A/N: Thanks to Bam and GiggleSnortBangDead for reviewing! I truly appreciate hearing from you!

I do not have a beta, and I am posting with my iPad, which is challenging because I have to manually code every paragraph, italics, etc. I apologize in advance for mistakes and repeated uploads as I try to make this work. Otherwise, I love my iPad!

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I'm A Lone Shark, Dammit

Erik struggled against the tight metal bands that rendered him immobile on the cold metal table. Before his mother had been murdered, she pleaded with him not to panic no matter what, telling him he had no reason to, he was human. But how could he not, when he could see the wickedly sharp knives on the table, the container filled with needles, the metal chain dangling at the end of a whip, and the metal clamps strong enough to crush bone, knowing Shaw intended to use these horrible things on him to prove his humanity?

Hearing footsteps, Erik twisted and thrashed with all his might, gasping for air. Footsteps, coming closer. Ever closer. Shaw was just around the corner, there was no escape, he would be excruciatingly tortured...

Erik woke up with a start, out of breath, instinctively reaching for some invisible person that, for a brief moment, he believed to be there. Confused, Erik realized he expected the handsome mutant from the night before would still be beside him. Apparently his subconscious still believed him to be at the brothel, when in reality he lay on the bed in his hotel room. He shrugged to himself. Nightmares about the time Shaw murdered his parents and confirmed he was human often haunted him, and, due to his constant moving around, so did his confusion afterwards. No reason to believe there was anything significant to this. He conveniently ignored the fact that he'd never reached out to be comforted by someone since his parents had died.

Erik, catching his breath, climbed out of bed and strode into the bathroom to start his morning routine. He stared into the mirror, truly looking, for the first time in a long time. Was this what the mutant saw last night? hewondered, taking note of his shaggy cut and his scruffy facial hair, overdue for a shave. Frowning, he got his shaving kit out of his suitcase and set to work.

When his face was completely smooth, he thread his hands through his unkempt hair. He really needed a cut. Besides, everyone knew the barber's shop was an excellent source of information and gossip. It only made sense, in the grand scheme of things, to go there and get his hair sorted out. He ignored the voice in his head that insisted he wanted to impress a certain blue eyed mutant, who he may not see again anyway.

Decision made, he dressed and used his map to find the local barber's shop. He methodically wove his way through the relatively quiet main street, the morning sun blinding him whenever he happened to turn eastward. Finally his eye caught sight of a black and white sign overlooking a small shop: Barber Rowle's. A sliding partition on the sign indicated "Open." Erik strode inside.

The sight of the man behind the black and white counter took him by surprise.

"You again!" said his blond haired, blue eyed debate partner of the night before.

Erik graced him with a small smile, attempting to hide his disappointment. He would be getting no useful information then. Still, he needed a cut. "Erik," he introduced himself. An unsettling vibe emanating from the man cautioned him from giving out his last name.

"I'm Rowle," the man returned. He gestured towards the seat for Erik to sit in while he cut his hair.

Erik sat down, sensing uneasily as the pair of scissors approached his head in Rowle's hands. Something about this man set off his fight or flight instinct. He forced himself to sit still. Being on the move and often getting into fights no doubt made him overly paranoid about having someone hold something sharp and close to his neck while his back was turned. His thoughts wandered back to the night before, fondly recalling how the mutant's eyes shone when he offered the blow job of his own free will. Unconsciously, a genuine smile stretched out on his face.

"What has you so perky this morning?" Rowle grunted. Snip, snip, snip, went the scissors, providing background noise. "A real change from last night."

"I went to Exotic Pleasures last night," explained Erik.

"Never heard of it," admitted Rowle.

"It's a mutant brothel on Cass Street," Erik answered bluntly.

"Funny how out of towners find out things the locals don't, innt?" mused the barber, still snipping with his scissors. "Must have been a good time."

Erik wanted to keep his experience with the mutant to himself. "Going to debate about mutants again?" Erik challenged him.

"Now that you've seen them yourself, are you for or against mutants?" the barber asked directly.

