Smell

Prowl tiredly padded a palm over the console to his quarters, relieved to be so close to refuge. After having to follow Red Alert through every level, every corridor, every nook of the Ark while listening to the security chief's unending rants of paranoia over the urgency of yet another security upgrade, Prowl was good and ready for a nice quiet spot to just sit and relax, with nothing more to think about than his own personal muses. That's it, all he wanted...

The door slid aside, and ushered unto him fragrance after fragrance after fragrance, a multitude of scents. Mingled and separate, heavy and light, sweet and clean, they flowed past him it seemed in queue, impatiently waiting for his olfactory sense to 'sniff' each in greeting and identification like Wild Kingdom. He processed one scent, sweet and fruity, the next a gentle spice, then a light cleansing fragrance, and on and on.

Immediately, Prowl knew his hope for a brief mental vacation was no more, not with this much action going on. Had it been an individual scent, maybe just a few light and noninvasive scents, he could have ignored them, could have blended them in nicely as a backdrop to his own thoughts. But this was utter penetration, no crevise of his abode left unmarked. It was overpowering. He would not be able to resist the urge to scent and process every whiff in the air.

But, what was the source?

Prowl began searching through his quarters, and it didn't take him long to find the guilty vessel. Upon entering the recharge chamber, Prowl found Jazz sprawled on their berth, visor darkened. The aromas had become significantly stronger when he'd rounded his way into the room, and the closer Prowl crept toward his bondmate, the more distinct the different smells became.

Within moments, Prowl found himself bent over the Porsche, olfactory sensors honing in on the various redolences. Some of them seemed to be stronger on some parts of his body as opposed to others. He identified lilac at Jazz's right forearm, ginger along his right flank, peach... no, not quite peach... something more... peaches and cream(?) at his hip. Prowl moved closer. There was more, fainter scents layered beneath the stronger ones. Something lemony interspersed with the peaches and cream, that spread from his hip across his pelvis. There, Prowl zeroed in on a patch comprised of apple and caramel on Jazz's inner left thigh.

The Datsun lingered over this spot, cycling a deep inhalation through his vents. It was a rich and vibrant scent, but good all the same. Like the humans' caramel apple treats. Prowl knew he'd remembered this scent from somewhere before. Carly would bring Spike caramel covered apples on sticks in the fall. He'd enjoyed the scent then. And he liked it even more now.

Prowl draped closer to the other's thigh, inches from metal plating. Apple, lightly sweet or sour, always good, healthy. Caramel, thick, rich, lingering, sinfully delectable. Such a combination, Prowl thought. In a way, much like Jazz. His optics flickered briefly at the absurdly illogical comparison. It was crazy, really, how Prowl was thinking this way. But... this smell was nice...

What was this? In the darkness Prowl noticed small flecks of a light brownish-red substance clinging to Jazz's thigh. This must be the source of the scent. But, what? With a momentary glance of caution at his mate's visor, Prowl reached out to touch the substance with the tip of his index finger. It was solid, but malleable, and there was transfer of the substance from Jazz's thigh to Prowl's finger. He raised his finger to optic level, rubbed his thumb against it, thick, sticky, smooth. Wax? Scented wax?

"Candles," Jazz's voice broke through the silence, and followed it with a drowsy chuckle when he felt the tactician shift abruptly, startled. Slowly, Jazz's visor glowed to life, and he elevated his head to cast a wily grin at Prowl. Prowl simply stared back from over Jazz's crotch. "Oh... hello, beautiful," he finished.

"Candles?" Prowl echoed, devoid of chagrin.

"Scented candles. Carly's." Jazz's head sagged back to the berth as he spoke. "Drove her out to her cousin's house today for a candle party an' she had all her selling stock in me. It was a long hot drive, and some of the candles were starting to melt. Guess I ended up with some leftovers, huh?"

There was a bit of a pause, and when Prowl failed to respond, Jazz looked at him again.

"Does she have any of the caramel apple left over?"