SOMETHING MORE

Those who said they loved her usually left in the end or worse, stabbed her in the back.

And to those she said she loved never ended well.

Because the idea of loving someone terrified her to core, she decided she'd never admit or even tell Yondu she loved him.

Because she loved him too much to loose him.

But when he confesses to her, she can't lie to him, and she hopes that she just didn't make the biggest mistake of her life.

What a wicked game to play to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do to let me dream on you

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

What a wicked thing to do to make dream on you!

I don't wanna fall in love

Wicked Game by Ursine Vulpine

Yondu took a large drink, his leg rattling his chair in a jitter. Flár had been out briefly after her performance before she disappeared into the back with the owner to 'discuss business.' He kept a careful eye on the direction they left in and listened carefully for any sign that she was in distress. He wasn't sure what type of business this Dav guy was running, just that he better not hurt her.

But she told him to wait, so he would.

He eyed the other patrons with narrowed eyes, scowling and grumbling at ones that met his gaze until they quickly looked away from him. As his eyes swept over the bar, he noticed two of the other performers sitting close to him, whispering to themselves. He raised an eyebrow at the way the Xandarian girl sat in the Kree girl's lap, her arms wrapped tightly around her to stay in place.

" She hasn't slept with anyone lately but him," the Xandarian whispered, " We used to have so much fun together, Lil, but she doesn't want anyone but him now. It's just not fair."

The Kree hummed in thought before shrugging slightly as she adjusted in the chair, yet careful of the girl in her lap. "Disappointing, really, Flár is pretty damn good in bed."

He payed much closer attention to their words now, trying his best to make it seem as if he weren't listening in. He eyed the girls out of the corner of his eyes and leaned a bit more toward their direction, careful to keep his eyes on the door Flár had went into with the owner.

" Ohh you got that right," the Xandarian let out a shuddering breath, "We had this threesome with this other guy a while back and damn, she is just delicious. And that thing she does with the ice ~oh~ it's a bit too much for my tastes, but when she just adds that subtle cold with her tongue and it just – damn~."

Yondu snorted into his drink, yet couldn't deny that anything she said was wrong. Flár was pretty damn good. She knew what she was doing and she had that chill to her skin that sent electricity through your veins. He enjoyed giving her as much pleasure as she gave him, making sure to take time to carefully go over each pattern on her skin with his own tongue. He hummed a bit. The idea of her bedding anyone else didn't sit well on his chest, it created a bitter sense of jealousy imagining it, yet he couldn't but feel prideful over the fact that she hadn't been sleeping with anyone but him as of lately. Girlie want's the best, he thought with a smirk, leaning back on his chair, and I be the prettiest fucking angel in the whole damn galaxy.

Flár returned, looking a tad off, but he couldn't see anything physical on her. There were no marks nor bruises; he could rest a bit easier seeing the owner didn't cause any harm to her. She spotted him easily and quickly went over with a swing in her hips. He hated the way the sexual smirk on her lips didn't quite seem right – it was enough that he was sure the patrons loved it, but it didn't ignite him in the way it usually did. He was going to ask what was wrong when she had reached him.

"Hey stranger," her voice was entrancing and gave no indication of whatever had rattled her with the owner beforehand.

She gave Yondu a slow, drawn out kiss as she crawled up into his lap, straddling him in the chair. Fuck it, girlie. Doubts and questions left his mind as they were sucked out of his mouth by her lips. He groaned into the kiss as she shamelessly began to grind against him. His hands went to her hips to steady her as her breasts pressed against his chest. He could use more welcomes like that one.

The two performers beside him snickered, causing him to scowl as Flár pulled away from him to give an exasperated look toward the two performers. She hesitated to say anything, briefly looking at him before she spoke,

" Coco , Lilac, don't you have anything better to do?"

Coco must ha d been the Xandarian, he could see why it was used as her stage name. He had a vague memory of seeing it written out on a plaque one of the rooms in the VIP area. Coco pouted at Flár's words.

"But Flár," she whined, " We miss you."

She took her hand the Kree, Lilac, and ran them down the front of her body slowly with a wink. Flár rolled her eyes with a huff, adjusting herself so she could face them better – Yondu may have voiced a small complaint, but it was fairly obvious that she purposely grinded against him with a bit of force as she moved.