"I haven't changed my opinion," Erik told him, ignoring the empathy that throbbed in him for the blue eyed mutant.

"Swing voters," Rowle muttered like a curse, accidentally tugging on Erik's hair. Erik gritted his teeth but remained silent. "If the mutants are so great, then how did they get conquered? The Holocaust was violent but short," the barber pointed out.

"The mutants were disorganized and didn't have a good way, or the time, to form a resistance and communicate with each other. That doesn't mean they were unintelligent or subhuman," Erik objected. "With greedy relatives turning the mutants in to inherit their money throughout the Slave Inheritance Act, the rounding up of mutants they identified a few years earlier through that underhanded Registration Act, and the interrogation of people suspected of mutations, it was little wonder they fell so quickly."

"You give them far too much credit. They should have seen this coming," argued Rowle. "They were stupid and arrogant, relying too much in their powers. They forgot that few mutations have defenses against the atomic bomb, for example. Hardly the next step in evolution. Technology and our superior intelligence will win every time. They are very easily controlled through those chips."

Erik and Rowle debated for the remainder of his haircut, neither one budging an inch. After Erik left the shop, a clothing store caught his eye. He glanced at his own attire with new eyes, thinking once more about what the mutant must have thought. Not that it mattered, of course, but it was a good point. He would make a more intimidating figure with the right outfit, which could only help in getting information out of people. That is the excuse he gave himself as he entered the shop, browsing for something more impressive looking. Once he gathered everything he believed would fit in his suitcase, he set them down on the counter to be rung up. Spying a bottle of cologne, he added it to the pile, pointedly not thinking too deeply about his flimsy reasoning for that.

As he headed back to his hotel with his purchases, he passed the bar where he had debated with Rowle last night, before meeting the mutant. It made him wonder if the blue eyed man ever had any alcohol. He doubted it.

There he was, thinking about him again. He couldn't stop thinking about last night's encounter. He just couldn't get those eyes out of his head, the admiration he felt at the dignity the mutant conveyed even in his lowly situation. He couldn't forget the strange connection he felt to the mutant.

One more night with him wouldn't hurt. He could delay his search for Shaw that much.

The idea of arriving empty handed, however, didn't seem right to him. It was ridiculous, really. It wasn't like he was dating him, or owed him anything. He might not even see him again. Still, he couldn't help himself when he bought scotch (the mutant looked English) and two small glasses he could easily conceal. He doubted the slaves were allowed alcohol, but as long as they didn't get drunk or caught he figured it would be all right.

He returned to his hotel room and changed into his new clothes, discarding his old ones, and spritzed on the cologne as an afterthought. He might as well make use of it.

Deed done, he decided to pass the rest of the time poking around the alley that Bart's Leathers resided on, hoping to stumble upon a lead. Surely Shaw would put a watch on places like this, and through that person he could find the bastard. He took note of the people entering and exiting Bart's Leathers, but his covert investigations lead to nothing. On more than one occasion, he couldn't help but think it would have been useful to have a partner, especially when there was multiple people to follow and question.

On one such occasion, he had to choose between a young, pretty brunette and a hairy brute of a man smoking heavily with breath that stank so thickly of alcohol that it shocked Erik he could walk in a straight line, much less appear as sober as he did. He chose the lady.

"Nice leather bag you have there," commented Erik in attempt to strike up a casual conversation. "Name's Erik." He smiled flirtatiously, hoping to give the impression that he wanted to pick her up.

"Moira," she returned, barely giving him a glance. If she answered his questions, maybe he would go away.

"Did you just get the bag? Or did you take advantage of Bart's other talents?" Erik said suggestively. Being a bastard often angered people enough to reveal to him what he wanted to know, in attempt to intimidate him. Most people did not want to get in trouble with a government official, so flaunting it bought protection.

"Fuck off, asshole," she snapped back.

He refrained from responding, considering her. He could sense nothing metallic on her. All officials carried a metallic weapon of some sort. Her belt buckle must have been made of some cheap material, so she clearly did not come from money. No ties to the government then. She headed in the general direction of his hotel, and he hurried back to the alley.

