A/N: Year 1961. A loving relationship can't come soon enough for maturing young Hellboy, who thinks his chances could be pretty slim. Immediate solution – a visit to a well chosen brothel for a night of highly accelerated education with a charismatic 'lady of the night'. Rated M for sexual situations.
Driving his assigned undercover step van in the rainy dark of late evening, senior agent Collins muttered a curse when the medium rainfall suddenly thrashed down in pelting sheets, knowing that the speed of the windshield wipers wasn't equal to slapping away the extra load. He continued along the minor highway until he located his destination - a lengthy private lane winding through stands of impressively tall trees. Arriving at the end clearing, Collins slowed to enter the loop of a circular driveway that brought the van to within fifty feet of a lone, sprawling three storey house. It was possible then, to see that the ground floor had no front windows, and a central staircase leading up to doors sheltered by a lofty portico. A line of ground spotlights trained overlapping beams of green, red, blue and yellow across the exterior, strangely clashing with its stark aura of exclusion.
"This is where you're dropping me off?" Hellboy asked his human agent companion, over the storm of fat raindrops drumming on the roof and hood.
"This is indeed the place," Collins confirmed. "There's no membership charge, and it caters to the big and tall. I called ahead and tonight, there's room for you."
He cast a suspicious eye on his driver, waiting for him to lose the straight face. "When were you last in there?"
"A year ago. Once, for a little while. I asked some questions into the operation and looked around, and everybody there was twice my size. And I do mean everybody." He shrugged. "Friendly enough, though." Collins squinted at the house, then turned back to his seven foot tall demon passenger.
"Why not, if you're paying the rate."
"It's fairly well thought of. Go and see. Leave your coat and buckle cover in the van."
"Gotta hide that I'm BPRD?"
"Why give the head bouncer a reason to question your shoulder flashes? You're off duty."
"What about you?" Hellboy opened his door, resigned to an inevitable drenching. "Got a plan?"
"Kid, I'm going for relief where I won't get crushed under amazons. Be advised that someone from the house is already spying on our approach."
Leaving the van, Red decided. "Come back for me, about seven tomorrow morning."
"Got it. Time was, that I'd gladly fork over a week's pay for a night's fling. Get laid right!"
.
He returned Collins' parting wave, then strode up to the house and mounted one stone step to size up the main entryway. The solid ten foot double doors were missing outer handles, and he saw no signage to instruct visitors. But as soon as he'd taken the next step up, dull metallic clicks sounded from inside. The doors swung open, and he was instantly met by beastly guttural growling.
.
Two heavily built figures exited, the view of their features at first confused in the cast of coloured lighting. He was ordered away from the stairs and the duo descended into the rain to meet him, joined by a pair of barrel chested dogs. On level ground with the armed males as they studied him, Red put them in the category of indeterminate humanoid crossbreeds. Not looking anything like himself, but just as big. Told by one to stand for a search, he complied.
"You're not afraid, stranger." The other snorted a gravelly chuckle, fondly thumping the haunches of the staid, alert dogs. "If I saw that was the case, you wouldn't be man enough to belong here, and it's a long walk out."
"Copy," Hellboy replied, and that was enough.
It was reasonable that he'd be asked to unload his unique revolver, and hand over the ammunition. Neither of them demanded identification or seemed rejecting of him as being too alien. As per Collins' advice, Red carried a recommended amount of cash. The man looked through the fold of bills and handed it back. At the last, the dogs were signalled to perform their duty of sniffing him over. When they'd cleared their subject of contraband, they maintained guard by leaning heavily against his legs until given the command to stand down. He was treated to more showering as they vigorously shook the soaking rain from their shaggy manes.
.
The men brought him to an office occupied by a broad shouldered woman seated behind a desk. She asked him to excuse her while she swivelled her chair toward an adjacent shelf, to put away an axe next to a collection of edged weapons already stored there. Mainly swords, daggers and short lances. One bouncer stepped up to place Red's bullets among them.
"Well, young warrior," she greeted. "I'm this night's hostess of the house. What desires do you wish satisfied, this evening?" She waved his attention to a printed chart, high on the wall behind her. "Have you any special interests?"