" No means no, Coco, " she lightly scolded the other dancer before getting off of Yondu's lap. He opened his mouth to speak, but she had already grabbed his wrist and dragged him off to the VIP area – they couldn't exactly head off to the private bedrooms after gaining everyone's attention.

He noticed something was wrong the moment she had shut the door – now that he didn't have her hips distracting him. He could see the worried furrowed brows and the distant look in her eyes as she hesitantly walked toward him. She tried to smile at him as she wrapped her hands around him to bring him closer to her. He easily stepped out of her grasp and took her wrists in his hands.

"We ain't gonna be doin' nothin' till you tell me what's got you so upset."

She looked taken back from the statement, but she seemed to accept it quickly as her shoulders sagged with a tired sigh. As she relaxed, he released his grip on her and simply took a seat on the bed with his arms crossed against his chest. The hard-on pressing against his pants, caused from her earlier welcome, would go away soon. That wasn't his main concern right now.

Flár hesitated. He waited. When she didn't show any signs of doing or saying anything, he patted the bed beside him, "I have all night, darlin'."

She sighed deeply before taking the offer, stretching out across the bed to lay her head in his lap. It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but she was careful of the slow dying bulge in his crotch so he couldn't say he necessarily minded. Flár absently reached up with one hand, lazily playing with one of the necklaces that dangled from his neck.

"Dav called me into the back to talk about you – how I'm sleeping with you free of charge and not ranking in any money from it or from me declining patrons' offers for my room."

He almost smirked. Seemed like those other performers were telling truth.

"What'd ya tell him?"

Flár snorted and drew her hand back, away from his chest as she formed a long, sharp icicle from her palm with jagged edges. At its full length, it had to be at least a foot long, resting inches away from Yondu's nose.

"I told him I'd be more than happy to shove this up his ass then and there if he wanted a fuck from me that badly."

Flár jolted out of Yondu's lap as he let out a loud, roaring burst of laughter. She still held the icicle sideways, with one hand on each end and sat on the edge of the bed, scooting carefully away from him as she eyed him with uncertainty.

" That's my girl," he roared.

She felt a bubble of a chuckle bubble in her throat before she finally joined him and even through his amusement, he couldn't help but admire the way her laughter sounded like light, beautiful chimes. He was still chuckling as he sat up straighter and reached out for the icicle. He took it in one hand and brought her close to him with the other.

"I can think of a million and one better things to go up an ass," he stated nonchalantly, admiring the icicle.

Flár's eyes sparkled with interest and curiosity as she leaned onto his shoulder, "Which ass? Yours or mine?"

He didn't expect a follow-up question like that, but thought a minute before speaking up, "'Suppose either or, up to ya darlin'."

Flár hummed in thought before shaking her head, "Another time Yondu, it's been a long day."

H e would make sure to remember to bring up again some time later, yet tried his best to not think about too long and hard at the moment. His erection only just died down, there was no need to get it stirred back up.

"If ya be so tired, ya didn't have to stir me up back there," he questioned with a light warning, only for her to snort in amusement.

"I know," Flár grinned, "But it's too much fun messing with Darby."

Yondu shifted a bit on the bed, gently setting the icicle aside with plans on taking it back to him with the ship – he could use a souvenir like that, something just as beautiful and dangerous as she was with a wicked reminder of her sick humor. He removed a few of his upper layers to get more comfortable as he continued the conversation.

" Who the hell is Darby?"

He laid out on the bed comfortably and waited for Flár to lay down beside him. She laid down beside him with her head against his bare chest.

" Coco, the Xandarian, it just a stage name. Her real name's Darby."

"And what about the Kree, Lilac?"

Flár chuckled a bit, "That's her real name – she choose it herself when she decided the Kree were something she didn't want to be a part of. Mia used to go by Elsie. Roxie is Bri. Akita's Cora and Sugar is Kaci. I think the only one other one who doesn't use a stage beside Lilac is Gaia, but she just wants everyone to know whose pants they're sticking their hand into."

She scowled a bit, but Yondu merely hummed in thought at the information. Looks like girlie had more than a few to drink. He knew by now, after being with her for so long, that if one got enough drink into her than she became a chatty little catch that became hard to shut up. He didn't quite like it, but at the same time, there were days he missed it.

