raisedbymoogles | Ficlet: G1, Jazz/Optimus, pervy but not explicit

Just a blurb that caught my ear and wouldn't let go.

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Jazz loves English. Let others complain about its imprecision, the treacherous facets to each word that could turn and bite an unwary speaker: he loves its flexibility, the history encapsulated in each borrow-word, the multiple shades of meaning. He loves its danger as much as its poetry, its seedy underbelly as much home to him as its glory and grace.

Take a simple phrase such as, oh, “my Prime.” ‘Prime’ is the closest human approximation to a title that has no real equivalent anywhere on Earth; but it is that possessive marker where the real interest lies. On the surface, its connotations are entirely respectful: a statement of reverence toward the title, of allegiance. Jazz would be the first to say that that is exactly where his allegiance lies: with his Prime.

And yet… change the context to something more intimate. Purr the phrase into a waiting audial, as a clever black hand teases an offered connector. Dance the word along a wicked glossa and feel its effect manifest as a fine, delicious shiver through the Prime’s strong body.

Suddenly ‘my’ takes on a new meaning, without losing the first. Suddenly the possessive mode is terribly, delightfully apt.