Chapter Text
Prowl's teeth dug a harsh furrow in his lip, biting down on the thin, breathy sounds that seemed to rise from his throat with a will of their own. His body burned, his energon boiled, an unbearable heat radiated from the apex of his thighs and the hulking creature kneeling in the space between.
Tarantulas, his tormentor, held him effortlessly open, paws holding his squirming legs in an unyielding grip. His face was buried deep in the wet heat of Prowl's valve, head ducked so eagerly close that Prowl could barely see it over the generous curves of his own body. While he had a lifetime of experience peering around his own bumper, he had far less with the unnatural mound formed by his distended belly; the “gift” given to him by the very creature that was currently savoring his valve like a delectable treat. The heavy objects filling his abdomen rocked and shifted inside him in time with his hips helplessly rocking against Tarantulas’ face. He could feel friction that he suspected was Tarantulas snickering against his valve, but he was beyond caring. His overload was so close he could taste it, as long as Tarantulas kept doing that , as long as he didn't stop…
Prowl flung his head back, choking out a single, breathless moan, caught in the throes of overload. He jerked helplessly in Tarantulas’ grip, legs feebly trying to close around his head. He could hear Tarantulas snicker softly this time, but his grip gentled, letting Prowl's legs go with an affectionate pat. He lifted his head, peering smugly up at Prowl. “I told you you'd enjoy it,” he purred, sliding his arms around Prowl's waist.
Prowl shot a slightly dazed glare down at him. “I never questioned your prowess, Tarantulas.” He squirmed his lower body out from under Tarantulas’ weight, scooting until he could dangle his legs off the side of Tarantulas’ recharge slab. Tarantulas followed him, kneeling beside him with his arms loosely looped around him. “I said I didn't have time for this, which remains true. I do have work to do.”
“Oh, but this is much more enjoyable, don't you think?” One paw rose to caress the swell of Prowl's belly. “Plus, physical activity keeps our little darlings from wedging too deeply somewhere they can cause permanent damage. We don't want you to have any complications, hmm?” Tarantulas’ furry head ducked down to press a lubricant-wet mock kiss to the very top of the mound.
Prowl swatted at him, mouth twisting in displeasure. “Wipe your mouth!” he snapped. “Your concern is touching, but you could just remove them, like I've asked .”
Tarantulas sighed and caught Prowl's hand, pressing the palm to his sticky mandibles in a loving nuzzle. “Tsk, tsk, Prowl. You never used to be so short-sighted. Removing them would defeat the point.”
“You never told me the point of this,” Prowl reminded him, squirming with distaste as his palm was smeared with his own lubricant. He hooked a finger around one of Tarantulas’ mandibles, tugging irritably. “You can't judge me for not having all the facts when you're the one withholding them from me.”
“Oh, very well.” The paw on Prowl's belly began to move again, stroking it fondly. “How much do you know about pregnancy?”
“I'm not pregnant,” Prowl said, stone faced. “I'm victim to a parasitic infestation.”
“Technically, it's not parasitic,” Tarantulas said pleasantly. “They don't need to rob you of sustenance, as the artificial sentio metallico within the vessels provides all the material they need. You're simply… acting as an incubator.” Tarantulas shot Prowl a playful leer. “Your body is their warm and cozy little home.”
He looked back down at Prowl's swollen midsection, voice soft. “You're not undergoing true pregnancy, but that doesn't mean we can't take advantage of similar psychological effects. These children aren't fully developed yet, but they do have a limited perception of their environment.” He dropped Prowl's hand, shifting so he could frame Prowl's belly with both paws, gaze reverently fixed on it. “Inside you, they're immersed in your body heat, in the smell and feel of your body. They hear your voice all around them, lulling them to sleep. You're their safe space, Prowl. Your very being is inextricably linked to safety and warmth. When they finally emerge, they're going to be predisposed to love you. To crave your affection and your approval.” His gaze lifted, meeting Prowl's optics. “A dozen new operatives, unknown to your enemies and completely, unquestionably loyal to you. You want to know the point of this, Prowl? It's you. All of this is for you.”
Prowl broke his gaze away from Tarantulas’, unnerved by the naked devotion in his optics, and looked down at his belly, brow furrowing in thought. He had known the eggs were viable life, but what Tarantulas implied… “They'll be… sentient?”
