Chip shivered, skin prickling under a fine sheen of sweat. That, and clinging onto Prowl's thigh, was the only movement he had left to him, and while he wasn't precisely complaining, he was raised to be a gentleman, and he really ought to reciprocate.

"Prowl," he tried, and felt the pressure of Prowl's palm on his back increase. Not enough to hurt, never any danger of that - but that was Prowl. Precision and control. "Prowl, let me."

"Your turn next," Prowl reminded him, cool voice ghosting over his skin. "I promise, you can do whatever you want with me then."

Chip gasped wordlessly, the words setting off fireworks in his head even as a renewed vibration from Prowl's engine made his hips jerk against the strict pressure of the metal palm.