#cryptickiss

But instead of analyzing the situation and coming up with a million ways to backtrack from what seemed to be a mistake or making even more reassessments of how he could fix his problem; Prowl simply let it be. 

Scavenger had been in his office, handing him reports. He didn't need to be there. Prowl could have easily done everything himself, really, but the Constructicon had entered his office quietly and even asked politely to stay and help with whatever Prowl needed, and Prowl really wasn't in the mood for a pang of sadness through their ridiculous bond. Sorrow coming from Scavenger was worst of all. It was like an all-encompassing spark ache that wouldn't let go, ever.

So he allowed the Constructicon to stay after briefing him through a few ground rules, which Scavenger seemed to accept graciously. 

And he was surprisingly docile through everything. It was almost nice, sitting quietly with Scavenger, as the mech passed him reports according to priority, his field just a light, gentle pulse against Prowl's whenever the enforcer looked up at him. 

He had been so companionable that Prowl was overcome with an indescribable urge. Scavenger had stood up to leave, optics dim with his gratitude of being able to sit with Prowl, and Prowl just...

He had reached for Scavenger's arm, pulled him down a little, and kissed him right on the facemask. 

Scavenger's optics had went bright, blinding in his shock, and Prowl just offered him a small smile and a "Thank you for your help, Scavenger." It was a rarity that Prowl became physical with any of them, but Prowl had treated the kiss like it was a norm so Scavenger left afterwards, despite how stunned he was still. 

It was sort of a mistake. Prowl had given in to his urges without thinking twice, but for some reason, he didn't feel even the slightest regret. 

And when Scavenger's absolute elation spread through the gestalt bond, the feeling an incredible warmth that just made mechs smile, Prowl made a decision.

//

Prowl had been expecting confrontation; he had thought up all the scenarios that could occur; and Long Haul approaching him with an EM-field laced with amusement was certainly one of them. Long Haul had waved at him from far away, leaning against the wall as Prowl stopped to address the truck.

“Hey, Prowl,” Long Haul started, optics narrowing in some sort of glee, “Heard that something interesting happened yesterday.”

Calm and fairly collected, Prowl raised an optic ridge at him, “Like what, Long Haul?”

“Oh, you know. Something along the lines of giving Scavenger a little kiss?” The question wasn’t really a question, smugness practically dripping from his tone, “What’s the matter, Prowl? You noticed that we’re pretty kissable after all? Bond getting a little too intense? It’s only natural, and it’s about time.”

The enforcer didn’t say a word; merely opting to fold his arms and not react to Long Haul’s juvenile teasing. He supposed he could be lenient with the truck for a while; it wasn’t as if whatever the mech said was true, after all. Long Haul stopped his playful banter to snicker a bit, and Prowl took the chance to ask, “Why? Do you want a kiss, too?”

Long Haul did not expect that. His visor went bright red in his surprise, his field rippling with sudden desire and shock, but he leaned forward, tilting his head, challenging. Prowl was never one to back down from something like that.

He kissed Long Haul’s mask, just a peck of the lips before parting them, dragging dentae over the metal once and he slid his tongue over the scrape in a languid stroke. Long Haul spluttered, heat rushing up to his faceplates at an alarming rate, and Prowl leaned back after one last kiss to the wet patch he made on the mask.

He kept his expression as neutral as ever, “Happy?”

The truck was still very stunned, before his field swelled with satisfaction, and he nodded once, optical band narrowing again in his pleasure.

“Very.”

//

It was with aggression that Prowl kissed Bonecrusher, frustration fuelling his so-called experimentation.  But then again he was always frustrated with Bonecrusher, the mech’s own brutish behaviour and crass remarks always managed to make Prowl raise his voice. Again, Bonecrusher had done something he shouldn’t, and was becoming increasingly difficult for Prowl to deal with in a calm manner. The mech frustrated him.

But their bond was insistent, recognizing Bonecrusher as one of his own so the urge came to Prowl almost naturally. He had been in the middle of reprimanding the bulldozer, before realizing that some things were just better expressed through physical terms. So Prowl reached up and grabbed Bonecrusher’s helm, roughly jerking him downwards to bite at the Constructicon’s lips.

It was still a kiss, albeit a rough, painful one and Prowl let his anger translate into an aggressive lip lock. Bonecrusher had been quite surprised, but not for long. He kissed Prowl back just as angrily, but his frame was practically thrumming with excited apprehension, definitely stunned by the turn of events.

Prowl released him by shoving his chest almost rudely, his faceplates conveying his dissatisfaction loud and clear. Bonecrusher rubbed at his own lips, looking almost sheepish despite his frown. They stood there a while, glaring at each other, before Bonecrusher vented and looked away.