“They'll be indistinguishable from any cybertronian,” Tarantulas said, puffing up with pride. “They're true, new life, artificial sparks and all.” His voice softened and his optics dimmed wistfully. “Just like Ostaros was.”
“Hmm.” Prowl pretended not to hear the grief in Tarantulas’ voice. That particular lie was not one he was prepared to deal with right now. “And how much testing have you done on this theory?”
“Ah, well…” Tarantulas shuffled, seeming almost embarrassed. “Technically speaking, this is the first testing batch.”
Prowl shot him a sharp look. “You did all this to me, and you haven't even tested that it'll work?”
“You're the only one I could do this to, Prowl,” Tarantulas said, placating. “There's no one else in the universe I could bear to have co-parenting my creations. Don't worry,” he added sweetly. “I estimate we'll have ironed out any kinks in the process by batch three, or so.”
“No.” The single word struck like a whip crack. “I concede that these… creations of yours can be of use, but I am not carrying any more ‘batches’ for you.” Prowl raised his hand, cutting off any potential protest. “And don't think you can coerce me on this point. I forgave you for forcing this on me once, but try it again and our partnership is over. You can force yourself on my body, but you'll lose your chance to have my mind. You'll have a shell of me and nothing more. Do you understand me, Tarantulas?”
Tarantulas pouted, clearly disappointed, but sighed in defeat. “Yes, Prowl. I understand you perfectly.” He wrapped his arms around Prowl, cuddling close. “This was always a possibility,” he murmured, “But as long as I have you by my side, I can live with your lack of scientific rigor.”
Prowl wasn't fooled by the meek concession. Tarantulas was ruthless, and his supposed love for Prowl wouldn't stop him from taking everything he thought he could get away with. Prowl's only advantage in this game depended on maintaining Tarantulas’ desire for his autonomy and… relatively enthusiastic consent. If he ever lost that… Well. Tarantulas would have no reason not to string him up and use him as a mindless incubator, or whatever other horrors that uniquely creative mind of his could cook up.
With that in mind, when Tarantulas’ embrace began to grow bolder, paws skirting furtively lower, obviously angling for a continuation of their previous activity, Prowl made a swift decision. He scooted to his knees, turning in Tarantulas’ arms, and nudged a space open for himself in between his thighs. For extra measure, his hips ‘happened’ to tilt into Tarantulas’ paws, letting them settle firmly on Prowl's rear.
Tarantulas’ optics brightened with interest at his sudden activity. “Now, what are you up to, Prowl?” he murmured, shivering faintly when Prowl's hand brushed down his abdomen, onto the head of his beast mode.
Prowl dimmed his optics, shooting Tarantulas a coy look. He stroked one of the thick, furry mandibles that protruded from the beast mode head and curved down Tarantulas’ crotch, handling it with slow, suggestive motions. He allowed his mouth to fall slightly open, letting Tarantulas catch artfully brief glimpses of his tongue, wetting his lips, pressing it against his teeth. “Open for me,” he murmured very softly, lacing his voice with filthy promises.
Tarantulas made a breathless little noise, head bowing as if magnetically drawn to Prowl. “You're plotting something,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. Despite his words, his beast mode head transformed under Prowl's fingers, folding away to reveal his panels, surrounded by smooth plating, free of alien fur.
Prowl rewarded him with a pleased smirk, and ran two fingers down the already hot plating. “Merely reminding you that it is in your interest to keep me happy,” he said. “Call it... positive reinforcement.”
Despite his obscene fondling of Tarantulas’ mandible, he brushed quickly past the spike panel, settling on the lower panel. He shifted, slinging his other arm over Tarantulas’ shoulder, tugging him further down. “Now,” Prowl murmured, tapping the valve panel, “Will you open for me?”
The panel snapped open with desperate speed. Tarantulas bowed low over him, following his tugging arm as obediently as a leash. His optics, fixed on Prowl's face, betrayed aching vulnerability. It was everything Prowl could have hoped for, and more. He pressed a tender little kiss to Tarantulas’ mandibled mouth, and slipped one finger between the folds of his valve. A choked, needy little noise broke out of Tarantulas’ vocalizer. His paws tightened under Prowl's rear, nearly lifting him in the air, but careful not to dislodge his hand from Tarantulas’ valve.
Prowl ran his finger slowly, torturously through the slick heat, noting how wet Tarantulas already was. “Is this all for me?” he teased, voice pitched seductively low.
