Work Text:
What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
"Wicked Game," - Chris Isaac
It must have been the voice, Maggie decided. That gravelly, no-nonsense tone he took with all those around him, including the ones who were supposedly his superiors. The kind of voice that told you to jump and had you asking how high--unless you wanted a boot planted in your arse--or, in this case, she supposed, a drill planted in your head.
The kind of voice that had her wanting to deny orders...just to see what might happen afterward.
She'd always had a thing for dominant personalities in the opposite sex.
Alpha males, she guessed you could call them.
Though she's not quite certain when or where or exactly how Ratchet ended up in that category.