Contains mature content at in the last paragraph. It is a bit graphic, so please, be warned.
Aaron was surprised to see that Arianne used surgical pliers to stitch him up.
- You often sew brawler's faces?
She chuckled.
- No, but I like to be prepared for anything. I salvaged those, she said, waiving the pliers that were not holding the needle, from the hospital I work in. They do not fit surgical criteria anymore, for sterilization and all... Don't worry, though, I washed them with chlorexidine.
- I was not worried, I was impressed, Aaron said. You're a surgeon of some kind?
She smiled while she answered, finishing a stitch above is eyebrow.
- No, I'm a nurse. I've never worked in a surgery room. Actually, I learned to stitch on YouTube!
- Interesting hobby, he added with a lopsided grin.
She finished her work in silence, covering the stitches with little gaze bandages and made recommendation as to the proper care of said stitches.
- You'll have to take them off in about seven days, or if you prefer, you can come back here and I'll take them off for you.
Without waiting for him to reply, she stood up from between his legs and proceeded to pack and store the remaining bandages still thrown on the carpet. Aaron was picking up his shirt, preparing to leave. He winced as he stood up. Bloody hip, he thought. Arianne, who was now in the closet next to the bathroom, storing her first aid kit, heard him and immediately asked:
- Don't you think it would be best if you slept here tonight? My proposition still stands: the couch is yours and I have an extra duvet, she added proudly as if it was a point of capital importance in the decision.
It was not best and he new it. It was a mistake to have agreed to get her help in the first place. He had a tracking device in his thigh; They knew where he was 24/7. His presence here was endangering her very life. He also knew he had not been close to anyone in a long time, four months and 22 days to be exact. She had been the first person in almost 2 years to whom he had divulged is real agent name, the first in about the same time to show concern for his well-being, comfort and health. He could still feel the heat of her hand on his arm, her breath on his face, her presence between his legs. It would definitely not be wise to sleep here tonight, yet he answered her:
- Yeah, you're right. It would be best.
Everything in his chem enhanced brain was screaming: "you'll regret this", but he ignored it. He longed to feel human, and this was his reward for taking care of the contract.
A few minutes later, Arianne was back with a fluffy looking pillow, clean sheets, a very warm looking wool blanket and the promised duvet.
- I'm afraid I don't have any pajamas for you. As I told you, I'm not used to have visitors. I brought you a t-shirt, it's quite large and it might fit you.
- Really, you should not have gone trough so much trouble for me, a simple blanket would have been perfect.
- Nonsense, it's a pleasure, she said to him with a large smile.
What a lovely smile, he thought.
- You can get changed in the bathroom while I prepare your bed. If you want to shower, be carful not to wet the bandages or it will start to bleed again.
He picked the shirt and walked in the direction she had come from.
- First door on the left, she told him merrily.
There was a large mirror on the bathroom door. As he undressed, he used it to evaluate the damage from the fight. His ribs were badly bruised on his left side along with his shoulder blade and hip. The skin was purple, red and extremely sensible. Fortunately, he had managed to avoid being cut or shot at by his adversary and had, miraculously, not sustained any fracture in his fall. His knuckles were bloody, but except from washing them, there was nothing he could do. He stepped in the shower and allowed the warm water to rinse of the sweat and grime he was covered in, being extra carful not to let the water run on his face. He sighed in comfort. Turning the water off, he stepped out and proceeded to dry himself and put on his boxers and the t-shirt she had selected for him. It was indeed large enough for him, and even a little long. It was not surprising considering she was about three inch taller than he was. He was strangely relieved to notice it was plain black and not pink, or girly. Having seen her house and how she dressed, it was logical though. She dressed in blue, grey and black and her house was also in similar colors.
A discreet knock on the door distracted him from his thought.
- Your bed is ready. Help yourself to some food if you're hungry, I'm off to sleep.
Being dressed, he opened the door to thank her but he had a moment of hesitation. She must have changed her clothes while he was himself getting dressed, for she was now wearing a tight, a bit too short, white tank top with blue pajama pants exposing her waist. Though it was nothing provocative or indecent, he felt strangely aroused by the sight of her bare skin. He could even see the relief of her nipples trough the light fabric and the soft curve of her small breasts. Seeing his eyes roaming her body like this made her cheeks take slight pink tone, and she crossed her arms on her chest. Sensing her discomfort, he lowered his eyes and managed to thank her like he had intended to.
