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
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: Kinda porn-empty and sloppily written, but still a lesson that needed to be learned. I'm doing the smut stuff a little bit prematurely to the timeline, I feel, but still, you know where their relationship is going :] Oh Prowl, the master of mixed signals...
Warnings: none.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Trust
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was the scene of at least twenty nights thus far: ten o'clock, Lockdown tearing at his housemate's constant clothes, pushing him onto the bed as though forgetting that stumbling backwards with a shirt over one's head and staying upright was a rather daunting combination. Prowl finally shucked off the last of his heavily starched layers, part of his logical mind still back with the thing that started this. It had involved a light-bulb... but how?
It didn't matter in the slightest: Lockdown tasted like salt and sex and his stomach clenched in the most amazing way whenever the older man dug his fingers into his hips and sucked at his ear, so Prowl reasoned that cognition would be best saved for after the mental reboot orgasm always offered.
They fell to rolling in the sheets, a brief prelude before Lockdown reached over and made the customary blind grope into the bedside drawer to retrieve lubricant and a condom or two. Three if it was a rainy day—Prowl liked rainy days, and laying in bed rutting was only a step below laying in bed and reading, and it was rare to get within fifteen steps of that sanctified activity for the little bookworm. This time, however, the ritual came to a screeching halt as Lockdown's big hand banged into the side of the drawer for the third time.
"Where the fuck are the rubbers?"
He surfaced from some unmentionable maneuver he was executing on the officer's nipples to try to actually look for the tin in some dark corner of the comparatively small drawer, but, of all wonders, Prowl pulled him back, skinny arms twining around his neck, followed by a deep kiss. He murmured something incoherent and discouraging against the other's mouth when Lockdown tried to separate from him again, but the older man put his foot down with surprising force.
"Aw, hell no—"
Even as Prowl puffed his disappointment, Lockdown forcefully pulled away—it was obvious it took effort, but not near as much effort as it would have taken Prowl to do the same—and went to his knees next to the bedside table, muttering something about what was not going to happen: namely, Prowl waking him up with a bitch-fit about how he, Lockdown, should stopped them before they did it bareback and how unsafe it was. Prowl had chewed him out for days after the shower ‘debacle' (which was a synonym for ‘fucking great roll', Lockdown tactfully figured) and it was safe to assume that the older man would pay the price for any slips in Prowl's judgment, if just in withheld sex. He dug around, contents of the drawer banging and crinkling with his irritation at how a goddamned tin can of condoms had just disappeared, causing a strange anxiety to rise in the other man as he turned away in the bed, unable to watch.
After a mere minute of searching, Prowl put his hand to his head and muttered into his palm.
"It's under the bed."
Lockdown turned to glare at him in confusion, mouth already open.
"Now why—"
Against all stereotypes (and perhaps hope), Lockdown was an intelligent man. If he wasn't surprisingly cunning, he at least possessed a brand of common sense that could burn the hair off of dramatist's arms and shape honesty into the quick-cutting blade it was. Most of all, it meant he could see through petty little plots devised by neurotic young men who wanted a standard to change without actually changing it themselves.
His glare drifted. By the time he'd worked through all the reasoning behind Prowl sneaking in and stuffing the tin under the bed (nothing but a stomach-shrinking second for the other man still knotted in the sheets), his eyes had settled on the edge of the container, glinting dully in the yellow-orange lamplight.
"So does this have more t'do with you not bein' able to mention sex, or the fact you don't wanna say you trust me?"
It was a mixture of both, surely, but the way Prowl's fingers tightened in the sheets as he hid his face between his propped-up knees told the older man it was far more of the latter. The step should have been, if not a maniacally gleeful, then a pleasant one for Lockdown in particular, but Lockdown only closed the drawer and let out a flat half-grunt. When he spoke, the annoyance and dull disappointment in the older man's voice cut Prowl to the quick in a way he had never felt before.
