Private RP Blog

Gods... The Rovender he knew would have had a hard time believing this was possible. Setting how nice this felt aside, sharing a moment's intimacy with another after the death of his wife hadn't even remotely crossed his mind. How could it, when he had been the one responsible for their loss? So much pain, so much grief, yet in this moment it mattered little. There was only her, and not even he could conjure to mind a sight as beautiful as this. He counted her freckles, the dim lighting of the room allowing for it, and ran his fingers through her curls. Each kiss he returned with equal amounts of enthusiasm, soft pants rising from him until her leg came to rest between his own.

"Ah..."

The friction was pleasant, and the more she moved it the more pleasure he could feel. Her nip to his ear only enhanced it, the sensitive nature of the area she'd just attacked drawing a soft whimper followed by a hum. His fingers wandered down her back, pausing only once they'd reached her rear. So little he knew about the woman and her anatomy that he seemed content exploring, those same fingers drifting back up to trace a familiar scar running down her back. His touch grew gentler still, not wanting to hurt her.

In response to his name, a hum. A thick one, and the more she moved the more she seemed to arouse him. He could feel himself nestled between her thighs, and for a moment he urged them to close. For them to lock around him, albeit for a moment. He shifted upward, the tip slipping past her lips before brushing against her core.

"I love when you touch me like this," She breathed, the feel of his wandering hands causing her to moan softly "I love you...".

She hummed happily at his words, her thighs closing carefully around his length and giving a clean roll of her hips feeling it nestled between the soft flesh. She felt him angle, her lips parting with a soft gasp as she felt him drift so dangerously close to her core. He was so close and yet she wanted him closer still. She rolled her hips, angling them so he could brush up against her again; the tip of him barely catching the edge of her entrance. She could feel the prickles of desire on her skin again, imagining how he might feel buried inside of her.

She parted her thighs, lifting a leg to hook over Rovender's hip and draw him closer; nestling his arousal against the lips of her heat and teasing him with the friction. She could feel it pressed against her, toying with her clit, a soft moan buried against his lips as she kissed him deeply.

He drew comfort in knowing he'd been able to help, albeit temporarily. He'd forgotten what that felt like - being of use - and upon scolding her gently as a father would a child it became clear that he did have a bit of a soft spot for them. Rough around the edges though he seemed, even he could understand that this wasn't a predicament they had chosen to be in. They had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and, as a result of being different, had found themselves a target. He thought of the small village he'd agreed to take them to, a fleeting exchange between himself and Eva-Nine making it seem as though that was the best course of action. He was heading that way anyway and upon arriving they would part ways.

Rovender hummed, a gentle hand patting Otto's side. He was trying to curl up, restricting not only the mechanic's movements but his own. Even now, he couldn't help but find himself in awe of what the girl had accomplished. Befriending a water-bear was an achievement in and of itself, though he still found himself uncertain on whether or not he could trust it. He kept his touch light, a soft hum drawn from him at her remark. His eyes softened, wiping the last of her sweat away before folding the small rag and slipping it back into his back. He'd wash it when they found water, but for now this would have to do.

"But you must..."

The words left him with ease, and for a moment there was kinship. He understood not wanting to sleep, little as he knew about what she'd been through, but her body could no longer handle being awake. Had she nightmares of her own, memories waiting her behind those tired eyes, then he'd be sure to wake her. Soothe her, as he wished someone would soothe him.

"I will wake you if you have another," he said, leaning his own head back against Otto. His leg was throbbing, and he knew in that moment that sleep would not come. It wasn't the first nor the last that sleep would elude him, though for her sake he would pretend. Were she as observant as him then it could be something they discussed come morning, but...

He began to hum.

A lullaby he sung to his children when they were still with him. Eva-Nine heard it too, further away though she was, and as her own eyes grew hooded it seemed it still had the same effect. It was in his own language, though the words were translated clearly. He continued to hum even once the woman had fallen asleep, silence gripping their camp only once he was sure she'd settled.

Some time passed, the sun slowly beginning to rise. Eva-Nine was the first to wake, though from the bags under her eyes it was clear she hadn't slept as much as she needed to. She walked silently their way, her hand coming to rest on Otto's snout.

"Is she okay?" she whispered, nodding to the mechanic still resting by his side.

Rovender looked her way, ears twitching as he checked her breathing.

And then that melody.

The Cerulean's voice was low and quiet, a lilting song she did not recognise curling around her mind and forcing her body to relax. She huffed, her eyes finally closing as she conceded defeat, her mind focusing on the song and drawing from it a comfort she hoped would follow her into her dreams. So heavy her body felt, she hadn't realised noticed her head falling to the side, finally coming to rest on Rovender's shoulder as she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

She was still most of the night, a few whimpers of pain and a quiet word escaping her as the expected dreams haunted her; her body too weak to fight them. The bruising on her face had spread, two shiners now resting at her eyes from where she had struck the Dorcean with her head. By all accounts, when the sun lined her face, she looked worse. But her breathing was clear and her fever was gone; a few beads of sweat lining her body beneath her bandages.

When Eva-Nine approached, she hardly stirred, only giving a small whine as Rovender spoke. It was only the rolling of MUTHR's wheel upon the gravel that drew the woman from slumber with a flinch; amber eyes snapping open.

"Ah-" She winced, sitting up more abruptly than she should have and raising a hand to her face as the sun beamed into her eyes "Dammit...".

