Methods of Persuasion (3/3)
Oct. 7th, 2008 10:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceAfore mentioned third part.
Title: Methods of Persuasion (3/3)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: M
Pairing/s: Prowl/Optimus. Implied Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Not quite smut.
Unlike Prowl and Optimus, Jazz knew exactly when he’d fallen for both of them. He’d always been the more tactile, sense-focused sort, and the moment he’d heard their voices, he was helm over pedes in lust. Then, as he’d gotten to know the mechs, both the strong, upright leader and the dedicated, focused SIC, attraction turned from base need, to genuine desire and care.
He’d first met them when he reached the post of Head of Special Ops and therefore the role of Third in Command. Optimus had congratulated him, shaking his hand and welcoming him to High Command, and Prowl had handed him datapads, and sat down with him to fully brief him on his new duties.
At first, both mechs kept their distance, Prowl more than Prime. It was expected, he was new, and though not without a sterling record, he had little experience with leading anything bigger than the odd high-stakes mission. Optimus, more recently acquainted with being new to such a job, assured him that he would learn in time. Prowl kept to formality much longer, though from time to time he would pick up on the subtle nuances of the mech, eventually learning them all. Gradually, their voices no longer distracted him from their words, and even more gradually, his attention turned from just wanting to ‘face with either of them, to wanting both in his life in a serious way.
Then, Prime was needed by the Autobots, to be figurehead, guiding light and role model. He’d thought he’d have no place by the Prime’s side, and turned his attention to his job, and the other mech he found himself caring for. It took time, but eventually, Prowl realised that he was after more than just an interface, and they formed a relationship, which filled him with much joy every time he thought about it.
Prowl completed him, stabilising him like no one else could or had tried to. In return he explained the way the soldiers thought to the tactician, who, having been extensively and specifically built for his role, sometimes found it hard to understand them on a personal basis. The SIC occupied his thoughts, and more than once he found himself watching the other black and white mech go about his duties, talking to other mechs, even just sitting down with a ration of energon. And in the course of his watching, he found his optics meeting Optimus’s across the room, though their leader didn’t seem to notice. But then again, Jazz didn’t have a visor for nothing.
He’d brought up the suggestion to Prowl, and was gratified that the mech actually thought over the idea, instead of dismissing it like he’d been afraid the Datsun would. Prowl had promised to do something about it, and though he didn’t know it, tonight, while he was on duty alone in the security room, was when his lover was going to make a move. He started when he received a comm. from the mech, and his engine started purring at the tone Prowl used.
“Look at Prime’s office Jazz, and turn the sound up.” He looked, sent a playfully petulant message about being there the next time, and didn’t turn away as the scene played out. Optimus’s confusion was definitely a turn on for both of them. Tactician and Saboteur made their energon by bewildering their opponents beyond the ability to respond coherently, and success often had a seriously energising effect on them.
“Oh yes. I’ve been neglecting my Prime.” Jazz had to stifle a moan at the possessive purr in his lover’s voice.
“Tell Jazz he’s mistaken, I’m fine.” Apparently, he wasn’t the only one affected. Optimus was visibly trembling.
“Jazz would insist he doesn’t make mistakes.” Damn right he didn’t. And oh Primus, watching the SIC climb into the Prime’s lap was hot. Unlike Optimus, Jazz wasn’t struck dumb by the sight, and promptly commed his reply to Prowl.
“Prowl?” Their Commander was well and truly frazzled now, and Jazz echoed Prowl’s laugh, leaning closer to the vid screen.
“Yes, my Prime?” Jazz whimpered as he trailed fingers across his frame where Prowl was diligently attacking Optimus with light, questing digits and gentle nibbles, reducing what control the larger mech had to tatters.
Optimus had asked another question. Bad form Prowl, time to work a little harder.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Optimus?” Oh, his lover was playing. He blessed whoever allowed him to uncover that side of the reserved tactician, and spurred Prowl into using it on the Prime. “Or, if I didn’t, being who I am, that Jazz would let it slide?” The hell he would. He’d wanted both mechs for too long to do that.
