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Addressing the Issue	By : Jookami Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 2862 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no money writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-Addressing the Issue
- 1
Prowl looked up when the door to his office opened without any warning. He stood, already halfway around the desk when he noticed the other mech storming in. The scowl beneath the blue visor was the only warning he received before the mech twirled him around like a dance partner and slammed his torso into the edge of the desk.
Eager hands fought with Prowl's hip plates, pulling off the back ones without even bothering to remove the front. Any attempts Prowl made to speak were immediately halted by a rude shove into the desk, sending his neatly arranged belongings into an alarming clutter on the desk and also the floor.
His aggressor rubbed against the Enforcer's back eagerly, prominent bumper scraping over the sensor shield between Prowl's doorwings. The obstructing plating out of the way, and the other's shaft straining against Prowl's rear rotator, the black hands groped over the door panels. Panting breaths washed over his sensor shield, accompanied by a rain of kisses, stinging like drops of acid.
Prowl gasped, arcing into the other mech. The chill air did nothing to cool his systems, the mech behind him cocooning him in an energy field blazing with need. He wanted to touch something. A groan escaped his vocalizer. Something more than this desk in front of him, adding more dents to the already battered edge.
His own cock ached with desire, swollen and pulsing within his suddenly too small plating.
The mech behind him suddenly bit down, a sharper sting on the rubber of his neck. A black hand stroked down to the remaining hip plating, stroking at the hypersensitive seams, and running over the joining of leg and groin.
Prowl jolted, cutting off the cry after it had already exploded from his mouth. His startled jump stabbed the other's shaft into his thigh. Prowl groaned, rubbing his backside against the suddenly still mech. He wanted to finish. If the idiot was going to come in and disturb him while he was working, the least he could do was hurry up about it.
“Too damned fast, as always, Prowl.”
“I was slagging working,” Prowl spat back before a black hand slammed his head down.
But the other's cock prodded against the tactician's rotators, sliding along their rims until it pressed into the softer material of the compressor. The mech slid his hands along Prowl's torso until they held the still-tightly clasped groin plating in a firm grip.
Prowl squeezed his optics shut, his systems stalling as the metal gave under the black fingers; the heat still building in his engine, no matter how much air he drew in.
The straining cock pressed into his compressor, the mech's hips bucking with restraint. No more kisses landed on Prowl's doorwings or sensor shield. No more teasing caresses, or plate rubbing.
Prowl gritted his dental plates, waiting with all the patience of a of a flash fire as his body grew accustomed to the cock in his aft.
The tubing had barely softened when the mech couldn't restrain his thrusts anymore.
Both mechs buzzed with each new jab, the cock sinking deeper into Prowl. The hard tubing rubbed up against the gears of the compressor, turning and twisting them and sending Prowl into near paroxysms.
He buried his cries in his arms, spreading his legs for the invasion. His shaft flared with each thrust, hot oil coating the inside of his groin plating as he drew closer and closer to overload. He could almost hear the gears squeaking, reducing his cries to pleading whimpers.
An explosion rocked Prowl's sensors, data fritzing in little by little, ending with the realization that oil leaked out of his groin plating and onto his partner's hand. And still the mech continued, earning a gasp from Prowl until his systems seized. Warmth filled Prowl as hot oil coated the gears of his compressor.
The other mech pulled out almost immediately, heedless of the fluid dripping from his now limp tube.He leaned toward Prowl, dental plates bare micrometers from the tactician's audio receiver. “Ya ever send me out on a glitched mission with that little information again and y'll be takin' it in th' mouth,” he growled.
Prowl turned his head, his cheek guard resting on his forearm. He glared at Jazz, shaking the mech off and straightening to face the saboteur. “Then perhaps you should address the issue with Mirage.”
Shaking oil off his hands, and sending it spattering across Prowl's white paint, Jazz huffed. “I think I've done enough addressin'.” Jazz curled his lips as his hands were no cleaner. “Imma go clean up and leave Raj to ya. You should take a file from my 'pad and put yer dick to use.”
- 1
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Addressing the Issue