Unliely Partners

Finding this small inn, they had barely escaped the cold and the hostile party chasing them down. The only sound now was the dripping of Bastian's wet hair on his shoulders as the ice melted from it. The tortured look had receded from eyes, replaced by a tentative stillness. He looked like prey, ready to run at the first sign of danger. Laine didn't move, didn't breathe, for fear of spooking him. He cleared his throat and looked away. "Thank you. For having my back." Laine just looked at him. "I'm sorry I haven't been more able to help."

He shrugged the apology off and dropped his bag on the floor, looking around. "I'll take the floor," he said. Not one to waste words. She'd grown accustomed to his terse communication style. "You can take a shower first. I'll check the outside again."

Laine nodded once, and moved into the tiny bathroom. As exhausted as she felt, she wasn't sure how he was still upright. He'd done the brunt of the fighting today, and taken more than a few hits. She'd done what she could, but wasn't as experienced or as strong as he was. The guilt of the imposition she was on him came flooding back to her.

She sighed as she stepped in to the warm spray. The shower was dingy with stains and rust, but looked technically clean enough. She frowned down at her body where several large bruises began to bloom; still a fresh red. She rinsed her hair and scrubbed the dirt and blood from under her fingernails as best she could. The provisions in the shower were sparse, but there was enough soap to at least feel human again, if not exactly clean.

Laine heard Bastian moving around the room as she wrapped a towel around herself and dragged a comb through hair that way too thick for it. She opened the door to find him gingerly removing his boots. He was pale, but it might just have been from the cold. Keeping his moodiness in mind, she decided against expressing any concern for him.

"I saved you some hot water." Bastian nodded and stood, more slowly than she'd seen him move in the week they'd been traveling together. He walked toward the bathroom door, then stopped, turning. "Don't open the door for any reason. If you hear something, get me immediately."

Laine fought the urge to roll her eyes, and just said, "I'm not stupid," as the door shut firmly behind him. "Jerk," she muttered under her breath. She cinched the towel tighter and sat on the bed to finish combing her hair. She stopped short as she heard a thud and a muffled "Gah!" come from the bathroom. Thinking the worst, she barreled through the door and ripped the curtain aside to see Bastian on one knee, bracing one arm against the shower wall. He was hunched over himself, his breathing short and fast.

"What happened," Laine demanded. Bastian's eyes were closed, and his mouth was tight with pain.

"I reached up to move the shower head, and my side split."

"Let me see." Bastian looked up at her, but instead of the usual coldness, she saw only indifference and defeat. If he felt too badly to yell at her for intruding on him, it must be serious.

He lifted his free arm, slowly, and Laine saw the wound over his ribs. The middle was straight and clean-edged, but part curving toward his chest was jagged where his skin had just given out under a shallower section of the same knife gash.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a cut this deep? I could have stitched it for you," Laine chastised as she pushed gently against the outside of the wound. He hissed as more blood trickled out. "I didn't know it was that deep."

She muttered something about 'stubborn pig' under her breath, but eased back onto her heels, looking at him. He was covered in bruises and injuries. Some fresh, but most old and scarred over. Most had healed ugly, as though he'd tended them himself. He must spend so much time alone. To have his only human contact come from such violence... no wonder he was so bad at being around people.

He was looking at her now, daring her with his eyes to ask about it. She swallowed her feelings back. "I don't think there's anything stuck in there. But I need to clean it up. She stood and crossed her arms. "Any more damage you need to tell me about, or am I supposed to find you dead of pride in the morning?"

Bastian stood with what she could tell was a mighty effort. Blood oozed down his side, mixing with the water and running down the length of his body. There was a lot more blood swirling around the drain than she'd expected, but most of it didn't seem to be his. Suddenly remembering he was fully naked, Laine fought to keep her eyes up, but she did take note of the other nicks on his chest and arms. None looked too serious.

"I'll find the first aid kit," she said as she left the room, hoping her cheeks weren't too red. He didn't acknowledge her words as he picked up a bar of soap and began scrubbing the dried flecks of blood from his hands.

Laine shuffled quickly through her pack and found a tank top and sweat pants, and shoved them on. She located the first aid kit, and was poking through the contents when the bathroom door opened and Bastian walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist. Biting her tongue to keep from blushing again, Laine gestured to the bed. "Sit."

Bastian just looked at her. "No."

Laine sighed. "Okay He-Man, have it your way." She motioned him closer to the bed where the first aid kit lay open. "There's no thread in here," she said, eyeing him severely, "I assume you've already used that." Bastian stayed silent, his eyes locked on a crack in the wall.

