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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Yay, they're getting to know each other! Or at least predict each other's horribly signature paranoias/lascivious kinks/what-have-you. God, Prowl's so adorably prudish.
This happens... sometime. A little later, honestly, but I was impatient :D
Warnings: Oral, and yet more Severe Pouting
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Paying the Piper
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Prowl was fast adjusting to his new environment, but the most intense of adaptations took the longest to accomplish. The bright—or harrowing—side of living with such a unrepentant deviant was his willingness to perform an obscene variety of sexual acts, both at any time and in any place. For someone who was comfortable with their sexuality—or had separated ‘an enjoyable and safe activity between two consenting adults' from ‘yet another failing of willpower and common decency with an added dash of screaming self-hatred'--it might have been something short of heaven, but for Prowl it was a rising battle with the other's overwhelming physicality.
Lockdown was constantly pushing his limits, grinning all the while as if to see how high he would jump. Prowl felt like half friend and half daily entertainment. By the half-month mark, the lawless man had succeeded in administering at least a dozen blowjobs to his conservative housemate. Not that it was a request-based service, mind.
Rather, regardless of his perpetual protests, the young man had been seized and muscled down and subjected to such pleasures in varying areas of the house: it began as tamely as Lockdown getting on his knees and pressing him back into the back of the couch until he relented and gasped softly a few minutes later... and culminated with the unforgivably acrobatic act of hiking the young officer up on the kitchen counter and prying his legs apart, leaving him to arch until his head banged the narrow dirty cupboards, quivering hands gripping the edge of the counter. In these cases, he could do nothing more than buck his hips, cry out and glare at the shadowed ceiling as Lockdown utterly mastered him without mercy, then, after his abused pants were back around his hips, tried to kiss him if just to see Prowl duck into the nearest room with an incoherent, flustered and revolted yowl.
Regardless of the slightly nonconsensual nature of it all, moreover, the universal tit-for-tat abacus had recorded the transactions. His grace period was over. It was time to pay up.
Such an inherent understanding found Prowl on the infamous leather couch, legs crossing and uncrossing with a good amount of anxiety and—god forbid it—gut-wrenching aversion. Some sort of history special was on TV, ignored by both. The vice was closing and Lockdown's expectant looks drove him mad; the worst part was, he was such a fair creature that even he admitted the injustice of the numbers and was too good to sincerely argue against it. He had... a duty.
It was so much better—or worse—if he looked at it as a duty.
The fifth time he re-crossed his legs and exhaled fussily, Lockdown rolled his eyes, dragged him over to his lap and ordered him to quit his preening. A few kisses calmed the young thing down. The older man's mouth twisting on his, toying with his shy tongue, usually got him over the hurdle and into the rhythm of easy, wordless physicality where he didn't have knot his conservative brain to concoct excuses anymore. Lockdown's salty dominance thoroughly trumped every developing whine or protest, whitewashing his sense of decorum to the point where he could simply accept flesh beneath his fingers, hot or no.
Then Lockdown broke the spell as he muttered a cockeyed endearment against the other's wet lips and, hand set firmly around his ponytail, guided his head down.
Veins abruptly switching from hot to cold, Prowl stopped at the rough front of the other's jeans, outline of Lockdown's thick erection radiating heat. Just for a moment, he tried to slide his lips above the waist of the jeans, to creep his way back up and out of range and out of their unspoken agreement, but the man's huge hand remained on the back of his head. Lockdown kept him there until Prowl took his slightly-shaking hands to the fastenings of the man's pants, pink lip pinched between his teeth.
Gazing down the sculpted, if somewhat mutilated span of his bleach-white chest, Lockdown was enjoying the sight. Rather, of course he would. An upwards glance that promised to be pleading was murdered prematurely by Lockdown's smarmy, ruthless grin: the cleared space on Prowl's face filled promptly with a mortified blush. When he unzipped the zipper, Lockdown's head lolled back from relief—more the pity for him, missing the unsure expression on Prowl's face when the young man freed his blood-hot cock and held it for a steadying moment before touching the tip carefully to his mouth, tongue peeking out to slither along the head experimentally.
"C'mon, darlin'," he purred, shoving his jeans down and teasing his taut erection against Prowl's lips with a tilt of his hips.
Exhaling, Prowl closed his eyes and slid his mouth around it, throat closing as he realized how much bigger the other man was in his mouth opposed to his hand. The girth stretched his jaw, tasting of skin and salt; Lockdown's hand closed down on the back of his head as he groaned huskily, pulse jumping. The younger man closed his eyes and pushed down, taking more into his throat as Lockdown nudged lightly at the back of his head, urging him into a strong rhythm. Within minutes Prowl's jaw ached; he sucked and slid his tongue along the swollen length when he could, teeth scraping at him every so often and eliciting a moan from Lockdown.