"Good morning, Kasumi," MUTHR spoke, leaning down to look at her, taking note of the presence of the ointment and the Cerulean she had been sleeping next to "If you required treatment through the night you should have woken me...". Her tinny voice sounded concerned, orange eyes whirring in thought. The amount of painkillers she had given her... It should have been more than enough to keep her through the night. Had she miscalculated?

"It's fine," The woman grunted, her eyes adjusting "...Rovender helped". That and she hadn't been in the position to speak, let alone move to reach her. But, she wasn't about to let Eva-Nine know about such a detail. Last night, it was between her and the Cerulean. And the large Water-Bear holding her up and keeping her warm.

"Thank you for caring for her," The MUTHR unit would have smiled if she could, turning her attention to Rovender and his leg "And you've kept your leg elevated, that's good. Eva, how about we get breakfast started?".

She waited for the young girl to take to the task before she leaned down between Rovender and Kasumi, scanning the woman and humming happily. She didn't mind if Eva could hear them, but knew how the girl could be without something to focus on.

"Your fever has broken," She nodded "Whatever you gave her must have been the last push it needed... How're your pain levels today, Kasumi?".

"Next question," The woman grunted, any attempt at moving causing a strong ache in her bones, a small tut from the MUTHR unit making her sigh in defeat "They're... Better than yesterday, but I don't think I'll be walking for a while, at least not unaided...".

"We can sort out an aid for you. Any other symptoms?" MUTHR asked, continuing to scan her "Dizziness? Irritability?".

"No, I've got a crutch in my pack, it's fine... As for irritability? No more than normal," The woman furrowed her brows, already tired of the fussing "...I'm a little dizzy, I guess...".

"That's expected," The MUTHR unit hummed "You have a good deal of facial bruising, though the swelling seems to have eased".

"Great..." The woman groaned, reaching for her pack and pulling from it a small collapsible crutch. She turned it in her hand, lips pursing with discomfort as she unfolded it and used it to brace herself, leaning against Otto to stand. MUTHR attempted to help her, the woman quickly swatting her off with an irritated grunt.

It seemed that she was back to her usual self and she took to hobbling towards the camp and the young Eva-Nine.

"Seems like the night wasn't too kind to you, either," The woman commented, her voice low but knowing. She stood, the crutch braced under her arm with a certain familiarity, as though it were an extension of herself that had always been there. It was old, worn and had seen some use. A sign that even she wasn't immune to a bad day.

Rovender's ears twitched, lowering the bottle once its contents had been emptied. He'd need to go foraging at dawn, and though the treatment he'd administered was hardly as effective as the medicine Muthr could distribute it had eased some of her discomfort. Good. The rest they could work through with time.

From behind the mechanic, an audible grumble. Otto was still worried, that same wet nose shifting to nudge her hands from her face. The sun would be rising soon, and with his mind already made up his head could only tilt. Did she truly think he'd leave her alone to suffer the night? He could sense the guilt that drove her, and in it he saw a glimmer of himself. The weight she bore... He knew little of it, but the metal attached to her conveyed the severity well enough. This wasn't the time to broach it, though. No, not really. She had her story and he had his, and soon it would matter little. His eyes softened still, a single hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Apologies should be reserved for things we can control," he told her, his voice soft. "Can you control being in pain? Having a fever? I think not..."

With this, a firm flick to her forehead. A way of scolding her, much like he would have one of his children. A caring gesture, one that came from the heart. Gone was the man that grumbled and complained, replaced by one that he thought long lost.

"I will rest," he added finally, shifting his weight against the large water bear behind him. "And so will you."

Thwack!

A sudden spark of pain ricocheted through her forehead and caused her to hiss. It wasn't searing, as her headache had been previously, but it was enough to bring her spiralling mind back from the brink. Amber eyes blinked, watching the Cerulean's hand retreat before reaching for her bag. Had he... Just flicked her forehead?

She thought back to the gesture, how it mirrored the very one she had given Eva-Nine. For a moment, she almost smiled, her lips curling up just slightly as she huffed and looked away. It seemed that even in her wisdom, the woman wasn't keen in taking her own advice. But, then again, wasn't that an issue bordering on universal?

When she looked back, she had expected Rovender to wander back to his place by the fire, somehow still surprised that he had opted to settle next to her. Her lips parted, a question lingering on them as she watched him elevate his leg. Why? She wanted to ask. But she thought better of it, merely letting her head fall back against Otto's carapace and sighing softly.

She was too tired to fight.

She turned her cheek as instructed, whining just a touch as the cool cloth touched her face. She knew the cold was best for her fever but it felt like ice. Her body shuddered slightly, jaw clenching with a grunt of pain as she willed it to settle, the ache of her prosthetics protesting with every shake. Her eyes closed, brows furrowed as he wiped the last of her sweat away. She was exhausted, but the very idea of sleeping filled her with an all too familiar dread.

"And in yours, I belong."

The words formed easily, audible even over the sound of music. His people were still celebrating, the smell of freshly cooked meat drifting through the open windows. They seldom felt the need to close them, and where humans might have been shy or against the thought of being heard he truly saw no shame in it. Letting a hand drift down her back, he urged her a little closer, that same hand she held freeing itself for but a moment so he could kiss her again.

And again.

And again.

There was no rush, no demand, only the feel of his feathers beneath her fingers. What hunger was felt would be satiated in time.

