Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

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
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: Prowl, whenever will you stop being so damn Catholic and so damn adorable in your awkward Prowly way? I can't freaking write about you... doing that stuff. I get all weirded out.
Warnings: anal, shower-sex, wholly imaginary lubricant, slight dubcon, inhibitory Catholic sentiments (Lockdown to the rescue!) and some Severe Pouting.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Off the Clock
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Prowl, as a rule, operated on a merciless schedule.
It was fail-safe. It was efficient. It could not be compromised. Everything occurred on a minute-by-minute basis: twenty minutes in the shower, fifteen minutes to dress and preen, seven for breakfast. Then he was out the door, cool and collected, sporting a conscientious frown (pre-set and fastidiously arranged as his tied-back hair) on his face as he sped off to work.
Lockdown had hoped to shake that senseless frown off, but Prowl apparently never woke up happy. He also possessed some sort of nocturnal amnesia or continuity issue: he always seemed especially chagrined to find himself in Lockdown's rumpled bed morning after morning, as though he'd lost a battle with himself the night before. He always flung off the covers and stalked off, even if he didn't technically have to compromise his daily schedule to accommodate the passionate throes of earlier.
Currently, Prowl stood in the shower, fresh from a good night—one where he had woken up on the couch, exactly where he started out and exactly where he wanted to be. Mechanical and precise, he scrubbed at himself, pressing the last of the shampoo from his hair after he completed his minute-measured morning ritual—and stopped.
A minute ticked by, water hissing on and on. Slowly, consternation obvious on his dripping face, he stood perfectly still, then reached down and hesitated yet further, hand eventually retreating to his hip as though slow-burned.
Just because it was a night gone-to-plan didn't mean it didn't have its drawbacks. Lockdown had been gone recently, on strange by-the-fly hours that the warehouse was giving him. Their schedules had been jarred from the convenient spooning they once shared, and this meant they didn't conveniently run into one another, and that, in turn, meant that there was no wordless, impulsive, animalistic, regrettable and utterly convenient sex.
When stranded on his own, sexually aroused and morbidly curious was never a good combination for an ex-Catholic who had forty-five minutes to get to work, transit included.
But it was safer, somehow, that he only had ten minutes to do this (seventeen if he skipped breakfast but that was non-negotiable) because nothing truly awful could happen in fifteen minutes, or so he told himself while glaring at the innocent soap dish, squeaky-clean hair matted to his head. Somehow, he made up his mind. Feeling horrifically awkward doing it in another person's shower--or perhaps just projecting the nauseating, alienating awkwardness of doing this in his own skin, with his own fingers--Prowl gripped himself and began stroking, gut tightening as he hardened too quickly.
Water coursed down his heated chest, catching his shaft and splashing on his fist. He forced himself to think of nothing—no one—in particular, just the sensation. When the good feeling eclipsed most of his original discomfiture, he grimaced, then quested around his hip with his free hand and carefully trailed a single finger down towards his--
He pumped hurriedly to mask the guilty surge of nausea at the simple penetration; to beat it down with the same thoughtless pleasure and the animal urgency that made it acceptable for Lockdown to dip his fingers in to the knuckles and push and make him bite his lip and, most importantly, let his mind go blank for wild want of satisfaction. Skin flushing pink, Prowl tried to enter that confounding hedonistic mindset by willpower alone, even as minutes ticked by, bringing the DPD closer and closer and sapping his erection.
He was so wrapped up in what he shouldn't be doing and how long it was taking that he didn't hear the door open, or close.
"Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"
Prowl jerked at the voice and covered himself, heart thudding painfully. He hardly needed the fearful backwards glance to tell him who it was: shock turned into burning embarrassment, then indignation as he turned away from the thick white figure leaning lazily against the door, arms crossed.
His stomach turned as Lockdown chuckled, cementing the filthy, ingrained feeling he tried to side-step from the first. Getting caught masturbating never changed from just that—getting caught, except it didn't even matter if anyone walked in. He would never be able to manage the act without feeling sick and the other man's stupid, patronizing grin did not help. He grit his teeth and pushed his heavy black hair from his pink face.
"Get out."
