Trust.

	Trust had, for a very long time, been a very major issue for Fleischer.  After all, most people, in his experience, were duplicitous and selfish and willing to take whatever they wanted no matter the cost.  He had met monsters in the guise of civilized people, and people that acted more like animals than human beings and didn’t even try to hide or deny it.

	A decade in the Gulag had taught the doctor that the difference between a person and a monster had little to do with the physical appearance of being human.  He had done a number of monstrous things, himself, and he had always seen a human being- albeit a terribly flawed one- when he looked in the mirror.  Physically, though, all seemed well- there were no obvious indications of the content of the German’s character on the surface of his skin- not any that weren’t usually covered by his clothes, at least.

	A light touch against Fleischer’s ankle reminded him that he was not alone- that the small pool his bare legs were dangling into was occupied.  That touch was not human, either, and the blond was quite convinced that the sensations it caused could not be elicited by human hands.

	The feeling of soft, clinging suckers was at the same time bizarre and oddly soothing.  The appendage that those fleshy cups were attached to was equally alien- almost infinitely prehensile, and coated with a thin layer of slime that, under the water, gave it an almost silky-smooth texture.  That limb, the doctor knew, was also immensely powerful.  It would have been terrifyingly easy for its owner to pull the German into the pool and- and do whatever he wanted with him.

	He didn’t, though.  It was just further proof, in Fleischer’s mind, that despite the man’s feral appearance, Maurice was more of a person- a better person- than many a human being he’d met.

	"Deep thoughts, Monsieur?" the pool’s occupant finally questioned, looking up at the doctor with a small, almost languid smile.  Fleischer had always been a little envious of how easy it seemed for the Frenchman to smile.  Despite the man’s history as a Spy, there seemed to be nothing inherently duplicitous about the little grin he was giving Fleischer, and to the doctor that almost seemed like an honor and a privilege.  He couldn’t help but notice, however, that Maurice was keeping his lips pressed together as he smiled.

	"You don’t need to hide your teeth, Herr," the doctor quietly insisted, eliciting a small, rumbling chuckle from the Frenchman.

	"I would hate to unsettle you [i]too[/i] much, Docteur," the former Spy stated, briefly flashing the sharp points of his teeth as he spoke.

	They were unsettling, too- sharp, pointed teeth in a face that was otherwise at least [i]mostly[/i] human.  The blond, however, was a curious man, and also found those teeth- found Maurice’s entire form- to be quite fascinating, and certainly worthy of exploration.

	The Frenchman, it seemed, was doing a little ‘exploration’ of his own.  The delicate ends of a pair of tentacles had wound around the doctor’s ankles, and were slowly wending up his calves, the suckers flexing, gripping, and releasing to move the limbs along.  The sensation, hard as it was to describe, was enough to send a shiver through the German.

	Maurice chuckled faintly in response.  "Not [i]too[/i] unsettled, I see," he said.  "You are so tense, Docteur…"

	That remark made Fleischer wonder just how sensitive the Frenchman’s tentacles [i]were[/i].  Could those suckers feel the subtle action of muscles pulling tighter? The resultant feeling of the doctor’s skin moving just slightly? Some electrochemical sensation as nerves fired to those muscles?  Given the former Spy’s incredible senses, the blond had little doubt that the man could [i]smell[/i] that tension.

	"You nearly always smell like fear," Maurice stated, as though confirming the doctor’s suspicions.  "You need to relax," he added with another little smile and a gentle squeeze to both of the Medic’s calves.  It was a squeeze that seemed to travel up the Frenchman’s coiled, gripping tentacles, applying pressure in a wave from the blond’s ankles up to his knees.  It was a remarkable sort of feeling, really, and Fleischer could feel the muscles in his legs relax just faintly.

	There was a long moment of silence as the suckered appendages continued to knead, and gently squeeze.  The German could feel himself continuing to relax- until he very suddenly realized that the pair of tentacles had found their way up to his thighs, and were beginning to squeeze under his boxers.  That tension came right back- and the prehensile limbs quickly came to a stop as Maurice’s brow furrowed in what seemed to be concern.