Saoirse's leg raised, parting the Cerulean's legs and pressing her thigh against his twitching arousal; grinding it gently against the priming length. She pulled from the kiss only to nip playfully at his ear, a breathless laugh soon muffled by their lips meeting once more. She urged herself ever closer, breasts pressed to Rovender's chest and her leg providing him a pleasant friction.

The pair of them seemed to have abandoned thought or worry about the other's anatomy, only focused on exploring, wandering and touching.

Blood trickled from between her fingers, and for a moment she wondered how much of it she’d lost. Was that why she felt this light-headed, or was it that reality as she knew it had been torn from beneath her feet? She almost laughed at the thought, blinking against the bright lights beaming overhead. Her brows furrowed, the tips of her blonde hair stained from resting against her soiled clothing. She was in the van, clearly having followed the woman inside, but she couldn’t remember doing it. Everything was disjointed, and were she a touch more present she might have been able to catch the exchange between the two. Perhaps it was divine intervention, some deity thinking she was already panicking enough.

“Hm?” hummed Trish, blinking herself back to the present once she realised she was being spoken to. “Sure…”

Her hand lifted with a start, gritting her teeth against the familiar ache that followed. The gash beneath was deep, the creature’s claw having latched on to the edge of her stoma and pulling. The feeding tube itself had dislodged as a result, and though some part of her wanted to see for herself just how much damage had been done she knew it was best she didn’t. “Yeah,” she sighed, the woman’s statement coming as no surprise at all. “Figures.”

Looking at her then, she almost seemed resigned. Because she was, to some degree, thoughts of her brother and the inevitable bill he would have to pay to get this damn thing fixed weighing heavy on her mind. Not once had he complained about it, always jumping to help her the moment she needed it. Few siblings ever had the benefit of being that close and yet, as her eyes drifted to the small bag resting by her side, she couldn’t help but feel for him. He seldom slept, worked himself to the bone, all to honour her want to never speak to her parents again. Until now, she had been granted that much. Something told her that time was drawing near its end.

She obliged the medic her work, lifting her arm to allow the blood pressure cuff to slip into place. Her head turned despite it, two curious blue eyes falling on Abe and Hellboy as they spoke. Of all the questions they could have asked, they picked the one she had some choice words for.

“Do you know what’s worse than a demon and a fish-man?” she asked, and it was clear she was apologetic. She hadn’t caught the man’s name, though she’d be sure to ask it once she’d gotten all this out of her system. “A twenty-five year old ovulating woman.”

The girl leaned back, unable to stop herself from laughing as another wave of pain tore through her. Blood trickled from her lips, making her cough and in turn hum. “She was drunk and she called me in a panic. What do you do when your supposed best friend calls saying she’s in danger? Go get her. Said she was going to the bathroom and next thing I know she’s wandered off with a guy named Joseph. Not the carpenter, mind you. I’d probably excuse that one.”

Looking to the medic, she smiled, a warm thank you slipping from her lips. She stared ahead for a moment, only to shake her head with a soft laugh. What the fuck. The words were whispered, her head falling to rest in her free hand for only a moment.

Uh-oh.

Hellboy's lips parted, a small choked noise sounding from before it closed and he could do little more than wordlessly look to Abe. And Abe, for all intents and purposes, was doing his best impression of an actual fish, his own mouth opening and closing in wonder at the woman's sudden outburst. Both of them had tensed, as though expecting the woman might explode at any minute. And, usually, that was the case. However, as the pair reminded themselves that this was not their usual pyrokinetic crash out, they relaxed.

"Oh my God," The medic groaned, her head leaning back and rolling her eyes "Girl, that is not your friend, that's an accident waiting to happen".

"Sounds like you got experience." Hellboy snorted, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the young medic.

"Don't get me started, Red," The woman shook her head, handing Trish a napkin to wipe the blood from her lips "University was cliquey as hell. You ask me, that Joseph guy can keep her".

Red, in fact, did not get her started.

Demons, mythological beings and Gods? That he could handle, that he knew. The way women worked? He had conceded that battle long ago and had no interested in starting it up again. Instead, he settled for raising his hands up in surrender and leaving it at that.

Abe was, characteristically silent. He knew just as much as Red to know that silence was probably the correct action, if not the least incorrect.

He spoke when spoken to.

"Ah, yes," His dark eyes turned to Trish, a small smile forming as he introduced himself "Abraham Sapien, or Abe, if you prefer... As for where we're going? We're headed back to base".

"The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence," The medic answered "Or B.P.R.D for short".

As though to drive the point home, Hellboy tapped upon his chest at the black t-shirt he wore, the shape of a hand holding a sword printed onto it. "We fight monsters," The demon almost beamed, a grin on his large face "You guys get to have your morning Starbucks in peace. Well, mostly".

He thought back to the demon slug case... He couldn't look at a latte for weeks after that.

"We take you back, get you patched up, go through the regular non-disclosures 'I did not see a ghost dog or a big red monkey' yadda-yadda-yadda," Hellboy rolled his eyes as he spoke, already hearing the lecture he was going to receive from Manning for bringing a civilian back to base "And that's it".

He almost felt ashamed. Almost, though neither Saoirse nor Caine gave him the chance. The AI's lips had locked around him, tongue curling and prodding at areas he knew it shouldn't. Were it not for the hand pressed to his lips his moans might have been more audible; a comfort soon torn from him when the banshee reached to grab him. His body twitched, the hand she'd reached for falling to rest atop her hips while the other nestled itself against the back of the AI's head. He could feel himself slipping, the hunger with which he was being exploited almost sending him over the edge.

