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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
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A/N: Maybe Prowl and Lockdown met before—who knows?
I personally believe that Lockdown is very, very unimaginative. And watches far too many cop/biker-themed gay pornos. (Of course he'll show Prowl his collection. Of course Prowl will like them SHHHH.) GOD, I love porn dialogue.
Send Eno a love letter for supplying half the dialogue and the general idea! She's so bad for my health and reputation.
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Hard-Ons and Happenstance
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It wasn't every day he got stopped by a cop.
"Can I help you, officer?"
Some didn't take kindly to his cheek. Wasn't any fault of his, but that cop's glare—it could melt iron. Still, he was cute. Very cute, in an uptight, Asian, begging-to-be-screwed way.
The officer asked him a few questions. He hardly paid attention. There was some standard-issue stuff about going ninety in a forty-five construction zone and a speeding ticket, he knew, but he looked up when the stiffly starched kid paused for a long, long minute, finally lowering his strange ice-blue shades an inch and shelving his pen.
"What is that?" he demanded, bending over slightly to see into the dark interior of the car.
"What's what?"
He almost felt the cop narrow his eyes, scrutinizing him over the red windshield under his tattooed arm. Cars buzzed behind him on the freeway. The cop stepped back.
"Would you please... step out of the car, sir?"
Frowning, Lockdown complied with a lusty creak of black leather, climbing out of his low-hung musclecar and leaning back against the door, arms folded across his broad chest. He grinned when the cop's long face lit up, hidden eyes plowing up and down his well-toned and well-displayed body; he didn't quite hide the enthusiasm behind a bland frown and a nod, but Lockdown could smell the eager shift in him well enough, even before he ordered the dragster to turn around and bend over the hood so he could run his hands up and down his leather-wrapped thighs.
The tiny officer fairly pressed him against the rumbling car, face against his spiked back, searching his back pockets (and the white flesh beneath them) very, very thoroughly for anything that deserved a search.
"I guess you're—clean," he admitted, stepping back with a click of his knee-high boots. Lockdown grinned over his shoulder, still bent over the car.
"Rather be dirty f'it means you'd do that again."
"Talk any more and I'll give you a strip-search, sir."
"Gimme a word-limit and I'll break it."
He turned around and the sly smile waiting for him looked so right on the prim traditional features—taint on porcelain, just the way he liked it. The cop wasted no time, twisting slightly as though smoothing a catch in his belt, giving the other man a much better view of his shamefully trim waist and pert khaki-wrapped ass.
"I'll make this easy for both of us. Are you carrying a weapon? I could have sworn I felt something thick and hard in those pants of yours."
"Why don't you put some gloves on and check?" Lockdown growled. "I'll stand real still, promise."
"You are an impertinent ass—if roguishly sexy." The other man flicked his shades off of his narrow nose, hooking them over his shirt collar. He unzipped his jacket, tossed it over his motorcycle and huffed, "Damn, this uniform is tight."
"Pretty sure I can help you, officer," Lockdown said smugly, offering a hand—the best hand. "Turns out I am carryin'. Unregistered, 9 inches. F'ya gimme a second to get my... piece, we can both, y'know, get off with our lives."
"Big talk for a big boy. Think you're man enough for the job?" the cop purred, eyes on the bulge in the other's pants as his tightly gloved hand wandered lower over his tailored white shirt, finally slipping a finger beneath his tight belt with a soft, beckoning noise.
"All man," Lockdown assured him, reddish eyes fixed hungrily on the cop's mouth as his tongue glided over his own chapped lips. "'Least, man enough to fuck you over the hood."
"Just the answer I was looking for."
Reaching down, the cop opened his cuffs with a snap of his wrist and clap of metal, almond eyes narrowing, and held them out to the dragster's waiting hands.
Within seconds he was cuffed up to the hood with his starched khaki pants snagged around his knees, Lockdown's wide gloved hand swatting the curve of his ass, winning a deliciously crisp slap that turned the skin candy-pink. The cop gasped and arched against the still-rumbling front of the slick muscle car; Lockdown gripped his beachwood hips and pressed his strangled erection to the abuse-warmed skin, a jolt of pleasantly desperate pleasure jolting straight to his gut even through the leather. The cop pressed back, gloved hands twisting above the cuffs with the same rousing leather creak, legs spreading with a scrape of asphalt underneath glossy black heeled boots.
"God, yes. Give it to me, give it to me!" he begged, crying out as Lockdown's huge hand connected with his skin again in three staggering spanks. "Punish me. I'm filthy, I need to be disciplined--"
Lockdown lurched forward and shoved his shirt up. He licked a thick wet stripe up his young spine, one hand ripping at his own belt as his dick pulsed fiercely, thick and hard. The cop let out a wanton moan, silky avenue of his back twisting—then resettled his sunglasses on his narrow little nose and raised one dangerously slender brow.
"Did you hear what I just said, sir?"
Cars moaned by. Lockdown blinked. Outside in the autumn sunshine, upright and fully clothed, the young man resettled his knee-high boots with a small, boring scrape of asphalt. He scribbled at his pad with his undersized pencil. Lockdown shifted in the low-ceilinged car, filling out his tight pants more than usual.
"Sure, darlin'. In between the lines," he rumbled, flashing his gap-toothed grin. The cop tipped his chin to give him a dry, over-the-glasses look, then ripped the paper off with a prim flick of his wrist.
"Thank you for your attention. You do realize I will have to give you a $100 ticket for speeding."
"So long's you write your number on the other side."
"Make that $150."
It wasn't every day Lockdown got stopped by a cop, and maybe that was a good thing if they all looked like that.
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Odd Couple