	"Docteur," the Frenchman started, his tone soft, and yet somehow commanding Fleischer’s complete attention.  "Do you trust me?"

	Fleischer was silent again for a long moment.  It was a monumental question, really, and one he had to give himself a little time to think about.  Maurice had never harmed him- quite the opposite, really- he’d saved his life.  The man knew more about him than he’d be comfortable with, in most instances- and, yet, seemed to keep that information to himself.  The Frenchman [i]did[/i] seem to take almost every opportunity to rib the doctor- but always seemed to know when he wasn’t in the mood- when he needed to refrain.  Who would do that for him, really, unless they cared?

	It was sort of depressing to the doctor, really, when he realized that the thought of someone genuinely caring about him seemed almost novel.  There was Maurice, however, his expression utterly sincere as he waited patiently for an answer, like he knew how hard it was to think over.

	"I’m, uh," the Medic half-stammered, "I’m willing to try, Herr."  He cautiously watched the Frenchman’s expression, quietly fearing that he wouldn’t like the answer.  Maurice, however, only replied with another small, sincere smile, and a gentle squeeze to one of the doctor’s legs.

	"That is all I ask, Docteur," the former Spy said.  "Now… you need to relax, oui?  Just lie back and let me do the work."

	The doctor remained silent- hesitating a moment before giving a nod in reply.  He tried to focus on remaining still, then, as Maurice lifted himself further out of the pool to grip the hem of his undershirt in his gloved fingers.  It was hard not to notice the way the tips of those leather gloves were somewhat pointed by the claws the Medic knew were being hidden under the garments.  He could feel them against his skin- the sensation muted somewhat by the leather covering- as his undershirt was lifted up, and then off.

	The entire motion was careful- almost delicate; there was absolutely nothing forceful or impatient about it, and for that the German was immensely grateful.  Fleischer couldn’t help but wonder, however, whether the Frenchman had spied on him enough to know how to act, or his behavior was simply a matter of courtesy.  Regardless, it did help in calming the doctor’s nerves, despite being reduced to wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, let alone in front of someone.

	/"Lie back,"/ the Frenchman said, speaking impressively fluently in the doctor's native tongue, "bitte."  The switch to a more familiar language did serve to further relax the Medic, though he still hesitated a moment before complying with the request, and his eyes remained fixed on the former Spy.

	Maurice was not at all shy about lifting himself a little further out of the pool- enough to just barely brush his cheek against the doctor's inner thigh.  The contact was so brief that Fleischer had to wonder whether it had even been intentional- or if, perhaps, he had simply imagined it.  He did, however, start just a little when he felt the delicate ends of another pair of tentacles touch against him, one on each side of his waist.

	“Docteur..?” the former Spy asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

	“It’s fine,” Fleischer quickly insisted, quite sure that the question was in regards to that faint, startled jerk.

	The Spy's face remained steady for a long moment, his brows furrowed slightly, as though pondering the doctor.  After a moment, however, he relaxed, again, and continued (still keeping careful watch over the blond's expression).  Those remarkable limbs had no trouble in criss-crossing over the German's chest, curling round his sides, just under his arms, and then [i]squeezing[/i] between his back and the floor.

	Those suckered appendages were slightly cool to the touch- but, they quickly warmed in contact with Fleischer's body.  The two that had crossed his torso continued to squeeze and slither along his back, finally emerging to curl just over the tops of his shoulders, and cling to the skin there.  The Medic was not a small man, and couldn't help but worry that the Spy's limbs were being uncomfortably pressed between his body and the floor.

	Maurice, however, seemed unbothered, and expressed that fact by flexing the four limbs that were wound around the doctor.  The suckers gripped down just a little tighter, and the net result was a sensation something like hundreds of tiny mouths; that was the best the blond could describe it, at least.  It was a feeling that had the German very suddenly, very immensely relaxed.  He was rather surprised when he felt something cool and slick against the fingertips of his right hand, and realized that he had started to caress one of the tentacles crossed over his chest.

	The Frenchman, naturally, approved of this; it was quite clear in the low purr that started to rumble from deep in his chest, and it wasn't a moment before he had his [i]actual[/i] mouth- or lips, rather- pressed against the doctor's hip.

