BB

"Been a while since I've been with a ghoul," you announce to the pair as your hands slip across the bottom of the vest which covers your upper half, fingers teasing at the hem, "but you gotta know that it's hard to go back to normal guys once you've had the joy of that textured dick reaming you out."

Lucy gasps at the vulgar words, a girlish giggle rising in her throat as she reclines on the bed by your side and gently nudges you with her shoulder, a playful warning which makes you smile down at her.

"You two are dangerous," Cooper narrows his eyes as he speaks through the fresh cigarette in his mouth and leans back into the wooden rocking chair which sits beside the bed, "I can smell trouble like a shark sniffing blood and things are getting mighty troublesome in here."

"Just being friendly." You counter tapping a finger to Lucy’s vest-covered hip, “I don’t imagine you meet many friendly folks.”

And friendly you most certainly had been.

Lucy had caught your eye first, her blue jumpsuit standing out like a beacon amongst the dusty colours which everyone else muted themselves with. With those big eyes and thick lips which made your tongue flick out across your own, you wanted her in an instant. When her entrance was then quickly followed by a very handsome looking ghoul – every inch of him costumed like an old-fashioned cowboy – it had only taken a few minutes for you to politely introduce yourself to the pair and strike up conversation with the new pair.

The rest, as they say, was history.

Teasing a hand along the exposed skin of Lucy’s stomach, her jumpsuit abandoned to the side of the bed by the ghoul’s feet, her skin was so beautifully soft that it takes you a moment to remember what you wanted to ask her.

"You ever been with a woman before?"

Lucy lays her hand atop your own, pushing your fingers up past her navel as she shudders into your touch, "No."

"What about you, handsome?" You ask, craning your head over to lock eyes with the ghoul.

"Oh, you’ve got jokes. Great." The ghoul rolls his eyes but his gaze is quick to flick back to your hands as they continue to rub along Lucy’s skin, “Didn’t think we’d come up here for a comedy show.”

"Mm," humming, you boldly push your hand higher until it sits across Lucy’s breast, the small action making her breath hitch as you massage her though her bra gently, "so I get to be your first? I'll need to be sure I'm on my best behaviour then."

In only a white vest, panties and bar, Lucy was absolutely beautiful and you could understand why her ghoul seemed so protective of her as he watched her with shameless interest. In a similar state to Lucy, the only one who was currently dressed was the ghoul but that did nothing to hide the visible tent of interest which pushed at the fabric of his groin.

Laying on your side, you keep your hand within Lucy’s vest and alternate between her tits as you kiss the heft of her shoulder and enjoy her warmth. After a moment, you drop your hand lower and snake across her skin until your fingers brush her upper thighs.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, fingers ghosting her skin as you await permission.

She nods with a shallow breath and you don’t hesitate in rubbing your fingers along the fabric of her panties, feeling the heat of her sex and the dampness which has already gathered there. Slipping past the panties, her dark pubic hair is soft as it tickles your fingers – your knuckle drawing a teasing line across her slit as she gasps at the sensation.

You set a slow pace, teasing every inch of her as you alternate between pushing your fingers within her hole and teasing her clit with your thumb. For her part, Lucy tilts her head high as sharp gasps slip free of her and she turns to face her ghoul with a face which radiates pleasure.

“Gosh, do you-do you not want to-”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” The ghoul grunts, and the heel of his palm presses teasingly into his tented cock. “I am more than anything myself with the free show. Keep at it now.”

“Can I-,” Lucy continues, turning back to you as you cup her cunt gently, “I want to touch you too.”

“Oh, I’d love that.” You purr, encouraging her gently. “If you’re not too sure then do what you think feels good on you. Or just try to copy what I'm doing and if I start making noises then you know you're on the right path."

Feeling bold, Lucy slips her fingers within your own panties and you spread your knees a little wider to give her easier access. Her hand is so warm and soft that you can’t help but immediately grind into her palm, knowing that she can feel how wet you already are just from pleasing her.

With your fingers curling against Lucy’s wet heat, every stroke making her body twitch into your chest, you take in those big pretty eyes as they seem to grow even wider as she inches towards her release. You can feel the eyes of her ghoul on you, his gaze intense as he watches you both roll around the rickety bed – his contentment clear as his vivid red tongue flicks out to lick along his chapped lips.

"Is he allowed to fuck me?” Tilting your head down for a private moment, you rest your lips against Lucy’s ear as your thumb teases along the hood of her overly sensitive clit, “I know I'm a whore and I have to imagine your ghoul has definitely been around the block, but if you're not comfortable with him fucking me then he can fuck you and we can do something else?" You mutter the words lowly, giving her every chance to lead the events and refuse what she’s not comfortable with.

"Fuck him." Lucy gasps, her hips bucking her cunt into your willing hand as she curls her fingers within your hole, “I think, oh, I think I’d like to see that.”

“I’ll make sure you’re not left out. You think my fingers are good, wait ‘til you get eaten out by another woman. There’s nothing like it, baby.” Pulling your hand from her cunt, you wrap your fingers around her wrist and gently encourage her to also pull away – an instruction she follows quickly as you both turn to face the ghoul.

“I think it’s time you joined us, cowboy.” You announce teasingly, turning to wink at the ghoul. “Your cowgirl here says that she doesn’t mind sharing if you’re up for it. You show me a good time and you can watch me showing her an even better time.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth.” The ghoul grunts, standing from his chair with a little bit too much eagerness for him to deny that the thought of joining didn’t excite him. “I’m sure you like to be fucked just as nasty. On all fours like a bitch, I imagine.”

“Oh, he’s also got a mouth on him.” You groan, the nasty words making your cunt clench around nothing as you slip closer against Lucy’s body,

“You are one lucky thing, d’you know that?”

“He tries his best.” Lucy sighs.

Pulling yourself free of her side, you shift your body as you push her higher up the bed until her head is against the wall and her knees are spread wide. You make short work of her panties, pushing her knees together to slip them free of her ass fully and you drop them off to the side of the bed. Her sex glistens with her own arousal, those pretty dark curls you had felt earlier looking slick and tempting as you get onto all fours and kneel between her legs as the sound of rustling clothing whispers from behind you.

You press your lips to her thigh, loving the soft skin against your lips for a solid moment before shifting your attention to the target you were really here for. Licking your lips, you slip your thumbs to Lucy’s cunt and spread her open, exposing the pretty pink of her cunt and the hardened little nub which peeked free of her clit hood.

“You’re so beautiful.” You purr, glancing up at her and smirking at the deep blush which stains her pretty cheeks.

“Damn right she is.” Joining the conversation, the ghoul wraps his hands around your ankles, adjusting your body with ease as he comes to stand by the side of the bed as he surveys your ass. You had deliberately placed both Lucy and yourself in such a way that he wouldn’t need to join you on the bed, unsure if the rickety wood would support three full bodies, but he could easily fuck you doggystyle while remaining standing.

“I think we’ll keep these on.” The ghoul growls, his hand cupping your cunt through the panties. “Be a real shame to tear ‘em off.”

His fingers hook within the material and pull them to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry gaze and a low whistle slips free of his lips as he continues.

“Hell, I was worried I was gonna have to warm you up something but you’re soaked, sweetie.”

“Your little lady here made sure I was ready.”

The ghoul grunts something unintelligible but the sound is drowned out immediately by your own groan of pleasure as the blunted head of his cock pushes within your cunt – his girth delicious but manageable as you immediately try to clamp around and pull him deeper.

Embarrassed by the noise, you cover it up by diving between Lucy’s thighs and pressing the flat of your tongue against her cunt.

Every inch of her still exposed by your thumbs, you draw your tongue across her cunt as Cooper sets a slow, deep pace, forcing you to feel every inch of his textured cock. Already wet, the taste of Lucy against your tongue holds that familiar feminine tang but there’s something almost sweet behind it – a fact which brings a smirk to you lips as you push forward and wrap your lips around her clit.

Sucking at the nub without applying too much pressure, you wait to see how she reacts to the sensation. Her thighs tensing up, Lucy drops her hand to your head and her fingers wrap themselves in your hair as she visibly holds back from tugging at the strands.

“Mm, you like that?”

Nodding slowly, Lucy’s teeth bite at her lower lip and she flicks her attention between you and her ghoul as he continues to fuck into you with a maddening control. Speaking of-

“Your ghoul ever treat you nice like this?”

Unseen, the ghoul makes his feelings known as he slams his hips harshly against your ass, burying his cock deep and forcing your mouth to drop open at the sudden pressure on your cervix. A flare of something wicked curls up your spine at the showcase of restrained strength but you say nothing as the ghoul chooses that moment to pipe up.

“Treat her? She’s a desperate little hellion. I delve into that pie so often that I should have my name branded over the fuckin’ thing.”

“Hey!”

Lucy shifts and you feel the sensation of hands leaning against your back and you can feel that Lucy and Cooper have locked fingers and are clearly having a private moment as they share either end of you. You can live with that, and you renew your attack on Lucy's cunt as you shift your hands, keeping one hand gripping her thigh while the other drops to help out your mouth.

You run your thumb along her spread folds, dipping one finger within her hole to pull the arousal there up to spread across her clit. Her pubic hair soft against your digits, you build a gentle rhythm as you divide your attention between her clit and hole – licking, rubbing, pinching and suckling with a focus which was only interrupted by her ghoul as he continues to stretch you out around him.

Lucy’s orgasm is loud; her whining and low moans growing quicker and more guttural until she can’t hold herself back anymore and her cunt clenches around your tongue as her hand appears from nowhere to tighten in your hair once more. Her back arches from the mattress, and the tang of her arousal in your mouth is enough to get you to your own release.

Already pushed to the edge from the delicious friction of the textured cock reaming you out, you come with a sharp gasp – burying the noise in Lucy’s cunt as your legs tremble from the effort of keeping you on all fours. The ghoul, feeling you tighten painfully around his cock, slips his arm around your waist, pinning you in place as he maintains a punishing pace. It’s too much, too hot, too intense and you feel the soft touch of Lucy’s fingers as she pulls your hair back from your face so she can watch you intensely with those big eyes.

You briefly wonder how it feels, for her to watch her ghoul making you come undone around his cock like a whore. But, if the flush of her cheeks and the look of hazy satisfaction which sits in her eyes is anything to go for, then at least jealousy seems off the table.

The aftershocks of your orgasm not quite getting to settle fully as the ghoul keeps slamming his hips against your ass, his breath is definitely growing more ragged and you know he’s close to finishing. His cock is delicious, thick enough that you can feel every ridge and bump you know you’ll miss it when the pair move on.

