That Lapdancing Crackfic

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

PG-13
IDW/TFPrime Yeah, you read that right. No. it's not a crossover
Wing, Knockout
Warning: lapdancing. cheeziness. crack.
Because xxsomeoneelsexx made me do it.

“W-why are we doing this?” Wing’s aft bumped against the chair, wingpanels flaring in something like alarm.

Knockout grinned. “First, because you need a job. And believe me, this is one you can do.”  The white jet was no Breakdown, barely taller than Knockout himself, but, well, with an aft like that? He could make money just sitting on another mech’s lap.  Even without the bonus features Knockout was going to teach him.

“There was that opening for the ‘escort’?” The wingpanels folded back, flat against his spinal struts, the black fingers curling nervously over the chair’s seat.

“Oh, we’ll work up to that.  But that required experience, don’t you remember?” Knockout tweaked one of the broad white audial flares on the jet’s helm. Somehow, Wing could pull them off without looking like Dumbo.  Knockout wasn’t quite sure how.

He wasn’t quite sure of a lot of things where Wing was concerned.  Mostly how the jet hadn’t been killed by now with his Pollyanna attitude.  Every single one of Knockout’s ‘easy prey’ alarms went off around Wing. 

“But I have experience,” Wing argued.

“Not the right kind of experience,” Knockout purred.  “Trust me.”  But that was on the agenda. Definitely.  Some more very personal instruction. And freebies, of course.  You know, to make sure Wing had been paying attention.  Rent money depended on it!

“All right,”  Wing said, uncertainly. “But…I’m not good at dancing.”

“Oh, Wing,” you silly thing, “this is why you need my help.  You don’t need to be any good at dancing.”  Especially looking as fine as Wing did. From Knockout’s personal assessment, Wing could hum off key and just randomly sway and still bring home tips.

Still, if you were going to do something, you should do it right. Repairs, yes. And lapdances.  Especially if you were doing them for Knockout. “Now.  Stay there.” 

Wing nodded, sitting up in the chair. Obedience? One of his better qualities. And Knockout hadn’t even had to train him. 

Though, that could have been fun, too. It had certainly been fun with Breakdown.

“Dancing is not a skill required, but music is. It’s all about the music.” Knockout tapped Wing’s helm. Just to make sure he was paying attention. “Good music will do half your job for you. Fortunately, I’ll be in charge of that. As a,” he smirked, “connoisseur of the genre.”

Wing nodded.  Oh, Knockout could get used to this.  A little too used to it, maybe. 

He cued up the music.  “The next most important thing is knowing what you’ve got.”

Wing bounced. “Swords. I have swords.”

Hard to hide the optic roll. “Not that kind of what you got.”  He rolled one of his shoulders, in a coy circle.  “Like this.  And see?” He did a half turn, rotating from his waist to show his back in profile. “Tires.”

Wing cocked his head, studiously. Scrap that was kind of hot.  Wing somehow had some sort of nerd-appeal.  Despite being the opposite of a nerd.  “Wings,” he said, flicking one out. 

Knockout’s sarcastic comment got swallowed by, well, he’d label it, ‘aesthetic appreciation’. Never thought he was much for the aerial types.  But then again, Starscream? Megatron?  Perhaps it was a matter of selection.  Or maybe he’d just discovered a new kink.  Better than stagnating, right?  “Yes,” he managed. “Wings.”  Now put that away or Knockout won’t be able to concentrate on getting you hot and bothered through his own hot and bothered.

Wing folded the wing panel back, with a pleased smile, that curved over those full mouthplates. Criminal, Knockout thought.   What he could do with a mouth like that…? Life was unfair. Not that Knockout had any complaints about the cards he’d been dealt.  Very sexy, red, polished cards.

Right. 

“So.  Know what you have to offer to your audience.  What separates you from just some other frame.”  Besides naïve innocence, which if they could bottle up and sell? Knockout would make a fortune. Just siphon it off Wing. “And music. And then, just show it.” He gave a sly shrug. “More or less in time with the music.” 

He activated the music, letting the music flow for a few bars. “Now. It’s not dancing. That’s for fun. Think of it as hypnotizing.” He began rocking his hips. “See? Like this.  Pick a spot mechs have sexual thoughts about, draws their optics, and just move it. Back and forth.”

Wing nodded, head tilted, optics drawn to Knockout’s pelvic frame.  The jet’s shoulder pinions flared then slicked back tight against the nacelles.   “It’s…uh, it’s highly effective,” Wing offered.

“Yes. Yes it is.”  And Knockout found Wing’s nervously aroused gaze highly effective, too.  This was going places. Good places.  Like Knockout’s crotch.

Knockout changed the movement to small figure eights, muffling a snicker at the flare in the gold optics.  More fun than he’d thought. “Next, show what you have.” He turned the figure eight into a turn, showing his back. “And this? Also highly effective.”  He turned his head, peeking over his shoulder at Wing, flashing a grin that hopefully looked less predatory than he felt.

