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It Takes Two to Tango	By : Jookami Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 1536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I make no money writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-It Takes Two to Tango
- 2-Three's a Crowd
- 1
- 2
Author's Note This started out as an attempt for Prowl to get Sunstreaker back for part two of Twin Ties. Seducing Sunny then suddenly turned into a power play between the two.

Sunstreaker expected an empty apartment when he came home. Sideswipe was off planet taking care of some business, and Prowl hadn’t visited the apartment for the whole of the two lunar cycles. It didn’t necessarily surprise him. Sideswipe was her main reason for visiting, though he supposed that he enjoyed her company as well. Without his brother present she had no reason to stop by. Not that Sunstreaker was bereft of company, but tonight he’d parted ways with his model at the studio unsatiated from his work. The drive had cooled him some, but he looked forward to a little private time to relieve his need.

He didn’t expect to see Prowl curled up on the couch, dim optics staring at the monitor set in the wall. He paused just inside the door, his systems surging with alarm until he recognized her particular shade of blue, and the glistening doorwings behind her shoulders.

He pressed his lips together, jerking his gaze away from her sharp curves. Sideswipe had given her the access codes to the apartment shortly after the three of them had reached their understanding. He’d invited her to come over whenever she felt the need.

Sunstreaker couldn’t really blame her desire to be here, he understood how much she missed Sides, he knew far better than she could ever know.

Her head lifted and she turned toward the door. “Sides?”

“He’s not due back for another solar cycle,” Sunstreaker answered heading into the kitchen.

Prowl rolled her head against the back of the couch. Primus, she ached for Sideswipe to be there. She wanted him, and wanted his touch. Still another solar cycle until his return. She watched as Sunstreaker seated himself next to her, golden frame coiling up as though prepared to spring back up at any moment. He took a sip from the cube in his hand, watching the news feed on the screen.

She sighed, dragging her gaze away from the golden mech and watching the nothing that happened on the screen. They sat like that for a long cycle, neither saying a word. Prowl faded back offline for brief intervals, snapping online at the slightest shift from her lover’s twin.

That gave her pause. She slid a glance at him, remembering the way his lips and hands felt on her. He was nothing like Sideswipe, and yet they were an extension of each other.
Sunstreaker tipped the last of his cube into his mouth, dispersing the cube and standing up. “I’m going to recharge. Are you staying here?” He glanced at her before turning and walking away. “Shut down and lock up if you leave.”

Prowl blinked as she realized that he was walking right by the washroom. She magnified her vision, verifying the paint and clay still caked on his frame from his day at the studio.

“You’re not even going to clean up first?”

He paused and glanced down at his arms. “I can do that in the morning.”

She stood, hesitating only for an astrosecond before she slid up to him and touched his arm. “You shouldn’t recharge looking so filthy.” His arm tensed under her hand but she tugged at him anyways. “Come on. You look absolutely horrible.”

That seemed to do the trick and Sunstreaker didn't resist as she led him back to the washroom. She found his special setting (conveniently labeled 'Post-art', more than likely for Sideswipe's benefit) and activated the stream of warm cleanser.

He stumbled into the stall, but she snatched cleaning cloth from the ledge before Sunstreaker could grab for it.

“Nah uh, this is for me to do.” She grinned at his sour frown, dancing out of his reach with the cloth.

“Prowl,” he growled, “I'm not really in the mood.”

She pouted at him. “I just want to help, Sunny. Won't you let me?”

Sunstreaker growled. “Don't call me Sunny.” But he didn't resist as she moved in and stroked the cloth down his shoulder magplate.

She ran the cloth down his arm, the soft material rushing gently over his polished metal. He stared at her as she paused to scrub at a spot of paint that decorated his wrist guard. She raised his arm, turning his hand over so that she might examine the joints, aware of his gaze on her the entire time. His fingers twitched just in front of her nasal ridge as she buffed clashing colors off his fingers.

He shifted, bracing a hand against the wall as she brushed her lips against the tips of his fingers. A moan burst out of his vocalizer, and he jerked his hand away for a brief astrosecond. Again, he didn't fight as she pulled his hand back, rubbing the cleanser over his hand.

She finished with his hand, gliding the cloth back up his arm and over his chestplate. She stooped a little, her doorwings wavering for balance as she searched his canopy for more leftovers from his work. She worked around his windshield, digging her fingers into the corners to go after more gunk. “You have quite a bit built up in here,” she breathed. “I thought you liked to keep yourself pristine.” She crouched a little lower, peering at a particularly difficult spot.

His systems whirred and he grunted as she swept the cloth over his groinplate. “What,” he snapped, “are you fragging doing?” In spite of his best efforts he vented sharply again as she pressed the cloth to the joining of his pelvis and thigh.

“I'm cleaning you, silly,” she retorted teasingly. She pressed into the seam, feeling the cables give under the cloth.

