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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
A/N: This one is 150% Enolianslave/Tanya's fault. Really, I didn't even write it, she snuck into my brain in the BROAD DAYLIGHT and dumped it pre-fabricated into my head. And made me work on it in Borders, similarly in broad daylight. I DIDN'T ENJOY IT. AT ALL. NOPE.
This is filthy. And uh. Filthy and fekkin RIDICULOUS. Really, Tanya and I discussed this, and we figured that even PROWL doesn't know what he would fantasize about, so his brain just goes crazy at night and figures it's a success if it gives him a hard-on.
(If anybody bothers to translate the Japanese, prepare for a laugh. No, Prowl doesn't know the language. Mr. Prowl tried to make him take it, and little Prowl took the chance to rebel and make shit grades to piss off daddy.)
Please record the number of face-palms you did while reading this. Please. I want to know. Oh, its so bad yet so twistedly awesome...
Warnings: Oral, anal, rimming, leather fetish, spanking, light BDSM (plus boot fetish?), OOC to the point of face-palming, car sex, bad Japanese, bad plot.
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Penetrating the Defenses
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Despite the weeks of undercover work, the banter was basic; officer Prowl needed very little excuse to duck into the low-slung muscle car after the burly biker, and perhaps even less to dodge the shifter and slip into the man's lap, tossing an errant bit of black hair from his face.
"I always liked riding shotgun."
There were no questions. This was a man ruled by his basest urges, particular and fetishistic as the records of his ordered pornography had shown them to be. With the help of such research, Prowl had long learned to play on target's weaknesses. He had fashioned himself into a tightly-strapped biker morsel for this very occasion: cocky and standoffish towards the rest of the gang, but nothing more than a feisty piece of ass in heels to their white-skinned leader. Accessible but not easy; challenging yet rewarding, and equipped with the most charming neo-nazi leather stud hat Agency funds could buy.
‘Lockdown', so named, had been unable to remove his strangely red eyes from the seat of the slender agent's pants since his arrival. Everything was going according to plan. The information that the Intelligence Agency so dearly required was practically in Prowl's hand. All it required was a little... in-depth negotiation.
Settled atop his target's legs, Prowl reached down and yanked on the recliner: the custom seat jolted back until it was nearly leaning on the backseat, giving him ample room to lean over the big man and smirk into his face. The surprise in Lockdown's beastly face had more to do with the hollow thunk and the sudden plane-rearrangement than any sort of burgeoning protest. Prowl's gloved hands made swift work of the ridiculous buckle that had clanked above Lockdown's massive groin for weeks and too soon for decency's sake the big man was hissing through his teeth, grinning as Prowl backed up until his upturned, leather-clad ass was nearly against the steering wheel. Biting his lip in coquettish anticipation, the undercover agent freed the racer's cock with the zing of a zipper and let out a gasp—one that was much more genuine than the one he'd rehearsed.
The man was big enough to stun, pink and white as a seashell and thrice as hard; Prowl had seen bigger, if rarely, but he knew how to handle Lockdown's size. Laving luxuriously across the wet head, the agent bent and took as much as he could into his mouth, moaning softly. Lockdown's big, callused hand descended to cup his face, thumbing at his pink lips before gripping the back of his head and pushing down without a ghost of gentleness, forcing his thick shaft down into Prowl's throat with a gravelly groan.
"Suck it. Fuck, yes—harder--"
Orders and all, Prowl let the gang leader do as he would; the feel of the cock grating over his tongue at such a rough pace was only secondary to the look of relish on the other man's face as he threw his shaved head back, yanking on Prowl's glossy black hair.
Suddenly, Prowl pushed Lockdown's hand off and drew away, then straddled his target's wide hips. Flushed and wet, the other's erection was caught beneath the crotch of his leather pants; the slick saliva gave him enough glide to grind up Lockdown's thick cock with a buck of his hips. The gang leader snarled tensely when he did it again, and the rub of the material—much less the seam--must have burned like hell, but the expression on his face was anything but a demand to stop.
"You don't seem like a stranger to a little pain," Prowl murmured slyly, punctuating his assumption with another grind.
Smirking, he leaned in closely, enough to grapple with the other's vest-front and feel Lockdown's hot, taxed breath on his cheek. He could imagine the other's heat through the leather and his own erection swelled, worsened by the press of the man all the way to the underside of his ass, making his body whine for the pleasure that length could accomplish elsewhere. Lockdown's only response was to grab the younger man's tingling backside and arch into his spread legs, pressing his face into the Prowl's damp neck and biting down hard enough to make the agent's teeth click shut. The spit was long smeared onto his pants, useless, but a steady-enough rhythm and Prowl wrenched a messy orgasm out of the other man by sheer force of sadism.