A gulping swallow from the jet. “Y-yes. I see.” 

“And when you’re ready, do your best sexy walk,” he turned again, sashaying over to where the jet still perched on the chair, “and move in for the kill.”  He pounced on Wing’s lap, purring his way up the silver thighs.

“…kill?” Wing squeaked. “Perhaps I need swords.”

It defied physics—or something—that anything this clueless could be that fraggin’ hot. Knockout resisted the urge to facepalm. And that only because he figured the jet would think that was part of lapdancing.  “Not that kind of killing.” 

“I…wasn’t aware there was another kind.”

“You’ve led a sheltered life, Wing,” Knockout said.  “This kind.” He leaned forward, his mouth just brushing the jet’s. He could feel the surprised tremble of the lush mouthplates against his own flat ones, before he veered off, smirking, for one of the shoulder pinions. 

Wing shuddered underneath him. Now, that was just delicious. Almost as tasty as the pinion, Knockout decided, licking his way along its wedged shape.  “No kissing in lapdancing. Nor,” he swatted down the hands that were rising toward his chassis. A good sign, but more fun to make him wait. Plus, lapdancing was an art form. There were rules.  “any of that.” 

The hands twitched back, defeated, but the engines thrummed in the shoulder nacelles, Wing shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  That exquisite kind of discomfort that slid the jet’s pelvic armor up against Knockout’s in a gesture of almost involuntary want. Knockout purred. 

“Got the idea?” he murmured, letting the vibration of his voice tickle over the audial flare. 

“The, uh, the basics, yes.”  Wing squirmed, gripping the seat of the chair, hot ragged pants of ventilation gusting between them.

“Good. And one last lesson,” Knockout said, running his claws down the intricate white shapes of the jet’s sides.  Wing whimpered. “Always,” he murmured, sliding his thighs back over Wing’s, “leave them,”  he pushed forward, sliding his chassis against the cockpit, “wanting,” he swung his leg back, pushing to his feet in a smooth gesture, “more.” 

[***] 

“Your turn.” 

“My turn?”  Wing squeaked. 

“Certainly. You wouldn’t think I’d throw you out there all alone without at least some critique, would you?” He splayed a claw on his chassis. “What kind of friend would I be?”   Really, Knockout. So charming sometimes I’m halfway in love with me myself.  “Now.”  He tipped the chair over with one foot, dumping Wing unceremoniously off the seat.

Good news for the jet’s balance: Wing caught himself, rolling to his feet. Huh. Should do that in the middle of a dance—it gave a simply scrumptious view of his backside. Really. It should be illegal to be that hot.

Unless you were Knockout, and he didn’t obey the law anyway.

“Now that you’re up,” Knockout said, settling himself into the seat. “Just do what I told you. See how much you remember.” And see how it all looks. 

“Errrrr, all right.”  Wing tilted his head, remembering, his optic shutters tilting.  Adorable. Really.  “So. Knowing what I’ve got.” He gave a bright smile.  “Wings.”  He turned, flicking them out. “Right?”

Oh, this was going to be hard to sit through. In all the right ways. Apparently Knockout was developing a kink for derp.  “Try in time to the music.” 

Wing nodded, and then his face stilled in concentration, his wings flaring slowly in time to the music.  Well he could have rhythm when he concentrated. Good to know. 

“I think it’s time to move on,” Knockout said.

“Okay. Next was…hypnotizing.” Another flash of a smile.  Wing turned around, setting himself like he was bracing for combat.  And then just sort of wiggling. While moving his hands back and forth. “This is kind of fun!” 

Oh. Not so hot.  But, wait. Let him figure it out.  No. No, better intervene now. For the sake of sexy dancing everywhere.

“Stop doing that with your hands. It’s distracting.” And dorky. “And just the hips.” Ah. Much better.  In that very acceptable, tingly way. 

“And now!”  Wing whirled around, giggling, turning his head to wink at Knockout over his shoulder. 

Oh. Oh my. Knockout might fund his next experiment on that little gesture alone.  Wing stopped, turning around, looking crestfallen. Which also somehow managed to look hot on him.  “Did…did I do it wrong?”

“No.” Not at all.  “Good ad lib, there, Wing.” One that made Knockout want to move onto the next level of instruction. Right now.  But if Wing was this clueless about lapdancing, well, Knockout had to wonder if the jet even knew what the equipment was for. And Knockout wasn’t sure he had the patience for that right now.  Handpuppets might be required.  “Let’s move on.” 

Wing drooped. “I-I don’t have a sexy walk. Well, not like a special one.”

“Try. You saw what I did. Just do that.” 

Wing bit his lower lip plate. “All right. I’ll try.” He swung his hips, nearly crossing his ankles as he stepped. The effect was not bad at all. “Like this?”

Well, without the goofy worried expression. “Like that. Look happy, Wing.” Seriously. “You’re supposed to be sexy, not look like you’re in pain.”