"I – uh.." He hesitated, taking a cursory look at the list of numbered selections.
"Shall I interpret for you? Don't feel embarrassed for lack of experience, if you can't understand the menu."
"Never mind," he dismissed. "Just say that I'm straight, and kind of middle of the road. Staying the night."
She made notations on a lined form, then pulled open a drawer and handed him a little square cardboard box. "For coverage."
Hellboy took out one of a dozen identical flat packets, and felt the shape of a telltale rubbery ring inside the wrapping. He discarded the box and shoved the safes into his pants pockets.
Turning on a dimpled smile, she held up the paper. "Please pay this amount. And if you stray from acceptable behaviour, you'll be summarily rushed back outside, without refund." A cheery sweep of her hand accentuated that possibility. She stood, revealing her height of well over six feet, and passed the form to a bouncer who escorted him to the cashier's cage.
.
With the transaction completed, he was pointed toward the next stop; an unadorned room furnished with low tables and square indestructible armchairs, all occupied by a dozen other big-load johns who ranged in appearance like plenty of other two legged paranormals he'd seen in his travels. Red looked beyond them, for a spot to be on his own. No staff circulated among or waited on them, but all had something at hand to drink. As he headed toward the expansive wet bar at the rear wall, nobody gave him more than a second look. He saw that oversize in every way was the norm here, and the capacity of the complimentary ale steins was no different. He ordered one up and stood with his back to the counter's edge, keeping a subtle eye on the bouncers roaming beyond the entrance. The low rumbles of conversation and clipped barks of laughter among the johns centred on the albums of women's glamour photographs lying open on each table.
This gang reminded him again that he'd been raised among, and spent all his years in a world of guys who had chosen the BPRD life of grim investigation and battle. Along with them, he had absorbed the destined gritty, cynical attitudes and gallows humour that served them best. The confidence of Red's seasoned comrade agents had needed to be won. He'd done that some time ago, and earned an appreciated blunt compliment. "You sure can take a beating, Kid." But when some of the well meaning had tried to school him in the relations of men and women, he'd felt more and more convinced that their advice was big on exaggeration, and short on the finer points.
.
A near half hour passed before the hostess entered and went about the customers, distributing a card to each.
"To the agony and joy of suspense, my red friend." The beefy brindle-skinned guy standing next to him raised his tankard. Hellboy hadn't chosen to speak to anyone, but the man displayed his card which bore only an ornate, undecipherable symbol on a solid coloured background. "Who she'll be, I won't know until it's time." He opened the cover of the bar album and held the book out, turning the photo pages for Red to see. "But she'll be one of these glories on offer! And I'll return to taste the pleasures of each and every one."
"More power to ya," he replied, accepting the clash of the other's metal vessel against his.
As Red considered the wide physical variety of those pictured women, he heard voices from the furniture pit raised in bursts of raucous joviality, and looked back at the group to determine what had changed. Then the hostess pointed, and was beckoning him. Exuding an impatient air of having much more to look after, she led him from the waiting area to a walled off ground floor corridor.
"It's quite near, young gladiator," she advised. Soon after they'd passed a series of doors, her brusque handhold on his shoulder directed him to stop. Leaving him before an open doorway, she rushed off in the opposite direction. He found his card symbol displayed on that door, then heard a genial feminine greeting with no speaker yet in view.
"Welcome, Darling." A tall woman appeared from behind a ceiling to floor curtain and gracefully approached to within six feet of him, her hands lightly folded. "We'll be spending all night together. And that is -"
"I know," he cut in. "Taken care of."
"I wasn't meaning to talk expenses," she chided, her smile charming. "I want to know about you." She stood in place and warmly looked him over; studying his still posture, his deep red skin, the structure of his stone right arm, and catching the sweep of his tail.
His mouth assumed a sardonic slant. "Changed your mind?"