“Okay Prowl. I got your point. Sorry. Not gonna happen again.”

The admission was miraculous, but Bonecrusher left Prowl with nothing but that, still rubbing at his mouth. The bond informed Prowl that there weren’t any unsavoury feelings directed toward him for his spontaneous gesture, instead Bonecrusher was feeling fairly fine and apologetic. Also highly motivated, his presence seeming to sharpen in their bond.

His hypothesis was proven to be true, once again.

//

Mixmaster had come into Prowl’s office as he does every time he had finished experimenting with energon, usually only bringing the best of his productions for Prowl’s scrutiny. Of course Prowl didn’t ask to inspect Mixmaster’s brew, but the cement mixer brought it over anyway, every time. Prowl’s acceptance seemed to mean the world to him.

And as usual, Mixmaster’s new concoction was amazing this time around, too. It was airy and light on the glossa, and left a refreshing aftertaste. Prowl had downed his cube and smiled at Mixmaster, genuinely impressed, “That was exceptional, Mixmaster. I think this is your best result, yet.”

The Constructicon was almost visibly shaky with his happiness, grinning wide at Prowl’s compliment, “Really? You really think so? Frag, Prowl, that means a lot! Thanks mech, I should mass produce this slag or somethin’, sell it somewhere. Maybe I could make a fortune.”

“Maybe you could, after these trying times,” Prowl said, and purposefully touched Mixmaster’s arm, leaning closer, “May I give you a reward for doing so well?”

Mixmaster stopped moving altogether, his optics wide, wide circles, “Uh. Um, yeah?”

Prowl moved slowly, but pressed their lip components together in a firm kiss. Mixmaster seemed to turn into putty at the contact. Prowl tilted his head and Mixmaster followed, his hands suddenly lifting to cradle Prowl’s face and Prowl lost control for a moment.

Mixmaster lost himself, kissing Prowl again and again; shuddery, frantic kisses; little appreciative noises escaping him. Prowl had meant to only give him one kiss, but it was hard to not bask in Mixmaster’s attentions, his field engulfing Prowl in terrible, overwhelming warmth while he kissed Prowl like he couldn’t get enough of the Autobot.

The enforcer steeled himself soon enough nevertheless, pulling himself away with great effort, much to the despair of Mixmaster. The Constructicon surged forward to recapture Prowl’s lips but he put a stop to that, gripping the mech’s shoulders, holding him at bay.

“I said a reward, Mixmaster, not rewards.”

Mixmaster whined, but ceased his efforts to gain more kisses, his lip components pressed against each other like he was trying to rein himself in.

“Sorry Prowl,” he said soon after, “It’s just really good. Kissing you, I mean. And kissing you when you taste like something I made is even better.”

Prowl absolutely refused to blush, but he couldn’t deny the slight stutter in his vocalizer as he expressed his understanding. He fled the scene, but not before noting Mixmaster’s panic-like joy broadcasted through their shared bond.

//

“So,” Hook said, closing Prowl’s medical ports with a light tap, his tone fairly conversational, “I hear you’ve been going around kissing the rest of the team.”

Prowl rolled his shoulder joints a few times, feeling a little stiff from how he had needed to keep still, “I have.”

“Is there something you’re trying to pull here, then? Is it something that’s going to mess us all up?”

He looked over at Hook, a little surprised, but couldn’t really blame the crane. It was nature to be suspicious, especially considering how adverse Prowl was to their unlikely gestalt. He still felt that way. But things had changed a little.

“No. I suppose you could call what I’m doing strategic planning, but no one will be harmed. I guarantee you that.”

Hook made a noise of acknowledgement, putting away some tools, before focusing entirely on Prowl, leaning against the medical berth, “Fine, if you say so. It’s just odd, is all. I’m done with your check up too; I’ll remind you of the next one in two weeks.”

The Autobot nodded, pushing himself off the berth, “Thank you, Hook.” He moved closer to the medic, and didn’t even try to hide a glance he took at Hook’s lip components, “May I?”

“Yes,” Hook replied, his tone betraying that he had been waiting for Prowl to do this, and Prowl didn’t let him wait any longer. He kissed Hook, gently, and the medic’s optics shuttered close. Prowl let his gratitude known through their kiss and his field as well, always thankful that Hook had taken to ensuring his optimal function ever since they combined, and did quite a good job at it. Hook pulsed slight offense, as if scoffing at Prowl’s initial doubt of his abilities, but his attention was mostly on the kiss.

It was slow and chaste, and very, very nice, and when Prowl pulled away with a lighter kiss to the side of Hook’s mouth, Hook was smiling.

“I shall return here in two weeks, then.”

“You’d better,” murmured the crane, and Prowl left with a slight smile on his own faceplates.