Bringing Sexy Back
Prowl didn’t bother looking up when the deep synthesised beat began. With Jazz, Blaster and the cassettes, such a thing was not out of the ordinary, music loud enough to make the internals of anyone as far as three corridors away shudder with the pulsing soundwaves.
He did jump, however when a hand ghosted across his back, rimming around his hip, just as the music began to declare I’m bringing sexy back. The tactician turned to see a certain silvery mech swaying back and forth to the jaunty beat, hips twitching in time to the tempo, smirk on his face, and Prowl could not help but agree with the choice of lyric.
Light gleamed off the sleek silver body as Jazz danced his way closer, every movement a deliberate nod to the music, a physical proof of what the words hinted at.
Shamelessly, Jazz pressed himself up against his mate’s chassis, arching his back with a practiced grace, and silently lifted his hands, wrists pressed together to highlight the rather lecherous You see these shackles baby, I’m your slave. Those same silver hands slid downwards over Prowl’s headlights, over his bumper, claws dragging ever so slightly, as Jazz surged up to press a heated kiss against his lover’s lips.
And never did he stop moving, body bouncing from side to side ever so slightly, creating a whine of metal on metal as his body grated against the taller mech’s.
Prowl moved to grab those wandering hands as cooling fans kicked up another notch, but Jazz was a step ahead, sinking slowly lower, claws scraping tantalisingly down armour plating that was steadily warming. And even more slowly, the saboteur stood again, this time dragging his glossa over the lines his claws had traced.
Bright blue optics peered over the top of the couch as Sideswipe gaped at the sight he wasn’t entirely sure he was seeing. Behind him, an equally entranced Sunstreaker absently covered a suddenly twitchy Bluestreak’s optics.
The silver one bit teasingly at the parted lips, sneaking his hands around to not-so-subtly grope that sexy black aft. With his waist effectively held by his partner, Prowl had little choice but to move in time with the smaller mech, with the deep pounding of the music thudding from his speakers.
Jazz twitched and swayed every part of his body - his hips, his shoulders, his chassis, writhing in the tight hold Prowl had against his back. He held the intense blue gaze with his own, once more teasing those lips, this time with a slow lick.
“What are you-“ Bumblebee paused in his question as he twisted around the suddenly stopped-and-staring Ratchet, optics widening at the sight in the rec room.
Jazz twisted around so that his back now rubbed against the tactician’s chassis with every dip and sway of his dancing, raising his hands to caress what he could reach of his lover’s arms.
White hands curled around silver hips, fingers dipping beneath armour seams to brush against hidden, sensitive wiring, and Jazz hitched a little, but never stopped. The saboteur tipped his his head back to gaze up at his mate, delighted to realise that Prowl was moving with him of his own volition.
Jazz’s mouth dropped open as Prowl bit at the cables in his now exposed neck, and retaliated by reaching up to stroke that red chevron, eliciting a moan.
Almost reluctantly, Jazz pulled away again, cupping Prowl’s chin with his claws as he moved around him, prompting the tactician to turn with him. Not that he needed the encouragement to watch his mate’s every sensuous move.
Jazz sauntered backwards out of the rec room, hips still swaying alluring to the defined beat, and beckoned to his lover, visor darkened with suggesting lust. Wings twitching, Prowl stalked after him.
The remaining mechs stared at the empty space.
He did jump, however when a hand ghosted across his back, rimming around his hip, just as the music began to declare I’m bringing sexy back. The tactician turned to see a certain silvery mech swaying back and forth to the jaunty beat, hips twitching in time to the tempo, smirk on his face, and Prowl could not help but agree with the choice of lyric.
Light gleamed off the sleek silver body as Jazz danced his way closer, every movement a deliberate nod to the music, a physical proof of what the words hinted at.
Shamelessly, Jazz pressed himself up against his mate’s chassis, arching his back with a practiced grace, and silently lifted his hands, wrists pressed together to highlight the rather lecherous You see these shackles baby, I’m your slave. Those same silver hands slid downwards over Prowl’s headlights, over his bumper, claws dragging ever so slightly, as Jazz surged up to press a heated kiss against his lover’s lips.
And never did he stop moving, body bouncing from side to side ever so slightly, creating a whine of metal on metal as his body grated against the taller mech’s.
Prowl moved to grab those wandering hands as cooling fans kicked up another notch, but Jazz was a step ahead, sinking slowly lower, claws scraping tantalisingly down armour plating that was steadily warming. And even more slowly, the saboteur stood again, this time dragging his glossa over the lines his claws had traced.
Bright blue optics peered over the top of the couch as Sideswipe gaped at the sight he wasn’t entirely sure he was seeing. Behind him, an equally entranced Sunstreaker absently covered a suddenly twitchy Bluestreak’s optics.
The silver one bit teasingly at the parted lips, sneaking his hands around to not-so-subtly grope that sexy black aft. With his waist effectively held by his partner, Prowl had little choice but to move in time with the smaller mech, with the deep pounding of the music thudding from his speakers.
Jazz twitched and swayed every part of his body - his hips, his shoulders, his chassis, writhing in the tight hold Prowl had against his back. He held the intense blue gaze with his own, once more teasing those lips, this time with a slow lick.
“What are you-“ Bumblebee paused in his question as he twisted around the suddenly stopped-and-staring Ratchet, optics widening at the sight in the rec room.
Jazz twisted around so that his back now rubbed against the tactician’s chassis with every dip and sway of his dancing, raising his hands to caress what he could reach of his lover’s arms.
White hands curled around silver hips, fingers dipping beneath armour seams to brush against hidden, sensitive wiring, and Jazz hitched a little, but never stopped. The saboteur tipped his his head back to gaze up at his mate, delighted to realise that Prowl was moving with him of his own volition.
Jazz’s mouth dropped open as Prowl bit at the cables in his now exposed neck, and retaliated by reaching up to stroke that red chevron, eliciting a moan.
Almost reluctantly, Jazz pulled away again, cupping Prowl’s chin with his claws as he moved around him, prompting the tactician to turn with him. Not that he needed the encouragement to watch his mate’s every sensuous move.
Jazz sauntered backwards out of the rec room, hips still swaying alluring to the defined beat, and beckoned to his lover, visor darkened with suggesting lust. Wings twitching, Prowl stalked after him.
The remaining mechs stared at the empty space.