When dusk approached, he set off for the brothel again. Despite the dead ends and his frustrating unlucky streak, he could not summon much disappointment, not when he was about to see the mutant.

He entered the brothel again to the same lineup, struggling once more with the door. Without hesitation, he strode down the line briskly towards where his mutant had been chained last time.

"You came back!" exclaimed Pilas, waddling up behind him quickly, clearly pleased.

Erik stopped behind the short, dark haired mutant, who was facing the wall, appearing even more dejected and disinterested about his surroundings than he did the night before, his eyes blank, posture slumped and frozen, as if he'd gone completely internal. Erik felt that strange, intense pain in his chest again at the sight.

"I wish to have him again," announced Erik.

At the sound of Erik's voice, the mutant straightened and slowly, disbelievingly turned around, chains clinking. Two shocked blue eyes met Erik's. The shorter man blinked, then his eyes softened, a spark of delight and welcome in them. Erik smiled, the pain in his chest easing.

Pilas looked stunned. "Really? It is not often that someone requests him twice."

"Yes," stated Erik firmly, and the mutant was led away. He paid for more time tonight. He didn't want things cut short like they had been last time. Pilas was too busy feeling giddy about his good fortune that Erik had returned to notice the bulging pockets of Erik's coat that contained the alcohol and glasses.

"Suit yourself," said Pilas. "You know the way."

Erik made his way to the mutant's room, entering it and locking it behind him. He didn't bother taking in the surroundings today, immediately striding up to the mutant chained to the bed. He appeared much more relaxed, a touch of a smile glinting in his eyes at Erik's approach. The strongest emotion, though, was wonder. Clearly he hadn't expected Erik to return.

Erik stopped just short of the bed, feeling foolish about what he was about to do, but the mutant's gentle, accepting gaze gave him the determination to continue. "Hey. I brought you something."

The slave's eyes turned stunned when Erik pulled out the scotch with the two glasses, setting them on the wooden bedside table. Since the mutant seemed frozen, Erik opened it and poured both glasses, taking one for himself and offering one to him. He didn't take it right away, still staring at Erik with something akin to awe.

"It'll help you relax," said Erik, with an encouraging smile. Getting some action didn't seem as important to him right now as making the mutant feel comfortable with him.

Gingerly, gently, he took the glass from Erik, his chains clinking as he did so. He took a sip.

"Do you like it? I wasn't sure what you'd like," admitted Erik, fervently denying to himself that he was anxious about this.

The mutant regarded him with a soft expression and nodded. Erik smiled in relief. They drank in silence for a minute, Erik eying the silver chains. He knew he wouldn't be able to get them off him, but, "Is there a way to extend these?" Erik asked, gesturing to the chains. If he felt less trapped, that might help him relax too.

He nodded, gesturing towards a lever by the door, far beyond the reach of the chains. Erik got up and examined it. If he pulled up, it would shorten the chains. If he pulled down, it would lengthen them. He pulled down, surprised by how difficult it was. Did no one ever choose the lengthening option, choosing to shorten them instead? By the look and feel of things, it certainly seemed that way. He set his drink down. With a grunt of brute strength, he forced the lever down, and he heard the distinct clinking of the chains extending. He held it down until the chains couldn't be extended any further, and let go with a loud exhale. "That thing could sure use some lube," he commented to the mutant, realizing too late how suggestive that sentence could be interpreted. He didn't want to take the lead. He wanted the mutant to, like last time.

He didn't look uncomfortable, though, as Erik approached the bed with his scotch again, sitting down on the edge. More like thoughtful. They both finished their glasses after a long, comfortable silence and set them on the bedside table. Their gazes met, and the air sizzled with tension.

