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Odd Couple	By : DeeDaday Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > AU/AR Views: 16228 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers Animated or anything associated with it. These are purely recreational materials: I make no money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: For some reason, and I apologize in advance, I love inserting random hilarious moments into my steamy sex. I get bored of ceaseless smut, I think—and these two can pull off ridiculous like no one else.
Inbetween New Leaf and Old Turning, vaguely, or slightly before.
Warnings: oral, anal, imaginary lube, stand-up-sex, horrible language, rude interruption, slight leather kink (impossible leather stuff, I think) and epic d'aww.
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Distraction
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--Be ready.
The text message popped up out of nowhere, about the time that Prowl got off of work. Lockdown stared at his phone blankly, wondering just what that cryptic sentence meant. He was answered when Prowl drove up the driveway so fast that he pulled a sharp left and flung gravel up against the side of the house. The uniformed officer didn't even bother to steer himself into the garage but threw his kickstand out met Lockdown at the door, where the older man had a grumpy expression prepared.
That expression changed dramatically when Prowl charged through the door and literally leapt on him, kissing him and wrapping his legs around his middle. Lockdown's hands clapped onto his boyfriend's ass at the same time Prowl's still-gloved hands came to cup his face, sending their kiss to the tenth power. They parted with an audible pop.
"Work?" Lockdown grunted blankly before Prowl's tongue sealed his lips again and his far smaller lover's weight forced him to stumble against the nearby wall, nearly knocking the mounted coat rack to the ground.
"Terrible," came the near-moan, then he went on, between kisses, in an almost pitifully stymied tone, "Every time I attempted to work..."
"Yeah?" Lockdown growled, even though by now he had a pretty fine idea of what happened—especially since that morning he had tried to sneak in a hand-job before Prowl got up. It was just too much fun dragging him, still warm and sleepy, into bed and waking him up the better way. Apparently interruptions paid off later, though: Prowl was practically radiating heat and the pressure of him sitting pretty on Lockdown's hips was doing some pretty nice things for the big man.
"I could not stop thinking about you," Prowl admitted breathlessly, making Lockdown grin immediately.
"Bed," Lockdown said with infinite decisiveness, only to have Prowl tug him back. The weight-shift made Lockdown stagger again, but the officer somehow managed to pin himself between the wall and his lover's hard chest with a determined look.
"Here."
As if to earn the older man's utterly surprised look in full, Prowl let go and went to his knees, reaching up and peeling Lockdown's tight tattered jeans just below his snow-white ass. He grasped the huge man's stiffening cock with a new ease and took it into his mouth, licking the underside as Lockdown groaned thickly above him. He started to tug off his riding gloves, but a hand to his hair made him look up.
"Keep ‘em on."
After a second of surprise, Prowl smirked wryly up at his lover, as if just then remembering the leather kink-suit he first saw the man in. Holding Lockdown's amused red eyes, he tugged the slim black gloves tight with some humble, very Prowl-ish flair, making Lockdown close his eyes and whistle.
"Jesus Christ. Got your handcuffs on you?"
"One request per encounter. I have limits," the officer said primly, a split second before rolling his tongue over the salty head of Lockdown's aching cock and taking it into his warm mouth again. Lockdown cursed tensely when Prowl gripped his behind almost brutally as he bobbed slowly, the leather creaking with the strength of his hands and snagging on his white skin.
When Lockdown was hard as marble, pink and shining with saliva, the younger man stood and abandoned his pants with a single motion, kicking off his boots and leaving the whole mess where it lay before hoisting himself back into Lockdown's arms again. He was helped into the perch by the worker's big hands on his naked thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that sent sparks through his gut. Leather riding jacket hanging from his shoulders, he arched against Lockdown's chest, hair just beginning to escape from its ponytail and falling around his flushed face.
"Goddamn it if you're not the sexiest thing God ever put on this earth," Lockdown groaned almost pathetically, overwhelmed by the sight--somehow made all the sexier by the certain fact that Prowl had no idea how he looked. If he ever found out, Lockdown would be in trouble. Not that he would go running around with other men, but he might use those good looks like the weapon they were, capable of knocking his besotted beau to his knees.