Prowl shifted against the wall as though it could cover him, wilting from the other man. One arm was across his chest, the other shielding himself even as he knew Lockdown was staring at the smooth planes of his back: his shoulders, hips, his... behind.
"You're fuckin' hopeless."
"I said get out," Prowl snapped, glaring evilly at the wall through the water dripping over his nose. He waited, face burning up. His heart pulsed hard when he heard the sound of clothing being shuffled about above the spray of the shower and then the door to the shower opened behind him, letting in a horrible draft of cool air that struck him to his bones.
"No--no!"
"Sorry, kid. Your shower ran late. S'my turn and I got a schedule to keep," Lockdown said with the utmost of cheek, grinning broadly as he got in, steamy air cleaving to his white body.
Evil intentions non-withstanding, Prowl felt twice as exposed with that naked, well-lit, vertical body near him: they were standing up, like people, which meant they were to be held to the same standards as people instead of the horizontal animals they were while writhing and roaring against each other. Instead of bolting like he should have, Prowl only pressed himself more tightly to the wall, panicked breaths fogging the tile. Lockdown leaned against the selfsame wall, shattering his bubble of wishful thinking, and Prowl is repeated his order to get out while determinedly not looking at the other man.
"Didn't mean to interrupt you," Lockdown purred.
"No, no! You—you liar, you are a liar! That's exactly what you—" Prowl burst out, beyond vexed and mostly hysterical by that point, but it made no difference saying it aloud. Lockdown grinned on, shameless and unshakable, and reached out to run a callused hand down his shivering young back. The ruffian leaned forward and then kissed his neck, digging his fingers gently into the officer's tan behind.
Prowl still had to condition his hair, but that was too much, even if the concept of ‘minutes' and his crystalline schedule had long evaporated from his bruised brain. Turning, he practically lunged for the shower door with an anguished noise, but Lockdown caught him and pushed him up against the wall.
He hit with a faint slap of wet skin against tile and the dragster's thick arm looped behind his back and restrained his other hand; Lockdown nuzzled his neck and held him there until he stopped struggling and shouting, free hand slipping down Prowl's dripping, heaving chest to fasten on his taut erection. Prowl cried out in a mixture of surprise and chagrin, bucking his hips nonetheless.
Lockdown's mouth pressed over his own, tasting of fresh water and toothpaste and maleness, toughness of his unshaven skin making Prowl's neck prickle lusciously. A deep kiss stilled him, but Prowl couldn't help moaning into the swirling white air as Lockdown's fist tightened and loosened, pumping languidly and toying with the flushed tip of his erection. When it became clear he wasn't capable of escape, Lockdown let him go and Prowl wrapped his skinny arms around the older man's thick neck, clutching for more of the other's skin and heft.
He fell so quickly it was embarrassing, descent into the deadliest sin becoming super-sonic when the man added tough, talented fingers to his assault. He lifted Prowl's leg onto his hip and pressed two wide digits into his tight entrance, making the younger man tense up and clutch for support as pleasure--mostly damnably well-trained anticipation, courtesy of the man manipulating him--jolted up his shuddering body.
Prowl pressed against the intrusion, a piteous noise escaping his open mouth. The steam was so thick it seemed hard to breathe, sweat dripping alongside water, over their twining tongues as one deep kiss bled into another; or maybe that was the pleasure bottled in his chest as Lockdown toyed with him, pumping and fingering him to the brink, then coasting off when the officer's body tightened up, skin flushing madly.
"Please. Please," Prowl whispered, brought to verbalizing his want only through his aching legs and sore dick, craving release so badly he chanted it again when Lockdown only dragged a knuckle up his twitching shaft. He buried his face in Lockdown's muscled neck, keening.
"You like that?"
Prowl bit his lip, which only made the next echoing moan all the more wanton as he threw back his head, panting: somewhere, somehow, he could see himself as he was and that part of him wanted to die, quickly but painfully. It wanted to punish him for squirming and whining under this mammoth, grinning man, whose marble-pink erection caught the water-flow and shone with more than drizzle, angled against Prowl's darker thigh.
