"Beautiful Lies", Beast Wars (Blackarachnia/Silverbolt) Title: Beautiful Lies Author: dragovianknight Rating: PG Warnings: Oh, come on! It's a kid's show! About robots! I fail at porn. Word count: 353 Summary: Beast Wars - Blackarachnia/Silverbolt - manipulation (which the victim enjoys) - "I'm a willing slave to her beautiful lies"
When we meet, it is by chance or her behest, a message left somewhere in my patrol range, an ambush that I would not avoid, even if I could. Whatever the method, whether our time is spent in mock battle - for, despite her protests, I do not believe she could harm me, and I know I could never harm her - or gentler pursuits, my spark sings merely to be near her.
When she initiates these meetings, it is inevitable that sooner or later, she will ask something of me. I refuse to believe it is her nature; this scheming is the fault of the Predacon shell program which warps her Maximal core.
"You could always get me the file," she says, her lips against my neck.
"My love, you know as well as I that I cannot."
A sigh, perhaps a touch exaggerated. "I know. It's all right." She resumes the activity which our conversation interrupted, kisses falling upon me, light and warm like summer rain.
After a few moments, "I suppose I can always sneak into Tarantulas's lair and see if I can steal it from him." Which, she knows, is a foolishly risky and completely unacceptable choice, particularly when she cannot know if Tarantulas has the information she seeks. "Of course, if he catches me he'll probably offline me." She pauses, just a hair too long for it to be anything but scripted. "Or worse."
I sigh. "You assure me that this information will not fall into Megatron's hands?"
"Like I'd ever give old dino breath an edge," she scoffs, then seems to remember her performance. "But it's not a problem, Bowser. Couldn't ask you to compromise your honor, after all."
As if that is not a request she has made a hundred times before, in ways both large and small.
"On your word..." I sigh. "I will do it."
Her touches grow more bold, more enticing, distracting me away from the guilt I try not to acknowledge. To my shame, I not only allow it, I respond with all enthusiasm.