Surprisingly, the ghoul pulls free as he comes, his release splattering across your ass and lower back as he rubs his cock along the cleft of your ass. You hadn’t asked him to, but you appreciate the gentlemanly gesture regardless. Your hole feels wickedly empty and cool, the air in the room ghosting across the dampness of your own arousal and the release which now coats your ass to make a fresh shiver run up your spine.

Your knees finally giving way, you drop carefully to the bed as a loud huff of satisfaction escapes your lungs. Your cunt stings in that enjoyable way and your mouth and hand are sticky, still loosely coated with Lucy’s arousal.

“Mm, that was fun.”

Glancing up at her as you tilt your head onto her thigh, a familiar scent of smoke is quick to fill your senses and your attention snaps around to the ghoul and the fresh cigarette which sits between his lips. Staring at it with open lust, you watch as the ghoul takes another deep inhale as he tucks his stained cock away and has the audacity to fire a quick wink your way as he blows the smoke out in a thick plume which quickly dissipates in the air.

Holding your hand out silently, you wait for him to slowly pull the cigarette free of his lips and place it between your fingers. Taking it with a thankful nod, you hold it carefully between your fingers as you roll to the side and resume your original position by Lucy’s side – not quite wanting to ruin a good thing by accidentally dropping cigarette ash on her inner thighs.

“You know,” you gesture between them with your hand as you recline with your other arm propping your head up, “if you ever pass through here again then feel free to come and say hello. I’m always happy to spend new time with old friends.”

Of course, he had no idea you knew who he was. You didn’t utter a word, not from when he first captured you to when he begrudgingly let you tag alongside him or even when you’d formed a bond. Friends, maybe not, but you trusted each other, and that was enough. 

You couldn’t help but admire the man on the poster, if just for a few more moments. Anyone could see that Cooper Howard was handsome, and his charisma added to that. As incredible of an actor as he was, you would admit that you didn’t watch his films just for his skills. He’d been your childhood crush, following you into your teenage years. 

And maybe it was still around, lingering at the back of your mind. Perhaps that would explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at The Ghoul. Even though his face had completely changed, you still believed he was just as handsome as before becoming a ghoul. His charisma and wit had just become sharper, and even though he sneered more than smiled, you still recognized that grin from the movies. 

You snuck a glance at your traveling partner, Cooper Howard, The Ghoul. He had yet to see the poster, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, his back was to you, rifling through the desks of the building the two of you had entered. It was becoming evident now that this place was a movie theatre, someplace you thought, until now, they had entirely made up to mess with you in the vault. They knew your love of movies; why not tell you there was a place where you could see them on giant screens?

“You gonna stare at that fuckin’ poster all night, or are ya gonna help me?” So he had chosen to ignore it, then. 

You refrained from sighing, not wanting to annoy the man. Instead, you got to work on the other side of the theatre, where a few doors stood. Glancing into the first room, you found it filled with garbage. Literal garbage. Bags were piled from floor to ceiling, and even after all the time that had passed, it still smelled. Holding back a gag, you shut the door as best you could. Gross. 

The next door was a little more pleasant. It was a bathroom with three stalls lining the rightmost wall and a few sinks. A first aid kit had been bolted on the wall, and a slight, victorious noise left you when you found two stimpacks, a roll of bandages, and a small canister of water. You quickly deposited those into your bag before continuing to the stalls. 

Two were empty, but the third had something in the toilet. When you peered in, you chuckled. A teddy bear sat on the edge, a newspaper in its hands, a pair of broken glasses on its face. No matter how vicious the surface world was, people still managed to find humor in the small things, and you cherished it. 

The third and final room was locked, so taking out a bobby pin, you got to work unlocking it. It took you some time, as you weren’t nearly as quick as The Ghoul was, but eventually, the door swung open. Inside was what you presumed to be once an office, a desk with a terminal flush against the wall. A large safe was tucked into the corner, nearly hidden by bookshelves. Grinning at your new prize, you bent down in front of it, pulling the bobby pin and screwdriver back out. 

If the door took some time, the safe took even longer. A small pile of broken bobby pins had started to grow at your feet, and your back was beginning to ache from bending over for so long. You could feel that you were close; you just needed to move it a little more to the right…

Snap!

“Motherfucker…” you grumbled under your breath, adding another pin to your collection. The idea of admitting defeat flashed through your mind, but you shook it away. You needed to prove this to yourself. 

And to The Ghoul. 

You heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer, stopping when they reached the room you were currently in. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was; you could hear his spurs. “The hell is takin’ you so long?” His gruff voice stopped you as you were about to insert another bobby pin. 

“This fuckin’ safe,” you sighed, resuming your attempt at lockpicking. Your back was really hurting now, and so you got down onto your knees, which helped a little. The concrete floor was uncomfortable, but sitting offered some respite, and you bent forward, returning to work. You had expected The Ghoul to have already left, so you were startled when you felt him crouch beside you. 

His gaze was locked onto the safe when you glanced at him, and he shifted almost nervously beside you. Weird. “Lemme do it.” His tone held no room for argument, yet you still shook your head at him. 

“No, I’ve got this.” 

“You’re gonna run outta fuckin’ bobby pins before ya open it,” he jabbed, nudging the pile with his foot. You didn’t bother to hide the glare you sent him. 

“Then I’ll just take yours.” You were pleasantly surprised when you turned the lock and were met with resistance an inch before it had turned all the way. You were close. 

“Oh, I’d like to see ya try, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I already have.” You had shifted the pin to the right and were met resistance way later, and a victorious smile grew on your face. “C’mom, baby, open up for me,” you whispered, voice dangerously low, and you missed the way the man beside you shifted even more. 

He didn’t offer any more arguments, and you let out a small laugh when the safe door finally opened. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of the contents inside when you saw a gloved hand sneak inside. You smacked it away, glaring at him. “Open your own fuckin’ safe,” you chastized.

He matched your expression, human-looking eyes glaring daggers into you, but you didn’t let up. It was a quick standoff, but he eventually backed down, not before muttering something under his breath. You didn’t hear what he said, but you didn’t care. 

Opening the door further allowed more light in, allowing you to see your prize. A stack of pre-war bills sat on the bottom, and you tucked them into your bag. There was a silver locket, which you also grabbed, knowing you could get some caps for it. A few unlabeled chem bottles were on the top shelf, all added to your bag. 

But you were most excited about the revolver tucked behind all the chems. It was heavy, heavier than the pistol on your hip, and in surprisingly good condition. The barrel's metal was mostly unscratched and shiny in the dim light. The wood grip, a deep brown oak, was cool in your hand, and it contrasted beautifully with the steel of the rest of the gun.

You raised a brow when he held a hand out expectantly, moving the gun a bit closer to your chest. “Are you gonna give it back?”

He let out a deep exhale. “Yes,” he responded before making a ‘give me’ motion with his upturned hand.

After some hesitation, you set it in his palm, observing as he tested it in his hand. His expression was difficult to read as he evaluated it, his eyes carefully roaming the gun. You had to bite back a laugh when he raised the gun to the right of him; he looked like he did on the poster you just saw. 

You must’ve done a worse job than you thought, holding back your laugh because he was fixing you with another glare. “Sorry,” you began between chuckles, “it’s just… you look like the guy on the poster.”

The Ghoul was good at hiding his emotions, and his face remained unreadable as he glared at you, but you swore you saw a bit of alarm behind the fire in his eyes. “Do I, now?” He asked, seemingly unbothered. 

“It’s not a bad thing,” you teased, an idea forming that made you grin. “I’d take it as a compliment, being compared to as handsome a man as Cooper Howard.”

The heat in his stare dimmed, replaced with a hint of surprise. He blinked at you for a moment, unsure what to make of your words. You continued. “What, you thought I watched his movies just for his acting skills?” You were careful not to use the word you, not wanting to let him in on the secret.

When he continued to just watch you, at a loss for words, you finally stood, your back crying out in relief. You stuck out a hand, gesturing to the gun in his hand, and he slowly gave it back to you. “Thank you,” you smiled sweetly at him, your confidence growing at how you managed to stun the man. “I’ll meet you out there. Help yourself to whatever is left in here.” With that, you tuned and left, your sweet smile turning to one of victory. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man you’d left in the room had a slight smile on his face before quickly coming to his senses. A groan left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face as if he could wipe away the heat he felt in his cheeks. 

If he could blush, he was sure he would be bright red right now. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Why the hell were ya kicked outta your vault, anyway?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the question you expected to hear today. You glanced behind you at The Ghoul, continuing down the long-since abandoned street the two of you were on. Even though it had been a few months, it still hurt, the wound never fully closing. “Why’d you ask?” You responded after some hesitation. 

“Do I gotta have a reason?” He shot back, and you sighed. 

“I suppose not,” you agreed before taking a few moments to formulate your answer. “They thought I was a threat to their way of life. I was too inquisitive for my own good, didn’t work well with authority, and constantly challenged said authority.”

“You? Disagreeable? Never.” 

“Well, fuck you too,” you huffed, turning away from him. Here you were, telling him about possibly the worst thing that happened in your life, and he was insulting you. Asshole. For a moment, you thought he was being genuinely friendly, wanting to learn about you. You were bitterly disappointed to find the opposite. 

A tense silence hung in the air as you continued to walk, not bothering to glance at him. He didn’t deserve your attention right now. Your somewhat positive mood was now ruined, both from having to bring up your past and because of him. 

“They really kicked ya out for that?” He finally spoke. It wasn’t an apology, but you could tell it was an attempt at relieving the dispute. 

“I think they were afraid I would change everything, and you know there’s nothing vault dwellers hate more than change. Even if change would improve their lives, they’d rather stay with what they know, not wanting to risk losing comfort and familiarity. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that change is a good thing. I don’t think they ever will.” The words had just tumbled from your mouth, anger making you ramble freely. When you finished, you finally glanced behind you, cringing at yourself. 

To your surprise and relief, you didn’t find a look of judgment on his face. Instead, he seemed almost pensive, not expecting to hear you voice your opinions like that. 

“Do ya miss it?”

“Fuck no. Even with all its dangers and obstacles, life up here is infinitely better than any life I could’ve had in a vault. At least up here, my life is mine. I make my own choices, for better or for worse. I exist for myself, not to fulfill some corporation’s quota or for some experiment. I am myself.” You let out a sigh. “There is one thing I do miss, though.”

He didn’t respond but nodded, gesturing for you to continue. “I miss the movie room,” you chuckled, almost bittersweet. “It’s silly, I know. But I miss lounging on one of the couches and getting lost in the story.”

