Title: In the Dark of the Night
Warnings: Masochism, sadism, hinted intimacy.
Summary: In the dark of the night, Prowl falls into a temptation that tortures and seduces.
Disclaimer: Do not own Transformers.
Notes: This is a drabble I wrote crossover with Shatter Glass and Generation 1. It is a little more darker then what I usually write.
In the darkness of his quarters he lay, curled up on his berth and staring into the black depths of the shadows permeating everything around him, waiting.
There was no light here. There was no goodness.
His weary mind had accepted a temptation beyond forgiveness.
Night crept into the world like a veil of foretelling, a mere introduction to the acts ahead. Within the blackened quarters two white panels twitched when an expected presence invaded the serene isolation of the room. Two ice blue optics closed briefly as an equally ice cold touch caressed his cheek, dipping down to his lips and he parted them with a small breath.
A familiar and so dark weight seemed to wrap around him and black hands clutched his shoulders, turning him to face the eerily similar faceplates wearing a large grinning smirk. Prowl stared up into the burning red optics of the one who haunted his nights to wonderfully. A harsh kiss was placed on his lips, a voice as smooth as chocolate whispering his name like a siren's call, and Prowl submitted eagerly to the rough handling, whisked away to a place of dark ecstasy and forbidden touches. The dark room was filled with his tortured cries and pleasured moans, bowing to the mercy of a being who should not exist in this plane of space.
Basking in the afterglow of the cruel coupling, Prowl lay curled in the other's embrace, almost blankly staring at the wall as soothing touches erased the phantom pain of his torn doorwings. Of course they weren't really torn, however the feeling of it remained, crippling pain to his sensors. Prowl smiled, closing his optics once more, entire body sore and aching from the other's once brutal hands, that now caused tingles of pleasure to lazily light up on his body.
This was so very wrong. This was not right in any manner of morality.
Oh, but Prowl could not deny the other. He could not tell the other no, ever. He craved the brutality and the smoldering care and possessiveness the other harbored in such perfect balance. It was like a poison curling through his processor, infecting every program within him. The other was in control here. In the time of darkness, when no light was present to hinder his presence, the other appeared to throw everything out of his life, tear it down to nothing but the other.
Prowl loved it.
He did not have to be in control anymore. He did not have to be in charge. He didn't have to make decisions or even think at all. The refreshing relief of simply following and reacting to the other's orders and whims had captured his spark in more ways than one.
Prowl shifted slightly when a black hand lifted his head to turn to the other's faceplates, bright crimson staring greedily at him. Prowl smiled and received a smirk in return, before the softest touch of lips stole Prowl's breath away and he was sucked into the adoration the other held for him. Prowl opened his spark to the other, who returned the favor quickly, pulling their source of life together and Prowl knew no more of pain, war, or suffering; only this moment in time existed, alight with hot coals of pleasure and perfect unity.
Exhausted and satisfied, Prowl clung to the other like a child. He kissed the black fingertips and the other's free hand rubbed his chevron before tearing it off. Prowl screamed in pain, falling against the other's black chassis, withering in agony. He lifted trembling white fingers to his chevron, perfectly in place and in pristine condition, whimpering against the wound that did not exist.
"My Prowl." The other murmured, "You look so lovely in pain."
Prowl gave a strangled shriek when the other's lips pressed against his chevron as sensors, that should not have been registering anything, lit like fire that burned through him. Tears sprung from his optics, misting the glass.
"Do not cry my love. Do not let my last sight be of you crying from my touch."
Prowl released a small sob and pushed his head against the hand again, alighting his sensors with pain once more, "Don't go." He whimpered softly, "I like it. I like it. Please stay."
"Dearest Prowl you know our time is short. I must leave now."
Prowl gasped when the other began to fade away and Prowl clung to the black hand until his fist closed against his own fingers. He stared sorrowfully, still crying. Crimson optics watched him with a smile that no longer existed.
"Do not cry love. I will return to join us again. When darkness falls be here."
Prowl nodded and touched the air where the faintest remains of the other's image was, "I'm yours Prowl." He murmured, "Come back."
The softness changed and a malicious smile spread across Prowl's face, "Oh my dear Prowl... I will return. And I will wash away that pain you hold so close."
Prowl blinked at the cryptic words, and the other Prowl was gone.
It felt as though his spark was screaming. The perfect fit, the perfect mate had slipped away into nothing.
Prowl sighed happily as he understood the meaning of the words, sinking down into his berth with his hands clasped onto his chassis, just over the area of his spark chamber. The pain ringing within his soul was something he cherished. Sure, it made him lock up sometimes when the longing and agony became to much to bear but it was a reminding gift that the pain would reach a conclusion by nightfall, that the other Prowl was coming back and he would erase the pain with greater pain before allowing any care or love to come from his demon black hands and Pit fire optics.
Releasing his processor to sleep, Prowl wondered what paperwork he would have to do in the morning.