A/N: Blake has neutral pronouns, any references to "she" are to Ruby. Ruby is twenty, Blake slightly older. Technically this is a crossover between CourierNinetyTwo's In The Blood and my own AU, Chained Rose. If you like sad, sexy gangsters, I recommend giving those stories a look.

This story is not canon to either of those fics, I'm just borrowing the Chained Rose setting and characters for stress relief smut.

"Take off your shoes at the door, please."

Toeing them off by the heel, Blake did as Ruby asked, scanning the room in a single sweep. Spacious and full of dark wood and stone, the only soft edges were the plush leather seats and a fuzzy rug in the middle of the living area. It didn't seem like Ruby decorated; she felt too spartan for an elaborate bar, for one thing. Not to mention she'd said she didn't drink.

Of course, Ruby might have been lying, but Blake didn't think she had been.

"Your apartment is lovely." It was dry, without real sincerity behind the words. But the way Ruby opened up her doors and fussed over her guest made Blake want to try. "You live here alone?"

Ruby pressed a cold glass of water into Blake's hands. The glass perspired; for a moment, their fingers brushed. "No. I mean, yes. I used to have a roommate. Looking for a new one. Um…" She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen area. "Someone to help around with the chores would be nice, at least. Hold on, let me do those dishes real quick. Can't believe I didn't…"

Trailing off nervously, Ruby zoomed back behind the bar, the rows of liquor bottles shining green, red, orange. Stained glass filters all over the floor and on the white walls behind Ruby. She scrubbed as she spoke. "So, er, yeah, this is it. Sorry, I wasn't expecting a guest."

It was built a bit like a studio, everything open, only the two rooms sectioned off. "You're fine."

Not for the first time, Blake wondered what there was to gain here, why had Ruby invited a strange faunus into her home. At first glance it seemed obvious, a surprisingly coy offer for a one night stand. But now it felt more like Ruby was trying to land someone here to help pay the rent. Or make an ally within the White Fang.

What am I doing here? Blake thought again. I should just leave, this girl's a mess.

"There's also, uh, beer. In the fridge." Rolling her sleeves up, Ruby nodded to the bar. "And anything there, too. I don't drink it."

"Me neither."

Her face lightened with a smile. "Oh yeah? I thought you were just being cheap downstairs. Junior's bar charges way too much for what it offers."

Blake snorted. "Money's not a problem."

"Of course, of course. That's why your people are the ones hiring our people, huh?" There wasn't a huge mess, so Ruby finished scrubbing up in just a few short moments and began drying. "I've driven some officers around. Once or twice."

"Is that what you do? Drive?"

"Yes. I'm also an engineer." A long butcher knife shone in her hands, passed this way and that over a short white towel. "If you'd like, I could show some of my designs afterwards."

Smiling around the cup's rim, Blake's ears twitched at that. "After what?"

The way Ruby's heart beat increased could be heard across the room, loud as thunder to Blake's ears. Heat traveling up her neck, Ruby avoided eye contact and kept rubbing the towel on the already-dry knife. "After… after I… clean the dishes…"

A sigh made her chest jump. Setting down the knife and the towel, she rested her palms on the kitchen counter and bowed her head, face red as her hair. "Don't laugh at me I'm nervous and I'm not good at this."

"I'm not laughing. If I make you nervous, I understand. I won't be angry if you want me to leave."

Ruby quickly shook her head no. So Blake took the glass to the kitchen, dumping out the contents into the sink and rinsing it out. About to put the glass on the drying rack, though, Blake paused at what else was resting there besides the cutlery.

"You use that butterfly knife to cook?" the faunus asked, taking the weapon and dancing it open. It flashed in familiar movements, partly out of a desire to practice, to see if those old hands still could manage the weapon, and partly out of hope that it would impress Ruby enough to maybe make her relax a little.

"No," Ruby said idly, missing the joke. "I just needed to clean the blood off it, too."

Blake paused again, the ceaseless motion of the butterfly knife stopping. For a moment, the faunus wondered if that was supposed to register as a threat, a reminder that Ruby was more than she seemed. But no, she was just blunt. "So Junior's boys do get their hands dirty from time to time," Blake said, returning the knife.

Not managing to suppress a grin, Ruby copied Blake's patterns almost perfectly, the knife rippling in and out, clicking in rhythm. "From time to time. Ouch, fuck!"