He groaned, bucking his hips into her touch. She smiled and continued down his legs. The soft cloth brought out a high shine even on his wet frame, and she pressed her lips against his thigh, drawing another grumbling moan from his vents. She worked her way back up his other leg, her door wings twitching as his hand brushed against them. She diligently scrubbed at every spot she came across, laving her glossa over the area for a final squeak of cleanliness. He twitched under her attentions, gasping with each squeak, and she could practically hear his hardware already coming online.

Prowl inspected Sunstreaker's yellow fingers, turning the dexterous hand over, admiring the fine workings of his joints as the quietly whirred.

He pressed against the wall of the shower as she rubbed the cloth in slow circular strokes over the surface his palm, his ventilators activating with the sudden need to cool his systems.

She stroked the cloth up his seamless neck, pressing her lips against the cables and tubing hidden beneath. She detected his hands hovering over her waist, the flickering indecision in his dark optics. Still she coaxed him into letting her press against him, rolling her hips against his thigh erotically.

He vented again, sudden and explosive, his hands finally resting on her waist. He leaned down as though to kiss her, but he thought better of it; jerking his head up to pant into the steam.

That simply wouldn't do.

She brushed the cloth against his jaw hinge, just a light caress that sent a shiver through his frame, making his hips buck against her again. She smoothed the cloth along the joining of his faceplates and his vent, rubbing a finger along the yellow ridges . He moaned, his grip tightening on her waist. She reached around to the other side of his face to repeat the action on his other vent.

“Nggah, Prowl,” he moaned long and languorous, turning his face toward her wrist to press kisses to her arm.

She didn't cease her motions with the cloth, but she brought up her other hand running her fingers over the curve of his vent and the tip of his horn. He shuddered, clenching her closer to his frame.

“Did she leave you with your hardware running?” Prowl murmured, breathing over the ridges of the elegant vents that framed his face.

He groaned in response, nuzzling into her neck and nipping her gently. He hissed as she pressed against him, pushing him into the wall. “Primus, this what you want, Prowl?” His voice rasped with desire, roughened by heated systems and involuntary surges. He nipped her again, and again biting harder.

There were moments in the time since they'd met that she wondered where that handsome mech who had charmed her nearly into overload with the sound of his voice had vanished to. Where she couldn't believe this was the same mech who had her writhing for his touch in the span of a cycle.

This was not one of those times.

Like some perverted switch he shut on and off at will, Sunstreaker turned the tables and had her pressed against the shower wall, her doorwings scraping the tiled wall. His hands kneaded her waist, and he wasted no more time in pleasantries, working her chestplate off and filling his mouth with the curve of her breast. She writhed in his embrace, his glossa playing over her sensor node sending surges through her sensory grid, through her vocalizer making her cry out.

Moisture smeared around her mouth, the chemical pleasantly burning as it started mixing in specialized glands within her cheeks structures. She gasped as he squeezed her other breast with his other hand.

He didn't seem concerned with the tenderness he'd displayed that night cycle in Sideswipe's room; her dermaplating giving under his hard grip.

She refused to simply subject to his man-handling , her hands running over his shoulder plating, and lips and glossa playing over his vent.

He gasped against her breast, glossa snaking out to stroke the soft curve. He shoved her up the wall, supporting her weight with his hands gripping her rear, and rubbing at her pelvic joints.

His engine grumbled as he kissed his way up her neck and dominated her mouth, their glossa tangling and stroking. His fans kicked on, blowing softly from the vents along his face and he ground their groins together, his hips bucking incessantly against her.

She moaned into his mouth, letting the vibrations from her vocalizer rattle their lips together.

He suddenly dropped her, staggering against the perpendicular wall and catching his balance with a golden hand on the showerhead. He panted into the streaming cleanser, his indigo optics never leaving her face. “I shouldn't...” he burst out. “Not without Sides...”

Prowl pressed her lips against a frown, pulling herself up the wall from where she'd clanged onto the floor. Her doorwings flicked off excess cleanser streaming down her panels. She moved toward the golden mech, hands sliding up his golden canopy. “Don't you think Sides would appreciate it if he knew that I could take care of you,” her fingers curved around the back of his neck, pulling his head unresisting back down to her, “while he's away.” Her lips brushed against his, her glossa sliding against the bend of his lower lip .

He trembled with need, not fighting her as she licked around his mouth, leaving trace amounts of her lubricant where his olfactory sensors would likely pick it up best. His ventilations increased, drawing in the sweet scent of her kisses and expelling heated air in a rush.

She let him consider her words, though not without continuing to convince him with her hands wandering over his frame, plucking at the catches to his chest plate without releasing them. She ravished his mouth, teasing him by pulling away every time he tried to respond, leaving him panting again. She arced her doorwings into the hands he lay against their edge, letting him finger them as she slid her own hands down to his latches of his waist plating.

She worked the latches off one by one, kissing his lips and nasal ridge, no longer having to hold him down. He whimpered, engine turning and fans blowing. He followed her mouth, sounds bursting from his vocalizer, all but begging for more.

She grinned, nipping at his cheek seam as the plating finally came free and dropped to the floor like so much useless junk. She pressed herself against him, feeling his shaft ready against her hip. The lubricant in her mouth slicked over his lips with the frictionless ease required for normal coupling.