The mutant climbed off the bed and knelt between Erik's legs much the same as he had the night before. Erik's breathing sped up in anticipation. Seeing this, the kneeling man didn't bother to wait for permission this time, undoing his belt and pants and pulling them down quickly. Erik was fully hard before he even touched him this time, so he just sank his mouth onto his cock and sucked slower, softer than he had the night before, doing wicked things with his tongue that made Erik squirm and clutch hard at the mattress. After an abruptly hard suck, Erik made to grab at him, but quickly aborted the gesture, digging his nails into the sheets again. The mutant had noticed, however, and stilled. Fuck, I scared him, Erik thought regretfully, and prepared to deal with an epic case of blue balls.

That wasn't it. Slowly, gently, with that butterfly touch of his, he grasped Erik's large hands and guided them to his shoulders. Erik's heart melted at the simple gesture that seemed so heavily laden with meaning. Erik gripped the mutant's shoulders, rubbing soothingly and encouragingly with his thumbs, sometimes gripping hard enough to bruise as he resumed sucking, but the shorter man didn't seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him into being more impish and enthusiastic, teasing him and bringing him to the edge a few times and drawing back, with Erik grunting in frustration. He couldn't help but feel a bit of exasperated fondness, though, at the glint of genuine enjoyment in the mutant's eyes. Finally he had pity on Erik and brought him to a completion that was even more intense than the night before. Erik fell back, gasping for breath. He heard the mutant moving around, chains clinking, but Erik's mind was too far in bliss land to even wonder what he was doing.

He felt him climb onto the bed next to him, closer than last night, and Erik met his gaze, which had a slight teasing edge to it as he offered him a full glass of scotch. "Think I need it, do you?" said Erik with a sheepish grin.

The other man nodded a bit smugly, his eyes smirking. Erik accepted it with a short laugh and downed the glass. "You can have as much of it as you like," he said, gesturing towards the bottle as he set his glass back down.

His eyes softened but he shook his head, looking regretful, his eyes going a bit blank.

"You'd get in trouble if you got drunk?" Erik guessed.

He nodded, going a bit blank again.

Wanting to wipe that miserable expression from those blue eyes, Erik reached for the top of the mutant's pants, resting his hand there. "Are you sure you don't want me to reciprocate?"

He looked tempted for a moment before slowly, reluctantly shaking his head no.

"All right," agreed Erik, somewhat disappointed. After a comfortable, drawn out silence, he heard the tinkling of the bells, signaling the end of their time together.

The mutant reached out and squeezed Erik's hand lightly, like a butterfly landing on his hand. Erik smiled, steeled himself against those eyes, and left quickly, taking the glasses and scotch with him so neither of them would get in trouble.

The next day, Erik stood in line at the train station to buy a ticket. It was time to move on and try to pick up Shaw's trail elsewhere. Time to resume the only life he knew. The late afternoon sky overhead threatened rain, the chilly air prompting him to zip up his leather jacket. Bored, he observed the people around him. He'd never taken note of it before, but everyone he observed had a traveling companion.

Except for him, of course. The spot beside him seemed even emptier than usual. It's better that way, he told himself. No one to slow me down.

Trying to distract himself, he focused on the metal around him. Honing his intuition would only help, especially in a fight, his past near misses attesting to that. It had taken practice over many years, but now he felt confident that his sense was acute enough to even count each separate coin in someone's pocket without looking. If he developed this enough, he might even be able to track bullet trajectories better.

His turn came to pay. The frowning, irritable ticket master prepared his ticket as Erik declared his destination to be the next town and reached into his pocket for his money. When he did, the image of the mutant, chained to the wall, dejected and empty, swam in his mind's eye. He froze, heart squeezing painfully, breath stolen. He couldn't go through with this and leave him like that.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Erik muttered, "Fuck it," and stalked hurriedly away from the train station. He feet carried him on automatic pilot back to his hotel. Halfway there, Erik finally began thinking rationally again. What am I doing? I need to go. There is nothing for me here. Yet, he couldn't get the image of the young, unloved man out of his head, the desire to make his life as wonderful as the mutant deserved. Erik raked his fingers through his hair as he neared his hotel. How could he find a way to move on?

