's lip and licking over it in apology – not that it was sincere in the slightest – he moved his hands to wrap around Jazz, one inappropriately low and another on his mid-back, pulling him closer.
If there was one thing that could put Prowl in a good mood, it was seeing Jazz writhe beneath him, teetering on the edge yet not being given the push he needed to go over.
The drug had successfully tricked Jazz into believing that his hands were bound above his head, and he was saying something about seeing a unicorn and a rainbow. Prowl was also rather pleased that other than a few bites here and there (honestly, it was mostly his neck and lips) he hadn't damaged Jazz in the slightest.
So now, as he grinded into Jazz with a torturously slow pace, satisfied smirk plastered on his face, he found himself enjoying it.
After he'd managed a draw a third overload out of Jazz (who knew he could scream that loudly?), Prowl decided to let him rest for a little while so he could complete some work.
He was not expecting, however, to be shot the moment he walked into his office.
Snarling in pain, Prowl immediately clamped a hand over the freely-bleeding wound and whacked the alarm with the other as he stared down the Autobot holding the still-smoking gun.
He was going to murder them.
Ripping someone apart piece by piece when they just wouldn't stay still was very, very messy. Prowl most certainly wasn't new to this at all, but it never failed to amaze him how desperate some were to survive when the chances were almost non-existent. The Autobot killed, mostly just scraps and spilled energon on his office floor, Prowl stumbled out to see just what was going on.
Soundwave's security system had quite clearly failed yet again, much to Prowls disgust, and all of them were paying the price for it. Didn't that mech think?!
As it was, Prowl was wondering what to do next when he suddenly realized something vital. He hadn't locked the door to his quarters, used to Jazz not being able to get near.
Frag!
He sprinted back down, hoping that the Autobots hadn't found him.
They had.
They had taken him.
They had taken.
His.
Jazz.
Snarling like a caged animal, Prowl spun around and stormed away towards the sound of a fight. Nothing would be able to stop him from tearing the first mech he found apart, not even Megatron himself. He was furious.
Maybe that hadn't been the best idea.
So blinded by fury as he was, he didn't take into account that he was up against a faction who were just as angry as he was, fully believing that Jazz had been killed while in their possession.
So now he was roughly greeted with the floor of the Autobot brig, energon bars humming with life behind him. Fabulous.
They had seen fit to cuff his hands together behind his back, making it incredibly awkward for Prowl to move. His arms were pressing painfully against his doorwings, compressing them and forcing them towards his back.
Well, it couldn't get any worse than this.
Depending on requests, this is it for Whisked away folks. There is one other lil' bit I've got for it, but I couldn't fit it in here so that'll come along~
As always, if there's anything you wanna ask for then feel free to!
Happy holidays~
~Llama