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
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Sometimes the greatest moments come out of the strangest and most ordinary of happenstances. This was supposed to be a wham-bam-thank-you-sir moment, but they made it something different.
Oh, and PS: Your reactions to the possible New Years threesome thing was kinda hilarious. I know that isn't unexplored ground, thanks to Partners, but I must say that the actual events, as explained by Torque, would be something like "YOU DID WHAT RIGHT NEXT TO ME WHILE I WAS SLEEPING?! Oh my god, I need a bath. RIGHT NOW." They still had their panties on, after all! ... And Lockdown and Prowl are simply too gay for that. Faaaaar too gay.
Warnings: anal, fluff
-.-.-.-.-.-
Something Out of Nothing
-.-.-.-.-.-
If there was anything to beware of in Prowl's new life, casual sexual assault aside, it was that Lockdown's lack of dignity was infectious.
Prowl, the most structured, decorous, and morally sound person anyone knew, was feeling its effects in the most subversive of ways. He would never wander around in the nude like his beastly housemate, true, but time passed and found the young officer donning significantly less clothing, first in formality then in plain mass.
His station uniform was a must while on-duty, but he no longer wore the over-starched costume until bed, content instead in button-downs and slacks that hid as much of his slender body as possible. Next, the gym clothes and his gi started creeping in like a virus, then came slacks and a poloshirt, which devolved into (his one pair of) jeans and a t-shirt.
The last and final blow was pajama pants and a t-shirt. A ratty t-shirt, no less.
One very strange Saturday morning would even find the young man padding about in only pajama pants, a dark nondescript blue that brought out his olive hips above the slack drawstrings. The second Lockdown eyed his aforementioned assets appreciatively from the couch, however, up went the blood-flow and on went a shirt, complete with an indignant look and a huffy readjustment, as though lamenting how the other man would dare look at what was in front of him.
No, though his attention to detail may have slipped, Prowl would in no way be reduced to nudity. He knew there could be no further danger than walking around in nothing but skin near such a lascivious monster... but apparently there were exceptions.
One Saturday morning, Prowl ran out of shirts. This was a dilemma: he was to do laundry that day, but there was still the morning to cope with. It was a surprise for the older man when his skinny housemate padded out in his oversized t-shirt (with one shoulder peeking out through the stretched neckhole), which hung around his lanky frame like a worn red tent.
It had taken a good ten minutes of deliberation on Prowl's part. He had dug around in some old-looking drawers, sniffed it cautiously, then slipped it over his head, then taken it off again, then put it on again. All of his fears—the eternal scene from the romance flicks when the dainty girl wandered out from the bedroom with the man's dress-shirt on looped aggravatingly in his head—were confirmed when Lockdown put his magazine down and whistled appreciatively.
"Lookin' trim there, slick."
"If you want it back, just say so," Prowl said, hiding his flustered tone in the fridge, which always transformed any noise into a dull, buzzing drone.
"You can keep it." He grinned like a hyena when Prowl resurfaced from the fridge with his precious soy-milk in hand, already frowning obstinately. "Get over here."
Somewhere, Lockdown was mildly surprised that it only took a twitch of his fingers to get Prowl to walk over to him after putting down his fake milk—then again, they had each other trained in the most functional of ways. Prowl learned early that it was best to indulge him and get whatever-it-was over with, or else Lockdown would simply make it happen himself, usually with a ruthless slaughtering of the younger's dignity.
"What," Prowl growled, utter lack of amusement dripping from his voice and closed-fisted posture as Lockdown only looked him up and down, expression almost curious.
"Just a little inspection, don't get'cher ponytail in a knot."
The younger man stood and let himself be prodded for a minute, practically drowning in the ridiculousness of it all; when Lockdown reached out and pulled him onto his lap side-saddle without an ounce of warning, Prowl was well-adjusted enough to settle for a deeper scowl.
"Mornin," the huge man chuckled, nosing Prowl's ear.
"Hmf."
Prowl was still warm with sleep, or just warm with being teased. It was a pleasant kind of rumpled, soft and pliant and casual and rare as hell, even if the younger man was still pouting and looking adamantly away. Lockdown reached up and ran a firm hand through his glossy hair, tugging just hard enough at the nape of his neck to get his pretty eyelids to flutter-- but not enough to win him over. Just a morning pet.
Next, he took a fistful of fabric on either side, smirking at how many yards there were to spare, then searched for the youth's lean, warm chest in the folds. It had begun as a brief bit of bothering, but Lockdown was kissing his neck before too long, somehow riled by having to search for the other man's faintly cedar scent and young body underneath all of that fabric. He nipped at the warm crest of his housemate's exposed shoulder and finally slipped a hand under and cupped Prowl's lean back.