“Did ya have a favorite?” He asked, and you swore he was reminiscing a bit as well. 

“Oh, plenty. The Wizard of Oz, The Man from Calabasas, and The Silence of the Lambs, to name a few.”

“The Man from Calabasas?”

“Have you seen it?” You knew damn well that he had done more than seen the movie. He had been the lead star of it.

“Somethin’ like that,” The Ghoul muttered in response. “You weren’t kiddin’, were you?”

“About liking Cooper Howard’s movies? No, I certainly was not. Hell, I’d go as far as to say he’s my favorite actor.”

Like always, his expression towards your response was unreadable. “Would ya, now?”

“Uh-huh. I had a crush on him growing up. Maybe I still do,” you laughed lightly, shrugging your shoulders. He faltered a bit, his eyes widening a fraction, and you had to return to facing forward, unable to hide the smirk on your face any longer. It was so fun to tease him. Every time you’d seen a poster with him on it for the past weeks, you were sure to point it out, always commenting on him.

“He’s much older than ya, sweetheart,” he finally responded after some time.

“It wasn’t like I was dating the man,” you laughed. “Not that it would’ve deterred me, though. I always liked them older.” 

The man behind you cleared his throat, and when you turned, you saw his eyes locked onto you, his jaw clenched, and a quickly growing fire in his eyes. Oh, this was so much fun. “You got something against that? Not that I’d change my mind based on your opinion.”

“Not a problem at all.” His words were clipped, strained. You halted in your tracks, holstering your gun, the revolver you’d just found a week ago. He cocked his head, watching you closely, stopping a good few feet behind you. His shoulders tensed when you approached him, his jaw never unclenching. 

“Everything alright?” You asked, innocence dripping from your words. “You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” he bit out. Giving him enough time to stop you as he spoke, you raised your hands to his coat, fixing the crooked lapels. Once they were straight, you ran your hands down them, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t feel it through all of this fabric, and it was quiet enough that you couldn’t hear it, but a small groan rumbled his chest.

“If you say so,” you teased, running your hands up one last time before letting him go. You took a few steps back, glancing around at the dilapidated scenery. “We should probably find shelter soon. Only an hour of sunlight left.”

“I… sure.” You’d never heard him sound so uncertain, completely taken aback by what you had done. A part of you worried that you had taken it a step too far, but you knew the man. He would not have let you touch him if he didn’t want it. As you turned back forward, you failed to see how his eyes trailed down your body hungrily, gloved hands lingering where yours had just been. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Even though the bed was the comfiest thing you’d laid in in months, sleep would not come. No matter how much you tossed, turned, and readjusted, you just could not sleep. It wasn’t like your mind was preoccupied by anything. 

Well, that wasn’t true. You’d found your mind wandering to your traveling companion more and more these past weeks since you’d stopped and fixed his jacket right in the middle of the street. You thought he had been more affected than you, but ever since then, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he felt under your hands and what he’d feel like elsewhere. 

With a huff and warm cheeks, you sat up, giving up on falling asleep. Slipping on your shoes, you kept your steps light as you crossed the room and made a pointed effort not to glance at the sleeping silhouette of The Ghoul. Grabbing your gun, you stepped outside, the cool night air doing wonders for your flushed skin. 

You sat on the edge of the barely standing porch of the house you were sleeping in. You balanced your gun in your lap, and from the pockets of your jeans, you pulled out a beat-up pack of cigarettes and a barely functioning lighter. It took a few moments for the flame to catch, the clicking noise filling the silent night, but you eventually had a lit cigarette between your lips, the smoke swirling comfortingly around your body.

You felt the wood creak before you heard it, and you whirred around, gun pointing at the new figure behind you. The figure let out a familiar chuckle, and you sighed in relief, putting the gun back down. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered as you turned back. 

The Ghoul sat beside you with a sigh, arms extended behind him. “You’re gonna attract unwanted attention with that,” he muttered, ignoring your previous statement. 

“Like you?”

He laughed. “You’d be lucky if the worst you got was me.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. “But your company isn’t exactly… unwelcome.”

He merely hummed in response, and you offered him the cigarette. He eyed it briefly, eyes flicking from it to your face, but he eventually grabbed it. Skin grazed yours, and it almost startled you when you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves, and it felt scandalous to see him without them. Still, you kept your composure, observing him silently as he took a drag. 

“Can’t sleep?” You heard him ask after some time, and you shook your head. “Me neither.”

“Sorry if my tossing and turning kept you up.”

“Ain’t your fault,” he sighed, passing the cigarette back to you. “Is… are ya alright?”

He’s been surprising you with the questions lately, and you couldn’t help the slight disbelief on your face, nearly choking on the smoke. “Just a lot on my mind” is what you finally went with. It was not entirely a lie, but it withheld specific details. 

He thankfully seemed to clock that you didn’t quite want to talk about it, so he left you in silence, taking the cigarette you passed to him. You both whipped your heads to the left when you heard the sound of something groaning, followed by a few more groans from other entities. Whether it was human or not, you couldn’t tell. He quickly smashed the cigarette under his boot, standing up slowly, hand inching towards his gun. 

His other hand extended towards you, and you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess before you interlocked your finger with his, letting him pull you up. You had barely gotten to your feet when he was dragging you inside, nearly making you stumble over the planks of wood sticking up.

Still, both of you managed to get inside quickly, the door being kicked soon shut by him, and you locked it. Peering out the blinds, you saw a horde of ferals shuffle their way down the street, some gathering where you were just sitting. You and The Ghoul probably could’ve bested the group, but you never knew. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that said companion wasn’t looking outside like you were but instead trained on you. 

When the horde continued further down the street, you let out a breath before switching your attention to the man. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes scanned over your face, something unreadable in them. You gasped lightly when you felt him squeeze your hand, your fingers interlocked with his. So that’s what was making him act so weird. 

A small smile graced your face as you looked down at your intertwined hands, neither of you making any move to pull apart yet. His hands were rougher than you were expecting, and even though you could feel the grooves of his marred skin, his fingertips were incredibly calloused as they rubbed into your skin. It was the most lovely thing you’d ever felt.

You’d never seen him regard something so gently when you looked back up at him. It was like you were catching a glimpse of the man he once was before the war. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of the actor, yet this was no scene from a movie. This moment was real, two lost souls finding some semblance of comfort with each other.

But just as soon as the gentle moment had started, it came to a screeching halt, and The Ghoul took a step back, pulling his hand from yours. You tried not to let it sting, but you couldn’t help the slight hurt in your heart as he backed away. “Good night,” he muttered out, his voice cold. 

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice, and you heard the receding footsteps of The Ghoul as he marched back towards where he was sleeping. You stayed locked by the door for a good moment, unable to move, and embarrassment and sadness locked you there. 

You don’t even remember walking back to your bed. All you remember is that you were suddenly looking up at the ceiling, sleep even further than it was before. You swore you could still feel his hand in yours, the heat from his skin, the texture of his skin beneath your fingers. Sighing, you rolled over on your side, back turned away from where The Ghoul was sleeping.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night, and when you finally got up hours later and saw the way The Ghoul sat hunched over the table, you knew he didn’t sleep either.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had been days since that night, and things had been incredibly tense between the two of you since. Hours of travel, once filled with light conversation, were now done in silence. Soft glances were now guarded, lingering touches nonexistent. It was distracting, constantly on your mind, overanalyzing everything you’d done or said to him. 

Maybe that distraction was the reason you now sat bleeding out, half lying against an old car, your fingers clutching your stomach uselessly. Blood poured out between your fingers, every breath feeling like you were being stabbed all over again by that Raider. It had been a poorly hidden ambush, yet they still managed to catch you off-guard, your thoughts elsewhere. 

It had been fine until you’d gotten cut off from your companion and forced into a small alleyway. You’d managed to take down most of your attackers, but one had gotten lucky with a stab to the stomach. They currently lay dead on the floor as well, shot by your gun, but that had been after they got you. 

The sounds of gunfire had ceased about thirty seconds ago, making your ears ring. Or maybe it was the blood loss. You couldn’t tell.

You heard the sound of loud footfalls, and you reached for your gun with a crimson-covered hand, which made it difficult to grasp the weapon. Your arm shook like crazy as you raised your gun, training it on the entrance of the alleyway, waiting as silently as you could. Small gasps of pain kept pouring from your lips, and you blinked back tears. 

Relief flooded you when you heard your name being called by The Ghoul, his gruff voice never sounding so lovely. You managed to croak out a response, your arm falling to your lap, unable to hold it up any longer. He called out your name again, even closer this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, your energy quickly leaving. 

When you saw that familiar silhouette at the entrance, you couldn’t help the small smile on your face despite your incredible pain. He was by your side in a second, or maybe you blacked out for a bit. Everything was so blurry now. You cried out in pain when you felt him press down on your stomach, and you tried to squirm away, but he was much stronger than you. 

You sagged against the car, unable to fight him any longer. Your eyes felt heavy, but you tried your hardest to keep them open, especially when The Ghoul practically shook you awake. “You better keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” he snapped, and if you were more conscious, you would’ve been able to detect the panic in his voice. 

“Are you threatening me?” You wheezed out.

“If that’s what it takes to keep ya awake, then yes.” You felt cold air hit your stomach as he lifted your shirt, examining the wound. You didn’t look at his expression, not wanting to know how bad it was. 

“At least take me out to dinner,” you chuckled before a cough rattled your body. Something warm and sticky fell from your lips, making The Ghoul curse, who hurriedly looked for something in his bag. A small first aid kit clattered to the ground, and you cringed when you saw him pull out a needle and thread. 

“After this, I’ll take ya out to as many dinners as ya like,” The Ghoul murmured, and because of how hazy your vision was, you missed how his hands shook as he threaded the needle. 

“Is that a promise?” It was starting to get hard to get the words out now, as they were beginning to slur. 

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, sweetheart.”

“I love it when you call me sweetheart,” you admitted, unable to stop yourself. Your smile turned into a wince when you felt the needle pierce your skin. He muttered an apology, but you just shook your head and leaned forward slightly as he worked quickly to sew your wound close. It was just close enough that you could see him clearly, and you unabashedly let your eyes roam his face.

Blood loss was kicking in now, and the world was spinning. You tried hard to keep your eyes open but found them fluttering close even more frequently, your head drooping to the car. He shook you gently whenever he felt you do it, promising that he was almost done. “We gotta get this close before I can give ya a stimpack.”