Maybe he just had a thing for mutants. Hey, people had stranger kinks than that. Maybe if he spent the night with another mutant, he would find that he just liked mutants. That would be no problem - he was sure that wherever he hunted next, he could find another one of these places. Then he could forget about those blue eyes that seemed to peer deep into his soul, burdening him with inconvenient feelings, begging him to stay. He didn't need anyone, and why would anyone need him? What good was he to them? The only people he cared about had suffered and died. Some part of him still blamed himself.

With that plan in mind, he marched into the brothel, determined to get over this, this thing, once and for all. He was a man on a mission, not some pathetic, lovesick little boy. He could handle this. In the lineup, he pointedly ignored the two blue eyes that bored into his back, brutally suppressing how it made him feel to reject his hopeful look. The pretty blond one - wasn't her name Emma? - caught his eye. He nodded to her without a word, and paid Pilas. Pilas made no comment, a bit unnerved by the vibes he was getting from Erik, despite his euphoria that Erik came back a third time.

"Hey, sugar," Emma greeted him from the bed as he entered her room. The decor was much the same as the other mutant's, except for one startling difference - in this room, Emma sprawled free, no chains in sight. "Got tired of the silence?" she asked, her tone derisive about the other mutant.

Erik didn't answer, still trying to distract himself from the guilt clawing at his insides and the odd feeling that he was cheating on the other mutant. For fuck's sake, he owed him nothing. He could sleep with whomever he liked. There was no reason for it to feel like such a huge betrayal. No reason for the pain in his chest, squeezing around his heart. "You're not chained," Erik blurted out.

"No, Pilas keeps me free because I enjoy my job and I'm better without them. Unless you like bondage?" she offered, getting off the bed and standing before him, tracing patterns on his chest with her right forefinger. "You must, if you went back to the stubborn one a second time. I can do rough too."

"Chains won't be necessary," he assured her, focusing on her talented touch and ignoring her implications.

Emma smiled. "No, I think not. You are a strong, handsome man. Not often I get to be with one as attractive as you."

Erik returned the smile, thoughts of the other mutant fading temporarily. Emma, in some ways, was much more pleasant, more enthusiastic, for one thing. She actually talked. He didn't have to 'wine and dine' her to get her to want to be with him. He didn't have to hold back for fear she'd feel violated. She immediately worked to seduce him, smiling and doing a little dance, stripping along the way. It had barely been two minutes and he'd already gotten further with her than him.

He fucked into her, hard, determined to beat this out of his system. He was a loner. He would stay that way. He didn't need anyone. The only thing he needed was to kill Shaw. He repeated this like a mantra, over and over, as he snapped his hips ruthlessly. Emma did not appear to mind, encouraging him, and he put all his considerable strength into it. She took it, resilient somehow as diamond. When he finally reached completion, however, he did not feel the least bit satisfied. Two confused, sorrowful, blue, betrayed eyes still peered at him every time he closed his eyes.

The connection he felt with him spoiled him for anyone else.

Fight drained out of him, Erik left the room without a word. He still had plenty of time left. He strode up to the blue-eyed mutant and gestured to him in defeat, noting the confused, hurt look in his eyes with a regretful pang. Erik waited impatiently while the slave was transferred to his room.

He strode into the room with a lost air, shutting and locking the door behind him. Upon seeing the mutant's continued hurt, confused expression, Erik sank into a plush armchair close to the bed, his head in his hands. "I can't," he gasped. "I can't, I just can't get you out of my head," Erik continued, not meeting his gaze, frustrated with his out of control feelings. "I can't stay, I have a job to do, I need to move on, but I can't, I just can't, not with you looking at me like that." He paused, hearing the mutant approach him, but did not look up. "I don't prefer Emma. I never did. You are exceptional. But if you no longer wish to do anything with me, I understand," he said, something breaking inside. If that was the case, he would have no choice but to move on.

He tried to stand up but was stopped by a feather light touch on his shoulder. Erik forced himself to meet the mutant's eyes. Time to man up and face what he did, rejecting him like that, after what had passed between them. Those eyes, however, showed nothing but concern, acceptance, and forgiveness.

