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Presence	By : Ozphoenix Category: Transformers > Beast Wars Views: 2380 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Presence
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DISCLAIMER: Transformers owned by Hasbro, not me.

Presence
By Phoenix

He touched his hand to the glass; feeling the coldness, the uncaring hardness of it. Tilting his head, he could easily bring up the thoughts of her. This was torture for him, but to think of ending it was even worse, although sometimes; at times like right now; an ending to it seemed like a gift from Primus himself.

“I’ve told you before, clean this bloody rat warren of a tunnel, would you?” Blackarachnia’s voice was raspy, her slight panting marring the scowl she had perfected into her expression whenever she saw him. He turned from the window to look at her pulling herself up from the tiny dark hole in his floor. The Axalon central computer was always beeping about ‘glitches’ in the sector of his quarters. He had a rough time keeping Rattrap from investigating too closely.

He stiffened, “You’re lucky I made it for you.”

“Ha, yeah right. Lucky. Sure.” She bent down and brushed some of the soot off her leg, optics avoiding looking at him. His own optics focused on the claw of her hand stroking her leg in a gesture that looked far too sensuous, then moved upwards to the almost obnoxious bulging of her dreamy-sized breasts from her upper chassis. He felt a thrill race down his spine to settle in his restless groin. Determined to ignore it, he growled at her.

“You can fix it up yourself. I’m sure you’re quite capable. Or maybe you’d prefer the front door?” He wished his voice could be harsher, but unfortunately he hadn’t been blessed with a vocal box that spat out words as intimidating as thunder.

“Huh. Hello Maximals! I’m here to fuck your leader monkey! Not.” She smirked and gazed around his quarters, seeing things that stirred her memories more than she would ever reveal to him. Primus knows, she’d told him enough already. That one brilliant moment on the battlefield when he’d grabbed her in a rough bodylock and the surge of agony from an instant flood of memories that had sent her screaming away from him, and his own body frozen in sudden stasis lock while his mind beat at rigid mental barriers with pain wracked fists.

It had frustrated Rhinox immensely to find out what was going on with him and get his leader’s body back in acceptable order. If the medical officer had thought the body was tough to fix, then when he got to the mind he was flummoxed.

Optimus Primal’s terrified stare and his scramble to his quarters had frightened them all. The whimpers Rattrap heard at night through the common wall they shared between their quarters had been enough to get him to bunk with a disgruntled Cheetor.

“Can we do it now?” Blackarachia’s frustrated voice interrupted his thoughts. He mused she must be hurting badly this time if she had let the disdain drop from her voice. He decided that as much as he was in pain, she got it worse than he did, and he could not let her suffer. Predacon or not. Enemy or not. He wouldn’t let her go without relief. Her voice came again, quieter this time, as if she didn’t want him to hear. “Is…….is he in there?”

He glanced at her. She was standing stooped over, arms hanging by her sides, expression flitting from being hopeful and yearning to hate and despair.

“He’s always in here. You know that,” he said, sighing, closing his optics. Her footsteps were loud, dragging across the floor.

“Can he see?” she asked, her mouth twitching and trying to snarl as she stopped inches from him and let her hand come up to rest along his jaw.

“I think so.” He opened his optics and his vision was filled with her face.
He let her do what she wanted, it was always easier that way. Sometimes she hurt him, and he had learnt to repair his own cuts and scrapes to avoid the scrutiny of the chief medical officer, but most often it was simply satisfying with rare moments of pure bliss and such love that his tears fell like rain and she licked them up, soothing him as best she could. This time was very touching. Laying back on the bed after, her head pushed up underneath his chin, he stared out the circular window in the ceiling above their heads and waited for the moment when she leapt from their bed and took off down the hole in his bedroom floor like a rabid coyote.

Then he would be left to himself, dreaming the incoherent thoughts that inhabited his mind from the spectre of the male ghost he was possessed with. He guessed Blackarachnia had to console her own feminine spectre of a ‘poltergeist’ (so she called it). Often times he found it amusing to be technically a virgin while he and his similarly possessed lover rutted like rabbits. He couldn’t call it ‘making love’ when the physical bodies involved hated each other. The way she cried and shook when he mounted her like an animal and delved deep into her body had convinced him. And other times he was UN-convinced when she rode his hips and the steel hard erection situated there as he thrusted his might into her from the position of an infatuated lover, her over-sized breasts rebounding from his efforts.

He did not like the female Predacon. Her body impressed him, and yes, aroused him, but to touch her made him cringe. She had expressed (in very short, clipped words) her dissatisfaction with him, also. But neither of them had a choice.
The instant when they had grappled on the battlefield had left them forever taken over by the pair of souls that co-inhabited their psyches. Souls that had been bonded in life in a powerful ceremony, which ensured they would forever be together – be they dead or alive.

He and the femme needed the contact. Their possessors demanded it. Pain which was mostly mental but sometimes physical forced them to keep doing these meetings and continue a tempestuous relationship neither of them wanted. Relief only came when their ghost inhabitors were sated.

Blackarachnia’s head twitched beneath his chin, and he felt the love within his chest for her which wasn’t his own. She didn’t look like she was going to move for the rest of the night. Closing his optics he willed dreamless sleep upon himself – as the only respite he was likely to get from their weird existence….

END!
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Presence