“I don’t know how to look sexy.”

Wroooooooong.  The question was if Wing could ever turn it off.  Still, this was about money, and dancers didn’t earn if they looked like it was a chore. “Stop concentrating. Think like you really really want something.” Like me. Preferably.  Then again, Knockoud didn’t necessarily mind being an acquired taste.  That involved distinction. Discrimination.

Another nod, and Wing shifted his facial features. “Like this.”  He lidded his optics, sultry, pausing to flick his glossa over his lip plates.  Knockout found himself leaning forward, in anticipation as the jet approached.  “And now.”

Ooof!  Suddenly: Wing.  “Uh, a little less plop and a little more pounce next time.”  Seriously.  Those wing panels were pointy.

“Oh. Want me to try it again?”

“Later.”  Like, when his knees had recovered. Besides, right now, hot white jetframe within groping distance was setting off a number of tingly alarms. And even more happy tingles at the thought of what the other mechs in the station would pay for this. And it hit him: Starscream? Too spiny and thin. Looked like he’d crack if you looked at him too hard.  Which was why he liked Breakdown. Big, sturdy, durable Breakdown.  And Wing was a nice, comfortable in-the-middle.  

“And from here…?” Wing tilted his head. “No kissing. No touching.” His thighs involuntarily squeezed around Knockout’s to keep his balance. Ooooo that was nice, the cool silver bevels along the smooth arcs of red.  Knockout couldn’t touch, but he could look.  And those bright red blades on the fronts of Wing’s greaves matched his paint almost exactly.  Scrumptious.

“Get creative.”  

“All right.”  Wing leaned forward, tentatively, his weight sliding forward over Knockout’s lap, to mimic what Knockout had done to him: mouth nipping at the shoulder armor, in this case nibbling its way over the high red arc of his shoulder armor.  Nice. Very nice, even.  And then the hands, sliding over his chassis.  Not original, but still nice. After all, imitation was the highest form of flattery. 

Ooooo. And then the engines revving, Wing leaning over, rocking his hips over Knockout’s, vaguely in time to the music, the vibration of the engines turning the air between them into a sort of sonic blanket.  And then Wing hooked his feet back, around Knockout’s shins, his thighs spreading as he slid closer.  Wing’s hands came up, fingertips sliding around Knockout’s collar armor, four little points of contact sliding up, under his jaw.  Knockout was more accustomed to Breakdown’s rougher style, but this was a nice change of pace. Very nice indeed.  He let his head tip up, the fingers feathering down his exposed throat cables, his optics meeting the warm gold ones of the jet. Who had mastered earnest/wanting/clueless simultaneously.  Welp. At least he learned something in that Crystal City place.  Probably some private school. That would explain a lot.

Huh. Wonder if he liked spankings?

And then Wing pushed off his lap, in some way Knockout didn’t quite track, the jet dropping his chassis, slithering his way down Knockout’s body, fingertips swirling around his headlamps, to pool, kneeling, on the floor between Knockout’s parted knees, thumbs sliding around the rims of Knockout’s thigh armor.  The jet’s ventilations were hot and raw against his shins, optics wide with what looked like pure, bottle-able lust.

“Creative?” Wing asked, and the moment shattered, his usual derpy smile spreading over his mouth.  Kind of ruined the effect.

“Eh,” Knockout said, “it’ll do.” 

The brow furrowed under the heavy helm. “I think I should practice more, you’re right.”

Yes. Yes indeed. 

Comments

[kamiraptor.livejournal.com]

XD


.....XD

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Best thing ever XD !!!!!!!!!!!!

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

How do I beat Knock Out up and take his place??? o_O

OMG, I love your Knock Out voice! He's so perfectly KO!!! And Wing is, of course, so adorkably awesome!

This was exactly what I needed to ight! Thank you so damn much!!!

Gahh

[sara mccullough (from livejournal.com)]

This is so adorably sexy! :D

Wing should so test his new skills out on Drift. <3

You are an amazing writer, the way you make descriptions flow so easily! Such a talent, you have. :D:D

[eaten-by-bears.livejournal.com]

D'aww, I think I'm developing a derp-kink too.

And schoolboy!Wing is now in my top ten favorite mental images.

[jalaperilo.livejournal.com]

I love this. It's like It's like the robotic derpy version of Memoires of a Geisha. It's really made my day.

Please write more Knock Out - You do him so much justice!

[abarai-san.livejournal.com]

OMG *squee* I love this!!! Wing is so cute... AAAAIIIEEEE~ And Knock Out too! :3 moar plz?

[playswithworms.livejournal.com]

Clueless sexy Wing is clueless and very sexy XD
Handpuppets might be required XDDDDDD

[aughoti (from livejournal.com)]

Yes indeed.

Oh, yesss.... ! Hee. Too funny.

[tainry.livejournal.com]

Good places. Like Knockout's crotch.
Tingly...
Handpuppets...

BWAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! XD Adorkable.