	The feeling drew the doctor's full attention, and when he looked down to its source he found that the Spy was looking directly back at him.  It was hard not to be drawn to the Frenchman's eyes- startlingly green with pupils drawn to thin slits in the light, which lent them an even more intensely focused appearance.  Those eyes remained fixed on Fleischer's, even as their owner moved his head- craning his neck a little to press a line of kisses from his hip to his navel.  It was the feeling of the Spy's long, tapered, prehensile tongue drawing a line up the center of the doctor's abdomen that finally caused the underlying muscles to flutter a little.

	The sight of that tongue darting back into the Frenchman's mouth (between razor-sharp teeth) reminded Fleischer of nothing so much as the tail of a serpent disappearing into its burrow.  It quickly slid out again, though- this time to drag wetly down from the German's navel, though a sparse trail of fine, pale blond hair.  The doctor's eyes remained riveted to that tongue as surely as though he had been hypnotized, and his breath hitched as that seemingly infinitely mobile appendage dipped under the waist of his boxers.  The blond's face heated as he found himself imagining what it might feel like if that tongue went a little [i]lower[/i].

	It was a thought that Fleischer quickly pushed aside because, frankly, he had no idea how far the Spy wanted to go, and-

	"I would like," Maurice started, quickly derailing the doctor's train of thought, "to remove zhese."  The Frenchman curled the tentacles on the doctor's legs just enough to hook the fabric of the man's boxers, emphasizing 'these'.  "If zhat is alright, of course," the Spy continued, a small, disarming smile forming on his face.

	A faint, hesitant nod was the only reply that Fleischer could muster, and he had to choke back a whine as the tentacles coiled around his legs began to slowly draw downward, dragging his boxers with them.  The garment was finally freed, and carefully laid aside- the doctor didn't notice, though- he was rather preoccupied with the damp heat that had been breathed out against his groin the moment it was uncovered; it was a sharp contrast to the cool air in the room.

	"Don't forget to breathe, Docteur," Maurice said, giving a sound that seemed caught between a faint chuckle and a low, quiet purr.

	It was then that Fleischer realized he [i]had[/i] been holding his breath- but, he quickly sucked in a gasp the moment the tentacles criss-crossing his chest decided to shift their suckers to gently grasp his nipples.  That sensation was quickly added to by the feeling of lips brushing against his abdomen- pressing another line of light kisses up his chest, pausing at his collarbone to suck faintly at the skin.

	Only after the doctor had tilted his head back with a little groan did Maurice move slowly- carefully- to the other man's vulnerable neck.  The Spy just nestled his face into the crook of the blond's neck for a moment, drawing in a few slow, deep breaths.

	Fleischer couldn't help but wonder what the Frenchman was thinking- what he was feeling, and smelling, and then [i]tasting[/i] as that prehensile tongue slid wetly against the sensitive skin of his neck.  The blond wasn't quite able to suppress a weak groan- wasn't even sure he [i]wanted[/i] to suppress it, and the moment the sound escaped him he felt the Spy's lips, still against his neck, pull into a smile.

	Maurice kept working at his neck, too- mouthing, licking, sucking gently at the skin on the way to the line of the doctor's jaw, and not once did the blond feel the faintest hint of the Frenchman's sharp teeth against his flesh.  It was a marvel (and a relief) really, how careful the man was being, working a line of kisses along Fleischer's jaw, and to his clean-shaven chin.

	The Spy shifted, though- brushing his lips against the German's ear as he whispered, "you know, Docteur… it is perfectly alright to enjoy yourself."  The man's lips were then replaced by his tongue, curling slowly around the shell of the doctor's ear.  It was an action that pulled a small, almost strangled whimper from the blond.

	Fleischer's thoughts finally cleared enough for him to think about what the Frenchman had just said- to try and comprehend the connotations behind it.  It was impossible for him to not suddenly admit to himself that he was still very tense- that every move he made was being calculated and considered before being transformed from thought to action.

	"You know, Docteur," the Spy started, again, drawing back just enough to look the other man in the eye, "some actions aren't [i]meant[/i] to be dictated by logic."