Whatever response Prowl planned was lost in a gasp as Lockdown lifted him up just far enough, fingers toying between his cheeks, then shoved him up against the wall at the same time he pressed his thick cock in. They gasped into each other's necks at the impact, Prowl's pretzled legs shaking madly around Lockdown's bared waist. Instantly Lockdown began to rock his hips steadily, thrusting into the silky clench of the body sweating against his own. The rhythm came hard against gravity, but he loved the tension in his arms and the way Prowl's body jerked when he thrust in again and again. Not to mention those sounds.
"That feel good, darlin'?" he purred, receiving a tense mewl in response, then a desperate moan that shook him to his knees more than any sensation. Prowl's hands clutching at his neck, the way he panted with every thrust, made tingles eat him alive. Gut tight, Lockdown tried to shift and brace his legs further apart and slam Prowl, crying and whimpering, into the wall, but something caught—his jeans.
His jeans, now crumpled down around his knees?
"Shit," he growled, following it with a far more explosive shit-shit-mother-fucker as he tried to move and his jeans webbed his legs together. His balance poofed into nothing and the heavy, wonderful weight at his hips only served to murder any chances of straightening himself. Grabbing Prowl tightly to him with another roar of profanity, Lockdown fell back and slammed flat, back-down, against the floor, instantly arching and groaning at the same time Prowl yelped in pain.
"Fuck! Fuck shit-fuck," Lockdown clarified, then simply lay flat as a man decked as they both huffed and heaved away the sudden fall. The impact left them both stunned, the steamy sex of three seconds previous as absent as their vertical position. A complete plane rearrangement—and aches to spare.
"Your back," Prowl said anxiously when he could speak, voice squeezed.
"Still in one piece. Can't say the same for my ass," Lockdown half-wheezed, then reached up just enough to pat numbly at Prowl's hips and thighs. "I break anythin'?"
"Just a few...dents," Prowl choked out, laughing weakly and wincing as he tried to shift atop Lockdown, who was still (as the impact made very clear) hilt-deep in him. Thank god Lockdown had cleared the coffee table when he fell, and thank god he'd had the instinct to unwrap his legs beforehand. Somewhat recovered, Lockdown gave a filthy, endearing sort of smirk, big hands rubbing up and down his thighs.
"Nothin' I can't pound out later."
Prowl couldn't help but chuckle again. Lockdown truly was a sincere, natural kind of clever. No interruption was enough to distract him for long, however, four-foot falls included. He had not spent five hours fantasizing at work for it to end here, with Lockdown splayed and charmingly defenseless beneath him. The very thought made his body go tense again, erection pulsing.
"Take your shirt off," Prowl said softly, eyes lighting when Lockdown complied. The big man arched and tugged the green t-shirt off of himself, revealing his labor-chiseled chest and all the tattoos in the world. The officer's eyes lingered on enticing crinkle that happened just at his boyfriend's abs when he propped himself up on his elbows. Prowl reached up and ran his hands down Lockdown's ink-smattered chest as if seeing him for the first time: seeing him and appreciating him for the picture of masculinity that he was.
Lockdown rumbled happily at the attention, only wincing when his lover's leather fingers found his nipples. He groaned outright when Prowl leaned over and licked one, catching it between his teeth and pinching the other. Buried as he was in Prowl, Lockdown's cock still twitched lustily, making him roll his hips before he could stop himself.
"Yeah, we were in the middle'a somethin', weren't we?" Lockdown drawled, eyes shut in the beginnings of ecstasy.
The confidence in Prowl's face when he looked up made his cock twitch again, and the lust was so strong that he was certain he was going to grab the kid's bite-sized hips and push into him again and again—until Prowl slid up and then pressed down, forcing his tender erection out then deep into him. Lockdown shivered, growling tensely. Prowl had been on top before, but always with the other man's hands on his hips. This was completely within Prowl's control and the idea made Lockdown a little crazy.
And still the kid waited for permission of some kind, pretty mouth half-open, expression intensely expectant. Lockdown forced himself to lay back and surrender, restraining himself to gripping the small officer's rear and digging his fingers in until Prowl made an impatient noise, wiping his loose hair from his face.