The moment was short lived. The knife clattered to the floor, Ruby holding her hand to her chest and wincing.

"That's what you get for being a show off," Blake said.

She bent down and snatched up the knife. "Shut up. You started it, god."

"Let me see." Taking Ruby's hand, Blake brought it up to the light, twisting it to get a better look. "It's shallow. Run some cold water over it."

"Yeah." Taking her other hand to put it over Blake's, Ruby kept the faunus' hand where it was, wrapped around her wrist. Her fingers went up the cuff of Blake's dress shirt, stroking up a short amount. "Your forearms are really developed."

At this point, Blake had to keep a firm upper lip clenched between teeth to keep from grinning. Knowing the knife was right there should have put the faunus on alert, but everything about Ruby radiated non aggression. It took Blake completely off guard.

And teasing her was almost too easy. "You into muscle or something?"

"What? No. Maybe?" Ruby retreated, turning on the tap and holding her hand underneath it. The crimson line along her index finger sealed up shortly. "I'm into you, a lot. I saw you downstairs in Junior's bar and I wanted to talk to you at once."

That was not a response Blake was wholly familiar with. Turning off the tap and taking Ruby's hand again– she seemed to like that– Blake dragged it down the chest of the suit that the faunus had bought with White Fang money, wiping off water and blood on expensive, whisper-soft cotton. "I'm glad you did. What do you want to do now?"

Ruby returned the grip, holding Blake's hand and pulling closer. "Show you the rest of my knife collection."

Blake pressed into the kiss slowly enough that Ruby could have done something about it, the knife in her hands folded but still a deadly promise. Instead she groped blindly backwards, tossing it into the sink so she was free to pull Blake down, a hand getting lost in thick black tresses. "Don't get nervous now," she said, a short gasp between another kiss. "Touch me hard. Too light and I get the creeps."

In response, Blake let go of her to reach down, cupping holding her lower back and pressing the girl close as possible. Ruby hummed in approval, twisting in Blake's hands to force the faunus to hold on tighter. "You're cute. Where's your knife collection?"

"In my room. I like to be safe."

Though the phrases were right after the other, Blake understood they were referring to two different things. "That's fine with me."

A fine layer of tension, one Blake hadn't even noticed, slipped away like the tie under Ruby's hands. She pulled it from Blake's neck, setting it aside and already popping off the buttons on Blake's shirt. Blake had to stop her, asking to go to the room first. So Ruby took Blake by the hand to lead the faunus there, innocence in the action if not the intent.

Ruby's room was tight and compressed, bordering on the edge of messy. It wasn't unclean, but cluttered, so many diagrams pinned to the walls that no white space existed. Spare parts were in their labeled bins, shelves that almost reached the ceiling, and the bed was crisply made, but there were also bullet casings on the floor and what looked like a dismantled scroll on Ruby's desk. Monitors hummed, dark but active.

"Your hands are big," Ruby said, distracting Blake from scanning the room. There were no windows, and the walls were thickly insulated to protect them from the noisy club downstairs. But it also meant no sound would escape. Blake hesitated, for an instant thinking of leaving, but Ruby had pressed their palms together flat to compare sizes and her fingertips only reached the second knuckle of Blake's hands. Then she started working down Blake's shirt again, pulling it free from the waistband of Blake's trousers. "Undress me too."

"You like giving orders, huh?"

Ruby only wore a sports bra underneath her shirt. Shoving it up just over her chest, Blake's palms covered her chest easily, groping her small breasts, running sympathetic fingers over the stress marks where the elastic had bit too hard into her skin. Then Blake crouched down, getting to both knees and kissing Ruby's bare stomach, arms wrapped around her waist.

"Yes," Ruby said, struggling to get the bra over her head as Blake undid her pants.

"That's gonna be a problem."

"You don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

The fact that she said it like that almost made Blake laugh. This whiplash-thin girl, both her wrists alone fit into Blake's dominant hand, to say nothing of her neck. But Ruby hadn't been joking at all, thoroughly concerned that she might make Blake do something by force. "I won't."