“You’re pretty,” you whispered before almost immediately breaking into laughter.

“And you’ve lost a lot of blood,” The Ghoul shook his head, working diligently. 

“I mean it,” you practically pouted. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sure I’m quite the fuckin’ catch.”

“You’ve always been a catch,” you teased, and you tried to bring up one of your hands to caress his face, but it fell limply to your lap. 

For the first time, his eyes shot up to yours, confusion on his face. But they quickly returned to his work, shaking his head again. “Whatdya mean by that, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to keep you talking. Or maybe he was genuinely curious. 

“The entire time I’ve known you, I’ve thought you were beautiful,” the tiniest bit of tension left The Ghoul, “but even before then, I’ve always thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen-”

“You don’t mean-”

“Guess that’s why I’ve still got a crush on you,” you sighed, continuing despite his objections. But you didn’t get to see his reaction, the weight on your lids growing unbearable, and you let them fall close, unconsciousness finally claiming you. Your name being said like a plea was the last thing you remembered.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t sure how long you were out for. All you know is that the room you woke up in was unfamiliar, and everything in your body hurt. Wincing, you tried to sit up, only to collapse in pain, your stomach in agony. A shadow fell across your face, and through tears, you managed to see the familiar face of The Ghoul above you. 

He looked as terrible as you felt, the deep sockets of his eyes somehow even more pronounced. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days, the whites of his eyes bloodshot. His clothes were more rumpled, and he had discarded his hat somewhere in the room. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve asked him why he looked like, well, shit. 

His lips moved, but you couldn’t hear the words, your ears ringing too loudly. You fought back when you felt a needle enter your skin, but you relaxed when the pain began to dim like a bright light covered with a blanket; the pain was still there but not nearly as noticeable. 

After a few more seconds, your ears finally stopped ringing, the man's gruff voice replacing it. “Just some painkillers,” he explained.

You tried to thank him, but your voice was too dry, and you broke into a coughing fit. With a lot of help from him, you could sit up enough to drink, greedily gulping down the canteen of water that he presented you. Despite your objections, he pulled it away from you when he deemed you had enough. 

You were starting to feel more alert now, and your vision was not as fuzzy as it was moments ago. The Ghoul sat in the chair you just noticed beside your bed, a soft sigh leaving him. The room was still unfamiliar, and you realized he had probably just dragged your unconscious body into the closest possible building. 

Glancing at him, you watched as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes never leaving your face. His expression was, as always, unreadable, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d done something wrong. Well, something besides getting stabbed. “How long have I been out for?”

“Almost three days.” 

“Thank you.”

“For?”

You gestured to your body. “For saving me.”

In response, he made a vague noise, his arms crossing over his chest. His stare became scrutinizing, and you felt like he was picking you apart. You could feel your heartbeat accelerate, your nerves becoming terrible, yet you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

After what felt like hours of tense silence, he finally spoke. “Whatdya remember?”

“Well, not much, to be honest. I remember getting injured, and then you helped me, and then I passed out.”

“D’ya remember anythin’ you said?”

You furrowed your brows. “No? Did… did I say something bad?” When he didn’t respond, you grew even more worried. “Look, if I said something to offend you-”

“How long have ya known?”

You blinked. “What?”

“How long have ya known who I am?” His voice was surprisingly steady, not leaning towards any particular emotion. 

Internally, you were kicking yourself. Of course, you just had to let your secret slip while you were bleeding out. You figured it useless to attempt lying, so you just sighed deeply. “I’ve known since the moment we met,” you confessed. 

“So this entire time-”

“Yes.”

The chair creaked, and you jumped when you felt his elbows lean on the edge of your bed. “And ya didn’t fuckin’ think that was important to tell me?”

You leaned as far away from him as you physically could. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed at that, a bitter sound. You felt his fingers creep toward your hand beneath the covers, noticeably bare of gloves. Something dark crossed his features when he made contact, his fingers running along your hand tortuously slowly. You whispered out his name as a question, confused but not against this conversation's direction. “You know my real name, sweetheart. Might as well use it.”

Your throat suddenly became dry, but you didn’t dare reach for the canteen perched in his lap. “Cooper,” a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, “I thought you’d be… angrier.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ pissed.” You saw his eyes flash momentarily, making you want to shrink into a ball and hide. You’d never been on the receiving end of his anger, and you hated it. Or at least that's what you told yourself. “But there’s far more important things on my mind right now.”

“Like what?”

“Like keepin’ ya alive, for example.” His teasing tone turned somber. “You almost bled out.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You hadn’t realized how severe the wound you’d gotten was. Tentatively, you lowered the sheet that was around your body, then raised the still bloody shirt that now had a hole in the front. “My poor shirt…”

He scoffed. “Ya got stabbed in the gut, and you’re worried ‘bout your shirt?”

“Do you know how hard it is to find intact clothing up here?” You shook your head before examining the stitched-up gash on your stomach. Well, the once stitched-up gash. Thanks to the magic of stimpacks, he had been able to take out your sutures, leaving behind a barely healed scar across your stomach. You supposed it was a miracle, too, that it hadn’t caused severe damage to any of your intestines. “Thanks, doc.” You tried to jest. 

He laughed, but it sounded forced even to you. His gaze locked on where he rubbed your hand, looking like he wanted to say something. “Was… was there anything else?” You asked carefully. 

He exhaled sharply, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

An exasperated chuckle left him. “Everythin’. Every comment, every tease, every single fuckin’ thing you did that’s kept me awake for nights on end. Did you mean it?” To any other person, the way he re-asked the question would’ve sounded angry, pissed off. But you knew better. There was almost a sense of desperation in his words, his gaze boring into you as he waited for a response. 

“I am many things,” you began slowly. “A liar is not one of them. I meant it, every single thing.”

He paused. “Were your words only meant for the man I was?”

“Can they not be for the man you are as well?”

Your words seemed to catch him off-guard. “I guess they can,” he sighed, tilting his head down to break eye contact. Without thinking, you freed your hand from the blanket and his touch, and you gently tugged his chin until he was looking at you again. You were both equally surprised by the action, but you didn’t let yourself back down now. Not when you were so close to what you wanted. 

You gave him a moment to pull away from your touch if he was so pleased, and when he didn't, a gentle smile grew on your lips as you adjusted your hand so that you now held the side of his face. It was a stretch to do so, but seeing how he practically melted into your touch was worth it. You wondered how long it had been since someone had held him like this. 

“I rather like the man you are,” you admitted softly, your thumb running over his scarred cheek. “The man who put up with my constant teasing. The man who’s become the person I trust the most in this fucked up world. The man who just saved my life.” You sat up slowly, much to the complaint of your stomach and The Ghoul, but you ignored both. 

With one arm holding you up, you tugged him forward until he was half on the bed, one leg between your own, the other still firm on the floor. His hands braced on either side of you, face inches from yours as he leaned above you. He was close enough that you could feel his chest rise and fall, now slightly quicker than before. 

Human eyes flicked down to your lips, an unspoken question to which you already knew the answer. Instead of speaking, you let your actions do the talking, closing the distance until your lips brushed over his. But you didn’t let them connect. You wanted him to do it, to show you that this was what he wanted.

You heard your name said softly, a mix between a plea and a warning. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. 

“Cooper,” you sighed in response, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally closed the space between you two, lips surprisingly gentle against yours as he kissed you. It was everything you wanted, and you sighed happily, fingers trailing patterns across his skin. 

After a few moments, he pulled away, much to your audible displeasure, and chuckled. “I’m still fuckin’ angry at ya, sweetheart.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you laughed lightly, “but be mad at me later.”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because I want you to kiss me again.” 

“So fuckin’ needy,” he teased, a slight grin on his lips, but he brought himself back down to your lips. “I like it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing against yours with noticeably less gentleness. You didn’t resist as the force of it pushed you back gently onto the bed, and your hand fell from his face to the front of his jacket, grabbing a fistful of the material. His lips were almost feverish against yours, a barely contained desperation in the act, and you felt fingers brush against your cheek. They were just as rough as you remembered.

The bed shifted as he finally put his entire body on it, one knee between your legs, the other resting by your hip. One hand still worked to keep himself from resting his whole body weight on you, the other tracing patterns into your skin, just like you had done to him. If he had any reservations left, they no longer existed. The only things on his mind were the way you felt beneath him and the way your lips felt against his. 

You gasped when you felt him move down your jaw, down to your neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin there. No longer able to hold his jacket comfortably, you switched to holding the back of his head, nails scratching lightly against the skin. He practically shuddered, his arm buckling slightly, some of his body weight falling onto your lower body. 

A groan of pain tore through you when you felt him press against your stomach. It was almost funny how he seemed to jump off of you, hooded eyes immediately becoming alert. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-”

“Get back down here,” you practically growled, reaching up for his shirt again. He stopped you, redirecting your hand to the bed, securing it with a firm hand when you tried to break free. 

“You’re injured,” he countered, stopping your continued attempts to break free with a look. 

“And?”

“And we just got ya stable. I’d be even more fuckin’ pissed if three days of work was all for nothin’.”

“We’ll just be careful, then,” you protested, desire making you irrational. You’d just gotten a taste, but you needed more of him. Hesitancy flashed across his features, making you nervous. “Unless you don’t want to…”

“Oh, I fuckin’ do,” he chuckled. “But I ain’t doin’ anythin’ to ya until you’re healed.”

“Anything? Not even a kiss?”

He sighed, shaking his head, but his face had a fond expression. “You’re difficult, ya know that?”

“I’ve been told,” you laughed. “So is that a ‘no’, then?”

You had to stop yourself from laughing when he kissed you. When he pulled away, he rested his head against yours. “There. Satisfied?”

Far from it. “For now,” you sighed, lying comfortably on the bed. Now that you didn’t have anything exciting in your near future, exhaustion slowly began to creep back in, making you yawn. He chuckled, moving to get up, but you halted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lay with me? Please?”

You could tell that he was ready to argue against it, but he relented. With a smile, you were able to roll over to one of the sides of the bed with limited amounts of pain, giving him enough room to squeeze in behind you. Immediately, you felt one of his arms tuck beneath the pillow, the other resting on your hip, being careful to avoid your injury. 

With his front pressed against your back, you let your eyes fall close, much less violently than previously. Your breathing eventually evened out, and you let your body fully relax against him. He must’ve thought you were asleep because you felt him brush away any hair that covered your face, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was observing you. 

You manage to be still when his lips grazed the shell of your ear, a featherlight kiss, and his following words were just as light. “I’m glad you’re alright, sweetheart.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. 