“I didn’t mean to-” And there was his tactician, doing what he did best, seeking out weak points and exploiting them. Jazz had many a pleasant memory of having the same done to him by Prowl. And apparently Optimus was stronger than they’d thought, asking questions once more.
“Why are… you doing this?” Just watching the pair was enough to send his systems running into the higher temperatures.
“You’re stressed, my Prime. Ratchet says it’s not good for you. And Jazz most emphatically decrees an overload to be the best stress relief a bot can have. I find myself minded to agree.”
“Please, don’t.” Optimus never pleaded like this, and Prowl stopped, and Jazz watched with bated breath.
“Optimus. This is not a duty, I want this.” White fingers caressed the side of Prime’s helm, and then the Prime’s facemask was sliding back, revealing faceplates and parted lips, which were lightly kissed by the tactician. “I want you.”
“Wait… your… What about Jazz?” He understood the Commander’s hesitation, and, like Prowl, found this to be one more thing to love about Optimus.
“Jazz sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here due to scheduling conflicts.” Another kiss, and the saboteur found himself brushing his lips with his fingers to mimic the sensation. “However, he did remind me that I am in charge of scheduling around here, and as such, he’d better be available next time. That is, if you are amenable to the idea.” Likewise, Jazz waited for an answer to this question.
“I… believe I can be persuaded.” He laughed in delight at this, and as Prowl directed a sly, engine stirring, honest to Primus smirk at Optimus, Jazz found himself wishing his shift was over.
“Then, by all means, I should persuade away?”
“Please do.”
Grinning, the tactician bent to the task, pausing to whisper just loud enough for the cameras to pick up.
“And Optimus, just so you know, Jazz is on security monitor duty, alone, right, now.”
And that was definitely his cue. Patching his signal to the both of them, he purred sultrily into the comm.
“And I’m gonna be watching every bit of this, in pure enjoyment. Make it a good show for me, boys.”
Title: Methods of Persuasion (3/3)
'Verse: G1 Transformers.
Rating: M
Pairing/s: Prowl/Optimus. Implied Prowl/Jazz
Warnings: Not quite smut.
Unlike Prowl and Optimus, Jazz knew exactly when he’d fallen for both of them. He’d always been the more tactile, sense-focused sort, and the moment he’d heard their voices, he was helm over pedes in lust. Then, as he’d gotten to know the mechs, both the strong, upright leader and the dedicated, focused SIC, attraction turned from base need, to genuine desire and care.
He’d first met them when he reached the post of Head of Special Ops and therefore the role of Third in Command. Optimus had congratulated him, shaking his hand and welcoming him to High Command, and Prowl had handed him datapads, and sat down with him to fully brief him on his new duties.
At first, both mechs kept their distance, Prowl more than Prime. It was expected, he was new, and though not without a sterling record, he had little experience with leading anything bigger than the odd high-stakes mission. Optimus, more recently acquainted with being new to such a job, assured him that he would learn in time. Prowl kept to formality much longer, though from time to time he would pick up on the subtle nuances of the mech, eventually learning them all. Gradually, their voices no longer distracted him from their words, and even more gradually, his attention turned from just wanting to ‘face with either of them, to wanting both in his life in a serious way.
Then, Prime was needed by the Autobots, to be figurehead, guiding light and role model. He’d thought he’d have no place by the Prime’s side, and turned his attention to his job, and the other mech he found himself caring for. It took time, but eventually, Prowl realised that he was after more than just an interface, and they formed a relationship, which filled him with much joy every time he thought about it.
Prowl completed him, stabilising him like no one else could or had tried to. In return he explained the way the soldiers thought to the tactician, who, having been extensively and specifically built for his role, sometimes found it hard to understand them on a personal basis. The SIC occupied his thoughts, and more than once he found himself watching the other black and white mech go about his duties, talking to other mechs, even just sitting down with a ration of energon. And in the course of his watching, he found his optics meeting Optimus’s across the room, though their leader didn’t seem to notice. But then again, Jazz didn’t have a visor for nothing.