Almost.

Caine's jaw released him with a soft pop, licking his lips despite Kinger's sudden urge to pull back. A single gloved finger drew across his lips, glancing at the banshee with the same hunger. Though she was the only one that got the more delicate side to him, it was evident she would be no stranger to the more dominant and playful side to him either.

"Not yet," said Kinger with a start, the robe he wore cast completely to the side. His arousal was twitching, and with a soft look to Caine he nodded. They were on the same wavelength, though how one couldn't be sure, and both their eyes turned to Saoirse. Caine's hunger only grew while Kinger's pleasure dissipated, the man drifting to the small stack of pillows he often slept against. He'd adjust them, turning to the look at the duo while he waited.

Caine wasn't looking. He seemed far more focused on his partner, a gloved hand drawing against the front of her neck before tilting her head to look at him. Their lips met, a kiss far messier than any of the others shared urging her to stand. He guided her carefully, pulling back only once she was in Kinger's reach. It was his hand she'd soon find extended to her, the man helping her ease down atop him while he lay further back.

"Comfortable?" mused Caine, clothes one might have thought fused to him quickly removed and cast aside. He was in clear view now, something very different and dominant about him. His skin, the darkest shade of black imaginable, almost seemed to move. Were one observant enough, close enough to study him, they might have seen binary drifting like water downward.

She kissed the ringmaster, caring little for how messy it was as she stood and stumbled into his body; trusting him to guide her. Her fingers curled at his collar, his clothing part of his body; as she had come to understand it. But, she was surprised to see that the very bowtie that lay there, so pristine and perfect, had come undone. Had it always been able to do that?

She found her question answered soon after she was pulled into Kinger's embrace, her back to his chest as she leaned back and enjoyed the show Caine had planned for her. It seemed his design changes ran deeper than she had imagined, his ringmaster uniform discarded and his skin a dark shade of black. It suited him, the sight drawing a gentle gasp from her; her thighs threatening to clench together at his musing voice.

"Very..." She breathed, reaching out to draw her fingers down the length of his chest, pressing briefly to his stomach and biting her lip in thought of how it might feel against hers "You two certainly have been busy... Makes a girl feel special...". She noted the binary in his skin, a thought that brought her a smile. How it suited him... How handsome he looked.

Though, she could hardly forget Kinger, his heat twitching visibly between her thighs. Chuckling, she drew her hand around it, giving it a few slow and arduous strokes, drawing her thumb across its tip and rubbing gently at the vein beneath.

Manfred deserves all the kisses

The giant's weight shifted, fingers withdrawing the moment her climax was reached. A soft part to her rear instructed her to lean on him, a thin yet strong arm looping itself around her waist. He aimed to keep her steady, lowering her as he eased himself back down so that she was comfortably sitting atop him. With her back still taught to his chest, his fingers delved back down, caressing their way up her thighs before finding that sensitive bundle of nerves he'd been teasing with his tongue mere moments prior. Gentle kisses peppered the side of her neck, the callouses on his fingers providing her with friction enough.

A gentle moan escaped her, hips twitching against his fingers as it met with her clit; the small bud sensitive still from her lingering orgasm. Her head tilted, exposing more of her neck to his wandering lips; the hair of his beard tickling her skin and drawing from her a pleasant hum. She hadn't expected this, for him to handle her with such confidence and precision. But she was living for it, every touch of his hands and kiss to her skin drawing her further under his spell.

Amazing...

Rovender's lips parted, only for his brows to furrow mere moments later. His brain felt scrambled, words befitting a situation like this eluding him. He wanted to tell her how well she'd done, how much he'd enjoyed himself in the process, but the moment her fingers lifted and she wiped what bits of him were missed he seemed to stop breathing entirely. He could feel his arousal twitch, though he was far from ready to continue to, lips brushing against the innermost part of her palm once it lowered to greet him. So beautiful she looked... especially when in her element.

He seemed thankful for her patience, the question soon asked of him far easier a one to answer. Shaky fingers reached for her own, entwining them gently before bringing them to his lips. Even now she cared for him, though one could argue this was when it mattered most.

"One only stops learning when there is no time left to learn," She smiled at him, squeezing his hand before perching herself up to press a kiss to his lips "And, right now, we have time aplenty". She stayed there a moment, pressing a comforting kiss to his brow before she lay back down beside him; nestling into his side with a pleased hum.

There was no impatience to be found with her. She had pined for him for long enough, she wasn't about to rush their time now they finally had it. No, instead, she took this moment to touch him; comforting draws of her fingers up and down his shoulders, chest and cheek. Gods, when was the last time she had smiled like this? Had felt so at peace?

"I've got you," he whispered, the tip of his nose brushing against her scalp. "Easy does it."

Some part of him wanted to cry, too. For her sake more than his. Thinking about how long she'd carried this, how long she'd lived in isolation with a secret this big, devastated him. All this pain... No human or other-worldly creature should have been forced to live like this. From the soft sobs emanating from her, he garnered that she'd tried. Tried to come out of her shell, tried to live her life the best she could with what she'd been given. The rest had all been sacrificed, and based on how surprised she'd seemed she'd long given up on a happy ever after.

If there was one thing he could give her...