You’d accidentally stumbled upon it, traveling a little too far off the beaten path, but you were so glad you did. In front of you were scattered pools of water, about six total, ranging from five to twenty feet across. Steam billowed off the top of the pools, the water bubbling by some unseen force, disturbing the clear water's surface. Set into rust-red stone, you couldn’t tell how deep the pools were, but you were eager to find out.

Stepping toward the edge of one of the larger pools, the rational part of your brain finally kicked in, and you took out your Geiger counter. You expected to hear the annoying ticking noise that accompanied said pools of water but were surprised when it remained silent. 

After checking it a few more times to be sure, you sat back on your heels, debating. It was then you finally heard the footfalls of your companions, huffing in annoyance because you ran off on him. “The hell ya doin’?” He asked, wary of how close you sat next to the water. 

“There’s no radiation!” You called back, glancing behind at him. “At least not enough to be a problem!”

The Ghoul crouched beside you, glancing from you to the pools of water. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive. Look!” You returned the counter to the water’s surface and received the same results. 

He hummed curiously. “This must’ve formed after the bombs.”

“What is it?”

“They’re hot springs,” he responded like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Stick your hand in it.”

Cautiously, you let your fingers dip beneath the water's surface and were startled to find it quite warm. A small laugh left you as you pulled your fingers out, wiping your hands on your pants. “Are they safe?”

“Well, sayin’ as there isn’t any radiation, and no creature can live in waters like this, I’d say so.” He had just gotten the words out before you stood again, toeing off your ragged shoes and socks. “The hell you doin’?” He asked again, bewildered by your actions. 

Your bag hit the rocks with a thud right next to your shoes. “I’m getting in,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “I’m filthy, sweaty, gross, and I desperately need a bath. You see any other options around?” 

“Well, no, but-”

“Turn around if you don’t wanna see me get undressed.” Your gunbelt and armor were next to join the ground, close enough to the edge that you could grab it if you’d like. 

“And if I wanna see?” he asked when your hands reached the hem of your shirt, still partially stained from the event the week before, a hastily sewed-on patch on the front. 

You finally glanced down at him, and he watched you with rapt attention. “Well,” you laughed lightly, “then enjoy the show.” Your shirt was off in one movement, joining the pile on the ground. You didn’t bother to look at the new scar on your stomach, which had become significantly less painful over the past week.

You knew you were toying with something dangerous, a line the two of you had been dancing on over the past week. Things hadn’t gone beyond kissing and lingering touches, and you were ready for more. You wanted more, and if the way he seemed to restrain himself each time he kissed you, you knew he felt the same. 

Your jeans were next, leaving you in only your undergarments. He was utterly transfixed, excitement visible on his face as you reached for the clasp of your bra. It had been weird; over the past week, you felt like he was becoming better at not hiding his expressions. Or you were getting better at reading him. 

You playfully threw the garment at him when it slid off your shoulders, obstructing his view momentarily. During that, you let your underwear slide down your legs, and you kicked it off your ankles, letting it join the pile. For a moment, you let his eyes hungrily roam your body before submerging yourself beneath the water’s surface. It was just deep enough that you could stand, and your head and shoulders were free, letting you breathe freely.

The sound you made when the hot water met your skin was unintentionally filthy, a mix between a moan and a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” you laughed airily. The water was nearly unbearably hot, but you quickly grew acclimated.

Leaning back, you let your head submerge beneath the water, wetting your hair. At this angle, you could see him still, stunned, and still crouched by the water. Grinning, you adjusted back upright before reaching him, resting your arms on the rock face, and you rested your chin on them, looking up at him. “Are you getting in as well?”

That question broke him out of the semi-trance he was in, and he shook his head, much to your displeasure. “Someone’s gotta keep watch,” he grumbled.

“You’re no fun.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded. “C’mon, just for a little bit.”

“Sweetheart, you and I both know that if I get in there, it won’t be for ‘a little bit’.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He shook his head again but removed his gloves, making your grin wider. Backing away from the edge, you watched his hat come off next, then his gunbelt and coat. When he reached the buttons of his shirt, he paused, glancing into your eager eyes. “Turn around,” he requested, and you responded with a confused glance. “Do ya want me in there or not?”

You were still confused, but not wanting to push his comfort, you complied, distracting yourself from the scenery around you. It was hard to hear over the rolling water, but you listened to the sound of clothing hitting the rocks, making your breath hitch in excitement. Anticipation made your skin crawl, although not unpleasantly, and you waited for the sound of water splashing as he joined you. 

But after a moment passed and you were met with just the continued sound of bubbles, you shifted nervously yet didn’t dare look back. Time seemed to crawl on agonizingly slow, your breaths turning shallow. You nearly screamed when you felt an arm wrap around your midsection, still mindful of the injury, but relaxed almost immediately when the familiar timbre of his voice hit your ears. “Not even a peek, I’m impressed.”

“Is it truly that shocking that I can follow directions?” You scoffed, letting him ease you against his now bare chest. The contact was blissful, and you sighed out in content. “Can I turn around now?”

He made a noise of consideration before resting his head on your shoulder. When he spoke next, it was almost straight into your ear. “In a moment. Lemme hold ya for a bit longer.”

When he received no objections from you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. His other arm joined with the other, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms. It was a bit of an awkward angle, but you managed to reach around to hold the back of his head gently. You could feel him smile lightly when your nails scratched lightly.

“So, how’d you figure it out?”

It took a few moments of wracking your brain until you finally realized what he was talking about. “We’re having this conversation now?”

“Don’t see any better time. Besides, ya can’t run away from the questions now.” It was true; over the past week, you’d found an excuse not to answer his questions, finding something else to do as an excuse. Now it looked like he had you right where he wanted. 

Groaning, you hung your head, much to the amusement of him. “It was your voice, mainly,” you admitted. “When I first heard it, I thought I was just reaching. Then, it just clicked after watching the way you wield your gun, the way you carry yourself, everything. You even look a bit the same,” you chuckled. 

“And you thought the best thing to do next was to fuckin’ tease me?”

“You have to admit, it was kinda funny.”

You felt his shoulders shake, a light chuckle leaving him. “I ain’t admitting to nothin’, sweetheart.”

“Are you still upset about it?”

“Not for the reason you’re thinkin’.”

That piqued your curiosity. “Oh?”

“I wished ya told me sooner because I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to do this.” His arms tightened the tiniest amount around you. “D’you know how hard it's been these past weeks, months, haivn’ to bite my tongue every time you make one those comments, those touches.”

“Months?”

“That’s how long it’s been since we met, right?”

Shocked laughter left you, and you tried to turn in his arms. You could only get halfway around before his grip stopped you, but you had turned enough so that you could look at him. You weren’t expecting him to look so confident about his response; the muscles of his brow raised like he was daring you to say something. “You’ve wanted me for-”

“Since the moment ya stumbled into me that night.”

“You tried to kill me.”

He shrugged. “Still knew that I wanted ya.”

“How… romantic,” you scoffed. 

“And they say romance is dead.”

“You did promise to take me out to dinner.”

“Out of everythin’  from that conversation, that’s the fuckin’ thing you remember?” You felt his arm go lax for a second, but that was all you needed. Turning, you finally were facing him, your chest pressed into him, making him groan appreciatively. Your arms wrapped around his neck in an embrace, and you felt his hands begin to trail up your back. One settled on your ribs, the other continued up to the base of your neck, brushing your hairline. 

Any words you were about to say fell short when you felt him scratch lightly, a choked noise leaving you at the action, your body shivering. Your mind went blank, and he just chuckled knowingly. His fingers ran up even more, your body reacting similarly, and you both knew the conversation was over for now. 

You gasped when you felt him grab a fist of your hair and pull back; it was not rough enough to be incredibly painful, but it still stung a bit. But it wasn’t like you could feel the pain anyway, your desire being far more powerful. He leaned down into your space, face hovering above yours as he tilted yours back. “What, cat got your tongue?” He teased you for your sudden silence, which was uncharacteristic. 

“Fuck you,” you managed to whisper, making him laugh.

“We’ll get there, sweetheart.” 

His lips were on yours before you could respond, your senses now overwhelmed with him. His other hand wasn’t shy, grabbing and kneading at every piece of skin it could find, making you groan against his mouth. 

You laughed when you began to feel him back up to the edge of the pool, barely able to keep up with his eager movements. But you were confused when you felt his hands grip your waist and lift you so that you were now sitting on the rock edge. It was a warm day, but even the warm air wasn’t enough to stop you from shivering from the temperature difference. “I thought we were supposed to be getting clean,” you tried to protest.

It didn’t even cross your mind that your entire body was exposed to him now, and if you did remember, you doubted you’d even care. Not with how his eyes roamed your body like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart so he could stand between them. He stood level with the base of your throat, wasting no time before he lavished it with kisses and bites. 

“We can do it after,” he murmured against your skin. “I need to fuckin’ taste ya, Now.”

Involuntarily, your legs tightened around his body at his words, laughing lightly in shock. You don’t think you’d ever had a partner so eager to go down on you. “Cooper-”

“I fuckin’ love hearin’ you say my name. I bet ya sound even better screamin’ it.” His lips had moved down to your breasts, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. 

You tried not to think too much about the implications of his words. And you tried even harder not to let your body react any further, not wanting to fan the flame of his ego anymore. But you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t enjoying his cockiness. “Is that a promise?” You echoed the question from the previous week. 

You felt him smirk. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” A soft nip made you jump slightly, and he soothed over the hurt with his tongue. “Lie back, sweetheart.”

Excitement and arousal buzzed in your veins, and you required no further encouragement before you were resting back on your elbows, unable to feel the stone beneath you. He pulled away when you leaned back, something almost like pride in his eyes at how easily you complied. 

He adjusted your legs so that they now rested on his shoulders, the heels of your feet resting on his back. It gave him perfect access to your center, and between your thighs, you saw how his eyes turned impossibly dark. They flicked to you one last time, looking for any hesitation, before leaning forward until you felt his breath caress the sensitive area. 

But he didn’t make contact where you wanted. Instead, you felt his lips ghost the insides of your thighs, teasing you. Groaning, you tried to close the distance with a roll of your hips, but he shut that down quickly. His hands no longer held your thighs open. Instead, they were splayed across your hips, keeping you pinned down to the rocks as he continued his light touches. 

You’d forgotten how strong he was, and you found yourself unable to move your hips any longer, rendered completely still by him. You didn’t have to see him to know he was loving tormenting you, inching closer and closer to where he knew you desperately wanted him. “I thought you said you needed to taste me,” you reminded him, and repeating his filthy words made you warm. 