Both arms were still wrapped tight around Ruby, so when Blake stood up the girl was lifted bodily as well, tossed onto the bed without ceremony. Blake tugged the pants off from around her ankles. "Oof! Okay, got it." Crossing her legs and tucking them underneath her, Ruby sat up, resting her chin on her palms. "Finish undressing yourself. I wanna watch."

"Sure." She'd be disappointed if she wanted an elaborate show, though. Blake shrugged out of the shirt, pants dropping around ankles before getting kicked off. Stripped bare, the only thing the faunus wore was a binder, stiff fabric wound over a broad chest.

Silver grey eyes darted this way and that, soaking it in with obvious curiosity. Blake knew the tattoos were unusual. Generic in their base design– roses, thorns, skulls– but in patterns only an unfortunate few would recognize.

Ruby had self-admitted contact with the White Fang. Would horror dawn in them like light on the butcher's blade? Or was she ignorant, still?

Ruby's smile dropped a few molars, gaze focusing and honing in.

"Ah," she said.

Her eyes darted in even intervals, following a pattern. Blake slowly realized that the girl was counting the roses on Blake's chest, petal by petal. Each one for a life Blake had taken in the name of the Fang.

"I have some too," she said. "But none like those. Are there more under the binder?"

"That's private. I'd rather see yours."

Ruby uncrossed her legs, opening them wider. Putting a palm on her thigh, she rested her thumb over a small character in a language Blake didn't recognize. "Just this little one here," Ruby said. Blake thought it was an unusually sensual place for a tattoo like that, wondered what the character meant. "And thorns, here." That one had been evident before, but Ruby clapped another hand over her bicep to point it out. "Simple, but I haven't thought of what else to add."

"It's a nice base for a sleeve," Blake said, covering Ruby's hand with a large, calloused palm and giving her arm a squeeze. Putting a knee on the mattress and another hand on Ruby's shoulder, Blake increased the pressure until the girl was on her back.

Once she knew to stay there, Blake got down on both knees to hold Ruby's legs further apart, planting a kiss on the tattoo. The firm muscles on Ruby's thighs trembled with the action, a gasp barely audible above Blake. "There's stuff under the bed."

"Your alleged knife collection?" Blake asked. "Or did you make that up as a part of the awkward seduction process?"

Blake was rewarded with a soft thwap on the head, some article of clothing thrown that was easily dodged. Pulling the box out from under the bed frame, Blake opened it up to find it well organized and clearly labeled, small bottles and packets and even a very thin box of latex gloves. It was neater than her work desk.

"You weren't kidding about being safe." Blake set the box down on the bed, so Ruby could decide what to do with it from there.

The girl shrugged. "I like how it feels."

Alongside the dental dams and condoms were individually wrapped, sterile needles. Alcohol swabs and bandages and tourniquets. Ruby didn't look like a user, but Blake supposed there wasn't a singular "look" to them. In any case, anyone in Junior's employ wasn't likely to have a sterling record. "What are you into?"

"Making people bleed." Well there was an answer to the question Blake hadn't asked. "But for today, I'd really like it if you went down on me." Her face suddenly lit up again, cheeks bright red. "Although! Maybe I should do you first? Since you're the guest."

"Well," Blake said, grinning wide enough to bare the sharper teeth hidden in most smiles. "If you don't want to be rude."

Ruby stuck out her tongue before sitting up, grabbing a glove, a dam, and a packet of lube. "Fingers? My mouth?"

Knees straddled her, resting on either side of her hips. "Surprise me."

Blake held Ruby's head in both hands, mindful to keep the touch firm. The girl nearly melted at the contact, a breezy sigh escaping her as her eyes closed, hands trembling as she put on the glove. Blake expected the first touch to be cold– latex gloves and lube didn't exactly inspire wet dreams– but when Ruby reached between Blake's legs to stroke between folds that were already plenty wet, it was warm as flesh.

Gentle and slick, her fingers slipped inside with no resistance, only one until she felt comfortable working with two while her thumb rolled in large circles over Blake's clit.

"This is good, right?" Ruby asked, one hand behind Blake's neck, pulling the faunus down in a silent request for another kiss. Blake answered with a small groan against her open mouth, hips bucking forward to find a faster rhythm, more pressure. "Hahaha. Okay." She kissed Blake again, messy and indulgent. "Mmm. Good, good."