Since the mutant wouldn't speak, Erik felt he needed to clarify things, to be sure. "I'm sorry. Are we good?" Erik waited with baited breath. He couldn't remember the last time be apologized. It had to have been before he met Shaw. Forgiveness just never mattered to him before. Why care about it when he would never see the person again anyway? Yet now, it did, so much. What normally would mean nothing felt like a huge transgression against this young, unloved man.

The mutant nodded solemnly.

Erik felt the tension uncurl inside him in relief. "I didn't bring the scotch. I'm sorry. And I won't - do that to you again," he promised.

He nodded again, accepting.

"We don't have to do anything tonight," Erik said. His cock complained, being sucked off by this mutant was far better than being inside Emma had been, but he ignored it firmly. "Here, I'll - let me try to make you comfortable." He got up, forcing the lever down again so the chains lengthened as far as they would go.

He turned around, hearing the chains clinking, signaling the mutant's approach. He was carrying a jar of massage oil with a questioning look.

"Hey," said Erik. "Why I don't massage you instead? I would like to make it up to you."

He shook his head, though, still holding onto it insistently, gesturing towards the bed. His eyes radiated concern.

"All right," said Erik, not protesting any more. He took off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers on, stretching himself face down on the bed. Those wonderful fingers rubbed his shoulders with the oil, just the way he liked it, and his tension gradually eased even more. Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed and at peace. They fell into companionable silence.

When he was done massaging his back, he had Erik flip over so he could do his front. As those talented fingers slowly worked their way south, Erik tried - and failed - to keep from getting aroused. He caught, and held, the mutant's thoughtful gaze. "You don't have to do anything," he said.

The mutant ignored him, tugging down his underwear and crawling between his legs. Erik grunted helplessly as he grew intensely aroused, fully hard, with pupils blown and fast breathing, the anticipation of what was to come undoing him. The mutant just watched him thoughtfully for a minute, his expression soft, before sinking his mouth on Erik's cock in a gesture he was now becoming familiar with.

Erik groaned, twisting slightly at the sensation, clawing at the sheets. It was harder to get a grip on something when he didn't have the edge of the mattress to hang onto. He jumped slightly, startled, as a gentle hand closed over each of his wrists, slowly guiding Erik's hands to the mutant's head.

Deeply touched, his voice rough, he asked, "Are you sure?"

The hands squeezed reassuringly in response.

With the permission granted, Erik thread his hands through the mutant's hair, his grip tightening convulsively whenever he gave a particularly hard suck or his tongue touched an extra sensitive place. The mutant, now more familiar with what Erik liked, lingered teasingly on all of his most sensitive places, building him into an excruciatingly slow climax. It took all of his willpower not to thrust into him or force him to go faster with his hands. He swore to himself he'd never to that to him, this being which he cared for more than he would like to admit to himself, especially not with all the abuse this gentle being clearly suffered. He wanted to keep him safe, protect him, wipe away the terrible experiences from his mind.

His fury belonged to people like Shaw, and Shaw only. It wasn't the mutant's fault he was having such a difficult time finding him. For he could see now, his reluctance to stay stemmed from his frustration at his failure, not a lack of desire for the mutant. He could stay here forever with him, making him happy, no sexual strings (or otherwise) attached.

Just when he thought he could bear it no more, he finally came with a grunt, immense satisfaction filling him, the connection between them enhancing the experience in a way he'd never dreamed of. The mutant sat up and observed him, still between Erik's legs. They gazed at each other in quiet contemplation as Erik came down from his high. "Thank you," gasped Erik. "I know - I know that after - thank you, for still doing this, even after what I did to you."

The mutant surprised him by swooping down and pressing a gentle, quick, chaste kiss on his lips.

Before Erik could respond, the bells tinkled.

Erik got up. "I will be back tomorrow, I'll bring the scotch, I'll figure things out - I won't turn my back on you again, I promise," he said earnestly.

The mutant squeezed his hand and let him go. Erik walked out, a slightly defeated energy in his step. He couldn't leave him behind, not like this. He would have to do something. But what?