“I know what I said,” he breathed. “Consider this payback for the weeks of fuckin’ torture you’ve put me through.” A frustrated noise left you, and you tried to move away, but to no avail. Teeth dragged against your skin, up towards your center, halting right before reaching it. “You don’t get to run off on me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna take what I give ya.”

“Cooper, please.”

“As amazin’ as you sound beggin’, you ain’t gettin’ what you want that easy.” One of the hands holding you down moved up, calloused fingers grasping at your breast, making you whine. If you thought that because he let up one of his hands, you’d be able to move your hips freely, you thought wrong. All you could do was lay there and comply, much to his evident enjoyment. 

You’re not sure how long you sat there, time crawling on tortuously slow, as he continued to tease and rile you up. Occasionally, you felt his lips ghost over where you wanted him, and you’d think he was finally having mercy on you. But when he passed over, too light to provide any relief, you knew he was just working you up more. No matter how much you pleaded or begged, he didn’t relent, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

But he was only human, and he, too, had a limit to his patience. It broke when the hand groping your breasts snuck between your legs, fingers spreading you open. His breath hitched when he saw the evidence of your arousal. He sighed, an air of finality in the sound. 

“Oh, fuck this,” you heard him growl before his mouth was finally on you. Startled but oh so relieved, a jumble of words left your mouth, a mix of his name and curses. His tongue swept through you desperately, face burrowed deep between your thighs, a groan tearing from his lips as he finally tasted you. 

He was incessant, addicted now that he’d gotten a taste. Your thighs tightened around his head as he ate you out, but he didn’t seem to mind. It almost seemed to urge him on, knowing he was making you feel that good. He still had a hand holding you down, the one between your legs teasing at your entrance, making your eyes flutter close. 

When his tongue began to focus on your clit, you could barely keep yourself propped up any longer, and your arms started to shake. Desperate for something to hold on to, you grasped at the hand on your waist. He adjusted so that his forearm now pinned you, leaving his hand free for you to grab, which you did eagerly. It would’ve been funny how the two actions juxtaposed each other if he wasn’t making you see stars. 

His name was being said like a mantra, turning more and more breathy as pleasure began to build. It turned louder when you felt one of his fingers ease into you, and you could feel the various groves of his skin, all adding to the stimulation you felt. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, his mouth continuing to toy with your clit. Peeling your eyes open, you dared to glance down at him, gasping lightly when you found him looking at you. 

He looked so eager, so hungry, his pupils blown out with lust as he watched you slowly begin to fall apart. You were caught in a trance, unable to look away from him anymore. Not that you’d want to look away from such a glorious sight. 

Keeping your gazes locked when you felt a second finger join became a challenge. The tension that he had so beautifully wound up inside you was on the verge of snapping, your breathing growing faster as you neared your release. You didn’t have to say anything to him; it seemed like he knew your body as well as you did. As he moved his fingers, you felt him crook his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, making you cry out. 

Your thighs around his head begin to shake, your heels digging into his back almost painfully. You were so close, your grip turning vice-like on his hand. It was when you felt his lips latch onto your clit and suck when you finally fell apart. You had no idea how loudly you cried out his name, the sound of your ears ringing blocking out any other noise. White-hot pleasure washed over your body, your one arm finally going boneless beneath you, your back hitting the rock. 

It took a few moments of deep breaths to get your heart under control, the ringing in your ears becoming background noise. You didn’t have the energy to prop yourself up yet, so you just strained your neck until you could look at him. He was still between your thighs, fingers having been withdrawn, but he continued to lap at your release. You could feel the smirk on his face when you made eye contact.

Overstimulation quickly made itself known, and with a groan, you finally sat yourself up. Easing your legs off of him, he still didn’t let up, and so with a half-hearted shove, you backed him up. He didn’t stay away long, helping your back towards the edge of the rock, lips once again making contact with your throat. His hands caressed your body, but he didn’t do more than touch, giving you a few more moments to recover. “Told ya I’d make you scream,” he muttered, making you scoff.

“I wasn’t that loud.” Was I?

“Scared off a few birds.” He laughed when you slapped his shoulder in mock offense, making him look up. “Ouch,” he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes, shaky hands grabbing the sides of his face and bringing it close to yours. You snuck a quick kiss to his lips, but even though it was short, you could still taste yourself on it. It made your head spin, and you offered no objects as he tugged you into the water, the temperature shock making you gasp. 

You’d barely gotten your footing before he was on you, all lips and teeth against your skin. Hands skated down your slides, beneath your thighs, tugging one of them up until it wrapped around his body. You gasped when you felt his hard length press against you, and you rocked your hips eagerly. It got the response you wanted, a groan of your name leaving his lips. 

“C’mon, Cooper,” you gasped, hands grasping his shoulders, bracing yourself. “C’mon baby, let me feel you.”

An almost pained noise left his lips before he thrust into you, the mix of your arousal and the water around you allowing him to enter with ease. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, setting a brutal pace almost immediately, his hips snapping up into you. Your nails dug into his scarred skin, and once the initial shock wore off, moans tumbled from your lips. 

Water splashed up because of the movement, hitting the rocks, but neither of you paid any mind. How could you, when he was fucking you like it was the only thing he could do, wanted to do? His hand remained on your thigh, helping keep your leg propped up. His other hand held the side of your face, your mouth hung open and panting, and he pulled you in for a messy kiss. 

His tongue swept into your open mouth as if he owned it, a groan leaving you at the filthy act. There was so much happening, and like before, you could do nothing but just let it happen, reciprocating as best you could with soft noises and touches.

A particularly hard thrust left you gasping, breaking away from the kiss, choosing to just rest your head against his. Pleasure blossomed across your body, and you felt that familiar tension return. Sneaking a hand between your legs beneath the water, you began to rub at yourself, making you clench around him. 

“Hands up,” you barely managed to hear him hiss through a groan. “Keep those hands on me, sweetheart.”

You complied, returning your touch to his shoulders, but your lost additional pleasure was only momentary. His hand replaced yours, nimble fingers working you as well as you could, maybe even better. His fingers moved in slow, hard circles, a complete contrast to the rapid movement of his hips. The two different sensations drove you wild, your breathing coming out as short, hot pants. 

You could feel yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it. The movement of his hips had turned more desperate about thirty seconds ago, and you knew he was close as well. Running your hands up his neck, you pulled his face against yours when they reached his jaw, on the verge of bruising your lips with how aggressively you smashed them against his. “Cooper, I’m so close,” you whispered between kisses. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart, fuckin’ fall apart.” You couldn’t tell if he was asking or pleading, but you would fulfill his request either way. 

It took a few more presses of his fingers and snaps of his hips until you came, shouting his name like you’d done before. You could barely see through the haze the satisfactory smirk on his lips, pleasure once again washing over your body. Every muscle in your body tensed, and that smirk immediately fell from his lips, turning into an almost scowl as he staved off his own release. “Where-”

“Inside.” You didn’t have to hear the whole question to know what he was asking. 

For the first time, he moaned, too caught up in his own pleasure to care. “Fuck, you gonna let me fill ya?” A small laugh of disbelief left him when you nodded. “Goddamn…” His words trailed off as he chased his release, the continued thrusts of his hips bordering on overstimulation. But you didn’t have to wait long, because with a much quieter groan of your name, his hips stilled, and you felt his release seep into you. 

For a moment, the two of you just held each other, catching your breaths. Your body felt like it was on fire, a mix of pleasure and the hot water around you, yet you made no move to leave, not wanting this moment to be over yet. 

Slowly, his hand let go of your leg, and even though the water helped ease the irritated muscle, you still let out a noise of discomfort. He eased out of you then as well, leaving you feeling empty. Some part of you feared that he would push you away next, but a relieved smile appeared on your face when he tugged you into his arms, a surprisingly gentle kiss placed on top of your damp head. 

“You alright?” You don’t think you’d ever heard him so soft, so genuine, and knowing it was aimed at you nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

Too many emotions swirled in your chest, and instead of facing them and the discomfort they could bring, you resorted to humor. “I’m surprised you lasted that long, Cooper Howard. You being an old man, after all.”

Darkness is just beginning to settle over the horizon as you wander into the crumbling remains of what once may have been a small settlement. Your steps are light, measured and well calculated to make as little noise as possible. There is only the light of the moon and stars to guide you. The pack hanging over your shoulders is dreadfully light, a testament to your struggle for survival, constantly edging the line of desperation. Though your supply of food is near nonexistent, at least you have plenty of water, which is of some small consolation.

Climbing over a half remainder of a once solid concrete wall, you duck inside the shadow of a building. It has more holes than walls. You drag one hand along the cool, rough surface, acting as a guide as your eyes continue to adjust to the slow dimming light. But your eyes are still able to perceive enough to recognize the sight of a rifle barrel aiming towards the center of your chest as you round a corner. It is a beat later that you take note of the man wielding said rifle.

A ghoul.

Back to the wall, he sits with knees bent awkwardly up, tattered leather trench coat clinging to him in a way that suggests both shield and shroud. In any other circumstance you would find some delight in his appearance, looking as though plucked straight from one of those Pre-war western films, the hat, spurs, leather duster and all. The steady aim of the weapon in his hands however, keeps you suspended in a freezing sense of dread.

“Wait!” You are quick to throw your hands up, palms flat and wide spread and facing the ghoul, hoping he will see you as anything but a threat. “Please, I’m just passing through,I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble seems to have found you,” the ghoul’s accent is thick, a heavy southern twang grown raspy and dry from years of radiation born rot. 

The business end of his rifle does not lower, but his eyes flick across you up and down before focusing on your gear.

“What’s in the bag?”

You consider lying, truth a dangerous thing to be so easily thrown around, but lying feels lethal in the moment. “Maybe two or three days worth of food, water, a few medical supplies,” you settle on half truths, enough that there is nothing to hide written in your expression. “Really not anything worth shooting me over.”

The ghoul snorts out a laugh, “Out here, everything’s worth shooting someone over,” the ghoul drawls, but the gun does not fire. Though laughter abruptly mutates into a cough, dry and wheezing as if his lungs were trying to shrivel up and spit themselves back out.

It does not take you much more than a quick once over of the ghoul to understand what is happening.  While hunched over in his coughing fit, you dare to move a few steps closer, squatting down to be near his level. But a quick jerking motion of the rifle stops you, deadly stare halting you as the coughing subsides.

