Author's notes: Due to popular demand (alright, so like two people requested it), for another sub!Prowl story, I put this little fic together. It's just a small one-shot, though.

Warnings: Slashy. Some minor kink as well.

Disclaimer: Transformers doesn't belong to me in any shape or way.

Prowl snuggled up against his bondmate's back, an arm draping itself around Jazz's chassis. The same thoughts that had insistently pounded for his attention lately were now again demanding to be noticed. Most often, they would manifest themselves after a bonding session; slowly creeping into his processors and then stubbornly refuse to leave.

This time, things were no different. And Prowl had to admit, that as satisfying as their recent bonding had been, there was just something... missing.

And he knew exactly what that little something was. He had been aware of it for a long time, but still felt uncomfortable expressing the thought in words. So uncomfortable that he had yet to bring it up with his bondmate. Not so much out of worry for how Jazz would react, but more out of a general sense of awkwardness.

After all, how did one properly frame a request such as the one he had in mind?

But, he had put this off long enough, futilely hoping for the right words to inspire him, or for the right moment to present itself. There was no point in waiting for something that wasn't forthcoming, so he might as well get it over with.

The tactician gathered his courage before it slipped away from him, and hoped that what he was about to say wouldn't sound too daft.

"So, Jazz, I've been sort of thinking..." he could hear his own voice trailing off in the distance, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant and insecure. So unlike its usual commanding tone.

No, this wouldn't do! Prowl gathered his strength anew, and grabbed hold of the first words that came to him.

"How about we try something a bit... uh, different, next time?" There, he had said it, and even if Jazz wouldn't pick up on the exact intended meaning, he was sure to urge Prowl to elaborate on what he had in mind, meaning there was no return now.

Jazz half on-lined his optics. He had been on the verge of slipping into recharge, but Prowl's voice had rattled him out of it. The saboteur felt too tired to pay much attention to his bondmate's words though, seeing as how he had had quite an exhausting day, with an unexpected Decepticon ambush to top it off. Now all he wanted was some rest.

And Prowl was not by any means an adventurous mech, so whatever he was about to ask for would hardly be anything exciting in the first place. It could wait until tomorrow. Although, he didn't really mind Prowl's predictability, quite the opposite. He had found that he liked having his bondmate as a fixed point in his life, which otherwise had a tendency to lean a bit too much towards the side of impulsiveness and randomness.

"And what could that possibly entail?" the saboteur still couldn't help asking, a teasing quality sneaking into his voice. "Are ya perhaps implyin' that ya want ta try the left side of the rechargin' berth for once? Wow, are ya sure ya're ready for this momentous step in our relationship, Prowler?" A smug look manifested itself on the saboteur's face, as it usually would when he was amused by one of his own little jokes.

Prowl frowned. Apparently, Jazz wasn't in a mood to take his request seriously at all. But now that he had finally mustered up enough confidence to put his thoughts into words, he wasn't about to let things end here.

"No, that's not what I meant," the Second in Command replied, sounding more insistent now. "What I meant was that I would like it if you were to, well... take command a bit more."

Silence.

Then, "Take command? Come on now, Prowl, I'm usually the one who takes the initiative ta our bondin' sessions. Like I did just a couple of hours ago, remember? I'd say that at least four times out of five, it's me who's the drivin' force! But sure, if what ya're sayin' is that ya want ta bond more often, I'm all for it." Jazz's voice drawled a little, as if he was just inches away from going into recharge.

This obviously wasn't going too well. Guess I have no choice but to spell things out, Prowl thought, steeling himself.

"No, I meant take control during our bonding sessions, not before them," he said quickly. Surely Jazz had to understand what he was getting at now?

Jazz's optics came fully on-line. Had his bondmate just asked what he thought he had asked? Oh, he had long suspected that Prowl did indeed have certain leanings in this direction, but hearing it expressed in the tactician's own words was really something. A grin spread across his face. Good thing he still had his back turned to his bondmate.