His head lifted with a start, the glasses he wore resting on a pillow beside him. They were the only pair he had, and he didn't want to think what work would be like without them. Easing his grip a touch, he let her pull away, eyes drifting from her own then down to her lips with a smile all too telling. This wasn't about a man liking a girl. It ran far deeper. Humming audibly, he returned her kiss in kind, daring to place a fleeting peck on the tip of her nose.

"Of course..." sighed Ryland, Rocky's melody echoing toward him as he rolled his way back their way. He didn't seem to be looking that way, though, his eyes entirely fixed on her own. A hand lifted, pressing itself to the side of her cheek as he leaned back in. Another kiss, this one far more gentle as he sighed audibly. He could feel his body responding, a warmth entirely new to him warming his skin. He drew her closer, hand lowering to her waist with a hum. Nothing around him mattered, only...

"Why humans make wet lip noises, question?"

She hoped that he did.

With lips pressed gently to his, she let herself go. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, body begging for a closeness she had long been denying herself. The warmth of his body against his bringing her comfort she thought herself unworthy of. If it were possible to stop time, she might have done so, if only to capture this perfect instance and to replay it over and over. She wanted not only to commit the sight of it to memory, but the feeling also. The shape of his arms, the light scratch of his stubble against her face; the calloused fingers in her own.

She wanted to remember everything.

Rocky's sudden question had her pulling back in both surprise and embarrassment, thankful the Eridian couldn't make out colours or he would see how red her face was. She turned her eyes away, as though Rocky were peering into her soul, despite having no eyes. How could something with no face appear so judgemental at times?

"Um..." She cleared her throat "It's called a kiss... It's something humans do when they're mates, I guess... At least, that kind of kiss is more reserved for mates...".

It was the Cerulean's eyes that opened, the loud call from the water-water bear disturbing what slumber he'd gotten. His ears twitched, brows furrowing in worry. Had the poacher returned to kill them? Not too far-fetched a thought, his head drifting from left to right in an attempt to scan his surroundings. Nothing could have prepared him for the look the creature gave him, much less the sight of the woman hunched against him with sweat trickling down her neck. The injuries she'd sustained had been far greater than his own, and if her trembling body told him anything it was that the medication she'd been given to help with the pain had long since worn off.

The man stood with a start, caring little for the weight placed on his own injured foot. He'd been instructed to keep it raised, allowing the ointment to seep in in order for it to heal properly. It would its work just as well, for a leg to him was replaceable but his current companions weren't. The promise he'd made Eva-Nine echoed through his mind, one he fully intended to honour as he crouched down in front of her. He looked her up and down, knowing better than to ask questions she had no energy to answer.

Humans were bizarre to him. He'd encountered few if any, and though what he'd brought along with him and kept stocked in his pack might have been useful for those whose bodies he knew? They were a mystery to him. Brushing a few loose strands of hair from the woman's face, he glanced toward the power down robot in the distance. She was resting, and had he known how to turn her back on he'd likely have gone and done so. They were stuck, at least from where he stood, one knee pressed to the ground beneath him as he reached for his satchel. An array of herbs were within, some more useful than others. He made short work of combining them, one hand dipping into the home-made ointment before gently applying it to the affected areas. They were meant to act as a painkiller and anti-inflammatory in kind, at least topically. The rest was combined with water, raised to the woman's lips with an approach all too delicate.

As she leaned back against Otto, she became somewhat aware of the shadow of another in front of her, her weak amber eyes staring out at it in confusion. MUTHR had shut down and the shadow was too large to be Eva-Nine... So, it had to be...

"Ro... vender?" She called out, but it was little more than a hoarse whisper as the presence of something cool reached her stomach; causing her to whimper as it stung the puncture wounds upon it. The pain seared for a moment longer, before the effects began to take hold.

Her breathing was still rapid, chest rising and falling visibly; catching with each wave of agony. In time, as Rovender continued to add the ointment, her breathing began to slow. Her eyes closed briefly, another thrum within her head forcing her to lean it back against Otto to avoid swaying.

Drink...

There was a bottle to her lips, the scent of the liquid inside like that of a mossy forest. It hardly smelled appetising but it wasn't horrible. And she was hardly in the position to distrust the Cerulean. He had, after all, already done so much to help her. And so, her lips parted, allowing the herbal mixture to line her tongue and run down her throat. The taste was earthy, with a hint of something like mint. It eased her burning throat almost immediately, the coolness of the liquid settling in her stomach and spreading across her burning skin.

It was by no means a miracle drug, but it was enough.

She sighed once the bottle was taken away from her. Her head still ached but her thoughts felt clearer than they had been. The shadowed face of the Cerulean came into focus and though her body shivered still with her lingering fever, the panic had eased. Raising a hand, her head fall against, a small sigh parting her chapped lips.

"Thank you..." She breathed, her shoulders slowly beginning to relax as both the ointment and drink began to settle into her system "I should be fine now... Go, get some more rest...".

There was an air of shame about her as she spoke, her eyes never staying on his face longer than a few short moments. She felt vulnerable, exposed, and she hated it.

She shivered again, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Even the warmth of Otto's large body didn't seem enough, her body doing what it could to battle the lingering fever.

Caine was having none of it, a long tongue protruding from between his teeth before lapping against them hungrily. He was still high off the pleasure the banshee had given him, and with newfound confidence he was acting like a man starved. It was nice to see him like this, vulnerable and open, two mismatched eyes drifting down his toned body as Saoirse's hand did. It made for quite the sight, and as teasing words left the woman next to him he didn't miss a beat. Inch by inch, he gained on him, caring little for Kinger's arms as they pressed to his body in shame. It had been something he'd altered for his partner's benefit but, as the hungry eyes of the red-haired woman met his own, he realised he'd never truly enjoyed them.