“I can help,” there is a wobble in your voice, fear evident. Your heart feels as though it could pound right out of your chest. He chokes on a scoff, but still you persist. “If you let me, I can help. I have what you need.”

“Touch me, and I'll bite your fucking fingers off,” the ghoul snarls back, waving the rifle at you, but there is less bite to his tone. As if he was weighing his options and finding you were his best chance of survival. “Like hell you even know what I need, might accidentally kill me instead.”

Fingers creep slowly toward the pouch at the strap of your bag, slow as predator stalking prey, the ghoul’s bloodshot eyes tracking your every twitch. The vial catches moonlight as you extract it, semi translucent yellow liquid sloshing around inside. Germaine’s voice echoes in your head, hollow memories reminding you the importance of keeping the vials on hand. Your throat tightens, heart aching at the thought of him. Two winters since you lost him, yet here you are, still hoarding these lifelines whenever you had the caps to spare. A habit too hard for you to shake.

With a desperate rasp, eyes narrowing, the ghoul lunges for the vial, but trembling fingers miss, closing around empty air inches from your hand. The rifle barrel dips, bobbing up and down, scraping against the dirt. Before he recovers, you are on him, one hand clamping around his wrist, twisting until tendons strain beneath your grip. Not enough to snap bone, but enough to make him hiss. Your free hand goes for the rifle, wrenching it away, sending it clattering somewhere into the shadows beyond.

Yellowed teeth flash in the darkness, like daggers, a snarl bubbling up from his throat. Boot heels scrape for purchase, leg twitching up to kick you, but your knee drives into the muscle of his thigh with a thud. It takes only a single hard shove at his chest to send him toppling over, back hitting the dirt. One leg swings over the ghoul’s chest, knees digging into his ribcage as your weight settles onto his hips. Each breath is a struggle, chest heaving beneath you as the ghoul fights his failing body. It is not a fair fight by any means.

Dry lips curl back, teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Get the fuck off me.” The ghoul’s hips twitch weakly beneath yours, resistance dissolving into another fit of coughing. Violent convulsions shaking his entire frame and vibrating up through your thighs, sending heat creeping up your face.

Patting down the ghoul’s coat, your fingers dip into each pocket but come up empty. “Where is your inhaler?” The ghoul’s eyelids droop to half-mast, pupils contracting and dilating as if struggling to keep focus on your face.

Head lolling to one side, the ghoul jerks his chin toward a corner where weathered saddlebags slump against the wall. Stretching, two fingers hook into the cracked leather and drag them close enough to dig through. Beneath layers of junk and supplies, your fingers close around a familiar shape before your eyes confirm it. The smooth plastic curves of an inhaler.

You hold it up in the dim light, the chamber glints. Empty. As the ghoul’s breath grows shallow, his chest barely rises. 

Grinding your teeth, you give a rough tap to the ghoul’s leathery cheek. “Stay with me.” His eyelids flutter, bloodshot eyes rolling back. Your fingers fumble with the vial, clicking it into place with one hand while your gaze never leaves his face. “Alright,” your voice cracks, “take a big breath on three.”

Rocking back, thighs trembling against the ghoul's ribs, you ease up the pressure from his chest, just enough so that you can slide a hand beneath his neck. Gentle fingers cradle his neck, spreading to provide support as you lean into him. The fight once raging through the ghoul has diminished, jaw slack, mouth parting without protest as you raise the inhaler to his cracked lips. On three, the plunger clicks, pressing down and releasing a yellow mist that disappears with a heave of the ghoul’s chest, drawing it deep into his lungs. You repeat the action twice more, until the vial hits empty.

Beneath your thighs, his chest begins to rise in a steady smooth rhythm, the rattling of his lungs fading into nothing. 

Cracked lips part. “Why the fuck are you helping me?” The ghoul’s words slur at the edges, eyelids heavy, fighting to stay open. Pinprick pupils track your movements, though obscured by half closed lids as your weight shifts atop him.

Your mouth opens, then closes again with an exhale, shoulders sagging beneath some unseen weight. The tips of your fingers trace an absent pattern into your thigh. “Guess I just don’t enjoy watching a ghoul rot away when I know I can do something about it.”

The only response given is the slow, even rise and fall of the ghoul’s chest, jaw going slack, head rolling to one side. You count each breath, watching for any twitch that could mean danger, any sign that he might lunge forward. 

When your legs begin to cramp, muscles singing their opposition, you slide off the ghoul, settling cross legged beside him in the dirt. Behind you, the road stretches long and empty, darkness licking the edges of broken asphalt. Your pack lies within arm’s reach, ready to cut and run, yet your fingers curl into the dirt at your sides, rooting yourself in place as surely as if you had grown from the earth itself. 

Moonlight casts shadows across the ghoul’s still form, softly illuminating the high ridges of his cheek bones. Uncertainty coils like a knot in your gut, instinct screaming at you to leave, to high tail it out of town before the ghoul wakes, possibly even more volatile than before. But a foolish feeling of hope, perhaps, or a stubborn spark of compassion that refuses to be snuffed out tugs at your heart. Though torn between the fear of anger and violence that could come and the tantalizing possibility of the companionship of another living being, you fear walking back into the lonely darkness even more.

Heaving a sigh, your back presses to the cool surface of concrete, resting your eyes, but not daring to fall asleep. There you wait for the sun to rise alongside the ghoul.

Dawn cracks, splitting the horizon with soft speckles of orange when the ghoul’s body jerks upright. Something catches in his throat, not quite a cough, but not quite a growl. The cold metal of the rifle muzzle presses into your peripheral vision. But your eyes stay on the empty vial balanced between your fingers, staring at it as if it would start sharing secrets if you stare long enough. Numbness has long since crept up your legs and ass from sitting cross legged in the same patch of dirt for hours, leaving you unbothered to move away from the danger.

“You’re still here.” Each syllable drops from the ghoul’s mouth like a heavy stone, as though the words were of some personal offense. 

Flicking a thumbnail against a ridge of dirt beneath one of your fingernails, your shoulders rise and fall with a sigh, gaze fixed on a point just beyond the rifle’s sight. “Figured someone ought to be here to roll you over if you started foaming at the mouth.”

Pushing himself up with a grunt, the ghoul’s stiff joints crack with protest, popping like the snap of dry kindling. Using the back of a tattered sleeve, he drags an arm across cracked lips. “Think you’re funny, smoothskin?” Pupils contract to pinpoints, knuckles going white around the rifle grip. Challenging you.

“Never,” your tone is flat, not moving a muscle in your face.

Your attempt at humor earns what you could almost call a laugh from the ghoul, the corners of his mouth pulling just a fraction upward. Relief hits you like a supersledge as his shoulders lower half an inch, sliding the rifle into its holster across his back with practiced motions. Though his gaze lingers for a moment, eventually the ghoul relaxes, head turning away in silent acknowledgement you are no longer perceived as a threat. Not missed by your keen eyes is the way you are still kept in his peripheral, back never turning to you.

Busy fingers rifle through saddlebags, patting pockets, counting possessions before slinging them over his shoulder. “Missed out on a chance, kid,” the drawl of his voice is smooth, almost enough to put you at ease.  “Could’ve rolled me and split, would’ve been the smart option.”

Rolling a pebble between your thumb and forefinger, your shoulders rise and fall with a shrug, but you keep the ghoul in your own sight. One hand rests just close enough to the weapon on your hip.  “Never claimed to be smart.”

The air between you crackles with unspoken words. Jaw working side to side, the ghoul’s eyes briefly narrow. “You want something,” his tone flattens, matter of fact. “Nobody’s that stupid without reason.”

Resisting a flinch, your eyes dart away, finding interest in a hairline fracture running up the concrete wall, branching out like lightning. Sweat beads at your hairline. Fingers tap against your thigh, drumming a nervous rhythm.

“I’m assuming you are out of vials,” you  breathe slowly, striving for calm. From your peripheral vision, you catch his neck snapping around, tendons standing out like cords. Reaching into your pocket, glass clinks together as you pull out two of the yellow cylinders, allowing them to catch in the dim light. “I’ve got more than enough to share...but I want something in return.”

Across from you, the ghoul’s upper lip curls back, exposing time worn yellow teeth. Hazel eyes flick between your face and the vials in your palm, battling the need with the desire to shoot the glass out of spite.

Hands clench, finger twitching once toward the rifle. “You realize,” voice dropping, he leans forward until you can smell the lingering inhalant on his breath, “I could bash your skull in and take the whole lot.”

Swallowing hard, your shoulders square up as you force your voice to steel. “Try it,” knuckles turn white, fist closing tight over the vials. “Make a move against me and I crush them.” The hammering of your pulse betrays your certainty that if he lunges, you are already dead. 

The words linger like smoke, but something shifts in the ghoul's gaze, a slight thaw around all those hard edges. Maybe you are not as foolish, as expendable as first thought. Maybe you could prove your worth. Just maybe. 

Spurs jingle as the ghoul's foot taps a rapid rhyme against the dirt. “Well?” Voice snapping like a whip before softening as he draws out the words, the ghoul studies your face. “You gonna spit it out or not? Don't got all damn day.” Shifting his weight, he crosses his arms. “What is it you want?

Swallowing hard, you fight the heavy feeling at your tongue. “I need to get to town...” The words hang in the air like dust motes. Silence stretches until you can almost see your words floating away. “Alive, and preferably in one piece.” Fingers twist a loose thread at the hem of your shirt. “Company would help.”

Head tilting back, the ghoul fixes his gaze on the spiderweb of cracks along the ceiling. Expression stern, as if locked in negotiations with ghosts of its past. 

Hazel eyes narrow, the ghoul’s gaze circling back to you. “You got a death wish?” Voice scraping like boots on gravel.

Throat tight, your mouth feels dry. “Not today,” but the corner of your lip shifts upward.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, gaze traveling from your face, to the vials still in your hand, down to your well worn boots, and then back up. Silence stretches on, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears. 

“Fine, but I’ve got a job first,” whatever space that lies between you closes, the ghoul entering your bubble as he locks with your eyes. Watching you, testing you. “You do exactly as I say, when I say. Do that, and I will get you to town when the job is done.”

“Deal.”

With a grunt, the ghoul pivots on his heels, stalking toward the exit, debris crunching beneath his boots. Never bothering to check if you are following. Your knees pop as you scramble upright, palm catching a jagged edge of concrete. A red bead wells within your palm, but you wipe it on the leg of your pants as you lurch after him.

Outside, the sun has yet to fully rise, rust orange bleeding from the horizon through surrounding skeletal buildings. Footsteps fall into rhythm with the ghoul as you manage to catch up, a cadence that feels oddly familiar. Like muscle memory from another life.