It was good. Ruby's red-streaked hair fit between rough fingers and when Blake pulled and groped, it felt like handling a little doll, squirming and moaning just from the pleasure of getting Blake off. Ragged growls littered the end of every breath, noises deep within an inhuman chest.

Tension coiled up, Ruby's fingers curling inward with every stroke heightening the sensation. Release was close, Blake whispered it into Ruby's ear, giving her time to decide what to do, to let her know not to stop if easy climax was her goal.

Blake clenched tight around the fingers that thrusted fiercely now, bringing the faunus over the edge til all Blake could do was slump against her. She had surprising strength for such a slight frame, able to bear the weight, ungloved hand stroking through Blake's hair as gently as a lover should.

"You're a wonderful hostess," Blake murmured into her ear, making her shake with surprised laughter.

"Of course I am. The real question is, are you a suitably appreciative guest?"

Blake took the dam, still in it's wrapper, and lightly whapped it against Ruby's face. "I know how to use one of these. Would that be thanks enough?"

Ruby's eyes lit up. "Yes. But… Uh…"

Smirking again, Blake's head quirked to the side. "Let me guess. You want it a specific way."

Ruby just nodded. Her flush seemed hair trigger, pale skin already pink from heat and sweat, but turning downright crimson every time she brought up specifics. "Again, if you don't want to…"

Blake covered her mouth with a palm. "When I don't want to do something, I'll tell you very clearly. Got it?"

"Got it." Ruby's ungloved right hand whipped up at once, fondling Blake's faunus ear. First one, then the other, rougher than she'd been with her other touches. "God, they're soft." She caught the velvety fold in a fist, startling a gasp out of Blake. It didn't hurt, not really, but it was bolder than most lovers dared to be.

"You are so nice to touch," she said, kissing Blake again, hard. Her fingers dug into Blake's thighs, bereft of ink unlike the chains and madness etched onto thickly developed forearms. "Solid. All those marks… and your hands… you're beautifully made. Someone must've dreamt you out of charcoal. I hope that's okay to say."

Other than an arched eyebrow, Blake did not respond.

"Okay. Yes. Sorry. I'm odd. I kind of just think these things."

"It's alright," Blake said, "But now I'm a little worried I might break your heart when I leave." Taking Ruby's head, Blake pressed a kiss to her brow.

"No, no. I'm not looking for a long term, thing, I'd go nuts. No offense, but if I needed that, I wouldn't look for it in a bar." She shook Blake's hands off of her to tear open the dental dam. "Can't a girl just effusively compliment someone without it being weird? Swaggeringly handsome faunus in tailored suits need to be reminded of how attractive they are from time to time, okay?"

Scooting back up the small twin bed, Ruby jerked her chin over. "Now come here and sit on my face."

Very dryly, Blake said, "I thought it was your turn?"

"Are you complaining? I can lie back and think of Vale, if you'd like that better."

Blake barked out a laugh. "Okay, bossy. If you don't think the dam'll slip."

"Give me some credit," Ruby said. "I'm not an amateur." She tossed another packet at Blake. "And you can do me while on top. Don't mind the weight, I'm tougher than I look."

A small trill of excitement rolled down Blake's spine. Ruby liked the bulkiness of thickly corded muscle, the heavy touches– she probably liked feeling pinned down, too. There was only a small amount of awkwardness, a lot of shuffling two large bodies on a small bed, and a screwdriver wedged between the pillow and the headboard that Blake had to toss aside with a disgusted noise.

Ruby didn't get started right away, stroking along Blake's thighs, kissing with tongue and teeth and being so distracting that for a hairsplit second Blake couldn't remember which side of the dam you were supposed to apply the lube to.

And then the cool press of latex against soaking wet skin, careless, rough strokes of Ruby's tongue. Blake's eyes closed, sitting back on instinct and purring deep and low. Ruby didn't complain, though her hips squirmed underneath Blake's hands until Blake kept the pressure down, easily holding her in place. Blake could feel the girl trembling with effort, arousal beginning to shine and cling to the dark, wild hair between her legs.

Smoothing and unrolling the sheet against her vulva, Blake kept Ruby still with one hand, in no rush to see this end.

Until Ruby started to whine. "Blake–" she pulled away with a gasp, the latex crinkling, her voice ragged. "I don't want to beg, but–"

"But you will if you have to?"