Any collected, dignified youth would have walked off in a huff, but, sadly, the illogical arousal was as contagious as the rogue's lack of decorum.
Prowl's breathing turned irregular as Lockdown touches became more insistent. His grip tightened on his massive white shoulders with particularly husky breath when one of those hands, the other one fully focused on teasing a hard-won nipple through the soft fabric, found the stiffening length of his erection in his cotton pants. Smiling against his flushed neck, Lockdown pushed wordlessly at the other man's legs and Prowl hastily shifted, rearranging himself until he was straddling his housemate. His heart-rate swelled pleasantly when he nosed at Lockdown until the older man nipped his lips, parting them with a deep kiss.
Prowl exhaled shakily into Lockdown's hot mouth when he drew away, then pressed as close as he could with a slick kiss of his own, intent on experiencing more of the huge man's taste and the teasing pressure on his groin. He made a noise when Lockdown pushed him away slightly, but it was only to pull back the waistband of his pants and drag his thick fingers down and up his cum-slick erection with torturous slowness. Prowl bit his lip, hunching over into the intense caress and panting into the other man's ear.
But even if pure physical sensation seemed just as consuming as it had been the first time Lockdown had ever touched him, he was not so easily bewildered anymore. The only way to distract himself from the unsatisfying torture was to grope for Lockdown's own shaft, stiff and still trapped in his pants.
They teased each other ragged for as long as they could, arching and groaning into each other when their tongues weren't tangled in hungry kisses. Each turned insufficient touch and irregular pace into some sort of twisted competition, fueled by their competitive natures—and the fact neither truly desired the sudden, beautifully random moment to be over. Delaying that final spasm let them come closer, into a sort of primal, addicting, personal exchange that neither could bring themselves to end, much less by something as shallow as a lone spatter of fluid.
At last, channeling a single-minded press towards deeper pleasure, Prowl suddenly struggled off of Lockdown's lap and to his feet, shucking his pants. To resume his place on the other's thighs was heavenly, skin thrilling against the rough fabric of the sleeping pants, and it only intensified when Lockdown, grinning, teased his thick fingers over Prowl's lips before pushing in. Prowl sucked instinctively on the hard, complex lengths—a brief, dominant push towards the back of his throat only made his eyelids flutter, heat rushing to the top of his skin--until the salty intrusion was replaced with another deep kiss. Lockdown spread the young man's legs over his thighs and pumped the wet fingers in and out of him, going deeper each time and making Prowl mewl into his mouth.
"More—"
It was a mindless, perfect thing to moan into someone's sweat-sticky neck as they simply took care of you, but Prowl stiffened the next minute, jarred by how close he actually was. He reached down to grab Lockdown at the wrist with a whimper, digging his fingers in to halt the escalating push of the other's hand.
"Wait. Stop. Stop, stop," he pleaded, panting.
Obeying, and not a little bit amused by Prowl's violent indecisiveness, Lockdown pulled him from the crook of his neck, only to make him nearly orgasm with a rough, invasive kiss, all the more intense for Lockdown's hunger vibrating on the other side of it. Prowl pulled back from it first, expression almost tortured; when he opened his eyes, Lockdown was looking at him lazily, only the tight grip on his skinny waist belying the aching state of the erection standing heavy and pink against his white belly.
"What do you want, kid?"
"Everything," Prowl said without thinking. But it was true. He didn't want them to come separately; he wanted one conjoined act. The tremble—the hunger for a connection, for consumption--in his chest demanded it. He reached greedily for the other's painfully hard cock, licking Lockdown's bottom lip and plying him with a kiss.
"Here?"
"Here, now," Prowl muttered, unable to stop at one kiss. Lockdown's lips were slick and tasted of everything good and warm. "Please."
"Bed's right over—"
"Here."
It was a cross between a hiss and a moan, as wanton as Lockdown had ever heard, but he still resisted this unfamilair minx and his whims, tone almost confused.
"Ain't any lu—"
Prowl shut him up by way of his mouth, silencing him with lips, tongue, and an almost painfully sharp grip on his pink-white shaft, followed by downright abusive pumping. It translated to ‘I don't care, ravish me!' and Prowl growled in frustration when Lockdown pulled away, but it was not to offer another excuse. Instead, the older man petted his stomach and took one last look at him, pink cheeks and spread legs and desperate expression, and grinned.
"Might hurt," he growled, reddish eyes alight.
