Vikander [Ten & Lexibeth]

Diem’s fingers curled around the waterskin and she lifted it up to her mouth. Her arms felt heavy and weak, and she was frustrated to find herself struggling. But this new guy was there, half leaning on the bed but maintaining a respectful distance as he helped guide and tilt the skin. Her eyes shifted to him; studying him as she drank greedily. Once her lungs started to burn, Diem lowered the skin with hard gasp; catching her breath as the man dipped back into his chair with a smile. He was so close in this space, Diem could reach out and grab his hand without leaving the bed. There was no sense of a threat though. If anything, she felt… comforted.

He clearly respected her modesty as well; draping a thin sheet across her lap when he came to help her. Dark brown eyes, still hazy with sleep and fog, watched him carefully but not distrustingly. As he smiled, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, Diem wanted him closer. There was something caring about him. Something comforting. Still, she sat where she was and pulled her legs closer into her; using the blanket to keep herself covered as she sat cross-legged in the center of the small bed.

And the more he spoke, the more she liked him. Her guard dropping quickly as he recounted the tale of saving her - knowing it was something to do with Anarth’s magic and not poison. At the mention of Bruce’s name, though, Diem’s heart dropped. If what this guy was telling her was true, Diem was well past the three days she’d hired Bruce for. In her haze, she was forgetting that Pastel had already told her Bruce was still out trying to gather more information. Her mind trying to wrap around all that had happened to her, her dream, and waking up in this new place. Tero, he’d said? She rolled her lips together before smiling at him, amused by his pride. She sat up a little more, inhaling to thank him, when the door burst open.

Flinching out of reflex, Diem turned her head to take in the image of Bruce as he stormed inside.

He was nothing like he had been when she’d first met him. Darkness rimmed his eyes, his cheeks almost hollow as he nearly boiled over with anger. He didn’t notice her - didn’t even glance toward the bed as he crossed the room in very few steps; slamming an old iron ring of scissors down on the desk as he hunched forward in exhaustion and frustration.

Pastel gestured for her to wait, and Diem gave him a “no kidding” look; but his distress still created a need in her to reach for him. Her fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket over her legs, and she sank a little lower on the bed; making herself small not so much on purpose, but because of the cramped nature of the apartment. Shifting her weight onto her hip, Diem managed to get herself up on her knees as Pastel moved to Bruce to figure out what was happening. Those doe-ish eyes danced over the heavy curve of his shoulders, carrying so much for so long as he spun to Pastel and exclaimed such raw guilt in his voice. Diem shook her head and let the blanket fall; reaching for him as his head turned and he finally caught sight of her.

”... Bruce..”

He was there before she could lose her strength; his arms wrapping her up and holding her where she couldn’t hold herself up. Her arms wrapped around him as tightly as she could; turning her face into the curve of his neck as the softest whimper of emotion bubbled past her lips before she could stop herself. She hardly heard Pastel excuse himself from his apartment, leaving them alone to pour themselves into each other. Diem’s eyes were wet when Bruce pulled back and brought his hands up to her cheeks. She reached for him still; fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders as she shook her head. He sat so far away from her it seemed, even though he was touching her and his body so close. She needed to feel the weight of him. Feel how warm he was.

She recognized the rush in his voice; how the words spilled from his lips like a dam breaking. She’d felt the same when he’d nearly died in that forest because she couldn’t control herself. The same had happened again, only flipped, and Diem could see how heavily his guilt had weighed on him. Keeping her hands curled into his shirt, Diem leaned back and pulled for him to climb onto the mattress with her. There was no romance, just intimacy; comfort. She tugged until he succumbed; her voice soft as she asked him to lay down with her. She didn’t feel as small next to him anymore, and Diem’s heart broke over how frail he felt. Her head moved to his chest and her arm wrapped around his middle; one thigh lifting to cover and tangle with his as she positioned him to lay on his back.

It was clear he didn’t want to, that he had so much he wanted to talk to her about first but Diem wasn’t having any of it until he laid out beside her. Once he was laying down and she could hear his heart beating under her cheek, Diem released a sigh and melted into him. She nestled in close; boundaries be damned as already the heavy blanket of sleep started to fog her mind again.

