Dinobot lay back luxuriously, allowing him to become totally submerged in the glorious sensation. Taking an oil bath, he thought to himself, had been an excellent idea. Any second now, he expected his peace to be interrupted by a blaring klaxon and the commanding shout of Optimus Primal. It had been a while since the last Predacon attack, but his former comrades were being unusually quiet of late. It was beginning to make him suspicious. Still, he hoped he would be left in peace for a while. He would never back down from a fight, but it wasn't often that he had a chance to unwind.
The oil smoothly lapped against his scars, scales and metal, soothing his tired joints. He gently stroked his scaly chest with his spidery digits. The sensation was positively heavenly. Still, not for one second did he let his guard down. A warrior must always be alert, no matter his surroundings. His scowled as he remembered who had taught him that. Megatron. To, think, I once respected that tin-plated buffoon. I even considered him my friend! To think that once I even... Dinobot snarled with rage and fired his optical lasers at the ceiling. A small pile of dust and rubble clattered to the floor. He knew Rhinox would be less than happy, but that was the furthest thing from his mind.
It was true that Dinobot had never had many friends. His gruff demeanour and warlike attitude tended to be somewhat off-putting. And his profound sense of honour had done little to endear himself to other Predacons. Especially not to that gaggle of depraved psychopaths. Amongst Predacons, loyalty was rare, and when it did occur, it was almost always the product of stupidity, lust or insanity. Dinobot grimaced instinctively as he thought of Inferno. There was no question that he belonged in the insanity camp. He frightened Dinobot, and he did not say this lightly. There is nothing quite as terrifying as an enemy who is not only unafraid to die, but would relish the chance to do so for their leader. And as for lust? It was definitely on the cards. Dinobot snickered humourlessly as he thought of Inferno's habit of referring to Megatron as his "Queen", which earned him no shortage of truncated pummelling. It was true that Inferno's absurd loyalty did often come across as more than simple mental imbalance. But if this was true, then his affection was sorely misplaced. Although, there was no denying that Megatron was in possession of a king-sized libido. On Cybertron, he had always had some rent-bot or interface simulation to unwind, thankfully sparing Dinobot and the others the brunt of his lust-induced rage. But stranded on a barren world, his hormones would be running wild. And the other Predacons would never refuse him, knowing that if they did, they would suffer a far worse punishment.
No. Even Megatron would know better than that, or he'd have out-and-out mutiny on his hands.
Perhaps he only preyed on one of them. An unpopular Predacon, one who was unlikely to spur a revolution. Tarantulas was out, being a repulsively creepy slagger, Waspinator's pillow talk was most likely the stuff of nightmares. Blackarachnia would instantly electrocute him with Cybervenom and run away to become a hermit (hermette?) at the slightest infraction of her personal space. And frequent rolls-in-the-hay would probably cause Inferno to start adopting the persona of a giggling schoolgirl, which would somehow detract from his violent pyromania. Perhaps it was Terrorsaur for whom Megatron went above and beyond the call of duty in regard to keeping in line. Perhaps that was his punishment for his frequently attempted coups. Or, perhaps Megatron's drunken advances were the source of his hatred and ill-fated power plays in the first place. Which came first, the lipole or the egg? Dinobot smirked savagely as he wondered what Terrorsaur would be like in bed. He'd probably squeal like a little bitch, a thought that thoroughly repulsed Dinobot in and of itself. Now there was a Predacon who was thoroughly typical in his attitude to loyalty. Every chance he got, he would try to overthrow Megatron, and every time, he would fail miserably. Perhaps his pitiful success rate had something to do with his proclivity for loudly announcing his intent to usurp Megatron without any provocation. Arrogance or idiocy? Probably both. Regardless, Terrorsaur spat in the face of the very concept of loyalty.
But Dinobot had been loyal. And he was definitely not stupid, or insane, on his better days at least. But lust?
So he'd thought. So long ago.
Dinobot gave a low growl. One day, he vowed. One day Megatron, I will show you just how grave a mistake you made.
Suddenly, he was shaken back to reality as the door burst open. He hastily reattached his codpiece as Rattrap entered the room.
"Primus Vermin, has nobody introduced you to the concept of knocking!" he snarled.
"And hello to you too Chopperface!" Rattrap sneered, leaning against the wall in a nonchalant manner.
"What is it that you want, rodent?"
Rattrap sauntered over to the tub, a look of snide confidence on his face.
To Dinobot's utter astonishment, the petite mech climbed into the tub.
"Chopperface," he said, "shut up."
And then.
He kissed him. Rattrap's small pink tongue explored the inside of Dinobot's harsh mettalic mouth.
And what did he do then? Did he toss the rodent out of the room with an enraged snarl? Did he laser him half to death and drag him to Rhinox, complaining of a catastrophic brain malfunction?
No.
He kissed him back.
Dinobot's rough, prehensile tongue gently caressed the soft interior of Rattrap's mouth. The Spy let out a moan of pleasure.
Slag thought the taller mech. The vermin is... kissing me. And I'm really enjoying it. I must have finally gone insane.
But, Dinobot thought as he led a giddy Rattrap to his quarters, If I'd known that going insane would be this fun, I would have done it years ago.