After the gravelly growl faded, Prowl sat back, satisfied despite the hardness pinned against the waistband of his own tight pants. Lockdown was somewhat handsome, in a twisted way, sprawled with his own fluids on his tight white belly. As Prowl looked on, the albino's rubbed raw cock softened above leather pants and feral satisfaction hardened his features.
"Nice trick, kid," he rumbled, settling further into the driver's seat without moving to make himself decent.
Their introduction had been short. Even if he left now, this promised to be the longest interaction he'd ever had with the bike-gang leader. Befitting two men who truly didn't know the slightest about each other, Lockdown looked at him with a lazy interest, reaching up and running his hand along the young man's smooth neck, smiling when Prowl leaned into the touch like a lean leather-clad cat. "You know any more—any that go with those pretty eyes?"
Prowl smirked. Yet another reason he was perfect for the job: another fetish fulfilled. Leaning in again, he came close enough to kiss, tiny and barrel chests plastered together, and silkily ran his hands up the other's bare sides, whispering:
"Chuumon shiyou, oishisou. Hidoku shikke ga arimasu. Shio o totte."
"Did you just mouth off to me?" Lockdown asked after a moment, focused on the other's pink mouth so close to his own; he itched to bite the little Jap's lips, suck on his tongue, and the proximity led him to wet his own lips, well-aware of the other's trapped erection against his thigh.
"No. Hazard a guess," the pretty thing dared him, watching him from under elegant folded lids and lattice lashes.
"Rip off my sexy little pants and fuck me silly, you beast?" he offered with a dirty chuckle, more machismo lust than hopeful. He was the leader and he got what he wanted. He was already eyeing this new ‘Prowl' like a trophy and kneading at his perfectly displayed ass, hardening underneath him at the temptation in his grip.
"Surprisingly close." Prowl gave him a small smile, then drew back and reached for the door handle, finishing coolly, "Except you missed the part where that never happens."
The young ‘biker' got up and stepped out of the car and into the well-lit garage, primly retying his hair back into its ponytail. Lockdown cursed and stumbled out a second later, fastening his pants sloppily so that they didn't fall down—though with their PVC cling, it was doubtful they would peel down to reveal so much as an inch of the white fruit of his skin.
Lockdown caught his shoulder; Prowl stopped almost courteously and looked back with an equally cordial smile, then began walking again the second the other man let go. Flustered, the bigger man moved brusquely enough to trap him against the car, practically pushing his face into Prowl's hair through their height-difference. He breathed in, almost tasting the scent that radiated from the small man—a mixture of cedar and musk, something that equaled sex to him at the moment—and licked at Prowl's ear, voice rougher with lust.
"C'mon, baby. I been watchin' you squeak around in those pants for weeks. You're drivin' me crazy."
An animalistic scrape of the man's renewed erection into the tight rear of Prowl's pants only cemented the intensity of the other's desperation. Crude, but somehow invigorating. Lockdown wanted him. Badly. What perversions would hardened biker commit, if given free reign with his aching body? Prowl's skin tingled violently, trapped erection twitching even as his face remained serene as the moon.
"Flattering."
He stood casually for a moment, as though walking off and staying to be ‘fucked silly' were options of equal interest, then turned and primly lifted himself onto the hood of the precious car, spreading his legs with a lusty creak. He tugged at his glossy gloves and beckoned the other man between his knees, who came with only a slight wariness or skepticism—half of it due to the proximity of the little biker's heeled boots to his prize vehicle. Prowl reached up and teased his fingers down the man's savage facial tattoos, following along his jaw then sliding his thumb along Lockdown's strong chin.
"Let's see how good you are with your mouth," he murmured, pushing his thumb up and giving a cheeky smile as Lockdown took it into his mouth without question, nipping eagerly at the tip of his glove before sliding his tongue along the leather seams. "Then we'll... talk."
Lockdown's hands, big but skilled, had the agent's leather tunic unbuttoned and his pants around his thighs in seconds. All the warmth and wet Prowl didn't feel through the gloves descended on him full force as Lockdown bent and, grabbing his hips so much harder than necessary, licked his pulsing erection flat to his stomach, sucking viciously on the head. It was enough to make the other man whimper, something Lockdown obviously liked to hear; when he did it again, Prowl grabbed the big man's shoulders and mewled passionately, knowing by now that half of sex was ego, and the hungry growl he received in return was gold.