"Darling," she purred, "surely not." All ranges of male response being well known to her, she found such initial encounters most usefully telling of temperaments to be dealt with. She bided her time intentionally still while favouring him with her gamine smile, to discover how he would break the stalemate of inaction. Given what he had just said, it didn't surprise that he retained a shield of emotionless composure. She saw nothing remotely hopeful or inquisitive, and no glint of predation in his striking yellow irises. Despite his chiseled demonic appearance and top heavy build, she sensed by this time that he was young, but also that he must have seen uncommon or significant action in the wider world. He wore his weapon like a well-accustomed companion. Men bearing skull spikes and horns of various frontal and lateral arrangements had been among her clients, and it was convenient that his own trimmed down pair presented little chance of injury. His arms relaxed at his sides as he awaited some kind of direction, it was he who looked away first for a cool surveillance of the walls, ceiling and furnishings; noting the presence of a reel-to-reel producing low volume mood music.
He again faced her unchanged gaze with a pragmatic statement. "This is your place. You make the move."
Tilting a nod, she walked past and behind him to see to the locking of the door, then slipped her arm through his and led him farther into her suite.
"Had you seen the mezzanine overlooking the lounge? From there and out of sight, I watched the men waiting to be assigned. You see," she whispered cozily, "I chose to be with you, above any other."
Close up now, he marked the golden-hued complexion of her forehead and cheeks, and her dark eyes gleaming above the contrast of deep olive shading her lower face. Masked like a Siamese cat, he thought. Good looking. Long, pretty hair. She had to be well older than his seventeen years, which was best for the situation; and her generous height and proportions complemented his physical mass.
"I'm Diva." She sweetly took hold of his left hand and began to tug off his fingerless glove. "And your name?"
"Red."
"And so you are. Did you feel a need, Darling," she observed with an untroubled glance up, "to arrive with such a formidable sidearm?"
"It's empty." He untied the holster's leather binding from around his right thigh and unbuckled his belt. "Don't worry. You won't get any grief from me."
She raised her golden hands to fondle the steely muscular definition of his upper arms through the taut fitting sleeves of his damp shirt. "You've been out in tonight's drenching rain. Let me warm you in my deep bath."
"Sounds good."
"First, in here." She took his stone arm and led him behind the privacy drape that concealed her bed. A huge, fitting bed. The foundation platform with four debarked timber posts at the corners, raised the mattress surface close to the level of his waist. Going to a post at the head of the bed, she unhooked two fleecy long robes and returned to hand one to him, whispering, "Leave your clothes, Darling."
A brief frown crossed his forehead. Each time she spoke the endearment, so unfamiliar...
"Is something wrong?" She paused in the act of undoing her gown.
"No, Diva. Nothing." Even saying her name felt strange. At the foot of the bed, he emptied his pockets, then peeled his shirt off over his head. Dressed in a white slip under her robe, she waited nearby until he'd tossed his clothes and belt on a chair.
.
She brought him to the humid adjoining room, to the side of a cube shaped sunken pool of gently steaming water. Leaving her robe on a bench beside the tiled stairs, she paused to pin her dark spiralling waves into a high twist. He couldn't wait to get submerged in the wet heat, and hurried his entry with a slide off the deck's bevelled edge. Below surface in the chest high depth, he tasted the sting of salt water, then swam the short length to an end corner. There, he stood to watch her descend the steps and wade across to him, her eyes lit with a pleasant anticipation. She took a seat on a built in ledge, and tugged his arm to have him join her.
"Well?" she began, "have you been a guest of our house, before now?"
"Not this one."
"So long as you were pleased."
"It could have gone better."
"Oh? Why?"
"About halfway into it – she panicked and changed her mind."
"Then, the woman was simply not the right choice." She reached her arms around his torso and floated herself against his side. "Tell me what you wish us to have together?"
Up to now, he'd never been outright asked to respond to her kind of apparent sincere interest. "You must know all there is.." He trailed off, suddenly struck that it wasn't the brightest or most tactful thing to say. Part of what he'd bought were her actress skills, he figured, and her professional acceptance; and she was offering that without anything feeling forced.
"Only with your help," she urged, determined to banish his doubts.
He gave her a brief mild glance before he turned carefully in her hold to face the wall, lifting away from the back of the tile seat. Watching him rest his crossed forearms on the edge, Diva looked down at his thick-rooted tail streaming free behind him, and believed she understood. As she took it upon herself to apply kneading pressures across the small of his back, he let his head sink down and sighed deeply under her pleasuring attentions. She continued in silence, working methodically up to the broad width of his shoulders.