He apparently hadn't bothered to learn anything from Lockdown's favors: he didn't know a thing about what he was doing and it showed in the most piteous of ways, but the wet fumble and suck of his prim, small mouth was enough to send Lockdown to compulsively stroking his black hair, digging in every so often with whispered curses. He dearly wanted to grab the kid's head and thrust into his tight throat, true, but it was its own delicious brand of torture to just lay out and see if Prowl could do it himself.
In his own way, the prude got into it. He'd been set a task, and the rhythm of impending success was something he could deal with—even if the context of sucking someone off wasn't the most normal and straight of goals.
It took three breaks to finish. Each time, Prowl drew back and pumped the man's spittle-slick marble cock with his hand while he caught his breath, then swallowed him again past his equally shining lips—all with a faint, submissive sound as his mouth was stretched and Lockdown nearly hit the back of his red throat. Finally, Lockdown twitched and tensed with a hazy hiss; his hips jerked, the only signal of his climax besides a deep, satisfied groan and a sticky flood in the young man's mouth. Bitter fluid suddenly slathering his numb tongue and edging for his throat, Prowl broke from his half-trance. He choked and pushed himself off the other man, one hand catching a string of saliva as he rushed onto his feet and out of the living room and slammed a door somewhere nearby.
It happened so fast that Lockdown was left with the throbbing, yet somewhat edgy satisfaction of getting head, a rush of movement, then an empty lap. He squinted, then turned his head toward a new sound, house fleshing itself back out after the otherworldly white of orgasm. Over to his left. A hissing, rushing noise, punctuated by splashes. In the direction of the bathroom.
...Kid was rinsing his mouth out with water.
Lockdown threw his head back and laughed himself sore, because of course Prowl would.
He was already tucked up and dressed again by the time Prowl fairly skulked back in—he knew Prowl usually wouldn't touch him until his junk was packed up--with the most unhappy scowl he'd ever seen on someone so old. Usually it was reserved for four-year-olds who were forced to eat broccoli or practice piano when it was snowing outside. An odd comparison for someone who had been coaxed to give a blowjob for the first time in their sadly repressed lives, but still, it worked.
"Awww, now I'm hurt," Lockdown simpered, bursting out laughing again when Prowl obviously cut the impulse to cross his arms halfway to the chase and settled for turning his cute little nose up. The dragster angled a knee, shaking his head and eyeing the young man incredulously. "Shit, kid, what were you expecting—syrup?"
Prowl made a vague, growly and equally unhappy noise, muttering and squirming to himself and obviously feeling very displeased with the messy, untasty aspect of sex—as though his former exploits hadn't taught him that sex in general was ridiculous, undignified and utterly worth it. Prowl, as known, had a hatred for anything unexpected or anything that caught him off guard, especially if it was totally expected. More than that, he tended to resent those who introduced the uncomfortable situation to him, so unless Lockdown acted quickly, it would take an act of God to get the kid anywhere near him again. He put out a hand, motioning him over.
"Quit your fussing. Jizz ain't lethal."
Questionable as his negotiation skills were, he soon had a very pouty Prowl settled next to him in the curve between his body and the couch, one of the kid's skinny hands resting on his bare chest. Regardless of his strict attitude, Prowl became unfathomably pliant whenever touch was involved. It was obviously an alien but pleasurable thing: he didn't know enough about it yet to crave it, but was well on his way. Lockdown had a good bet that mom and dad never hugged him--maybe just settled for teaching him restraint in all things. Then again, the people Prowl felt truly comfortable around probably numbered in the ones and twos, and it was a relief to simply lie down with someone who understood him... no matter how asshole-ish or perverted that someone may have been.
"S'okay, kid. We're even."
He pressed something that could have been a kiss to the top of Prowl's head. Prowl made a soft noise and closed his eyes, feeling somewhat emotionally wiped and content to lie still next to the warm man he could never technically embarrass himself in front of, if just because of that man's low standards. Lockdown fiddled with his ponytail, then muttered:
"Yeah. Think I prefer your other end, but thanks anyways."
Looking back, Lockdown solidly deserved Prowl storming out on him. Bad move on his part—jokes weren't the best way to ease prickly ex-Catholics into debauchery, apparently. They were kinda touchy. Admittedly, Lockdown still had a few things to learn about that whole ‘restraint' thing, but he had a good feeling they were just the right people to teach each other what they needed to know.
That was for the future. For the empty-couch'd moment, he had better start scouring up spare change for some sort of bribe: otherwise, he had the sneaking suspicion he wasn't getting dinner for the next week.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Odd Couple