Sleepily, Diem gave in to his lead; her eyes closing as she pressed her figure as tightly into his as she could.

”It means you’re a werewolf, right?” She asked innocently; hazily remembering the grim shadow of a creature in her dream.

Bruce hesitated, even when she pulled at him, insisting he lay with her. She didn’t understand that they literally had no time for this. He’d failed her and even as he wanted to offer excuses and justifications, mostly he just wanted to make it right. That meant going to another bead reader and getting into Cascada’s head to figure out what she wanted again. He didn’t have time…

But her voice was so soft, her form so fragile as she asked him, her fingers clinging to him; he hadn’t been so lost in self-loathing not to realize when she’d held him how much he’d been supporting her and the little idiosyncrasies that let him know, she needed to be held. His mother had been raped before, by the prideful and prejudiced members of their own clan once he’d been born. So, Bruce understood even with Diem just being held captive and bitten by the rook the trauma and toll that must have taken. Besides that…it was something he needed as well.

So, he obliged her, laying on his side and making small wiggled adjustments with her until she had him on his back, sandwiched between her thighs and arms, like a child cuddling a doll…if the doll was much bigger than them. Even as he still felt tense about needing to go and progress with his work, he felt soothed by her presence and her smells. The way she curled against him, warm and soft, her hair smelling of natural oils and lavender, when Pastel had washed it for her last night. He felt himself relax in the embrace of her forgiveness, like he melted into the bed with her, his hand coming up to stroke her back as he held her against him.

“Why do you automatically assume a wolf?” he asked with a surprised frown, murmuring, “That’s a little racist… But yes, it’s basically the same idea. I’m affected by the changes in the moon and transform under its light into an animal.” He hesitated to say more, frowning despondently as he rubbed her arm, coaxing himself with the comfort of her touch, “My curse… I was born under the Blood Moon and am bound to its madness. I become not a man, nor a beast but a monster beneath it. Not conscious of myself nor those I know in my other forms. …The Blood Moon rises tomorrow night.”

It was a vulnerable moment then, waiting for her to say something and he rubbed his stubble against her forehead and cheek when it was within his reach. When he realized abruptly that he was scenting her, he stopped.

This… this is what she craved. What she needed. His arm wrapped around her like a protective shell; holding her close and fingertips able to caress the bare of her shoulder. Her hand searched for his own bare skin and ended up finding the flat of his belly beneath his shirt. Her fingers traveled up, pulling his tunic with it until her palm rested on his chest beneath the fabric beside her cheek. She let out a soft hum of comfort and curled in even further.

Even as he responded with distaste to her assumption. Diem frowned softly and turned her head so that her eyes could find his. Diem couldn’t put words to why she needed to feel his flesh, but she wasn’t satisfied until his skin was against hers. As her tunic shifted up with her endless fidgeting, Diem let out soft little sighs of satisfaction once her stomach and ribs were pressed against the section of his body that she’d exposed.

”I’m sorry,” She purred softly; curling her fingertips in the soft section of hair at his chest. ”I don’t mean to offend you....”

She couldn’t find the words to explain her train of thought… It took so much background and history into her world that she couldn’t figure out where to begin. But he didn’t seem his normal self - his level of annoyance and offense much thinner than before. Diem watched as he moved past it; continuing to talk. What he described sounded… horrible. And fantastical. So much so that despite all she had seen in this world so far, she could hardly fathom what he was saying.

Shifting herself up a little more, Diem propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. Her eyes searched his; feeling the comfort of his touch as he absently stroked his fingers along the curve of her shoulder and back. The vulnerability in his eyes… Diem shook her head and lifted her hand up to his cheek; her brow furrowing in concern.

”What can I do to help?” She asked finally, her eyes searching his before curling around him once more; her face coming down to his. Cheek to cheek, she closed her eyes as he ran his stubble cheek across hers before suddenly stopping, leaving Diem to lift her gaze up to his again; her eyes searching his and her mouth… so close… She licked her lips and rocked her weight back; noting her own temptation as she lifted her hand from his chest and moved it to her eyes. Reading his sudden turn of his face away from hers as something else.