Laine lifted his arm gently and looked at the wound again. "It's not too wide, but it might leave an ugly scar just the same. Bastian snorted. Well, at least he was no longer ignoring her completely. She pulled out two large butterfly bandages and set them next to the kit. "Lift your arm." He did so, and she opened an alcohol wipe, squeezing the excess liquid into the opening. He sucked his breath in sharply, but stayed still with his arm outstretched.

She wiped the edges of the wound, and tossed the wipe into the trash. She pulled the backing off one of the bandages and fixed the bottom adhesive underneath the left side of the gash. She repeated the process with the second bandage, placing it under the right side. She moved his arm so that it was braced on her shoulder. "This is going to hurt." She braced her thumbs on the attached part of the bandage, and placed her middle fingers on the pad of each one. Working as quickly as she could, she used her index and ring fingers along with her thumbs to pull the wound closed, and fastened the top of each bandage.

Bastian's jaw was clenched, but still he was silent. He grunted and made to move away, but she snatched the arm still on her shoulder. "Let me see the rest of you."

"I'm fine," he snapped, but she was already moving in front of him, looking at the bruises that mottled his sides and chest. None looked bad enough to indicate internal damage, but he would be sore for a good long while. She moved around to look at his back, brushing his hair gently out of the way. He tensed. Laine froze momentarily, but when he made no further movement, she continued, keeping her fingers on him so he would know where she was and what she was doing. He was like an abused puppy that had grown into a mistrustful dog.

His back was as scarred as his front, and she saw a mark on his shoulder that mirrored one in the front, and wondered what had gone clean through him. She dropped her hand and moved back to face him.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

He looked at her defiantly. "I'm a mercenary. It comes with the territory."

"What made you decide to do this?"

It was almost imperceptible, but he squared his shoulders and stood a little taller. "I'm not good for anything else."

Laine studied him. His eyes. It was all in his eyes. He wore many shields on those eyes, but there was something behind it all that made her think he wasn't just a cold killing machine.

"Where do you come from? Where's your family?"

He turned his head and stepped away from her. "I don't have a family."

"But you must have had one once - you came from somewhere. Someone took care of you."

"I've been alone as long as I can remember, and I'd like to keep it that way." He strode back to the bathroom, grabbing his pack on the way.

"You're welcome, asshole!" Laine threw at his back. She was seething on the inside. An entire week they'd been traveling together, and she knew nothing about him. She'd dealt with his one-word answers, his glares, his silence. Yes, she had pushed him into helping her, but what else was she supposed to do? It's not like there was a list of mercenaries for hire that she could call. He'd come through town, and she'd taken her chance. She crossed her arms and glared as he turned back to face her.

"I'm the asshole? I wouldn't even have these new injuries if you hadn't hounded me for help. I've been saving your ass ever since I met you and all I get in return is your constant chatter and questions. Let me be clear - we're not friends. You hired me to do a job, and that's all I'm here to do."

"What happened to you?" she asked again. "Why are you so incapable of basic human interaction?"

Bastian stepped toward Laine until only a few inches separated them. "It's none of your goddamn business," he said with venom in his voice. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don't think you're who you pretend to be. I think there's more to you, but you won't give anyone a chance to find out."

"And how could you possibly know that? What amazing insight you must have, to think that a lone mercenary must have a troubled past." His nose was almost touching hers at this point. "You're not the only one to try to shove that theory down my throat, princess. Grow up. You can't figure me out based on your own knowledge of the world, I can guarantee you that."

Laine still glared up at him, but she had nothing to say. She couldn't explain why she felt the way she did, but she knew she was right. That fire crackling in his eyes, she could see the fear behind it; the longing. She reached out a hand and laid it flat against his stomach.

Bastian flinched. "What are you doing?" he asked, not taking his eyes off hers.

"I don't know, just... just shut up." The heat of his body so close to her was intoxicating. She ran her fingers lightly over each scar and injury, as if her touch could tell her the stories about them that he wouldn't. Bastian stood, tensed and unmoving as Laine explored his body. When she tentatively leaned forward and lightly kissed the puckered scar below his collarbone, he grabbed her by the elbows. "What... what are you doing?" he asked again. She looked into his eyes - guarded curiosity there, but also worry. She felt so much from him. He had miles of betrayal stretching out behind him, and such a burden laying on his soul. The heaviness of it hit her and she struggled to keep the tears from her eyes.

Laine put a hand on each of his forearms where he held her at arm's length. She looked up at him, where he watched her suspiciously.

"Just for tonight," she said, "a truce. You can go back to being an asshole tomorrow."

