:D Nothing like random people posting... but here is what my writing partner and I have been working on. Mostly bits an pieces of the chapters I'm working on. I rarely write things in order.
1. Jazz/Prowl “Shhhh....” Jazz admonished, glaring at the rest of the occupants in the room. “I’m not here. Don’t tell Prowl I’m here.” Jazz felt exhausted in truth. He had been running for three human hours. When he got a hold of whoever spiked the energon he was going to string them up. He didn’t know why anyone would think it would be funny to spike the energon supply with high-grade. Jazz didn’t find it funny at all. Prowler certainly didn’t need to drink High-grade. There was a reason he had only had it twice in all the vorns he and Jazz had been together, after all. Each time he had he ended up sparking.
Ratchet frowned, finding Jazz’s behavior more than a little peculiar. Although, it became all too clear when Prowl came into the room. He had known enough Praxians in his time to know that look. Prowl was stalking. No, sauntering would be a better word. His pedes were hitting the floor in a deliberately provocative way that Ratchet had seen in human females during that television show that Sam had had on not that long ago. Victoria Secret’s Angel Collection, if his processor was recalling it correctly. Pede to the floor, deliberate hip sway. Opposite pede to the floor, opposite deliberate hip sway. Prowl’s optics swept the room, a coy smirk on his lips. There was quite a bit of power in that much sensuality and Ratchet felt nothing but bad for the mech who found themselves on the receiving end.
He took a step back, “Hide, William, please...step away from the television. It would be safer over here.”
Will frowned, not liking Ratchet’s tone, but he obeyed after a moment’s thought, easing away from Jazz’s hiding place.
“Oh, Jazz, darling. I know you are in here. Come out, come out where-ever you are.” Prowl said in a sing-song tone.
Jazz shivered at the sound of Prowl’s voice, his fans kicking on high.
“Found you.” Prowl suddenly growled, his voice losing all its playfulness.
2. Optimus/Ratchet. Sunstreaker.
“You should calm down,” Optimus said, “I do not think becoming upset will help you with matters.”
“Can’t you just sedated them?” Sunstreaker asked in a pleading tone. “Or throw them both in the brig and let them ‘face each other until they come out of this?”
“I thought you said you wanted a sparkling,” Ratchet sneered. He’d had an audial full from both Prowl and Jazz about “keeping those slagging twins in check” because their precious Bluestreak wasn’t old enough for sparklings. A little bit funny to hear, all things considered, and it had taken his considerable self control not to point that out..
“Face. Face. Face.” Ariella giggled, quite pleased with herself.
“Oh look, she learned a new word,” Optimus muttered darkly. “Thank you, Sunstreaker.”
“I did. But not like this.” Sunny looked up as someone began to pound on the door. The first set of fists was joined by a second. And, judging by the sounds, a few kicks were being thrown in for good measure.
His back was to Ratchet and suddenly he felt a prick in one of the lines in his neck, and then it burned for a moment. “Sedatives it is.”
“I didn’t mean me,” Sunny mumbled as Ratchet propelled him through the door, opening it only long enough to push Sunstreaker outside and into the waiting arms of his mates.
“Thank you, ‘genitor.”
“Yes, our sincere thanks, Ratchet.”
“You’re welcome, boys. Have fun and stay clear of Jazz and Prowl. Praxians in heat tend to be territorial and react badly to other heated Praxians.” The door shut with a click and Ratchet looked clearly amused.
“Ratchet.” Optimus began.
“What? You said all sparks were precious, didn’t you? We are a dying race, we all need to have sparks? Didn’t you say that?” Ratchet was the picture of owl eyed innocence.
So much length fail...
but here is what my writing partner and I have been working on. Mostly bits an pieces of the chapters I'm working on. I rarely write things in order.
1. Jazz/Prowl
“Shhhh....” Jazz admonished, glaring at the rest of the occupants in the room. “I’m not here. Don’t tell Prowl I’m here.” Jazz felt exhausted in truth. He had been running for three human hours. When he got a hold of whoever spiked the energon he was going to string them up. He didn’t know why anyone would think it would be funny to spike the energon supply with high-grade. Jazz didn’t find it funny at all. Prowler certainly didn’t need to drink High-grade. There was a reason he had only had it twice in all the vorns he and Jazz had been together, after all. Each time he had he ended up sparking.
Ratchet frowned, finding Jazz’s behavior more than a little peculiar. Although, it became all too clear when Prowl came into the room. He had known enough Praxians in his time to know that look. Prowl was stalking. No, sauntering would be a better word. His pedes were hitting the floor in a deliberately provocative way that Ratchet had seen in human females during that television show that Sam had had on not that long ago. Victoria Secret’s Angel Collection, if his processor was recalling it correctly. Pede to the floor, deliberate hip sway. Opposite pede to the floor, opposite deliberate hip sway. Prowl’s optics swept the room, a coy smirk on his lips. There was quite a bit of power in that much sensuality and Ratchet felt nothing but bad for the mech who found themselves on the receiving end.
He took a step back, “Hide, William, please...step away from the television. It would be safer over here.”
Will frowned, not liking Ratchet’s tone, but he obeyed after a moment’s thought, easing away from Jazz’s hiding place.
“Oh, Jazz, darling. I know you are in here. Come out, come out where-ever you are.” Prowl said in a sing-song tone.
Jazz shivered at the sound of Prowl’s voice, his fans kicking on high.
“Found you.” Prowl suddenly growled, his voice losing all its playfulness.
2. Optimus/Ratchet. Sunstreaker.
“You should calm down,” Optimus said, “I do not think becoming upset will help you with matters.”
“Can’t you just sedated them?” Sunstreaker asked in a pleading tone. “Or throw them both in the brig and let them ‘face each other until they come out of this?”
“I thought you said you wanted a sparkling,” Ratchet sneered. He’d had an audial full from both Prowl and Jazz about “keeping those slagging twins in check” because their precious Bluestreak wasn’t old enough for sparklings. A little bit funny to hear, all things considered, and it had taken his considerable self control not to point that out..
“Face. Face. Face.” Ariella giggled, quite pleased with herself.
“Oh look, she learned a new word,” Optimus muttered darkly. “Thank you, Sunstreaker.”
“I did. But not like this.” Sunny looked up as someone began to pound on the door. The first set of fists was joined by a second. And, judging by the sounds, a few kicks were being thrown in for good measure.
His back was to Ratchet and suddenly he felt a prick in one of the lines in his neck, and then it burned for a moment. “Sedatives it is.”
“I didn’t mean me,” Sunny mumbled as Ratchet propelled him through the door, opening it only long enough to push Sunstreaker outside and into the waiting arms of his mates.
“Thank you, ‘genitor.”
“Yes, our sincere thanks, Ratchet.”
“You’re welcome, boys. Have fun and stay clear of Jazz and Prowl. Praxians in heat tend to be territorial and react badly to other heated Praxians.” The door shut with a click and Ratchet looked clearly amused.
“Ratchet.” Optimus began.
“What? You said all sparks were precious, didn’t you? We are a dying race, we all need to have sparks? Didn’t you say that?” Ratchet was the picture of owl eyed innocence.