It did hurt, but it wasn't near enough to douse Prowl's desire. The warm fluid welling at the tip of his lover's shaft was enough to ease his entrance, even if Prowl hissed and shuddered and had to wait a moment or two to take his girth in. They went slowly by necessity, Lockdown suffering more from it than his lover. He kept his hands away, on the couch, so he wouldn't be tempted to ‘help' as Prowl carefully pushed down, feeling Lockdown fill him in slow, torturous pushes--he had never felt every inch of the man so intensely before--until he could go deep enough that he gasped in pleasure.
For a moment, it was enough to just shake in the other man's arms, Lockdown blindly kissing his throat and crushing him close.
"God, kid," he growled with relish, not the least bit opposed to pain, particularly when it was below the waist. He inhaled deeply, smelling sweat and trust, hands tangling in Prowl's loose black hair. "Jesus."
Prowl was about to mention something about saying the lord's name in vain twice (or whisper something faintly like it, hardly able to open his eyes for the unbearable tension), but Lockdown took his hips and began to thrust, gradually tightening the rhythm enough to make skin slap. Convulsions of pleasure rode Prowl's scalding skin. He threw his head back as Lockdown snarled and groaned, the older man's entire throbbing consciousness drawn into the tight friction around his cock (he pulled and thrusted convulsively, unable to stop the rapid fire of his hips) as Prowl rocked up and down, elegant face shining with sweat.
Suddenly struck by the beauty on his lap, Lockdown reached up and grabbed his slick face, thumb pressing at his open mouth. Prowl leaned into the touch with a tortured expression, black hair sticking to his cheeks as he moaned thickly. Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around the older man's neck and pressed as close as possible--so close he could feel their hot breath mix, making him twice as dizzy as before.
Both had their eyes closed at one time or another, but when Lockdown opened his, Prowl's face was inches from his own, and the burning connection he felt looking into those waiting almond eyes almost stopped his orgasm dead in its tracks—then it hit him two-fold, with Prowl's nose against this own. He clutched the young man close, straining against his olive thighs and spilling into his body with an overwhelmed groan. Prowl rode him for three more whimpering seconds before he came, pressing against Lockdown's beastly face and sagging when the heat finally emptied.
He lay with his cheek on Lockdown's shoulder until he stopped panting, only making a tiny noise as the man, still warm and thick inside of him, shifted downwards onto the couch, giving Prowl room to actually lay atop him as they cooled down. His eyes fluttered shut when Lockdown began to pet him, one hand moving to comb through his long hair while the other moved in simple, absent circles on his back.
Atop Lockdown's chest which housed his slowing heart, filled and touched and held and unspeakably safe, Prowl never wanted to move. If just for a second, he didn't question the possibility of finding someone he was meant to be with forever. He didn't question happiness, nor grace, nor love, but stopped questioning altogether and simply was.
He could have fallen asleep there, as heavy as his satisfaction and exhaustion was, but his hazy state dissolved rather quickly when Lockdown looked up at him very particularly, then down at his white chest, which had been left with a few... remnants of their tryst. He tugged on the sleeve of the ratty old t-shirt, arching an ink-black brow. Finally getting it, Prowl sighed as he shucked off the other's shirt and handed it over: Lockdown used it to clean himself up, balling it up and then, of all horrors, offering it back to his lover. Prowl made a disgusted noise and Lockdown laughed his ass off. Suitably affronted, the younger man slid away and got off his housemate's lap (ow--), but before he could get to his feet, Lockdown caught him by the neck.
"I got dozens more old shirts where that came from," he said huskily into his ear. "I'll lower yer rent ten bucks if you wear ‘em on Saturdays."
"You could have warned me that you...liked this."
He meant the t-shirt, as strange a sex-item as it was, even if his hands were already creeping self-consciously across his exposed chest and nether regions. He was downright embarrassed at his behavior and aching to put his pants back on, if just for protection. Already his actions were coming back to bite him in the butt—figuratively, yes, but he already hurt down there. It was going to be a while before their next escapade.
"Darlin', I didn't know ‘till I saw one on you." Lockdown groaned, stretching and regarding his personal ninjacop with a lazy fondness. "You're makin' new fetishes for me faster'n I can get off on ‘em. Y'gotta slow down or else I'll just wanna screw you all the time."
"And I cannot imagine how severely that would alter our relationship," Prowl said dryly, making Lockdown laugh and chuck the soiled shirt at him, which he ducked, ninja-style, with a horribly offended noise before stomping off to the shower.
He wasn't too offended, however, because dinner still came at seven and it was roast chicken, which earned him a fierce curse of joy and his very first kiss on the cheek.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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