'Nobody puts their mouth on my slagging hardware!' she recalled him saying that first time. She would have to see about that.

“Do you want more, Sunny?”

He moaned, hands flexing on her doorwings.

“Tell me you want it,” her whisper purred against his jaw, echoed by the fingers she stroked over his rod, and the plug at the tip.

“Slagging Primus!”

Not quite the answer she was looking for. She pressed him back into the wall, rubbing against the twitching shaft, her hands splayed on the wall behind his vents. “Try again, Sunny.” She rubbed her lips against the ridges on his vents, enjoying the way he clutched at her doorwings and bucked against her teasing rubs.

“Frag!” His hands slid down the panels on her back, digging into her hinges and making her gasp and give under his touch.

She clawed at the wall as he fingered the wiring and joints hidden under her canopy. “No,” she spat, vocalizer surging with needy sounds she refused to let out. “Tell me what you want.”

He growled instead, head turning to reveal a hunger in his face, in the set of his dental plates, and the narrowing of his optics. “You tell me.” And his hands dropped to her waist, prying at the latches two at a time in his eagerness to have her. His wet fingers slipping, but never giving up. He nuzzled against her audio receiver, buzzing with a snarl. “And don't call me Sunny.”

“You- ,” she gasped, struggling to maintain her control, “you're actions speak louder than-” Still she didn't resist his continued efforts to divest her of her plating. She reached down to run a finger over his shaft, determined not to let him have the last say in this. She curled her hand around him, savoring the ridges that hid his jacks and plucking at the end of his plug.

Air rushed through her ventilator, yellow warnings flashing across her diagnostics, the pounding of the shower stimulating every sensor that Sunstreaker wasn't. The golden mech smirked as her plating clanked to the tiled floor, assured of his victory over her.
His grip relaxed, shifting , and she grabbed at the opening. She dropped to her knees, and with no warning took his shaft into her mouth.

He froze over her, startled, swiftly turning to indignation. “You...”

She couldn't smirk, but her optics gleamed up at him, and she played her glossa over him, her fingers clicking against his thigh, and stroking the cabling under a seam.
He gasped, hard and sharp, bucking his hips against her as she worked lubricant over his shaft. Words and curses burst from his vocalizer as he grasped at her head, but he couldn't stop the motion of his hips.

She worked her mouth over his rod, both in licking parts and in a whole mouthful, reducing the proud mech to whimpers and startled shouts. She stimulated him far longer than she normally did, enjoying this power she held over a mech who could arouse her with a simple glance. Surges ran through her mouth from his plug, the energy heating the metal of his hardware to near unbearable levels.

When she stood, something altogether frightening seemed to lurk within his optics and he seized her, twisting her around and slamming his frame against her, and then her into the wall he had just been leaning against. He kept her hands pinned behind his back, and his foot shoved her legs apart, but he took a moment to lean in and growl into her audio receiver, “I don't like nasty mouths on my hardware, doll, don't make me tell you again.”
She glared defiantly back at him, and wriggled her hips against the shaft poking her. “You seemed to have enjoyed it.”

Air hissed from between his dental plates and he released her hands to grip her waist, moving her so that he could plunge himself into her port. He thrust into her, dental plates gritted and bared, optics dim as he stared at nothing , concentrating on the motion of his hips.

She flicked her doorwings, spreading her legs a little more, and bracing her hands against the wall to shove back against him, meeting his stabbing bucks. He glided inside of her. In and out. Harder. Faster. Lubricant warm and slick. His shaft hard within her. His grunting moans playing across her doorwings as he turned part of his attention on them, his hand gripping the bottom edge of the panel, only to scrabble for her waist to drive himself in again, and then back to the panel.

She panted against her arm, wanting to kiss him, wanting the plug that scraped against her recessed port to make its connection, to fill her with the energy that zapped out of the inverted plug. What the frag was he doing??

He stopped suddenly, his hands groping her inner thighs. He didn't say anything, even in response to her curious look, and then his entire shaft rotated inside of her, turning so that the plug could meet the port and successfully connect. He resumed his thrusting in earnest, hands sweeping over her doorwings and back down to her waist and then over her canopy and caressing her shoulders. And then his plug struck home, and his hips rolled with the force of the power exchanged.

The wall was truthfully the only thing holding either of them up. Sunstreaker wavered on his feet, dragging at Prowl's torso, his hardware still attached to her. Cleanser still pounded at them, and Prowl slapped at the controls until the stream stopped (going through different cycles while she was at it as well). When he finally disengaged, he sat back on the floor still panting, dark optics watching as she slid down the wall, twisting about to face him.

They stared at one another, not needing words to acknowledge what had been a lust-driven act. They sat there for a breem, letting their systems cycle down. When all of her readings came back normal, Prowl stood and extended a hand to Sunstreaker.

The golden mech blinked at her, contemplating the proffered hand before he took it and led her out of the shower and into the hallway, unlatching remaining bits of plating as they went.
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It Takes Two to Tango