”I’m sorry,” Diem said with a shake of her head. He hated being touched, and yet she pushed herself on him. She turned her weight away from him with a subtle shake of her head as she sighed. ”You saved my life, thank you… and your warning…” her eyes shifted back to him. ”Thank you also, but I can’t pay you anymore. I gave you all the silver I had on my person, and I have nothing else of value. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Her hand moved to touch him again but she stopped herself; pulling it back and bringing it to her stomach instead. Closing her eyes, Diem fought off the dizziness that crept up her spine and the emotions that started to churn in her core.

Turning back to her, Bruce couldn’t believe how far away she suddenly was and he wondered what had happened to change things. It wasn’t rejection because he heard it in her voice and saw it in her body language when she offered to help him. So, it came down to one thing: Payment. She had no money left and he’d made it quite clear right from the beginning that he wasn’t going to help her unless she could pay him. He cursed himself inwardly, both at his callousness for making the rule and his weakness for wanting to break it. Because right then, he didn’t give a damn about money or the business transaction, realizing that in a very desperate way, he needed her touch and comfort too. He’d been running ragged for the last several days, the first two because he had no idea if she was going to make it and the last because he wasn’t sure that he was going to.

Cradling her cheek with his hand, Bruce looked at her with longing and shook his head softly, “That’s not going to be possible.” Then he was closing the distance between them, his lips connecting with hers and his tongue stroking at the line between her lips, begging for entrance. As soon as she gave in and opened to him, Bruce let his hand flow to the back of her head, cradling her to him as he bit her softly in desire.

At that moment, Pastel returned with bread and cheese cradled in his hands and stopped in the doorway to look at the couple on his bed. He hesitated, wondering if there was somewhere in the tiny room where he could secret himself and eat the bread while watching them, but shook his head and promptly left, knowing Bruce would likely kill him once the alchemist was discovered.

Pushing her gently to a laying position, Bruce hovered over Diem, his lips still dancing with hers, his tongue stroking long and deep within the cavern of her mouth. He found himself engaging in the different courtship behaviors of his people, tonguing Diem’s diminutive canines in an attempt to stimulate her and rubbing her coarsely with the stubble on his jaw and throat, his skin releasing small pockets of musk to mark her with. All little tantalizing playful things he did subconsciously, even as he engaged in more familiar behaviors in an attempt to get her in the mood.

”That’s not going to be possible…”

Diem felt the air rush from her lungs; reading the message as clearly as she heard it. Her hand lifted to cradle his own against her cheek as her bright eyes searched his. There was that glint again… that piece of him she saw before they traveled the portal to Craven’s Hollow. Diem had been so unsure if she truly wanted to find that part of him before, but now… Her eyebrows lifted softly, pinching in the middle as her eyes misted and her lips parted in a breath a heartbeat before his lips found hers.

The world crashed down on Diem and she hesitated - just one moment.

And then she succumbed.

---

Several minutes later, Diem would reunite with a redressed and perky looking Bruce at a table in the bakery proper. He drank ale from a cup and finished chewing his food before rising from his seat as she approached. “Ready to go?” he grunted, barely looking at her as he took a final drink from his cup, sniffing in an impatient manner as he gave her one solid, pressing look. “Alright then, let’s head out.” The man who’d been upstairs was missing, replaced by a stranger. Albeit a revived and healthy stranger with a pep in his step, Bruce jerked out of reach when Diem attempted to get close or touch him.

Also rising from the table, Pastel turned to her and gave her a semi-mocking yet accusatory look, “What did you do? He’s like a windup that’s had its key newly cranked. Nevermind,” he held up a hand and smirked softly, that playful light in his eye, “I already know. In fact nearly everyone down here does.” As Diem would take in the room, she’d notice that the other customers of the bakery were looking at her with a mixture of inquisitive, knowing, and derisive looks. “My land lady is a bit pissed with me now. Thinks I’m a pimp. Sorry Kana!” he waved a placating hand at the Tulpa behind the counter, her nose a long, pimply snout and her eyes large, slanted discs with eyelashes on the edges. It was hard to know if that was a disapproving look she was giving him, or if she just normally looked like that.