He was hooked. Lockdown needed to end the night fucking him as roughly as he could. Prowl needed to end the night being fucked, but that was the beauty of having a poker-face and the most professional ‘disinterested stare' on this side of the river: Lockdown would cave before he did and that was all he needed.
When Prowl was tensing subtly and arching, gloved hands squeaking for purchase on the glossy hood of the car as the pulsing pleasure built in his gut, Lockdown tried to take it a step further. It could have been the flick at the man's own belt or the slip of his hand toward the curve of the officer's bared ass, but Prowl caught it even through the haze of the other's hot mouth working around his erection and countered it by pulling away, taking his very shiny heeled boot and mashing it into the side of Lockdown's face.
He was almost surprised at his own gall, but then, his instincts had never failed him before. The twisted smirk that spread from under his impeccably clean boot said he had made the right call. This was a man who enjoyed a punch or two as a warm-up, and maybe a kick for dessert. When the man teased him—a short push forward—Prowl teased back, twisting his foot the slightest bit and eliciting a mounting growl from the other man—one not so much irritated as a singular expression of his appreciation for the feisty, ridiculously slender biker with the exotic eyes and the fine taste in footwear.
"You enjoy this," Prowl said crisply, as though he were commenting on nothing more interesting than the weatherman's suit.
"I'd enjoy it more if you turned around and spread'em," Lockown said smugly, grabbing the other's ankle and pushing his booted foot to the side; it hit the car with a small boom. Lockdown was so focused on the color of the young man's exposed skin and slender erection that he didn't even fret for his paint-job.
"Ah. That particular act will cost you."
He gave the beastly man a slim, arrogant smile, beginning to zip up his pants as though bored. Lockdown knocked his hand away and pressed close like a starving man smelling a plate of food, one bare hand toying with the soft curve of his ass, fighting not to slip a finger inside and make the little thing make that raw, sex-kitten noise again; the other stroked along his stomach, tantalizingly close to Prowl's exposed erection.
"You can't say you don't want me," Lockdown growled, shifting grip and rubbing at the base of the other's cock, giving himself a brief jerk to stay hard and ready to fuck the little minx into the concrete.
"Want is negotiable and does not require action. Yes, I admit I want you in some small regard." Lockdown was obviously becoming annoyed at the kid's high speech, but became distracted again when the younger man's chin dipped and his eyes flashed enticingly. "I do not, however, need you."
"What the hell kind of thing is that to say?"
"Can I tell you what I do need?" Prowl purred, leaning forward so he was brushing noses with the other man, breath mingling. One finger trailed down the biker's bare white chest. "A few letters and three itty bitty numbers."
He moved on before the other could speak, even as Lockdown's black-rimmed eyes widened immediately, recognizing a request for something that was his pledged profession to guard.
"I'll be yours for a night. Anything you want," Prowl promised softly, gloved hands wandering over his half bare body like he couldn't wait for the other to touch him, letting out a faint whimper as he tipped his head back. "I'll scream your name until I'm hoarse. You can cum on me and I'll beg for more. Just one little sequence... is all it takes to buy me. All of me."
He looked back down, almond eyes lidded. The biker's expression was stricken, but edging towards something else that stank of hot-blooded capitulation; his eyes were trained on Prowl's steady rub at his erection, pinkened length slipping in and out of his black leather fist. He almost felt what it would be like to be buried in the other's tight body, in that same tense rhythm.
"I'll do anything you want."
Prowl slid around and got onto his knees on the car with a cat's grace, creamy ass raised just high enough to grab.
"Please, Lockdown. Please take me. Make me yours. I want to taste you again." He moaned to the opposite wall, feeling the older man fraying viciously behind him as he began stroking himself again with a needy mewl, shuddering. "I want you so badly!"
He gasped when his rhythm was stopped by a hard hand on his wrist
"XJ-939Y."
It took a moment for the code to sink in. The resultant satisfaction was a cold, solid undercurrent that washed away all of the young officer's coquettish charm—but what was left was a man who didn't intend on backing out of his deal.
"I'm all yours," he said, velvety voice echoing strangely in the chilly garage.
"You little bastard," Lockdown growled with an entirely different kind of vicious desperation than the other had expected; to this man, it was no use crying about what he'd just done. He had paid his price, now he was getting his money's worth. "I'll test that."