"I go on a lotta assumptions, kid, but there's some shit that has to be said aloud. Can't read your mind."
The slow creak as he got up and walked to his side of the bed—the one on the far side of the room, suddenly the farthest side of the room—said that he was an honest man, and an honest man didn't deserve tricks. He got in and bundled up without a word, leaving Prowl with his stomach tied in knots, knots that only tightened with a ugly creak when he looked at the other man's white back, thick and impassable and depressingly final.
He knew Lockdown wasn't... contagious, if not habit-wise then virally. He simply wouldn't have time to be out having relations with other partners, and nor did he seem the type. Nothing had happened after the shower, and yet they had slipped back into the habit of using protection at the very next opportunity, which set up some kind of mistrustful standard that Prowl became more and more paranoid about breaking in a quiet, completely inconspicuous and implicit manner that didn't actually require him to say anything, or admit that he somewhat cared about his partner's pleasure, or that he was curious about the more intimate contact it would enable, or that he didn't absolutely dislike sex--or admit that it was happening at all, really.
How could he ignore something's existence even as it was such a controversial and guilty part of his life, he had no idea, but he assumed that Lockdown would just go with it and forgo condoms at the slightest of urgings, then they could set a new standard just as accidentally as the first without an embarrassing and betraying word spoken. He didn't know what was more mortifying: that he wasn't willing to make the implicit statement of trust in any way shape or form, even though he did trust Lockdown, or that he hadn't actually had enough trust in Lockdown's decency and regard to anticipate his stubborn refusal to be intimate until he knew Prowl wouldn't regret it.
He had never sought forgiveness before (at least not from anything but empty church pews) but it was that trembling, insufferable feeling of withheld affection or respect or simple common regard, new as it was nerve-wracking, that brought him to Lockdown's back in the cold room after only five minutes of being given the silent treatment. It also fueled the sudden, fearful wetting of his lips and the shy hand on the other's flank.
"I apologize," Prowl whispered with difficulty, feeling an apology for what it was for the first time in years: every time before then, it was perfunctory or spiteful. It rattled in him like an old coin and came to a stop, sitting in his stomach. Lockdown did not throw him off, nor did he move to accept him. His weight lay motionless, unmovable perhaps as his affections. Prowl took a deep breath, one that disrupted the oily explosive soup of his innards and made his throat clench fitfully.
"It is... difficult for me to even... think about such things, let alone say them. Nonetheless, I should have told you. Instead of..."
Prowl trailed off, looking for words to outline his small, yet sticky and treacherously personal offense. He was saved, with a considering glare and an impatience for moral dilemmas, by the other man's mouth on his a moment later, as gentle and proper an acceptance gesture as he was going to receive. Regardless, his heart puffed up and started beating again and his gut sprang free from its contortionists display.
"You're lucky your Buddha gave you such a fine ass," he grumbled when they parted, squeezing Prowl's aforementioned asset and using the pull to crunch him closer, putting them nose-to-nose in the dark. "Otherwise I'd still be pissed."
"And what are you now?" Prowl asked, half snarky and half honestly concerned—Lockdown had never quite been upset before, nor did Prowl have any idea of his ability or penchant for holding grudges.
"Ready and willin', provided you get on with it and quit talkin'."
Prowl yelped when his behind was smacked, and Lockdown was unable to resist a rough laugh, which seemed to dissolve the last of the tension lurking in the dark room and under the bed where the tin still hid, heavy and unnecessary. An elation Prowl had never before claimed—that of honest earthly forgiveness—made him brave enough to straddle Lockdown's white hips and lean down to kiss him, feeling more than hearing the reawakened hunger in the other's growl. The older man grabbed the obnoxious ex-Catholic and rolled over, almost purring when Prowl responded immediately, hugging his warm, monstrous body close and reaching for more with his slightly smiling lips.
That, apparently, was enough ‘speaking aloud' for the night: the time for assumptions was at hand.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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