"You want what? You told me t'get out. I don't wanna force anything on you, kid..." Lockdown said in a mock-conscientious voice. It came out as little more than an amused croak with Prowl so close to him, hands dug into his neck and shoulder. His black hair was slicked to his long elegant face, which was currently twisted up in all manner of ecstatic expressions.
Lockdown could have eaten his moans out of the air, they were so thick with steam. The kid's sprightly, slippery body twitched with every flick of his wrist—either wrist. Lockdown's cock twitched as he buried his fingers up to the knuckles in the kid, provoking a shuddering whimper and more pleas in his ear.
"C'mon, kid, whaddya want?" he pushed while Prowl, even dying for satisfaction, thrashed against the idea of it, embarrassment and lust alike coloring his cheeks. He strained away and Lockdown's tongue slid predatorily along his open mouth; Prowl took him in, tangling with him desperately. He was unable to hide the vexed noise as Lockdown withdrew again, warm mouth teasing the officer's ear.
"Say it. Say it for me, darlin'."
Prowl grit his teeth and, skin burning off his body, cock pulsing viciously in Lockdown's tight hand, brain unraveling to reach the pleasure being withheld, he burst out,
"P-please have sex with me!"
Lockdown stopped cold, hands and mouth alike, then erupted in laughter, the roaring noise doubling in the close, steamy quarters.
He cut off Prowl's mortified, hurt noise to hoist the skinny boy up onto his hips, pinning him to the wall. Prowl's shaking legs pretzled around his waist, then his toes curled with a sharp cry as Lockdown entered him: he turned his face into the spray as the older man sucked on his dripping neck, forcing his hard length as deep as he could. Prowl moaned weakly, gut tightening as they came at last to a jerking rhythm. Lockdown grunted as his marble shaft pushed into the younger man, muscled arms shaking in time as he clutched Prowl close.
Prowl felt weightlessness as he finally came, arching against Lockdown's stomach and smacking his head on the shower tiles, pleasure ripping through his sore cradled body. Underneath him and inside him, Lockdown came similarly (with a raspy gasp and a snarl, a jerk of his hips) but managed to not fall to his knees. He staggered and nearly smothered Prowl against the wall, panting and groaning blindly into the cop's firm fluttering chest.
When the last riotous shudders had left his white body, he lowered himself to his knees and lay Prowl, shaking, on the floor: the shower water, long cool, drizzled over their reddened skin, sliding silvery down jaws and dripping off of chins and bottom lips. After a minute, Lockdown slid onto Prowl's limp body, chuckling and kissing the mingled sweat and water from the young man's cooling neck like a burly lion rutting over his drowsing mate.
Once he recovered enough, Prowl groaned and pushed him away, rolling into the cold spray and clearing his tangled hair from his eyes—already, from the look of his caged body-language, getting surly and defensive after such a great roll. He met Lockdown's amused reddish eyes and felt the blow even before the other man spoke.
"Please, uh... please have sex with me?"
Prowl blushed madly, cursing his stunted brain-cells. He didn't want to talk dirty—hated it—but considering take me, screw me, do it, I want you and so forth, he might as well have inquired as to if the other could ‘kindly copulate with him'. Prowl pushed himself up from the shower floor, unmindful of his nudity for the moment as he was consumed with pouting his mouth off. He exited and snatched a towel off of the rack, practically slapping himself dry in the claustrophobic little bathroom as Lockdown watched easily, still horribly nude.
"S'a good line. Gonna hafta use it," the older man finished after a moment, stepping under the spray with soap in hand.
"Shut up," Prowl snapped furiously, stomping out with a red face and his police uniform under his arm, now treated to a thirty-minute steaming the officer hadn't anticipated in the slightest.
There was a drawback to running on such a tight schedule, after all, and it was that one slip in routine—especially a slip in the shower—meant certain doom. With traffic, Prowl was forty-five minutes late to work that day and everyone noticed, which only worsened the furious blush as he sprinted to his workspace. He was looking so on-edge, shining teeth and red face, that even Sentinel didn't dare approach him with his ‘revised' work files.
The Prime knew the look of a deranged man, and one currently resided in cubicle D3, violently sharpening the remnants of the second pencil he'd snapped in half that morning.
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Odd Couple