"I will go outside and get the butterfly knife–"

"I thought you had a collection of knives in here?"

"You're being–" A gloved finger swiped along overstimulated flesh, making Blake bite lips between teeth again to keep from whimpering. "–A very rude guest."

Letting out a dark chuckle, Blake bent down, tongueing her roughly to make up for the thickness of the dam. Still, there should be enough friction there to get her off. Blake was getting close again too, grinding hips down carefully so that Ruby wouldn't lose track of her own dam. Ruby's breath, hard and panting, was hiccuped with small gasps and cries, breaking the rhythm of her tongue on Blake's clit.

Keeping the barrier tight and Ruby still at the same time was a challenge, until Blake gave up chasing after another orgasm and focused entirely on Ruby, puzzling out where to touch and when, and how hard. Until Blake heard it, Ruby giving out orders like Blake was obliged to listen to her. There, there, don't stop, don't stop–

She came trembling and bucking, only Blake's iron grip on her fleshy hips keeping her down. Then Blake rolled over to the side on the cramped bed, wiping away the wetness clinging to swollen lips. There was a waste can next to the bed, tossing aside empty wrappers and crumpled up sheets of latex and the glove, Blake collapsed back down again and sighed.

Near Blake's feet, Ruby was panting, coming down off her high only to gently ask, "But don't you want to–"

Blake nudged her with a knee, and she took a hint.

Then there was quiet, blood pounding slower and slower until there was nothing but a pleasant thrumming all along Blake's body. In the total darkness of the room, which Blake slowly realized was more like a converted closet, all that could be heard was Ruby's faint breathing, and the slow hum of half a dozen machines.

There must have been a point where Blake fell asleep because a scroll started ringing, and the faunus snapped out of slumber, instantly alert. It was quite a feat that Blake had managed to sleep at all, in a windowless room with a complete stranger, naked and defenseless. The binder was mostly undone, Blake's own hands on the fastenings.

Ruby got up at the same time, grousing about feeling sticky.

"Don't worry," she said, a gentle hand across Blake's shoulders. "It's probably my boss. You can use the other room if you need to sleep and shower."

She picked up the phone, standing in front of the bed with her hip cocked at an angle, red hair askew. "Yes, sir? Got something for me?"

Slowly getting dressed, Blake listened in. Ruby started pacing around the small room, unlocking clever compartments and unfolding a workstation out of thin air. She plugged in a coffee machine right there at her desk, tapping out the stale grounds in the waste basket next to her bed and refilling the machine from a gallon of water stashed on a shelf. "Hmmm. One barrel, two barrels?"

Ruby was quiet, listening.

"No," she said. "I can get it done sooner than that. Mhmm." She pinched the phone between her head and shoulder, pulling out a poster tube and unrolling a large schematic from it. "Yes, I actually was working on something similar last year that I never got around to finishing. I can use it as the base model…"

The person on the other end interrupted her.

"No, Yang hasn't come home yet…. Yeah, I know. Yes, Junior. I paid the last two month's rent on time, didn't I? Now are we going to talk business or are you going to keep pretending you're my father?" A pink tongue, glistening, swiped across her lips, and Blake couldn't help but be distracted by it, knowing what it could do. "No, you can't pay me less on the design because I already constructed it. Because it's still something I worked hard on, that's why. And no you can't trade it for rent, are we pre-Dust merchants?"

Patient, though angry, Ruby waited for Junior to finish his spiel.

"Because I worked ten years to be able to finish it in two days, that's why. We're friends but that doesn't mean I'm going to change prices. No…" Her voice raised sharply. "Look, I said no already!"

An angry male voice spilled out of the scroll so loud Ruby had to pull her ear away from it.

"Fine!" she shouted back. "Then I'll burn your club to the ground! Have a great life!"

Hanging up, Ruby tossed the scroll aside and smoothed out the design on her desk, grumbling under her breath. Despite her words, she placed a transparent sheet of tracing paper over the original document and began to work.

"He'll call back in an hour with a new offer," Ruby explained briefly to Blake, who hadn't asked. "Might as well finish this in the mean time so I can leverage it over him for a better price."

Standing over her, Blake peered down at the design. Dust tech and engineering were outside the scope of lessons taught by the White Fang; they tended to contract outside help for it if they didn't have anyone on the inside already naturally talented at it. Still, even Blake could see this was high concept stuff. Abstractly mathematical, and yet intensely efficient.