As they walked out of the bakery to trail after Bruce, Pastel put into Diem’s hands a sandwich made from a loaf of herbs and cheese bread with a thick slab of cheese stuck in the middle where it’d been sliced in half. “Figured you’d be hungry after all that screamin’!” Pastel laughed about that in his throat, even as he donned a cheeky grin and put his arm around Diem’s shoulders for a playful half-hug.

Diem laid in bed several minutes after he had left; her eyes softly staring at the ceiling as she thought of Bruce. Her heart was swollen in her chest as she sighed contentedly and rolled onto her stomach. She could still feel his kisses before he left; almost unwilling to leave her behind before he went. She smiled, curling into herself as she allowed herself one more minute to bask in his affection before rising.

Cleaning up and dressing, Diem looked around the room for her pack; finding it near Pastel’s desk. Pulling it over her shoulders, Diem made her way slowly down to the bakery below. She had severely over-estimated how well she felt, and as she came down the steps she was frowning; hand on her stomach and head before she spotted the men at the table.

Bruce was eating like an animal; scarfing down food as she approached only to stand suddenly as she got close to the table. Diem smiled at him, feeling that warmth spreading from her belly as she reached her hand out to caress his own before he pulled away. She blinked, stunned by his distance, and watched him walk away. Her head turned to look at Pastel as he stood, her eyes searching for an answer to Bruce’s behavior but instead she was met with a teasing glance around the room. Her gaze followed his, and Diem’s eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed hotly as her gaze focused on the owner. She pursed her lips and gave the round woman an apologetic wave before spinning on her heel and following Pastel and Bruce out of the bakery.

Sighing, she turned her eyes to Pastel as they walked; smiling thankfully as he handed her the sandwich. She was hungry, and her stomach growled at the smell of the food, but she was careful to take little pieces. She knew damn well the consequences of trying to scarf some food after being sick, and she didn’t want to stay behind.

When his arm snaked around her shoulders and pulled her in for a half-hug while they trailed after Bruce, Diem gave a half-hearted smile. Her mind couldn’t shake Bruce’s sudden coldness toward her, and she was distressed at how strongly it was affecting her. She frowned as she pulled off corner of the bread and ate it; watching how Bruce moved with renewed energy and not giving a damn that Diem was following slowly behind him.

What happened to the affection and tenderness he’d shown her just before coming back downstairs?

Diem’s eyes watered in frustration and she sighed angrily; reaching up and wiping at her eyes before turning her gaze up to Pazz.

”Pastel, can I ask you something?”

Waiting for his eyes to turn back to her, she frowned; slowing her tracks to give a little more distance between them and Bruce. She remembered what Anarth said clearly…

”Am I being stupid?”

Pastel glanced at her as they followed Bruce at a more leisurely pace, thoughtful confusion marring his features, “Well…to be fair, I don’t know you very well…” He waited for her to give him a look and then smirked again, bumping her with his arm to show her he was kidding. “What? You mean about him?” Pastel pointed at Bruce ahead, way more jolly than he had been before, walking casually but with direction in his steps. “Depends on what you want. Personally, I’m not the type to enjoy commitment. I take a much freer stance about relationships and what. I’ve got tons of ladies who know me and several little bastards running around by each of them. I’ve even had a few men as lovers.” He shrugged with a smirk about that, then mischievously pointed ahead at Bruce, then made a thrusting fist gesture towards his mouth, his tongue poking suggestively at the inside of his cheek, ending the charade by pointing at his own chest with a smug smile. Whether Diem would realize it or not, he wasn’t lying.