The wariness in his eyes shifted slightly, revealing a kind of hunger. Not just for her body, but for something more. For kindness. Laine put her hands on his face, and lifted on her toes to kiss him. He didn't react at first as she put her lips against his. His grip was frozen on her elbows still. She pulled away, and saw the pleading on his face. He didn't want her to do this. To make him want her. He was afraid of it. It was enough to make her reconsider, but then his fingers tightened on her skin and he leaned close and kissed her back. His hands were so tight on her it was almost painful, but she pulled him closer, her hands roaming over his back. She didn't stop, didn't pause at the imperfections she found there; they didn't make her shrink away.

Laine tried to convey that feeling through her touch, tried to make him feel safe. Wanted. Bastian grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer, moving his hands over her back in a mirror of her own movements. She suddenly remembered that he was in nothing but a towel, and her hands moved to where it rested low over his hips. Pulling the edge free, she moved the cloth from between them and let it fall to the ground.

Bastian pushed against her and she had no choice but to step back until she was against the wall. Still, Bastian pushed and Laine let him devour her space with his body. Her hands moved down his waist and back up his chest, resting on either side of his neck. He still kissed her, deeply and hard while his hands roamed over her waist, her breasts, her back. She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her, watching her. It was unnerving, but it also set her body on fire.

Laine reached down and took him in her hands, marveling at how all men were the same when it came to their dicks. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors to be sure, but the differences were secondary to the sameness. Bastian's entire body was riddled with scars, but the hard, silky skin in her hands felt the same as any other. He was still just a man beneath all the pain and battle.

She stroked one hand gently up his ribs, and he shoved his hands against the wall on either side of her head, boxing her in. Laine pulled back to look at him, but Bastian closed the space she created, nipping his teeth down her neck and rubbing his scruff against her skin. Bastian dug his fingers into her hips and hooked his fingers into her waistband, pulling her sweatpants off. She kicked them away as he yanked up on her tank top, ripping it over her head as she lifted her arms.

Bastian took one of her bare breasts in his palm, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Laine arched her back toward him as kissed her again, more roughly. He ground his bare hips against hers, making her feel the full, hard length of him.

Laine trailed a hand softly down his arm, and he growled, cupping her ass and lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her to the bed, tossing her down onto it. He stood over her for a moment, breathing harshly, before moving her thighs apart with a knee. He bent over her and kissed her stomach, one hand moving to cup a breast, which he stroked idly. His other hand moved between her legs, and replicated the stroking motion.

Laine arched into him, warmth spreading from up her spine. She bunched the sheets in her hands and closed her eyes. She opened them again when he stopped kissing her stomach, to find him watching her. His eyes were dark and heavy, with both desire and that something else that she couldn't quite pin down. He looked angry, but also desperate. She reached out and put a hand through his dark hair, brushing it back from his face. Bastian closed his eyes and turned away from her, putting his mouth between her legs. Laine gasped and threw her head back onto the bed. Her body burned under his touch. His tongue teased her, hard and soft in turns. He dragged his hand from her breast down her torso, his calluses scratching the tender skin. The contrast in sensations fired all of her nerves awake and she saw stars behind her eyelids.

Just as she felt her orgasm peaking, he pulled his head away from her. Bastian's hair fell back across his face as he crawled over her, covering her body with his. One leg was bent at the knee, pushed under hers, and the other was stretched straight out behind him, foot braced against the wall. His face close to hers, she could feel his hot breath on her neck as he kissed her neck, her throat, the dip between her collarbones. Even though his touch was gentle, the stubble on his chin made her skin feel chafed and aching. Bastian placed a hand over her heart and lay still for a moment, feeling her heart racing in her chest. And then he drove himself into her with a grunt. He ran his hands along her arms until he intertwined his fingers with hers and pushed her hands above her head, pinning her down.

Laine could breathe freely, but most of his weight was on her, holding her down beneath him, not letting her touch him. Bracing her feet against his legs, she met his thrusts, and gently bit the side of his neck, moving from just below his ear to his throat and back again. Bastian pressed his forehead against the side of her head and ground his hips against hers, using his foot against the wall to push harder.

Her body was combusting from the inside out. She closed her fingers tightly around his and pushed against him as hard as she could as she came, gasping and shuddering. Bastian gave several more hard thrusts, and she felt him release as well. He was sweating, and his breathing was ragged. Bastian shifted slightly so his full weight was no longer on her, and she risked a glance at him. His hair was covering most of his face. Laine pushed it back behind his ear, and he opened his eyes. They were heartbreaking - vulnerable and open, he looked like he was about to be whipped.

Laine smiled softly at him, and watched his eyes close off in the space of a heartbeat. The clouded suspicion and wariness was back. Bastian pushed off the bed. "I'll take the floor," he said, and picked the towel up off the floor, wrapping it back around himself.