Tarantulas shook in his arms, so greatly affected that he seemed near weeping. “Always,” he whispered hoarsely. “Always you, Prowl.”
Prowl kissed him again, peppered little kisses along his mandibles, and slipped another finger into his valve. He spread the valve lips, letting cool air play over the heated folds, then teased the wet petals with light touches. Tarantulas’ pelvis rocked in small, aborted motions, as if afraid Prowl would stop if he moved too much, if his quivering, choked moans grew too loud. He hadn't forbidden either, but he'd let Tarantulas figure that out himself - it was quite enticing to see him in such a vulnerable state. Prowl couldn't resist dragging it out, slowly, expertly fingering Tarantulas to a panting mess. It was gratifying to discover that he still knew exactly where all of Tarantulas’ sweet spots could be found; however altered his body, he responded just as Prowl remembered.
Sticky lubricant was dripping down his hand, smearing down the insides of Tarantulas’ thighs, by the time Prowl began to consider showing mercy. Every breath from Tarantulas was an audible whine, every inch of his body hunched and tilted for Prowl's access. His optics were glassed over with pleasure, oblivious to everything but the ministrations on his valve. All very flattering, but Prowl did want him to pay attention to this next bit. He took one of Tarantulas’ mandibles gently between his teeth, and tugged slowly on it until Tarantulas’ optics began to come back into focus, then let go and wrapped his lips around two mandibles at once, tonguing the gap in between in an obscene kiss. With Tarantulas’ attention refocusing on him, Prowl took the opportunity to slide his fingers down the valve, caressing the anterior node with a light, teasing touch, before giving it a sharp pinch. The hot groan that washed over him from Tarantulas’ wide maw told him exactly how much he enjoyed the rough treatment. Tarantulas’ arms tightened around him, one paw moving to hold the back of his head, pressing him close, forcing Prowl's lips to stay uncomfortably stretched around the two mandibles. He panted into Tarantulas mouth, concentrating his efforts on his node, alternately stroking and pinching it. It didn't take long for the unmistakable signs of overload to overcome Tarantulas, his valve clenching rhythmically, even as Prowl stayed relentless on his anterior node, tormenting it throughout the climax.
He finally pulled away when Tarantulas sagged all around him, shuddering with great, big breaths. Tarantulas seemed about ready to collapse, but Prowl caught his eye. He wasn't done with Tarantulas just yet, and he wanted his full attention for this. When he was sure Tarantulas was watching, he slowly, demonstratively stuck one wet finger into his mouth, sucking the lubricant off with deliberate sloppiness. He pulled the finger out with an audible pop, and leaned close to Tarantulas’ face, lips glistening with valve and oral lubricant both.
“If you're very good,” he said softly, Tarantulas’ attention unwaveringly fixed on his lips, “I'll let you have my mouth, next time.”
His words had a devastating effect, he noted with satisfaction. Tarantulas looked ready to worship at his feet, struck speechless, optics filled with such yearning adoration that Prowl was sure he could have asked anything of him, right then and there.
“Yes, Prowl,” he finally struggled to choke out, soft and meek like Prowl hadn't heard in a long, long time.
“Good,” Prowl murmured. “I'm glad we understand each other.”
He pressed one last wet little kiss to Tarantulas’ mouth, and gently untangled himself from Tarantulas’ furry limbs, dropping comforting kisses to his paws before slipping out of his reach.
“I'm going to work now,” he said sweetly, “And you're going to be good and let me. I'll come see you when you've earned your reward. Do you understand, Tarantulas?”
Tarantulas nodded helplessly, still dazed. He seemed barely aware when Prowl slipped out the door and slid it shut.
Safely outside, Prowl frowned down at his fluid-stained hands. If handling Tarantulas was always going to be this messy, he'd need to start carrying tissues with him.
While he was at it, he should see about composing a schedule. Clearly, Tarantulas couldn’t be trusted to show patience or reason when it came to laying claim on Prowl's attention. If Prowl was going to have any time to actually use the resources and advantages of this alliance, he would need a careful combination of denial, acquiescence and the occasional initiation to keep Tarantulas’ limitless appetite at bay, all seemingly spontaneous.
Keep him starving for Prowl's affection, but not hopeless of obtaining it. That would be the key to surviving with such a partner. A difficult balancing act, perhaps, but not impossible. If anyone could do it, it was Prowl.
For now, he needed to take advantage of this breather. First order of business: wipe his hands. Then, he could finally get some work done.