“Honestly, don’t fret, vanilla,” he said with a soft shake of his head. “It’s just how we Moonborn are. We’re, to put it plainly, dogs.” He shrugged and sighed with a contented sigh as if the fact didn’t bother him so much to own up to. “Although, I will say this much,” Gently, he stopped Diem for a moment, glancing ahead to make sure Bruce continued to walk down the sunny street. Quietly, he said to her, “You know he’s just about out of money, yeah? He’s poured everything into trying to get the Weaver to talk to him and he’s got about as much left to take to the bead reader. Let’s pray that whatever she says the Weaver wants isn’t expensive to acquire, because these are his last chocolate chips. You lot seem made for each other,” Pastel meant because if she actually was in fact stupid, then Bruce was right there along with her, but he let her think what she wanted as they continued to walk, picking up the pace to catch up to the other Moonborn.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about money though,” he said with a shrug, waving at a raven haired woman wearing a veil who passed by them and following her with his eyes as she walked away behind them, finally coming back to the conversation. “He’s resourceful.”

When he started, Diem sighed; taking what he said at face value. She glanced up at him, frowning, only to get a soft laugh and little bump on her shoulder and a chuckle from the man to indicate he was pulling her leg. Her expression didn’t lighten up much, Diem couldn’t help but feel like Bruce had used her. She’d offered herself, of course.. She’d wanted him. But this? This wasn’t what she had imagined when she’d given herself over. What he was like after - touching her and teasing, kissing her over and over because he couldn’t quite leave with just one…

Diem felt her eyes burn and she quickly looked away from Pastel; sniffing casually and reaching her hand up to wipe at her eyes before any tears could fall. Maybe she was just trying too much too soon… She probably should have stayed back in the apartment but Bruce had been so… convincing. Like suddenly they were this perfectly happy couple and neither of them realized it until it happened. She let out a huff of breath, realizing just how stupid that was to believe.

Shaking her head, her attention turned back up to Pastel as he seemed to finally realize what she was asking. Was she being stupid about Bruce. About her feelings for him. She’d known him for what? Six days? And three of those she was unconscious. It was ludicrous. Diem didn’t believe in this shit, but it seemed like she just couldn’t help herself when it came to the hired tracker. And that was even worse! She paid him! Maybe that’s what this morning had been all about? Him trying to give her what he thought she wanted?

Pursing her lips in frustration as her thoughts and theories over their coupling ran off the rails in her mind, Diem’s eyes followed Pastel’s gesture toward Bruce before she blinked; shook her head and looked up at him with surprise. Pastel? And Bruce?! Diem wasn’t really appalled by homosexuality, I mean… she lived in New York where there was a very large gay scene, but… she just… she was confused. Bruce just didn’t strike her as the type… Pastel must be joking. Deciding that there was no truth to what he said simply because Bruce didn’t fit her preconceived notions, Diem shook her head with a small, amused smile.

Yeah, right, Pastel. Good try.

Still, his teasing made her feel a little better. She sighed and nodded, leaning in a little to Pastel’s half-hug before he gripped her tightly enough to stop her. Turning dark eyes up to his, she frowned. Almost out of chips? The sentence just didn’t make sense to her… until the memory of Bruce screaming at her in that alley sifted to the surface of her mind. Diem’s eyes widened and she turned her head to Bruce’s furthering figure.

”Oh my God,” she whispered as realization dawned, shaking her head before she sighed. ”Chocolate is money… that’s why he was so angry…”

With a deep sigh, Diem lifted her hand up to rub at her eyes; exhaustion getting to her again as a headache slowly began to build. Well, it’s a good thing she didn’t actually eat those chips then, she thought to herself as she turned with Pastel to catch up to Bruce. He probably would have actually killed her… She tried to imagine what it would be like to host a foreigner in her apartment, only to catch him dining on hundred dollar bills. God… no wonder. And it would never be something she’d feel she should point out as not food.

As they walked along, Diem thought about all that Fergus had given her in her pack. She’d rummaged through it a few times, and there were items in there she wasn’t sure about. It dawned on her to ask Bruce but he hadn’t exactly been a welcoming conversationalist - and even now he seemed to ignore her as he led their small party toward the bead reader. She’d wait, she decided, but it would be good for her to have true understanding of what she was carrying around with them. As well as Fergus’ generosity.