"M'all yours, ninjacop," Lockdown purred, and Prowl's answering kiss had a definite ‘of course you are' smugness that he would never dare vocalize.
With a few careful flexes of his slim thighs, Prowl gained a rhythm, which then turned into a form of torture: the slight young man rocked viciously on Lockdown's hard cock until he couldn't help but spare a hand to pump at his own erection. He licked the palm of his leather glove; Lockdown caught the pink sliver of tongue in-between the fingers and the wet shine of it before Prowl grasped himself and tugged hurriedly, slick flesh disappearing in flashes of rich black.
He braced his other hand on Lockdown's chest as the pounding pleasure made him slouch and moan. His breath started to shake, every muscle taut, and then came the actual panting that made Lockdown slam his hands back onto the coffee table and hold on for all he was worth, just so he wouldn't interrupt the show. Letting Prowl get himself off just the way he liked it was something beautiful: he was fucking gorgeous and gorgeous fucking.
Lockdown managed to keep his teeth clamped together until Prowl suddenly sped up with a throaty oh god, yes, which nearly made the big man come instantly.
"Fuck me into the floor, darlin', do it," Lockdown hissed, tossing his head back and digging his nails into his own neck just to keep himself in one piece. "Fuck, Prowl, fuck."
Hearing and obeying, Prowl came down hard, pushing Lockdown deep into him—that last slam, coupled with the high-pitched moan above him, was enough to send the older man over the edge and into a brutal explosion of pleasure. He slammed his fists on the floor with a snarl, hips jerking as he came into Prowl's taut body. Prowl stiffened and bit into his glove, muffling something that could have very well been a scream as he spilled over Lockdown's already-sticky chest. Both emptied, echoing like someone had struck a gong inside of their hot chests.
The second after the convulsions stopped, Prowl gasped and collapsed onto Lockdown's front, olive back slick with sweat underneath his leather jacket and button-down shirt. After a moment, perhaps when their other four senses returned, Lockdown's hand made it onto his back, rubbing absently. Stunned, the two men cooled down, panting like heat-struck animals. Forever and a half later, Prowl shook his head numbly against the big man's shoulder.
"You aren't allowed to touch me in the morning," he wheezed, just beginning to feel the reasons why he shouldn't have done half the stuff he did, much less so quickly. Lockdown chuckled, chest jerking a little, then he gave a big, horribly satisfied sigh.
"You keep thinkin' that. You just keep thinkin' that."
Prowl pouted slightly, knowing he could no more stop the other man than halt a bulldozer with an egg. Especially not when he himself had performed so well, given the lure. He sighed, laying down in earnest and giving into the comfort of Lockdown's heavy arms. He reached up and traced a finger across a tattoo on the big man's arm, following the lines without thinking. Lockdown had so many, he had only now begun to differentiate them—and perhaps his finger found that one because it was one he had never seen before.
He followed the letters lazily, only realizing something was horribly wrong by the time he got to the W.
"This says my name!" Prowl blurted out, beyond horrified. He sat straight up, unaware of the mess the two of them had made, and gaped. Lockdown just looked down curiously at the cursive script flowing across his bicep—‘Prowl'. It was just an outline, and a simple one at that: he was in the process of having it inked in, nice and thick.
"You just noticed that?"
Wringing his hands and gaping for a straight minute, Prowl finally pushed his face into his boyfriend's shoulder again, half from horror and half from embarrassment. Lockdown laughed loud and long, letting Prowl shiver away his utter mortification and awkward joy at being symbolically, permanently driven into the flesh of another human being with ink. It was just like Lockdown not to say anything about it, either, and let him stumble upon it himself. Lockdown opened his mouth, but Prowl immediately, savagely shook his head.
"No. Absolutely not. Never. Never."
"Think about it for a sec. ‘Lockdown' would look real nice in Chinese or somethin'. Got a good place for it, right where no one but me'd see. It'll split evenly, too: four letters for each cheek."
"I am not speaking to you!"
"You just keep thinkin' that," Lockdown rumbled smugly, crossing his arms and leaning back as Prowl got up and stomped to the shower and slammed the door behind him with enough force to snap the wood—and yet was back in his arms after dinner, even if he wouldn't touch the big man until he put on a long-sleeved shirt.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Odd Couple