His hand was wrapped tightly around her and gently rubbed against the scars along her back before his thumb pressed against one of her pattern lines. She tensed for a moment before relaxing under his grasp with a long, low exhale.

"And what about you," Yondu's voice was soft as he furrowed his eyebrows, "Is Flár ya name or just a stage name?"

He didn't like how quiet she became, her breaths hardly even making a noise. Flár, if he could really call her that now, tensed against him. He hated the way she began to curl into herself against him, burying her head into his chest as her knees became between her torso and his side. As if she was trying to get away from him, yet refusing to at the same time.

He cursed a bit at himself for getting such a reaction. He should have known by now that there were certain things you just didn't ask when it came to his girl – questions or answers that caused her to ball up and refuse to speak. He couldn't get angry at her. There were a few times, after he was freed, that he had done the same thing. A reaction from a bad memory that just never seemed to go away, a way to try to shield yourself from the world around you.

He desperately wished he wasn't part of the world she was trying to shield out.

" Flár ," he sounded a bit more spiteful and angry than he meant to, but hoped that repeating the only name he knew for her may draw her out.

She whispered something against his chest, it was soft enough he almost missed it.

"Don't call me that," Flár's voice sounded different – desperate, pleading – he had made her make a variety of different noises and voices, but this was by far the worst thing he'd ever heard from her.

He sighed deeply, already feeling the headache began. "Well, it ain't like I got nothin' else to call you, sweetheart."

She moved from the fetal position she had been curled into, looking at him intensely with deep, soulful eyes as one of her hands gently touched his cheek.

"I hate you for this," she whispered, "But everyone else can call me that. But not you. You're different."

He felt oddly flattered, but almost disturbed at the emotions swirling in her eyes. He wasn't sure what was so bad about it and didn't like the way it made his stomach sink when she had spoken.

"What makes you say that darlin'," he asked lightly, hoping to lighten the thick, cold, dense emotional air that was damn near suffocating.

She didn't answer. She merely looked deeply into his eyes as if she were trying to decide what she wanted to indulge, as if fighting with herself about whether or not she even wanted to tell him the truth. In the end, she let out a frustrated sigh and collapsed back down to the bed beside him.

"You're too damn special to call me that." It didn't answer his question. He noticed she always seemed to do that – to give an answer to him that wasn't necessarily an answer, but made him feel as if it were. "I've tried pretty fucking hard to ignore it, but I can't stand you calling me that anymore."

"And why's that," he shifted so he could face her, laying on his side. He watched her carefully, as if she may strike out, but she merely laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling with furrowed, thoughtful brows.

"Flár," she spat the word out venomously, "everyone called me it so often growing up, I figured it'd be a nice reminder of home to use it at the Libidine. Flár. Treacherous."

His eyes narrowed a bit at the meaning of the word, a low growl humming in his throat. She looked toward Yondu with an expression he couldn't quite decipher.

"People didn't like me because of who my father was and to them, my father was just the worst of the worst, an honor less tricky bastard who'd sooner trick you to sell your soul to him than to lend a hand to his daughter. They saw me like they saw him so I was… Flár. People began using it instead of my real name so in a way, I guess it was my name."

Y ondu already knew that he'd hate her father, but in that moment, he swore that he'd kill the man before he ever let him get his hands on her. He fell short of telling her that – that he'd never let anyone lay her hands on her again if she'd let him protect her, love her. But it'd be best to play it safe. The idea of loving her would bring out so many complications into light he wasn't ready to face just yet.

She let out a dark chuckle, "Just can't stand hearing it from you anymore. Especially since you're the first fucking thing to make me feel like anything but flár. I had a cousin who was pretty good to me, but every now and then, she'd show how much she doubted me. I loved her dearly, but she never trusted me. No one did so I didn't trust a single one of them. But for whatever fucking stupid reason, I trust you."

She made a decision then that would later change her life, even if she didn't know it yet. It wasn't as if she had her father's gift of seeing and foresight. She turned and faced Yondu. Her body seeped so much ice and cold, the covers were beginning to freeze over. He could feel the frosty chill seeping through his skin, but he couldn't bring himself to care about how his fingers were slowly turning a shade too blue.