Leather creaking, Lockdown pushed him flat over the car, big hand slapping his upturned ass three times, so hard Prowl's blood went cold. He bit his lip and muffled a cry as Lockdown hiked him off the ground; his tongue delved between the younger's candy-pink cheeks, making Prowl's gut tighten viciously. He clawed at the hood of the car, managing nothing more than a wordless moan as the slippery attentions proved both too little and too much with the unforgiving metal flush against his aching erection. He arched into it, then banged his fist on the car, letting out a half-scream of frustration, then another yelp as Lockdown dropped him and gave him another tooth-rattling slap to the rear.
"Watch the fuckin' car," he snarled, ripping Prowl's tight pants down to his booted calves. He spread the agent's legs roughly and dug his fingers into the soft young skin. "Agency slut."
The cold metal of the musclecar was ecstasy against Prowl's dripping chest, and the buckles on his leather jacket bit into his chest as Lockdown feasted his eyes on his prize.
"Is this mine?"
The biker's rough hand pressed underneath his scalding body, grabbing his shaft and balls in one hot hand and squeezing. Prowl tensed, shoving his behind into the air as his breath fogged the green and black paintjob beneath him
"Yours," Prowl panted, desperate for more as Lockdown fondled him in soft and rough shifts, ending with a cruel pinch to his cock. "All--all yours."
"What about this?" he demanded, hand moving to the young man's aching entrance; Prowl made no pretense at resisting, pushing into the touch as his erection twitched painfully, wanting nothing more than that swollen cock inside of him, ramming in and out. It would be so hard, so thick. Head swimming, reality blurring, he could nearly come at the thought of it.
"Oh god, please, give it to me."
He cried out as Lockdown yanked him a small ways off the car, then again as the burly biker's rigid cock was forced into him, deep and sudden, setting off a spasm of searing pleasure. Prowl moaned weakly, pressing back, but Lockdown seized his hips and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise, keeping him still. He was to have no control. Prowl bemoaned it for the first few seconds, when the older man slid in and out at a torturous pace and he could do nothing more than whimper and writhe, then set straight to fulfilling his promise when Lockdown let loose with a feral sound, driving into his tight body fast and hard.
"Lockdown—oh god, Lockdown--!"
It lasted a good while, for how violent it was. Prowl let out a scream as the waves of hard pleasure within him broke, orgasming against the car with a passionate shudder. The racer was still thrusting into his tingling ass, but before Lockdown came, he pulled out and forcibly flipped Prowl over onto his back (it was like having his world whipped out from under him, to change from stark black and green to buzzing garage lights, body still throbbing) and jerked at his rigid red cock until he came all over Prowl's bared chest. Prowl moaned at the feeling of the hot liquid hitting his skin; his fingers were sliding through the slippery jizz before Lockdown had even finished, relishing the filthy sensation on his cooling body.
For a moment, the only sound was panting. The young agent looked up through blurry eyes to find Lockdown bent over him, shaved head blocking out the light of one of the fluorescents; he murmured something soft and nonsense-y when the big man leant over to kiss him for the first time, toying with his bottom lip and sucking luxuriously on the slow intrusion. He stretched a little and settled, body already aching pleasantly.
"What now?"
It was an odd question to ask, after betraying his operation for a night of sex that surely wouldn't be worth it in the long run, owing as the gang-leader would be assassinated once he was found out. Prowl frowned and thought about it, battered brain bumping into the sides of his head like a wandering goldfish. He hmmm-ed.
"I think I'll do the dishes."
"Sounds like a plan," Lockdown said like he was hanging up a coat, and pinched his butt affectionately while Prowl rolled over and reached over the car to grab the scrubber before he went to the station.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Prowl woke up with a start, heart pounding.
The room came back to him in bits and pieces: cold air, cold sheets, big warm sleeping man and... carefully, as though fearful he would find a monster, he lifted the sheets with a nauseated expression then tossed them down with a short hiss, face flushing as the dream hit him all at once. Wincing in horror, he looked over at his ‘innocently' sleeping housemate, ants crawling beneath his skin, then bundled himself into the coverlet and quietly padded out to go and sleep on the couch, sick to his stomach and not a little bit disquieted at what his mind was doing in the dark of night, when his conscience wasn't on-duty.
He returned to the bedroom in a little under a minute, however, but only to grab his shower towel and slap Lockdown hard across the chest.
"What the—fuck!"
"This is all your fault."
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Slam.
- 7
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- 9
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Odd Couple