At last ready to answer, he turned his face to her. "I want to feel what it's like – with a classy woman."
She unbent his stone arm, slipped under it, then brushed her lips across his cheekbone and up to his pointed ear. " And you'll have it, Darling."
Her ways of exploring him were sweet comforts like nothing he'd ever been given by a woman, but when her fingertips began a curious trace over the whorls grooved into his right shoulder, he dreaded that she'd question into what had made him. To ask about his parents and siblings, of whom he had no memory. What his work was like. But she didn't. Prying into her life, dreams and disappointments wasn't going to be any part of his conversation, either. It was time to shake off any lasting influence of his incomplete first experience, but he couldn't help thinking back on what that particular female had told him of all that was struck off her strict list – like normal hugging and kissing. Too personal for business. And he could have done without the aggravation of her scripted sounding, phony flattery. Back then, maybe it was part his fault for being too much of an ignorant kid. But at least he'd learned something firsthand of how this kind of meeting started up. Now, with a couple more years under his belt, he was about to spend a whole night with Diva.
.
Versed in being adaptable to the demands of her trade, it was Diva's prerogative to judge and control the scope of what she would allow. Certainly, a number of the women employed by the house specialized in practices unpalatable to her. The recitation of establishment rules at entry, served to cow most new clients for awhile. But vile behaviour did erupt at times. Watching Red pass through some seconds of introspection, she appreciated that he hadn't shown her any sign of overbearing will, and considered his unease in matters of receiving affection. His unspoken quest on this night, her instinct told her, was to learn the ways of giving it.
.
She broke his distraction when she backed away into his wider field of vision, her soaked sheer slip clinging to her curves, transparent and revealing. She slipped off one shoulder strap, letting the water's weight skim the fabric from her breast, then brought his left hand to the other side. As he peeled it down in slow motion, his eyes stayed fixed on hers.
"Come," she invited, "and hold them in your hand." She took his arm to surround her waist, then turned her back to his chest, opening herself to the freedom of his touch. Red couldn't believe it was possible in the heat of this pool, but Diva made him shiver. Whispering to him of what pleasured her most, and with her hand on his, she guided him through her desired motions of fondling. They couldn't see each other's faces, and that was strangely exciting. Even more true, when her hands went down below and back, caressing his hips and thighs; making him feel shamelessly wanted. In return, he won her sensual reaction to his fingertips brushing teasing circles around her tender sweet spots. She snuggled her back into him and breathed pleased little sighs; rushing him through with powerful feelings of both melting and hardening.
She inclined her head on his shoulder and touched his face. "Have we been here, long enough?" His eyes clouded with desire, he nodded and let her go.
She compelled him to watch her walk up the stairs where she let her hair tumble free, and took time to seductively roll her wet garment down her hips. At the top she pivoted to face him, her breasts swaying as she bent to free her legs, then drew herself up in a statuesque still pose. Her olive shading, he saw, continued in a blended band down her throat to below her belly, where it disappeared between her golden thighs.
.
When they arrived by the bedside, she halted there to look down his body with open admiration, and confided in a hushed tone, "If it's your way to say very little, don't change – but I want to see, and to hear that I pleasure you as much as can be." His chest hitched as she pressed up to him and deftly lowered her hands, taking him between her smooth palms. He wrapped her in a hug while her fingers worked their expert caresses, and he soon let her know he'd had enough.
"Lie down.." he breathed, "I want that." He scooped her from the floor in an effortless flash, deposited her on the bed, and was swiftly down beside her. Beaming a sultry smile, she sat up to free her arms of her robe, then rolled against him to embrace his strapping shoulders. That sly smile. How she'd managed to raincoat him without his noticing, was a pretty slick move.
"Don't pretend anything." His husky low whisper spoke more again, to her.
Now that her not quite experienced charge had come to a way of telling her something of his closely held desires, Diva could answer with a warm sentiment. "I'll be far too excited, Darling."