"My name's Asta," she whispered, meeting his eyes dead-on. There was a bit of fear in her eyes at the name, as if it were a curse or a summoning to something. " My father had a twisted sense of humor naming me after beauty and beloved. I think he did it to remind me how it'd be impossible for anyone to love us without the glamor, that we were anything by beautiful or beloved."

A t that moment, like Asta, he then made a decision that would later change his life as he decided that he no longer wanted to play it safe. Not when it came to the very-much beautiful woman in front of him.

"Your father is a damn fool for sayin' somethin' like that to ya," Yondu growled as he turned to lay right on top of her, his hands on either side of her body, "Because I say ya name be pretty fuckin' fittin' and if anyone ever tells ya a damn thing different, I'll put the fear of the afterlife in 'em."

His face grew closer to hers and her heart began to skip a few beats. She felt as if she couldn't breathe and Yondu let out a growl at the cold wisp of air that floated from her lips, breathing a frost that he wanted to kiss and steal from her lungs.

"Ain't nobody ever made me feel the way I do about ya," his voice was low and husky as he looked at her through hooded eyes, "Them boys of mine keep sayin' you're makin' me soft, but I don't give a flying shit what they think because I'll be damned if I don't get to see the girl I love."

L ove. The word escaped from his lips and she inhaled it sharply with wide eyes and a frantic, excited, yet scared nervous beat began to hit against her chest.

He loved her.

She wondered how long she felt this way and if it was the reason she sneaked him into her private bedroom, some part of her wanting something more than just hookups. Her private bedroom brought more intimacy. It was only supposed to be the one time, yet now they both gravitated to it instead of the VIP room. The exception being if they were being partially rough and needed something more sturdy than her flowery, soft mattress allowed. He tore three of her favorite pillows before they agreed on that term, or rather before she finally got tired of replacing pillows.

Hell, after a confession like the one he gave, they couldn't stick to the VIP room. He carried her to her private bedrooms, racing quickly through the hall and dressing room to the bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist and her face buried into his neck, leaving his clothes behind in the VIP Room. She had ushered a quick apology to Kaci, who they nearly ran over on the way to the bedroom, but they were in quite the hurry and all for good reason.

She had said she loved him back. She returned his love.

Odin how could she be so stupid to say it back?

When did it stop being just fun, open hookups? When did she start watching the door every night waiting for him? When did it begin to hurt when he left?

She couldn't see her reflection in the mirror anymore. There were layers upon layers of frost and ice over the mirror. She didn't care. She sat there, thinking, with a sense of dread in her stomach as she glanced over to the Centaurian asleep in her bed.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Her heart sank and a for moment, she didn't really feel anything but the numbness that washed over her. She came to Libidine to start over, to just be herself, not what everyone else wanted her to be – the glamor would make people like her and sure, it was to make her look like anything but herself, but the Libidine had became a safe spot for her. In a way, it had became a home in itself for her. But this… Her eyes became hooded as she glanced back to the frozen over mirror. She ran her hand across it to clear it enough to see her red eyes staring back at her.

He could see her eyes. He could see her blue skin. He saw her for what she was, but he only saw her for who she was as much as she allowed. This Centaurian made her feel more naked and exposed than any dance or costume the Libidine ever gave her. She had spent so long building up these walls and never in her wildest dreams did she expect them to come down this much because of one person. The scariest part was that she didn't quite mind.

The one person who saw her for what she was and decided she was beautiful, who could handle her roughly without breaking her yet at the smallest sign of discomfort, he could turn into the biggest worrisome lover. It took her a while to figure out what it meant when someone put so much effort into making sure that she was okay. She never had someone put her own wants and comforts above their own, not in that manner. Or in any manner really.

He made her better, she realized. Not necessarily a better person, but when that ever-burning rage and spire in her veins were dulling to a flickering flame of fury. He made her feel beautiful. The more time she spent with him, the more time she spent looking at her own skin for what it was. She still couldn't see what was so charming or beautiful about it, but she was beginning to appreciate the sparkle on her flesh and the way it shined in certain lights as if there thousands of diamonds sewn into her skin.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair with a deep breath. She had a bitter taste in her mouth. She thought to all of her experiences with the word love and looked toward the way his chest rose and fell with each sleeping breath.

He said he loved her.

And all of her blunt honesty, she had said it back.

This, she decided, terrified the ever-living fuck out of her.