So I've had some nasty writer's block on my longer stuff, and decided to try to push through it with a 1-shot. This is the rather surprising (to me anyway) result. BTW, this is my first Andromeda fic, so be kind aye?
And no, I don't own anything from the Andromeda universe... as much as I'd love my own little Nietzchean to play with.
I'm not like his other whores.
Most of them scramble for his attentions, for the chance to say that they might be a favorite of the wild one known only as Rhade. They brag about it, convinced that his attentions will lend them more desirability to their other "clients." As if it had anything to do with their skills or their looks. An honest whore knows that our trade can be done just as easily in full darkness and by a wrinkled old woman. As drunk as he gets at times, it's doubtful that he even notices who's in his bed beyond that they're female and willing. And adult- whatever other vices he might have, Rhade will not touch a child.
Not that any of the others notice that. They don't notice much of anything besides his looks and his body and his wallet. Even the last is sometimes conveniently overlooked. More than one of the Seefran girls has given him a free thrust. They seem to think it'll keep him coming back, make him a more frequent customer. It usually backfires, but damned if they know why.
I always make him pay. I may offer him a discount occasionally (as his is a frequent customer of mine, and often gives back just as much affection as he receives), but it is never free between us. I've known his type before, and I know that they need the excuse of payment to keep up the illusion of defenses. And with me, his are only illusion anymore. I can't honestly say why he chose me for his confidant. I only know that it is indeed what I've become.
Strangely enough, our first time was a total disaster. He'd had even more than usual to drink that night, and ended up a sobbing mess in my arms before he'd even finished what he was paying me for. Now, most of the girls would have tried to make him talk, to worry out his sorrows so he'd get back to the business at hand. I didn't, just held him silently, 'til the sobbing stopped, and he fell asleep. And then, I stayed. Not sure why, though he had paid quite well for my "company," and I suppose I thought I should at least stick around.
True too, it had been a long time since I'd felt safe sleeping with any of my customers. It's as easy a way to get a girl's throat cut on this rock as any other, and I have one hell of a desire to not let that happen. Rhade was different though. Granted, he's a drunk who enjoys a good brawl as much as the next thug, but I have yet to see him hit a woman (one that didn't hit him first, that is). In fact, a good bit of those brawls had started because he'd seen a woman struck. Not that he'd ever admit that. Regardless, I did feel safe with him.
Thus, it came as a bit of a shock to wake with those bone blades at my throat. For one frightful moment, I'd truly thought I would die. Then the moment stretched on, and in hysterics, I started to laugh. After a moment, he joined in, rolling off me and laughing till tears ran down his face.
Since then, I've warmed his bed at least once a week or so. I'm not his only whore, but I am the one he comes to most often. And the only one he actually talks to. Hell, sometimes, we spend more time talking than anything else. I'm likely the only one on Seefra to call him Telemachus. Who knows about the bone blades, about what it means to be Nietzchean. About a world known as Terazed, and his life there. About the precious lives he lost- his wife and sons.
We never speak beyond the bedroom. Whatever he might feel for me, it doesn't emerge to last the harshness of Seefra's days. I've never expected it to. For me, it's enough to know he ever feels it. Enough to know that I am the only one he never calls Gillian.
No, I am not like the others.
Hope yall enjoyed it! And of course- reviews are love!