He'd been alright with them just being there... until now.

Caine moaned audibly against the woman's lips, all but melting against them. The less dominant side to him was one only she got to have, and with those sweet yet teasing words having left her lips it seemed his fate was sealed. And man, was he in danger. He could feel Caine's hands wandering, wrapping themselves around a body round as it was muscular. They curled, pressing firmly to one of the spots closes to where a human's rear would be. Pleasure coursed through him, intense and overwhelming, and no sooner had they pressed that little bit harder than his weight gave. His lower half buckled, a sharp groan rising from him as he now lay kneeling at Caine's weight.

"You really thought," Caine purred, tongue curving against the warm wood of his maker. "You could just get away with that?"

His breath felt warm, the feel of the ringmaster's tongue against the front of his throat and trailing downward leaving him reeling.

"I-"

Before he could finish, he no longer found himself able to think at all.

Kinger's eyes fell to the woman's, panting thickly as the man's fingers moved further up. His body had tilted, twitching longingly with a mind of its own, and while those fingers met a second and third pressure point he was all but gone; a hand drifting to the back of the AI's neck to keep himself steady. Lower, and lower that tongue would drift, the wood almost seeming to warp. It took far less time, and far less effort from the man to get the response he wanted.

"S*&t."

Caine hummed thickly in response.

He was fully exposed now, an arousal far more intricate than Caine's entirely at his disposal. Much like his body, there were grooves and bumps aplenty; ones that the ringmaster began to exploit with little effort at all. He reached for Saoirse then, all but drawing her in for a longing kiss of his own. His 'lips' were firmer, far colder than Caine's, yet so smoothly they drifted that he deepened the kiss with ease. There was no love there, though care he had plenty, one hand drifting down the length of her spine as Caine continued to work. Only once the pleasure began to properly take hold did he lift his hand from her back, fingers curling around the place where his lips would be in an attempt to muffle the sounds. And what sounds they were.

As Kinger fell to kneel before the AI, Saoirse crawled up to him, like a lion stalking its prey. And as he reached out to her, she closed the gap happily. It was different, kissing him. His lips were harder, colder and while there was a sexual energy between them; that was all it was. Sex. Pleasure given and pleasure shared. And she was more than happy to imbibe and oblige.

Her lips parted from his briefly with a start, her back arching against his touch as his fingers drew across an old scar. Her breath shuddered, a soft and longing moan following before she buried herself into the kiss once more. Her arms wrapped around Kinger's neck area, a though searching for something to hold her steady, breasts pressed firmly to him, her lips parting and pursing against his until he could no longer think.

Breathless, she reached for the hand that threatened to muffle what sounds he made, humming softly as she clasped it in her own. She placed a gentle kiss to his cheek and neck, fingers drawing down the length of his back and searching for areas Caine had been toying with earlier.

"No need to be shy, Kinger," The woman hummed, drawing him in for a quick kiss "Let Caine know how good he's doing...".

Caine looked up, the reassuring smile she gave him making him worry all the more. There were things about her he still didn't know about, and if these past few weeks had taught him anything it was that pressing her wouldn't help. She'd come to him about it in her own time, if at all. What was important was that she knew he'd be there to listen. In that moment, he was a man that couldn't think. An AI so caught off guard with feelings running amuck that not even he could begin to understand. What he did know was that pity was not among them.

"Your father..."

It was the first she'd ever mentioned him, and he thought to ask her his name. Choosing not to, he settled for imagining him instead, eyes twinkling brightly for a fleeting moment at the mention of him being an inventor. He'd always looked up to people like that, found some sort of kinship in them, and with another glance toward her prosthetics he could only smile. It was another piece of the puzzle he was unclear on, and he was more than happy with not knowing the rest.

"Your prosthetics are beautiful," said Caine, and for once there was a hint of wisdom. Rather unusual for him given how tone-deaf he could be. He cared, though. That was new. And if he could care then that meant he could feel empathy. Why not use it? "You shouldn't hide them. I-I mean, if you want to, that's fine, I just mean-"

Caine sighed.

At least, that was what she had once thought.

Now, she had learned that she was not the only damaged creature among them. There was not a single ounce of perfection between them all and that was okay, it was what made them human. Caine too, despite being an AI, was a reflection of those that made him; humans.

"It's more habit than anything else," She admitted, a small blush appearing on her cheeks as Caine stumbled over his compliments "Out there... People have a habit of staring at things that are different. And asking questions that are sometimes too painful to answer, but...".

She paused briefly in her work, taking a moment to look down at her palms, twitching her mechanical fingers in thought.

"Everyone here has their own wounds, visible or otherwise..." She thought openly "And hiding them only seems to end in tragedy...". She thought to the purple rabbit that had once haunted the halls of the circus. How much pain must he have been in? So trapped within his own head that he had pushed away any offer of help.

Would she allow herself to fall as he did?

“Thanks,” she said, the small handkerchief folding between her fingers as she brought it to her lips. She noted the initials, though they soon faded from view, and she made a mental note to ask him about them later. If she remembered any of this, that was. She prayed only that death be swift, should it truly be coming to claim her, the small radio dwarfed beneath his fingers as he reported back to whomever was on the other end. Her brows furrowed, more questions swirling in her mind, the overwhelming need to protest his crew going even further out of their way for someone already dying all but fading from her mind. Soon, she found herself unable to think at all.

