Warning! The rating is for a reason. Sex and language. Don't read if you don't like the harsh reality portrayed here.

Critique and reviews are always welcomed.

XXX

That One Night in that One Small Ass Town

Freezing. Pouring buckets, cats, dogs, and probably cattle, too. Jesus. This wasn't exactly what she had expected. Glaring through the fog of some small ass town smack dab in the middle of Ukraine, she slammed open the door, shook her hair free of any excess water, and stepped inside the sort of warm bar. Some patrons turned to look at her, but at this point in time, she could care less. Chancing a glance over the hapless place she had chosen, she added another description to her list: fuckin' weird.

Why had she come here again? Any particular reason? None that she could really think of, besides that god-awful mission they had sent her on. In the middle of Ukraine, of all the places in the world... Grinding her teeth together, she walked up to the counter and sat down in one of the stools, not really caring if she sat in something foul at this point in time. The waitress behind the counter walked up to her and said something in the garbled language of Ukrainian.

Staring at her, uncomprehending, she just waved her hands at one of the beer glasses and the waitress' face turned rather sour when she realized that the patron didn't speak Ukrainian. Probably English – or worse, American. The patron, who was in fact English, looked down at the beer and made a face. It was green and had... stuff floating at the top. Better than nothing she supposed, and she quickly drained half of it, concealing a gag.

"God-awful, isn't it?"

She looked over at the man sitting next to her and nodded, not really in the mood for small talk.

"The beer could use some help, but the salad's good."

Her hand tightened around the handle of her mug as she realized exactly who she was talking to and she nodded again, not making eye contact. She just downed the rest of the beer – or whatever it was – and pulled out a few coins to pay for it.

"You have a place to stay?"

Jesus. You'd think that by the way he said it she was a prostitute and he the customer. She snorted at him and arched an eyebrow. The man lifted his hands in surrender and payed for his own food, standing up.

"Shall we go then? I believe I have something you want."

Perfunctorily, she stood up out of the stool and motioned for him to lead the way. He actually made his way up the stairs to a hallway upstairs – meaning that this was an inn, too. Old, decrepit, falling apart, and fuckin' weird. Absolutely perfect. She was going to kill the team when she got back there – if she ever did. Her hand searched her pockets as she followed him up the stairs of the inn and felt the handle of her gun. It consoled her slightly and the tautness in her muscles melted away. He opened the door and led her inside.

"I hope you are the woman they sent," the man said as he closed the door and walked to over to something that she assumed was a dresser. She didn't really want to look at all the black grime that had seemed to grow over it. "Here it is."

She caught the package in her hands, small and wrapped up in brown paper and twine. She frowned. It was minute. This was what she had traveled all the way out here for? Damn it, the team was going to die a very slow and painful death. She ripped open the twine and paper and a gasp caught in her throat when the covering fell away from the glass orb. The yellow, green, and red clouds inside swirled around and captivated her gaze.

She took everything she had said back.

The man's hands wrapped around the orb and took it away from her, wrapping it up again. She looked up at him, clearing her gaze of confusion, and held a temple to her head.

"You have someone to stay?"

"You already said that," she replied. Her voice was raspy, unused, and husky.

The man's lips twitched in amusement.

"The floor of a barn in return for a blow job to a stable boy is looking a bit pale, isn't it?"

She glared at him. "Probably safer," she muttered, shoving the newly wrapped orb back into her pocket.

"Who knows what disease you'll contract from that stable boy. Who knows where his cock's been." She stiffened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing over her face. "That disgusting boy, the one who leered at you this morning when you came in on the horse, he's waiting for you. He won't let you sleep there until you give him what he wants. Maybe you'll blow his brains out with that gun in your pocket. Didn't your mother tell you that nice girls don't run around with weapons?"

"No," she rasped. "Mother always told me to castrate any man who came within ten feet of me." Her mother had been a traditionalist.

The man laughed at her.

"If you're coming on to me, maybe you'd better try a different tactic."

"Oh, it's not working? I'm devastated." That word sent an electric heat down her spine and she shed her coat quickly, tossing it over the floor. The man's laugh was deep now, different, almost as if he were trying to trap her in his net.

She growled lowly and his hands wrapped around her waist, large and strong. She arched into them and the man lowered his head to hers, but she turned away.

"Only lovers kiss," she said harshly. "Strangers fuck."

She knew he would be frowning, but the way he tore at her clothing was enough for her. His mouth came down upon her neck, biting it, and she wriggled, trying to take off her blouse. The boots were next, followed by the soaked jeans. Hair falling down in matted, drenched tangles, he was all over her like a hungry dog, picking her up and pinning her down against the bed. It was hard and it was frantic and it was rough – it was just the way she liked it.

He panted and groaned when her muscles squeezed around him and he pounded into her – it was like a maelstrom, a tornado, a stampede of wild horses. When he collapsed on top of her, both of them spent, she gave herself ten minutes. She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of cheap sex, and then rolled out from under him. She found the shower in the dark, not caring if he followed her, and didn't want to look at the floor she was stepping on as she rinsed her body off.

He watched her in the dark as her wet form picked its way across the room and found her clothing, her ripped underwear, and her bra hastily tossed into a corner. She dressed, slipped on the coat, checked the pocket, and left his room without a single glance back. They did say to expect something like this.

She stalked out of the bar, blinking emptily, face blank, and she fingered the orb in her pocket. The rain slashed and slapped her face and body, harsh and demanding, cruel and cold.

She glared into the foggy night in that one small ass town in Ukraine.

Freezing, pouring rain, and fucking weird.

That was all she would remember.

End