"Those are really good," Blake said, and Ruby was distracted enough by it to twist in her seat and grin at the faunus.

"Thanks! I like doing it."

"Ever thought about trying out a military contract?"

Immediately, Ruby's expression soured. Lifting up her nose, she drawled, "Oh yeah, so they can take all the delicate, hand crafted parts out and replace them with the cheapest mass-producible alternative and shove out ten hundred that'll break apart in two years? No way."

"You'd make a lot of money. More than you'd get haggling with individual buyers."

"Military is out of the question." Ruby spoke under her breath again, eyes trained on the floor and sounding less like she was talking to Blake and more like she had forgotten she wasn't alone. "Would think you of all people would understand. Plus I got old bad habits I don't feel like breaking. No initiative to turn anywhere else and no incentive, either."

"Not looking to give a lecture. Just stating the facts, you're better off not hanging around low-lifes like your boss."

"Why do you care?" Ruby demanded. But before Blake could respond, she finished it. "I'd rather not discuss this, unless you want to start counting rose petals on your skin, too." Hypocrite, were the unspoken words.

The last remark dug in shockingly deep, cutting right to the sensitive parts Blake hadn't even remembered existed. And then anger settled in, deep and furious and cold and black, so black.

Ruby had gotten careless because Blake had been too gentle, that was it. Careless enough to skirt closer to a danger she was better off pleading ignorance to. Thinking Blake collared and belled, and Blake had done nothing to dissuade her of that idea. "So you think you're tough cause you fuck with gang members?"

Ruby turned further in her seat to look up at Blake, completely fearless, her arm draped over the back of her chair. "That's right."

And without warning, a knife blossomed in her hand, shining silver all along its length. Ruby was still completely naked, so there was no sleeve for it to drop from, and nowhere near that it could have been hidden. "Listen, Blake," she said, and she took the knife and used it to sharpen the edge of her pencil, the shavings curling up and dropping onto the floor. "I think you might have the wrong idea about me. I'm a nice person, but I'm not here for you to walk all over."

Very carefully, she set the knife down on the desk, opening her empty palm for Blake to see.

Then there was another ripple of white light, like a ribbon in the dark, and the knife appeared in her tightened grip once more.

Blake's eyes narrowed. "You're just a child. Getting in way over your head. If you tried that cute trick with anyone else in the White Fang you'd be dead right now."

"You're a nice person too," Ruby said, and the knife turned in her hand. It was long and thin, and she made it step between her fingers almost like a coin. "I knew it when I saw you. I knew I liked you a lot. And I was right. You want to help me." The knife stopped. "Why?"

I don't know.

"Because five years down the road," Blake said, "You're going to be me and you'll wish you could run."

"Five years down the road I'll be dead."

No venom laced the words. No exaggeration, or hidden meaning to discern.

Just absolute truth. Absolute conviction. And the complete absence of passion.

No light entered the room that wasn't emitted by a softly glowing monitor. Either way, Ruby's eyes shone– not like a faunus', reflecting the dim light in the room, but seeming to emit a radiation of their own.

And for the first time since they met, Blake felt a low undercurrent of real threat threading through Ruby's body, pulsing low, waiting for something to ignite.

"I need to get back to work," Ruby said, and the illusion was gone and there was no light shining from her eyes, they were just very pale, thin grey eyes that caught a reflection. The knife was standing upright on her desk. "If you don't feel like walking home in the dark, you're welcome to sleep in the other room."

Once again she radiated no aggression. Something had burned through Ruby once, but only once. All that was left was cool and clean, a sterile knife blade or a needle hidden underneath the bed.

Blake just left without a word, closing the door to Ruby's room. There was an urge there, then, to wreck the place entirely, to overturn the bar and send all those bottles crashing to the floor so they couldn't throw their stained glass light anywhere ever again. Instead Blake buttoned up the dirty suit jacket and slipped on untied dress shoes, pausing once to notice something that hadn't been visible before.

When Blake had entered the apartment, there hadn't been a thought to look over a shoulder and see what was behind. Above the door frame rested another schematic, large enough to cover six feet of the wall at least, endlessly detailed. And framed, unlike the others.

It was a scythe.