A/N: A oneshot from the Transformers kinkmeme, for the prompt of "Scent". It's short, but I'm rather pleased with how it turned out, considering I've never written Silverbolt/Blackarachnia before. Happy reading.

Warnings: Non-explicit sex of the robot variety, also known as plug and play. General organic weirdness.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beast Wars, all characters belong to their respective copyright holders and I am making no profit from this work of fiction.

o

At the culmination of their first encounter, breathless on the floor of a hidden mountain cave, all he could ask was, "When will I see you again?"

"Eager, aren't we?" she said, flicking a bit of dust off her exoskeleton with one long, jointed leg. She'd returned to beast mode moments after they'd disconnected, fussily tucking away cables and wiring as he watched in faint disappointment "Not until I say so. I've got too many projects going to spend much time on other pursuits." She cast her numerous eyes in his direction, gaze raking down his body in a near tactile stroke and he shivered "No matter how…pleasant they may be."

The silence hung between them for a minute and he half thought she might return to his side, but then she straightened, hardening, "I may have agreed to these little trysts, but don't think I won't shoot you if you track me down carelessly." She finished her cursory grooming and made for the entrance to the cave "We're still on opposite sides in this little war, even if you're too stupid and idealistic to realize it. I'll let you know when you can approach."

"But how can I tell?"

Her chelicerae curled in parody of a smile, "You'll know."

.,.

He obeyed. She'd asked for his cooperation, even done so politely, for her at least. He stayed away, pushed aside the desire to go to her and watched from a distance.

It helped he could smell her. She'd covered him with her unique signature during their coupling. To his wolf mode, she might as well have tattooed herself onto his superstructure. The creature could scent her anytime she passed within a mile of Maximal territory. And though the pungent, dry odor of poison and webbing produced an instinctual revulsion, the pleasurable association superseded it. It didn't take more than a whiff to rev his engines.

It was a new experience for him, this overpowering awareness. He was a Tracker model, used to interpreting scents, but they'd never held such sway over him. Sometimes the wind would bring a trace of her and he find himself rolling on the ground, wings tucked tight to his body as he wriggled with delight, whining and yelping.

It was downright embarrassing.

For a time he thought he would go mad. Would she never call him? How would he know if she did?

Then one day, her scent changed.

He was perched on the edge of a cliff when a breeze curled up from below, brought with it the smell of chitin and venom and frustration and… he froze, something else.

He breathed it in again.

He fed it through analysis. Organic in origin and delicate in structure, similar to an amino acid, with oxygen molecules locked in single and double bonds. A silky, sharp particle that resembled, if he could describe it, the kick of high grade energon and the rotten sexual organs of plants. A scent of danger and desire.

You'll know.

He plunged over the edge of the cliff, wings spreading to slow his fall. Wind screamed past him, dissipating the trail, but then he passed through the faint cloud cover and it welled up again, guiding him to the mark.

He braked to avoid a collision which might have injured them both, but couldn't hold back from pouncing on her, bearing them to the ground. He pressed and rubbed against her; little growls and whimpers bubbling out of him.

Her laugh was pure music.

"Well Rover, you sure do know how to make a girl feel wanted."

And then she was opening to him, cables extending and locking into place, spider limbs winding around his body. Firewalls dropped and electricity crackled as he tumbled into her neural net. The odor of her pheromones was overwhelming, drugging and the teasing flicker of her spark energy nearly pushed him into overload there and then. Dizzy with want, he clung to her, riding out the surges. It was too much, too intense after such a long building. His processor stuttered, shorted.

"My love," he managed to gasp.

"How about that?" she purred in his ear. "Looks like I don't even need a web to net something tasty."

He could only whine.

"Don't be afraid, doggy," she chuckled. "I don't bite. At least not too hard."

He had begun to seriously doubt his ability to survive this relationship.

Then again, he found he didn't much care.

o

Feedback is always appreciated.