Wishing him a good night, she retired to her room, which was situated at the end of the short corridor. A black cat ran behind her, she picked it up and petted it for a little while before it started purring.
Seeing her showing so much affection, caressing the black fur with her long fingers did nothing to help Aaron change his course of thinking. Shaking his head, as to change the content of his brain, he proceeded to the living room where he was to spend the night. He lowered himself on the sofa and nearly moaned in comfort as his spine aligned itself in the comfy pillows. It was quite an upgrade from the miserable hard bed he had occupied for the last five months. He allowed himself a few minutes to simply enjoy the feeling before pulling the blankets over him, closing his eyes and turning on his uninjured side to sleep. His last conscious thought went to Arianne, in her white tank top, her warm hands on his body, caressing his face, his chest, his abdomen, slowly lowering to his thighs. Darkness overtook him before he could imagine any further.
Despite being in an unknown location, with an unknown person sleeping in the next room and without an alarm set on the door, he slept as he had rarely slept before. When he woke up, he felt like only a few seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes. The curtains had been drawn, probably a courtesy of his hostess, so it was fairly dark in the living room, but the bright light shining in the kitchen told him it was probably well passed 9 o'clock.
Noises coming from the kitchen caught his attention. Training taking over, he noiselessly got up and snuck to the kitchen door, taking a pair of scissors forgotten on the table next to the sofa. A quick glance at the reflexion on the microwave door told him Arianne was alone in the kitchen, serving cat food. Relaxing, he placed the scissors on the counter and spoke up.
- 'Morning.
Arianne almost jumped out of her skin, nearly dropping the bowl on her cat's head.
- Shit, you scared me Aaron! I never heard you coming!
- I didn't mean to scare you, I thought there was somebody else in the house. I came to investigate, he answered.
- Well, it's only Lucifer and me, as usual. Are you hungry?
She had named the cat Lucifer? What a bizarre name. Yet it fitted the cat well he thought. It had large sulfur yellow slanted eyes and a pitch-black fur that reminded him of coal.
- I really don't want to impose, I'll leave you be.
- You're not imposing at all! I like to have someone to talk to once in a while, she added smiling sadly.
- A woman as kind and as beautiful as you mustn't have a lot of trouble finding people to talk to, he said without thinking.
She blushed lightly again.
- I talk to people at work, of course, but I'm a bit slow to trust and I tend to be nice, yet cold to people I don't trust, she added, looking at her feet in embarrassment.
- Slow to trust? You just let me, perfect strangers, wounded you don't even know how, sleep in your house!
There was a little silence before she answered.
- I trusted you because you were wounded. I didn't think you would cause much trouble in the state you were in.
- I see... He added lamely.
There was another silence, longer this time.
- Do you want breakfast? I can cook eggs if you like.
- I'll have what you're having, he said with a little smile.
- Toasts, cheese and soy milk it is than!
- It sounds perfect, can I help you with anything?
They talked a bit while eating. She told him about her work, her family that lived away. He told her about the cities he had visited, avoiding any details that could lead her to discover his job. He invented he was traveling for business deals. When she asked about his family he was vague, saying they had lost contact due to incompatible opinions. It was closer from the truth that he would have liked, but it only made the lie easier to tell. Was he married? No, his frequent travels made it hard for him to really establish a stable relation. Was she seeing someone? No, she laughed a little, smiling. Oh, that smile, it was so warm, so perfect. She was too strange; nobody was interested. To that he had merely nodded, avoiding her eyes, thinking she couldn't have been more wrong. After that, he helped her clean up the kitchen and told her he had a job to go to.
He left a little before 11 o'clock, stepping in a passing bus to leave her no clue as to where he was going. Hours after reaching his flat, packing his things and getting ready to leave town like he did after every mission, he still thought of her: Arianne, her smile, her warm hands, the way she made him feel human. That line of thought brought him back to last night, the way he had thought of her touching him. He lay back on his bed, unbuckling his belt, opening his jeans. He was already half hard just thinking of her; it had really been a long time since he had indulged in such simple pleasure. Rubbing his hardening shaft through the light fabric of his boxers he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fantasize about her. He quickly lowered his boxers as the thought became more heated. It was not him who was creating that delicious friction and rubbing the pre-cum slicked head anymore. It was her hand giving him pleasure, her mouth and not his hand caressing his neck, pinching his hardening nipples. It was her hand he sloppily covered with white, sticky cum as he reached completion, and it was against her neck and not his own hand that he muffled his final grunt.