Ready to match the soul of his impatient hunger as he knelt over her, she drew her fingertips down his cheek, then lay back to arrange her legs in a cross around his hips. "I've felt your strength," she enticed, "and I look forward to it."
He braced on his stone hand and leaned in, testing the friction of fitting her. She adjusted to angle up to him, her feverish stare spurring him in deeper with each resolute rock of his hips. He watched Diva beneath him, fascinated that he was the force making her need to gasp through parted lips. But she was doing the same to him as he felt for the first time, the pure stunning wonder of a woman's inner muscles exerting a rhythmic grip around him. He'd been unstoppable before, but never for this. Her moans and cries mingled with his growls as he jarred her with the last of his thrusts. The clasp of her legs held fast to their connection as she lay recovering her breath; waiting for him to lift his head.
"How do you feel, Darling?" She read in his eyes, a dawning of liberation.
"Like a new man." But an intruding reflex of uncertainty tightened his lips. He looked away rather sheepishly, then back to her. "Now," he asked, "what do I do?" As she let her legs down, he lowered his heavy torso off to her side.
"We," she stressed, "can rest together, and be attentive to each other. No need at all to talk if you'd rather not." She touched her chest. "But I will say that I want you to lie right here."
He took care shifting back over her, and nestled his face into the fragrant spread of her hair. "I've never got carried away," he humbly admitted, "like you just did to me."
"It's what we both wanted, Darling." Glad that he felt freer to talk, she turned to hold his face and touched his lips with light sweeps of her tongue. "And we'll very likely, want to sleep awhile." Again, she made it seem real.
"You on top," he whispered, carrying her with him. Her hair spilled down the sides of his face when she bent to his mouth, and they shared soft kisses with easy affection. She was doing fine. Really fine.
With an abrupt lift of her head, she had a thought to air. "Don't let me forget, now. When you feel hungry, meals will be delivered to us."
"I didn't know, but I won't forget." Another reason to smile. "Let's catch a sleep, first."
"Yes, let's."
Once they were covered under her blankets, he held her to his side in his left arm. "You're so soft," he murmured, "and warm." The feel of her trusting body pressed so close, was something to cherish.
"You, Darling, are warmer still." She placed the corner of a pillow over his shoulder to cushion her head. "And nowhere, are you soft."
. . .
He woke to mischievously smiling Diva, sitting astride him.
"I suspect you're a carnivore." The piece of tender meat she held to his lips was welcome. From the recently arrived steam table, they took to bed large bowls heaped with hot hunter stew. Since no utensils had come, they ate the roasted wild meats and assorted vegetables with their fingers, and soaked up the gravy with chunks of bread; plenty to satisfy beings of their size and appetite. She afterwards brought him to a basin where they washed their hands, then beat him in a race to the pool for another bask in the heated bath. Gratified to see that he was no longer feeling such a stranger, she as well knew that he wouldn't be the first to speak.
"I'm glad you're here," she told him, her smile especially intriguing. "In the time we have, we'll practice what you should take away."
He looked at her without question. "You fixed what was missing." He bowed his head, fighting off a smirk. "It's just.." He felt it was only right to explain his untimely intrusion of humour. "An old friend told me not to die without it."
"Are you often in danger of dying?" she asked, her eyebrows dipping in a frown.
"Not when I get the drop, first."
She touched some raised scars on his chest. "I see you've had injuries."
"Sometimes. But these are nothing."
Accepting his stoic mystery, she hugged his stone arm. "Let's go back."
.
"We'll practice," he repeated, when they'd comfortably settled down. "What did you mean?"
Never far from contact, Diva took his hand to place resting above her abdomen. "In general," she began, "your lovers will expect to receive from you, a variety of ways to kindle the fires." She paused for his reaction and saw his yellow gaze attentively steady, and his tail lying motionless on his leg. "And I say 'in general', because you must always be aware that whatever you may do with anyone, is genuinely welcomed."
"I believe that," Red agreed.
"I don't mean to talk down to you in any way, but it needs to be said and understood."
"You've known me a whole four hours," he reasoned. "No offence taken."
"You show good faith, and you must tell me if you object to anything I do."
His eyes narrowed in doubt at the possibility. "What else?"