Knowing Prowl, he had probably struggled hard to say this in as prude a way as possible, but the saboteur didn't have any similar qualms. "Oh, so ya're sayin' ya'd actually like ta be dominated while we're bondin', Prowl, is that it?" Jazz put deliberate stress on the key word as his grin widened; this was just too funny. He could feel the tactician's body stiffen behind him at the sharp contrast between Jazz's no-nonsense words and the Second in Command's own, more unobtrusive wording.

The saboteur rolled over so he came face to face with his bondmate. "Well, I really need ta have a think about this. One thing I want ta know first –" he made a dramatic pause "– does that mean that I get ta call ya names and stuff? Ya know, like 'stuck-up, un-charismatic tight-aft'"? Jazz's face was beaming with ill repressed amusement. "Or, how about 'loosest little slut-bot this side of Alpha Centauri'?" The saboteur chuckled, clearly pleased with his own ingenuity.

Prowl, however, did not find the matter nearly as amusing. No indeed, if he had been human, his face would have sported a deep shade of red by now. His bondmate wasn't exactly making things easy for him; perhaps he should have known better than to bring this matter up at all.

"So does that mean that we'll be usin' handcuffs and the whole kit?" Jazz asked, finding yet another entertaining angle to the issue. "I'm not sure how we're gonna go about acquiring them though, seein' as how I currently don't happen ta have a whole lot of spare cuffs lyin' around in my quarters..."

He pondered for a short moment. "Well, I think the only solution is ta pick up a pair from the common supply room. Things might get a little awkward when we fill in the necessary paperwork, but otherwise it shouldn't be a problem."

The saboteur was positively beaming with smugness as he continued. "But I'm sure ya wouldn't mind, seein' as how it was your brilliant idea, Prowler, that everyone needed ta fill in that report regardin' intended usage every time we retrieve an item from the supply room." Despite having been halfway into recharge just a moment ago, Jazz was now as awake as ever. The pained look on Prowl's face was too priceless to let go to waste.

"But ya're right, it was the only reasonable action, considerin' all the material that had been disappearin' from our supplies lately," Jazz mused, as he thought back on the highly unpopular decision that Prowl had insisted on. "And I'm sure the report will make for quite an interesting read when we've filled it in."

His voice assumed a solemn, formal tone. "Line three, intended use: Key equipment for the mission aimed at makin' our Second in Command's secret fantasies come alive'. Or perhaps, 'Cuffin' the Ark's favorite repressed tactician ta his rechargin' berth.'" Jazz guffawed heartily.

Prowl made a grimace. With his bondmate in this kind of mood, there was no point in any further discussions. Better to drop the whole thing and perhaps bring it up another time when Jazz would manage to take his request more seriously.

"Alright, just forget it!" Prowl said, a bit harsher than he had intended. Really, he had hoped that Jazz would have kept a straighter face than this, but knowing his bondmate, it was probably too tall an order.

"Okay, if ya say so. It's a hilarious suggestion comin' from ya of all 'Bots though, Prowler; considerin' how even the stoic Optimus Prime himself is better at lettin' himself go than ya are," came the retort.

"Good night, Jazz." No, he definitely wasn't going to discuss this any further with his bondmate tonight, seeing as how Jazz had only taken it as an opportunity to make fun of him. The Second in Command off-lined his optics and allowed himself to slowly slip into recharge.

Next morning, Prowl woke up at exactly the same time as he always did, his well-tuned internal chronometer making sure of that. Well, he should get working on that report he had started yesterday but had never gotten around to finish, since his bondmate had persuaded him to leave it in favour of more amorous activities.

Speaking of Jazz, had he managed to move around in recharge so much that he was now lying atop of his bondmate? There was a heavy weight resting on him, and when Prowl made an effort to move, he found himself strangely unable to.

Uh?

He on-lined his optics, unprepared for the sight that greeted him. Jazz was sitting on top of him, straddling his chassis; a grin that stretched from audio sensor to audio sensor plastered across his face. And a fraction of a moment later, Prowl noticed that his hands were cuffed to something above his head.

It was only the Autobot tactician's famous self-control that prevented him from overloading right then and there.

End note: Well, no real point to this story, I guess, but since my previous sub!Prowl fic was pretty high on the kink factor, I wanted to write a more light-hearted piece this time.