He’d brought up the suggestion to Prowl, and was gratified that the mech actually thought over the idea, instead of dismissing it like he’d been afraid the Datsun would. Prowl had promised to do something about it, and though he didn’t know it, tonight, while he was on duty alone in the security room, was when his lover was going to make a move. He started when he received a comm. from the mech, and his engine started purring at the tone Prowl used.
“Look at Prime’s office Jazz, and turn the sound up.” He looked, sent a playfully petulant message about being there the next time, and didn’t turn away as the scene played out. Optimus’s confusion was definitely a turn on for both of them. Tactician and Saboteur made their energon by bewildering their opponents beyond the ability to respond coherently, and success often had a seriously energising effect on them.
“Oh yes. I’ve been neglecting my Prime.” Jazz had to stifle a moan at the possessive purr in his lover’s voice.
“Tell Jazz he’s mistaken, I’m fine.” Apparently, he wasn’t the only one affected. Optimus was visibly trembling.
“Jazz would insist he doesn’t make mistakes.” Damn right he didn’t. And oh Primus, watching the SIC climb into the Prime’s lap was hot. Unlike Optimus, Jazz wasn’t struck dumb by the sight, and promptly commed his reply to Prowl.
“Prowl?” Their Commander was well and truly frazzled now, and Jazz echoed Prowl’s laugh, leaning closer to the vid screen.
“Yes, my Prime?” Jazz whimpered as he trailed fingers across his frame where Prowl was diligently attacking Optimus with light, questing digits and gentle nibbles, reducing what control the larger mech had to tatters.
Optimus had asked another question. Bad form Prowl, time to work a little harder.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Optimus?” Oh, his lover was playing. He blessed whoever allowed him to uncover that side of the reserved tactician, and spurred Prowl into using it on the Prime. “Or, if I didn’t, being who I am, that Jazz would let it slide?” The hell he would. He’d wanted both mechs for too long to do that.
“I didn’t mean to-” And there was his tactician, doing what he did best, seeking out weak points and exploiting them. Jazz had many a pleasant memory of having the same done to him by Prowl. And apparently Optimus was stronger than they’d thought, asking questions once more.
“Why are… you doing this?” Just watching the pair was enough to send his systems running into the higher temperatures.
“You’re stressed, my Prime. Ratchet says it’s not good for you. And Jazz most emphatically decrees an overload to be the best stress relief a bot can have. I find myself minded to agree.”
“Please, don’t.” Optimus never pleaded like this, and Prowl stopped, and Jazz watched with bated breath.
“Optimus. This is not a duty, I want this.” White fingers caressed the side of Prime’s helm, and then the Prime’s facemask was sliding back, revealing faceplates and parted lips, which were lightly kissed by the tactician. “I want you.”
“Wait… your… What about Jazz?” He understood the Commander’s hesitation, and, like Prowl, found this to be one more thing to love about Optimus.
“Jazz sends his regrets that he couldn’t be here due to scheduling conflicts.” Another kiss, and the saboteur found himself brushing his lips with his fingers to mimic the sensation. “However, he did remind me that I am in charge of scheduling around here, and as such, he’d better be available next time. That is, if you are amenable to the idea.” Likewise, Jazz waited for an answer to this question.
“I… believe I can be persuaded.” He laughed in delight at this, and as Prowl directed a sly, engine stirring, honest to Primus smirk at Optimus, Jazz found himself wishing his shift was over.
“Then, by all means, I should persuade away?”
“Please do.”
Grinning, the tactician bent to the task, pausing to whisper just loud enough for the cameras to pick up.
“And Optimus, just so you know, Jazz is on security monitor duty, alone, right, now.”
And that was definitely his cue. Patching his signal to the both of them, he purred sultrily into the comm.
“And I’m gonna be watching every bit of this, in pure enjoyment. Make it a good show for me, boys.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-07 09:26 pm (UTC)Please please please give us a threesome so my own circuits melt. Please???
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-08 01:56 am (UTC)In the meantime, enjoy the fragment the bunny decided to ping me with all this morning...
"Imagine him cuffed, blindfolded, and screaming your name in overload."
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-08 06:27 pm (UTC):D
(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-09 01:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-10-09 11:03 pm (UTC)Somehow, I feel at home reading these fanfics...thank you.
*goes back to random readings on prowl...