"You and I will excite and satisfy each other, in proven ways," she continued. "And to enhance what we've already had together – it's very true, Darling, that lips can do more than hands."
"Just ask." Ready for the promise of it all, he watched her every move.
"I'll ask with my eyes," she purred, luring him in with a half veiled gaze, "and with your hand." She moved it up to cover her breast. "I'm waiting."
It was a reverent experience to hold Diva's delectable beauties, and to be the man asked to prove how lips could do more. He began gently, his mouth soft on her sensitive little buds. The fluid undulations of her body and her sounds of delight drowned him in a mood of consuming privilege.
"Give me more," she crooned to him. He didn't need to ask how – a little harder; a little deeper. She responded with spirited arching into the passion of his lustier attentions, and a hushed pleading, "You'll make me faint, but don't stop.."
He could have spent hours loving it. Hearing and feeling her like this. And when she needed to call an end before her delicate skin went raw, he learned the importance of that.
"I pretend nothing, Darling," she praised. "Now, let me be even more selfish." Seeing him try to make sense of her, she nudged him back by pulling her knees up between their bodies. "This next skill is very, very important. I ask that you take care of me again, in the same way." He made space for her to do as she wished; first to raise her legs to rest on his shoulders, then to let them slide apart down his arms.
"Lips can do more. Beautiful.." He'd known her inner strength that could be felt but not seen; but on the outside, she was all petal-soft. Though he needed her heaven badly, he would follow and learn. She'd taught him a fine awareness, and he intently prowled her with smooth, probing caresses. All along, he heard her whispers of bliss, and then her exhaled little sighs as her need built beyond bearing.
"You've uncovered the tender little thing," she breathed. "Keep on, as you're doing." She panted more rapidly as he went on priming her, and he ultimately tasted the intensely pleasurable pulsations she'd been yearning to feel. Giving him a dreamy smile as he pulled up to a kneel, she reached for him. "Darling, I couldn't have wanted more. Forgive that I've made you wait so long. And now.."
"I'm listening."
She winked back at his typically brief reply. "Take me to the bedside edge, and stand." When he'd pulled her into position, she slid her legs up his chest. "Hold firmly, and take me as the stallion wants the mare." She aimed a look of smouldering demand. "Be savage!"
Diva couldn't have known that her challenge was too reckless. Under control as he gave her a lot to savour, and just enough to endure, he saw her looking more and more lost in helpless, breathless surrender. She'd assured his belief that he owned the touch, the equipment and the stamina to give this right sized woman whatever she wanted, and he kept close watch in case she needed him to ease off. Her earlier lessons had loaded his chamber with another build of pressure, and it was his turn to let loose. She came alive to his rough snarls, her eyes dancing with celebration. Pulling him down, she hugged him in exuberant delight. "Darling, what a wonderful time we're having!"
"Right about that," he sighed against the cushion of her breast. "All main events."
"There's another. Most blissful," she promised, "but it's best to save until after we've rested awhile."
"I'll let you surprise me."
Well satisfied for the best of all reasons, they slept in each other's arms.
. . .
Red flinched at a light drag of fingernails high up on his thigh. He was still covered, and lying with her eyes closed, so was she. But her hand was busy, gently touching him where it counted.
He turned to her pillow. "What are we.."
She put her finger to her lips, and folded the blankets aside. "This is for you, Darling. You have nothing to do, but feel."
She crept low, trailing her loose waves down his torso, her lips nuzzling and nipping his skin. Familiar now with the ways of a woman's hands curled around him, he sensed that he wouldn't have to ask any more. Hidden under her drape of hair, she staggered him when she ducked her head and pulled him way inside her snug compression of smooth, slippery heat. He clenched his stone fingers, closed his eyes and retreated to shallow breathing to focus on her loving capture gliding as far down as she could hold. She vibrated contented humming that drew luxuriant snarls from him, and he let her hear that he was riding the dream. He was hit with magical thrills when she lingered at the end of each velvety wet upstroke. As she gradually put on more speed, most blissful didn't begin to name it. Again in the thick of throbbing arousal, he found it near impossible now, to do nothing. All at once she lifted away, left a kiss, and sat up to a straddle above his thighs.