Blood trickled from her fingers, the force with which she’d torn the small cross from her neck likely to leave a bruise. Not that she cared, she wanted nothing to do with it. With him, nor the family responsible for the gift in the first place. It took her a moment to process the sudden flick of the man’s arm, her blue eyes drifting as his palm opened. Even she would have thought the cross would have fallen apart but, to her surprise, it was fully intact. There was not a single scratch on it, and the irony of a demon as large as him being this gentle was hardly lost on her. “I-” she began, fully prepared to answer. She might even have given him a little context were it not for the screeching of the tires in the distance, a military style truck giving her pause.

In seeing it, she faltered, her grip on Red’s arm tightening. Military? Well, that sure did explain a lot. She hardly seemed to notice the bile accumulating in her throat, realisation striking in the worst way. Where the army was, so too was her father’s influence. Being a multi-billionaire in politics actively running for president did have that kind of a ring to it, she guessed. If there was one thing she was thankful for, it was that she could for now play it off, the tightening of her grip easily explained away by pain or simple shock. She didn’t want to go with them, though. Not because the demon next to her was harsh or because the people in front of him weren’t trustworthy. It was because there were three seconds away before her and inevitable recognition.

Her head lifted with a start, strands of long blonde hair hanging from her shoulders. The first man to emerge, ha!, was hardly a man at all. “Agent?”

Oh, shit.

Panic gripped her for a moment, her eyes drifting between the man holding her and the one before her. She almost seemed to have forgotten the question she was asked, a soft “The jokes just write themselves,” seeing her release the demon from beside her as she finally walked toward her. Her eyes followed Abe, unable to hide her awe and confusion in kind. There was not an ounce of disgust in her though, fear even less so, her head lowering gently. “Trish,” she said with a start, thinking she might need to lie about the rest. If there were to gain access to her medical records, or need them at the very least, that was not bound to be the best idea. “Trish Moretti.”

Wikipedia articles. School photos. Her brother’s life - all public. All now subject to the scrutiny of people she’d just met. And what a perfect little life she’d had.

Abraham Sapien on the other hand, hardly blinked at the look of awe and confusion give to him. It was the usual reaction... That or screaming. If anything, she was a breath of fresh air. Then again, she might still end up screaming... Delayed reactions and all. Still, they would manage that if it came to it.

He offered a hand to Hellboy to help him onto the truck, the bed swaying and groaning slightly as he did. Both agents sat down, a small smack of Hellboy's hand to the wall of the truck to get them moving. The medic was there to keep the woman stable, but what she really needed was a hospital. But, she was a target, that meant she got the VIP treatment from BPRD's finest and brightest medical staff.

Regardless, the medic seemed a gem, smiling softly at the woman as she revealed her name; tapping it down in her tablet as if it meant nothing to her. The mention of her last name, however, caused Abe's head to lift; third eyelid blinking and head tilting in thought, the name playing on his lips briefly before he pushed it aside. Hellboy nudged him.

"Penny for your thoughts, Blue?" He asked lowly.

"Moretti... The name sounds familiar but I can't place it..." Abe responded, placing a thoughtful hand on his chin.

"Eh, can't be too important," Hellboy shrugged "If it's buggin' you that much you can ask her when she's better".

The fish-man hummed, seemingly satisfied with leaving the matter for now. Her injuries were far more important than whatever her name may be. She could be a Jane Doe or a Queen; it didn't change the fact that she needed help.

"Okay, Trish," The medic smiled, placing her small tablet to the side before sitting on a small trunk in front of where Trish was sitting "I'm just gonna give you a quick look over so the guys at the Bureau know what to expect, may I?".

Normally, the medic would have started with the basic check-overs, concussion, blood pressure and heart rate. But, the red stain of blood upon the woman's abdomen seemed to be the more pressing issue. Turning to the two male agents, she clicked her fingers and like obedient children the pair turned their gaze away. Gently, the medic pried the fabric of the woman's dress down, pausing immediately the moment she noted the dislodged feeding tube. Her eyes widened slightly, before she looked up to Trish with a nod.

"Well, that's a bit too complicated for an on-field fix," She explained, reaching to her trusty first aid kit for some gauze "You'll know yourself we'd need a sterile environment and this isn't it. But, we've got great medical staff at the Bureau who can help with that. For now, we'll just put some gauze and bandages to stop it moving any further and control what bleeding there is".

With this, the medic pressed the gauze where she could, instructing the woman to help her and, in turn, check her coordination. It was only once the bandages were wrapped around her and her dress was pulled back up that she gave the two agents the all clear to look around again.

"What's the prognosis, doc?" Hellboy asked, risking a glance to Trish out of worry, a small pang of guilt that he hadn't reached her fast enough "Nothing too serious?".

"A dislodged feeding tube," The medic responded, taking out a blood pressure cuff to continue her other checks "It's a fairly simple fix but it can't be done here so we're just stopping it from moving any further and causing more damage".

"A feeding tube?" Hellboy blinked. He wasn't stupid, despite his confused expression; his father in later years had even needed one. What truly confused him, however, was what a girl with a feeding tube was doing out at night in this area of town.

