For all his insistence that he wasn't interested in watching "a filthy piece of Conware jacking himself off," Rattrap made an obscenely large amount of lewd comments on the matter. Quite regularly, and in front of the rest of the crew, in fact. Dinobot wasn't sure he liked the attention too much, but as time passed, he realized that he wasn't the only one subjected to the vermin's perversion. Innuendo, sarcasm, and sass were the only things that ever left his lips, and though he did his best to ignore it, the warrior found himself caught up in a senseless argument with the rat that quickly dissolved into petulant name-calling more often than not.
Even stranger, he found that he didn't care. The verbal battles, such that they were, were hardly a tax on his wit, and when things turned physical, well, he was hardly complaining. He could admit that he enjoyed the feel of the tiny body writhing beneath him, and the rodent's squeals and yelps spoke loudly to his beast mode's predator instinct. And what was more, it kept his mind off his messy break up with Megatron. For even though the charming dictator didn't want to accept that it was over, the warrior was more than finished with him.
Regardless, he was a Maximal now, and even if he did want to continue the relationship, it would have been foolish for so many reasons. And thanks to the easy, comforting distraction provided by Rattrap and his crude antics, Dinobot was finding more and more reasons to stay.
Today, he was on monitor duty while Cheetor took a catnap, and Rhinox and Optimus scouted out their surroundings, no doubt spending more time sniffing the flowers than watching for lurking Predacons. Even the mouse was slacking off, though Dinobot was far from surprised. He was supposed to be making repairs to the ship's engines, however, while scrolling through the security cameras, the bored warrior found him doing something much different.
Rattrap had a tool in hand, it was true, but he certainly wasn't using it for its intended purpose. It looked more like he was talking into it, singing, perhaps, and he was rhythmically gyrating his hips, his upper body swaying from side to side in a counter-rhythm. He was dancing directly in front of the cameras? Truly, the rodent was either incredibly stupid or up to something. It mattered very little which to the warrior, but he felt that he should alert the diminutive mech that he was being watched, at the very least.
As soon as he switched on the speakers, the rodent's squirrelly voice flooded the command center, a shrill, lilting pitch that any normal 'bot would have doubtlessly found annoying. Unfortunately, ever since he had switched factions, Dinobot had developed more programming glitches than he ever thought it was possible for one mech to have, and they all centered around the tiny spy dancing and singing across the screen in front of him.
"I've heard dere was a secret chord dat David played, an' it pleased th' Lord, but you don' really care fer music, do ya? It goes like dis; th' forth, th' fifth! Th' minor fall, th' major lift! Da baffled king composin' hallelujah! Hallelujah..."
The words and tune were... unfamiliar, to say the least. Where Rattrap had picked it up, Dinobot couldn't say and wouldn't even know where to begin to look, but at the moment, that was the last thing on his processor. No, he was too enthralled by the graceful sweeps the vermin's body cut through the air, the strangely melodic quality of his voice, and the amount of spark the rodent poured into the song.
Suddenly, the rat spun around, tilting his head back, looking directly into the camera's lens, and Dinobot caught himself jerking back, sucking in a breath as if he was the one in the wrong. Foolishness! It was the rodent slacking, not he! And Rattrap couldn't have any way of knowing that he was being watched, could he? No, no, no... It was simply theatrics to amuse the rodent's twisted sense of humor, and he would not be affected, not even as a golden servo reached up to stroke the camera's viewer in a lover's caress.
"Yer faith is strong, but ya need some proof. Ya saw him bathin' on th' roof; his beauty in th' moonlight ova'threw ya. Mmmm, he tied ya to th' commander's chair, he broke yer throne, he left ya bare, an' from yer lips he drew th' hallelujah..."
"Hallelujah," Rattrap repeated, the word pouring from his lips like thick, syrupy oil, drawn out like an energon bow and fired straight through Dinobot's audio receptors, down to his pulsing core. Arousal pinged in his groin and quickly infected all his other systems, driving out sense as surely and completely as if Primus himself was guiding it. Without consideration, he leaned over the console, his arms wrapping around the screen as if to block out all other sights and head bowed low.
He was vaguely aware of a disappointed sound burgeoning in his throat as the rodent pulled away from the camera, but the wretched vermin was still singing his hallelujahs as he moved through the room. Boxes were collected up, stacked beneath the screen, and as he climbed up, his voice swelled with power and emotion. Grime covered servos cupped the lens, and the warrior leaned closer to the screen as Rattrap's face filled his view, crimson optics sultry and beckoning.
"Baby, I been here before; I know dese halls, I've walked dese floors, 'n I useta live alone before I knew ya. I seen yer flag on th' metal arch; love sure ain' a vict'ry march! It's a cold an' it's a broken... hallelujah. Hallelujah. Halleluuuujaaah..."
A warning popped up from the depths of Dinobot's CPU, reminding him of the first time he'd ever laid eyes on Megatron. The malevolent dictator was a master of charisma, and had gathered a small crowd out in a square. Young and curious, the constructionmech had wandered up and fallen instantly to the sound of Megatron's voice. Rich, powerful, commanding... Dinobot had pushed his way to the front of the crowd without realizing it, and found himself gazing up into blazing crimson optics that seared him all the way to the spark.
What exactly happened next was a blur to his memory circuits. He knew the speech had been carried to it's conclusion, many Predacons walking away from it feeling empowered and encouraged, nodding to themselves or chatting with a companion, but what he had done, what Megatron had said... nothing. It was the same with every single one of Megatron's public speeches that the warrior had ever attended. He could remember tones, emotions, but never details, and they all inevitably reached the same conclusion; Dinobot pinned to a berth beneath the manipulative mech, screaming his name to the heavens.
Was he truly so easily won?
He wanted desperately to say no, his will was strong and processor clear, but the voice crooning through the speakers and face gazing up from the screen with smoldering optics and inviting lips said otherwise. He hadn't been filled with a desire this strong since his youth, and he wasn't even sure what he wanted. Only that he wanted, and that the tiny, bawdy, unrepentant vermin held the cure to the longing that pained his spark.
He feared that things were becoming far too complicated far too quickly, and if he didn't do something soon, he would find himself tangled up in something he'd never be able to escape.
"Vermin," he croaked, turning on the speaker that would allow two-way communication. He didn't like the needy way his voice sounded, and quickly schooled it into the resemblance of annoyance before he spoke again. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"Juuuusss' makin' sure th' camera lens ain't cracked," Rattrap leered, his face shifting into a mask of perfect innocence. He knew. The warrior wasn't sure how, but he knew the rat knew. This was a game and he was playing right into the foul rodents sticky servos and iPrimus/i he was a ifool!/i
"I can assure you, the lens is fine, if not covered in fingerprints thanks to your needless touching," he growled, bitterness tainting his words and filling him with disgust. Complicated, indeed. He couldn't believe he was getting so worked up over so little. "Just return to the task that was assigned to you. And cease that infernal racket you've been making. Your idiotic voice has been grating on my last neuro-circuit."
"Heh." The smirk on Rattrap's face was the most irritating yet, Dinobot decided as the rodent stepped down from the crates and snapped of a jaunty salute. "Yes sah, Commander Chiselchin! Right away, sah!"
Sigh. Just what in the Matrix's promised land was he getting himself into?
Chapter 3 is up and available for veiwing! However, since it's explicit and smut, I'm erring on the side of caution and merely providing you with a link to it. If you have a Deviant Art account and are over 18, it can be read over nyeah: http://redickarys. deviantart. com/art/ 003-Making-History-151979929 Don't forget to remove the spaces!