"How am I -" he breathed through a lazy flash of grin, "supposed to live without you?"
She smiled back, slithering over him. "We haven't finished, yet."
She raised his arms to brace palms with him, as she positioned herself to be impaled. While she absorbed him at her own pace, her brazen stare held his gaze. "Support me on your hands."
He easily suspended her weight at arms' length just above him, and bent his legs. She braved the athletic drive of his hips, uttering hurt-sounding whimpers and ecstatic little sobs. Her head fell forward and tossed back, and he decided it had come to the point of too much. Diva had given him her all for a lot of hours, and she'd again taken him beyond the edge; to the impossibility of holding back. Drained once more, he withdrew and gently lowered her to the bed.
Prone on her pillow beside him, she reached across to feel the slowing beat of his heart. He pressed her hand, his eyes trained on the ceiling.
"The night's run out," he sighed reluctantly. "And you'd better sleep." He raised her fingers to touch his lips. "Diva, thanks. Everything I needed to feel and learn, came from you."
She sat up to look at him properly, accepting his gratitude. "You're a lover, Darling."
"Does it show?" He lingered a warm smile as she bent low for a parting kiss. It was time then, for him to slide off the bed to retrieve his clothes. Not wishing to start into an awkward goodbye as he dressed, he chose to lighten the moment. "Any guy who misbehaves enough to get thrown out of here, is a sorry boneheaded moron."
Her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Our enforcers would agree."
.
When he was ready to leave, they returned together to the front of the suite.
"Now I'll rest, with fond dreams," she said softly, "until the tenderness heals."
"Diva?" He halted in concern. "I wouldn't have gone so hard on you, except-"
She pointed a silencing finger. "You well know, that I asked to feel your prime young prowess."
"Then – thanks for saying that."
She found the glove she'd set aside, and again took his hand to fit it back on. "The truth is, Darling, that you've been my last lover of this working life. I'm going to something completely different, now. If you ever return in future, I won't be here."
Not wanting that to be real, he struggled for an answer. "I'll count that as a big loss." He wanted to ask her something, but he didn't have the right.
She held onto his hand and in no hurry, they made their approach to the door. She opened it, then put her arms around his neck and whispered, "Live well, Red – and find love." She released him, walked away toward the bed and gave him a last smile, before the curtain hid her from sight.
. . .
Back through the vacant waiting room and closed down bar, it looked like early morning. Party over. He was soon located by a hair-covered bouncer who made a detour to the office to collect and return his ammunition. Having escorted Red outside, the man bared his teeth in a wide grin and recited, "In the time honoured tradition of our fine house – come again!" It was worth a grin back.
He decided to stroll toward the road until Collins showed up. Kicking puddles. Now that he had nothing much else to focus on, he winced at the chafe of being confined behind the pressure of his zipper. First chance he got, he'd let it out to breathe and swing free. Something like she must be feeling too, only in reverse. Grinding through the first lovemaking marathon of his life had left his kid status in the rear view mirror.
The approaching step van looked even more beat up in broad daylight, and his friend at the wheel smiled like an idiot as he pulled over.
"You didn't blow it, did you?" Collins snickered, the second he'd opened the passenger door. Hellboy only grumbled at the annoyance of fitting his long legs behind the firewall as Collins steered to leave. In his side mirror, he watched the house recede from view as they drove away.
"She treated me great, but she's quitting the life. I think I've been spoiled for anyone else."
"She was your almost first. You don't want to hold onto that idea," the man counselled.
"Yeah, then I'd better get rich and stay that way. Any other chances like this one, feel mighty remote."
"If you were rich, you might get more hangers-on than you could handle."
"Fake and worthless."
"Kid, you pay these gals for services and after time up, to let you go with no strings. That's the way it works. Don't mope that it's over. Be glad it happened." Privately smug at dispensing such sage advice, Collins silenced to let him think it over. But not for long.
"So, hey." He bumped at Hellboy's shoulder with a nagging elbow. "How about the juicy details?"
"Not now." He wanted one quiet minute to just be glad it happened. "Not ever."
.
.
A/N: If y'all would be so kind, feedback is much appreciated.