"Not that I can be one to judge anyone's hobbies or make assumptions," Abe leaned forward with his elbows on his knees "But, just how did you end up alone in the 'party district' when you have something like that?".

"Not that you can't party with one," Hellboy scoffed, shooting the woman a smile "But the bars round here sure ain't the cleanest and, well, you're too well-dressed for those joints".

His lips parted with a start, back arching gently as he began to gently introduce his fingers. One of his knees drew a little higher, muscles flexing around the feel of them before slowly starting to relax. Though it had been a while, being able to trust someone this much made the process a little easier; the roadie's head tilting back against the man's stone hand as he drew him a little closer. He was trying his best not to tense, his other hand travelling to fall against his shoulder with a soft yet reassuring squeeze. It seemed he didn't need guiding, at least not anymore, a fact he was nothing short of thankful for as his eyes began to glaze.

"I like it when-" he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. His hips lifted, body shivering against the demon's touch as he flexed and loosened around him. Hissing lowly, he swallowed, brows furrowing as though unable to stop the response his body was having, "When you call me that-"

Babe.

After spending most of the night hearing himself being called beautiful, he almost started to believe it. He was visibly aroused now, his own length leaking in the same way Red's was; and as his head lifted with a start he began to lowly moan against his lips. The sound was fleeting, but very much there, handing the demon above him complete control over what happened next. He could feel his fingers pulsing, curling as they went, and no sooner had he found the perfect spot to hit than he hissed and clung to him. His eyes flew open, peering intently into the man's own, a choked "oh shit-" followed by a surprised laugh conveying just how much joy he gained from it.

When Sixx hissed, Hellboy paused, his confidence almost shattered as he thought it a sound of pain. But, as Sixx laughed, he knew it was anything but.

Jackpot.

As though testing a theory, he pulsed his fingers into that spot again, rolling his fingertips gently against it. He hummed happily, leaning down to steal another kiss from the roadie; groaning into it as his own hips rolled. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, hooking his flesh arm under one of Sixx's legs and inviting it to rest upon his shoulder. He continued to roll his hips, his textured length rolling up and down Sixx's own several times; each time he pulled back he drew further down.

Soon, the cone shaped tip pressed gently to Sixx's entrance, the head barely breaching it before drawing back just slightly. Hellboy groaned lowly, his tail twitching almost like a whip as the sensation rolled up his spine. Huffing lowly, he fought the urge to fill the man immediately, his arousal twitching with impatience. Gritting his teeth, he began to inch his hips forward, each second feeling longer than the last as he slowly began to fill him; each soft notch pushing gently against his sensitive walls.

"Damn, Babe..." Hellboy groaned lowly, his shoulders visibly tensing "Tell me if it's too much, alright?... Don't wanna hurt you...".

He moved slowly, carefully, drawing out each and every sensation until his hips finally lay flush with Sixx's own; panting as though he had ran a marathon. His forehead pressed to Sixx's, a long and low groan escaping him.

With a thick hum, his hands travelled up his sides. They'd pause there for a moment, circling to the front of his chest before travelling back down. Looking at him then, one might have thought him in his element; the small silver cross swinging visibly as his head began to bob. It was the perfect amount of pressure, tongue rolling and prodding almost expertly against the sleek arousal he toyed with. Were heaven as real as he knew at to be then this was the closest he'd ever gotten, every sound and hitch of breath committed to memory as he lovingly urged him on. He wanted to hear more of him, throat constricting around him as he thought it. Both hands curved under his rear, supporting him as he chased the very pleasure his mind was clouded by. He'd all but forgotten about the library, or that others might seek access to it, eyelids fluttering gently as his shoulders twitched against his touch.

Shit, he looked gorgeous. Sounded it, too.

He might not have seemed it, but the exorcist pleasing him bordered on addicted. He should probably have taken the cross off before getting started but, hey, who was he to deny him audience. With a gentle squeeze to his rear, he let the tip of his tongue press itself to the small opening before angling his lips to perfectly capture the sensitive nerve underneath. He could feel his core tightening, every muscle tensing in preparation, and as one hand shifted to compensate for the absence of the other, his free one reached for the fish-man's hand. A chance for closeness, fingers drawing themselves against his palm.

"Nnn-" His breath hitched, a soft gasp as his hips pushed up against Raymond's mouth, one webbed hand moving to entangle into his dark locks. His touch was gentle, almost uncertain, fingers trembling from stimulation as his pleasure grew. And as Raymond's hands cupped under his rear he let out a choked groan, his head falling back briefly. The way the man handled him, with such care but such control, was like an art and he his scaled canvas. His breath hitched once more, the palm scrambling at the fabric of the sofa gently caught by Raymond's own. He was panting, core tightening, hips twitching and hands trembling. His lips pressed tight into a broken whine, before finally his hips began to shake and his release began to spill into the warmth of Raymond's mouth.

His voice came in a broken moan, body hunching forward and shoulders trembling as his heat spilled. His hands curled and tightened in their grip, one curling around Raymond's hand and the other gently tugging upon his hair. Even in this state of complete release, his touch was gentle, as though even now part of him desired to treat the other with such care.

With hips still trembling, Abe's body fell back, head laying over the arm of the sofa as his chest rose and fell with each panting breath. His third eyelid blinked audibly several time and the gills at his neck twitched as though searching for more oxygen.

"I... That was..." He tried, a quiet hum interrupting him as a shiver of residual pleasure ran through him "...Wow".