The job turns out to be a bounty, a revelation that should not be a surprise given the way the ghoul carries himself. As if carrying all the confidence of someone never expecting to see tomorrow, no longer bothered with the concern of fear. Gutted cars and barricades of forgotten debris block the path, but the ghoul cuts a line straight through without a care in the world.

But you follow after him like a lost puppy, stuck on his heels, but always at least two paces behind. Conversation comes and goes in short waves, as if unsure if he feels in the mood for talking or brooding. You give him your name at some point, prompting you to ask for his in return.

A bark of a laugh is your response, a sound that gives you a small emotional jab of pain. “Let’s not be tryin’ to get all personal darlin’,” the southern drawl is extra thick in his voice, sounding all the more condescending. “This here is a business relationship, nothing else. Don’t go thinkin’ I care more than that.”

Nearly tripping over yourself in attempts to respond, you receive only a half turned glance that seals your lips for another mile. Worse than being seen as a job is being seen as a burden. But you choose not to divulge that information.

Halfway through the next day, after hours of dragging feet through cracked asphalt and the sun beating down your neck, you see the ruins of a town ahead. A single gas station at the center of town stands as the sole point of interest. When the distance closes, you feel the ghoul’s hand clamp onto your shoulder, fingers digging in as he yanks you behind a concrete barricade, knees scraping on the way down. A palm remains on your shoulder, forcing you to stay low, out of sight. Squinting, you follow his line of sight, spotting movement on the far side of the street.

Breath catching, you watch a figure in tattered combat gear hunch over an overturned toolbox, rifling through the contents with surgical precision. Something is hovering above. An Eyebot, chassis full of dents and roughly patched with century old license plates. To the right, a Mr. Handy, jets whirring, armed with a rotary saw and flamer. Behind them all, sunlight barely reflects off rust tainted paint as a Protectron shifts its weight with a mechanical groan. 

“Is that the bounty?” You keep yourself pressed flat against the ground, but you try to turn to look at him.

No answer is given. Instead he unholsters the rifle from his back and fixes you with a stern look, “Stay put. Don’t move unless you enjoy laser burns. Got it?”

Afraid to speak, lest you catch unwanted attention, you give a wide eyed nod and watch the ghoul’s eyes narrow before he vaults the barricade with a dancer’s grace. Despite the heat, you shiver. Through a fracture in the barricade, you watch him move in a zigzag, disappearing into the maze of ruined storefronts.

Five minutes pass before the silence cracks. One bullet tears through the bounty's thigh, spraying the street with a mist of blood, another glancing off his clavicle, shattering the bone. Though you look, you are unable to spot the ghoul or the barrel of his weapon. 

Before another bullet can finish off the bounty, the three bots shift, moving to provide cover as the man struggles to drag himself behind the chest. The Eyebot spots the ghoul first, stalking out from a doorframe full of shattered glass. 

A tight feeling enters your chest, watching as the Mr. Handy charges first, saw extended and spinning with lethal intent. Sparks fly as the blade hits brick, only missing the ghoul by inches as he ducks and rolls to the side. It is enough of a distraction for the bounty, as he seizes the moment by daring to peek his head above the safety of his cover, firing a shot that misses by a mile.

From below, the ghoul draws the revolver from his hip, blowing off the Mr. Handy’s arm with an explosive shot that sends bits of metal falling like drops of rain. Though thrown back in the blast, the bot persists, arms rotating as a cone of flame erupts from another limb. Laser fire singes stone as the Eyebot struggles to lock aim on the ghoul ducking and weaving as if partaking in some deadly dance. Watching the Protectron lumber that direction fills you with a sickly feeling of dread.

You don’t remember standing, but suddenly you are exposed, a pistol with not nearly enough bullets to matter in hand. Two of your eight rounds fly striking the Eyebot. For a moment it sputters, bobbing in the air as smoke begins to bellow out from the seams before ultimately it falls to the ground with a loud clang. Unfortunate for you, this draws the bounty’s attention. A few seconds is all you have to dive behind a fallen mailbox before a bullet strikes the air where your head had just been.

Pressing yourself flush to a broken slab of sidewalk, your head rocks to the side, locking eyes with the ghoul for a fleeting second. From the ground you slide your pistol forward, shooting a single round at the Mr. Handy that does minimal damage. But it does pull focus on you, giving the ghoul opportunity to flank. Giving himself space, the ghoul shoots the fuel tank, causing a small explosion. The bot hisses like escaping steam, limbs trembling before self immolating. 

That leaves just the Protectron and the bounty. 

Electricity sparks to life from the center of the robot’s metal hands. Just before those claws clamp around his shoulders, the ghoul pivots and fires. Not at the Protectron. The bounty leans out from his cover, revolver in hand and taking aim. Before his finger can squeeze the trigger, the hand is gone, only a bloody stump below the wrist. 

The stench of burning flesh assaults your nose even from yards away as the Protectron grapples the ghoul, shocking him. Breaking cover, your knees scrape asphalt as you sprint, emptying the last of your rounds into the back of the robot’s head. Not a budge. You could reload, you have the ammunition, but the trembling of your hands leads you to believe more would end up on the ground rather than in the gun. Out of other options, and crunching on time, you grab the first sturdy object in reach. A thick shaft of rebar.

With as much heft as you can manage, a loud crack resonates as you bring the bar down over the back of the Protectron’s head. A large dent is left in its wake, but it is still locked around the ghoul. Over and over you bring down your makeshift club onto the bot until the metal gives way, crunching and splitting.

As soon as the sparks cease, no longer cooking him alive, the ghoul plants a boot on the main body of the Protectron and kicks it over without ceremony. Smoke wafts from twin burns on the arms of his leather duster, somehow only slightly blackened. When your eyes meet, you are expecting some sort of token of gratitude or appreciation for the aid. But those hazel eyes harden into an unreadable look, the ghoul practically shoulder checking you as he brushes past you without care.

During the struggle, the bounty has managed to drag himself further behind the overturned tool chest, as if that somehow would shield and spare him. But a wide smear of blood marks his path. 

“Wait wait wait!” The bounty throws his hands... well, hand up as the ghoul stalks up to him, sobbing as he tries to push himself further away by bracing his legs against the dirt. “Please, I can pay you! Whatever they are offering I can-”

A gaping hole blown into the center of his chest cuts off whatever plea the bounty was going to offer, blood trickling from his mouth as he gives one bubbling gurgle before sagging. Lifeless. When the ghoul pulls a bone saw from his bags, you have to look away, staring at a wall, the sky, anything but the mess.

“Thought I told you to stay put,” he growls, pausing before getting to work on the body. “Coulda got yourself killed making a stupid move like that.”

Something rises up in you, heat flushing your cheeks as the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “That’s a pretty shitty way of saying thanks for saving my life,” screw the bloody mess, you turn back on the ghoul with ire in your eyes.

He laughs. But those eyes are sharp, looking you over, slowly tracking lower and lower until they pause. Tracing the same path with your own eyes, you see what has caught the ghoul’s interest. A stain blooming deep red down your inner thigh. As much as you want to convince yourself it is a wound, some cut from a stray bullet, you know better.

“Fuck,” you continue to stare at the patch of blood, as if doing so would make it dissappear with willpower alone. “FUCK!”

“What, you get shot in the dick or somethin’?” The ghoul is grinning, a mean look that is full of teasing, but with just a tiny ounce of something more.

“No...just..,” between two fingers, you pluck the fabric of your pants, the tacky feeling of it wanting to cling to your skin. Tears sting your eyes. “Fuck.”

Rather than elaborate further, you scramble away, shoving past the ghoul in a rough move as you search for shelter. A public restroom. The door barely clings to the hinges, but it will do. Slamming the door, you stuff yourself into a stall, ripping off your belt and pulling at your waistband to survey the damage.

Blood, yes. Enough to soak through the entirety of your underwear and through the thick denim of your pants. Enough to leave the fabric sticky and growing cold. Sitting on the floor, head in your hands, you bite back the urge to cry, choking on humiliation.

Three deep breaths. Removing the lid off the back of the toilet provides a small ounce of relief, finding only mildly questionable water. Stripping everything below the waist, you dunk your underwear, scrubbing at the fabric until your hands begin to ache, wringing the pinkish water out into the bowl.

“You know,” the suddenness of the ghoul’s voice just outside the stall makes you freeze. “It is considered rude walkin’ away from someone while talkin’.”

“Go away,” your voice is halfway between a groan and whine, similar to that of a dying animal.

The following silence leads you to believe the ghoul has granted your request, but then the door comes slamming inwards, forcing you back up onto the seat of the toilet. Standing in the doorway of the stall, the ghoul stares down at you. Bloody underwear are still clutched tight in your hands, your thighs slightly parted and leaving nothing to the imagination. You can feel his eyes scanning you up and down before you think to cover yourself.

There is a moment where all you do is lock eyes with each other, as if having a full conversation without uttering a word. No joke, no gross comment or leering sneer. Just standing there, looking, eyes almost appearing softer.

“Ten minutes,” the softness of his voice surprises you, almost making you question if this is even the same ghoul. “Then I’m gone, with or without you.”

You watch as he turns to leave.

Just before he is out the door, he pauses, barely glancing back over his shoulder at you. “Cooper.” He does not elaborate, does not wait for you to question the sudden name. Just walks out the door as soon as it is out of his mouth.

When it dawns on you, the significance of the name, you can’t help the way the corners of your lips pull upward. He gave you his name. A trade off of sorts. Seeing you in such a private, exposed, vulnerable state, but giving you something he would consider of equal worth.

As you begin to redress in now damp but slightly cleaner clothing, a wad of scrap cloth between your legs, you find yourself feeling safer than you have all day. Maybe, just maybe, the ghoul is not as bad as he wants you to believe.

Something shifts in the atmosphere between you in the first mile away from the macabre scene you leave behind. Nothing drastic. Perhaps newfound mutual respect, or at least understanding. Not as concrete as trust, but a level of relaxation in the air, loosening muscles that were once coiled and ready to strike. You would never acknowledge this change out loud, almost sure that it would set you back. The ghoul would certainly not. But it is there all the same.

Though given his name, in a strange act of deference, you never utter it, choosing to keep it sealed behind your teeth no matter how much the urge burns whenever his ruined face glances your way. It feels dangerous, something not quite allowed. Feeling like the kind of thing reserved for behind closed doors. 

Silence is still common, but in a day’s worth of travel you find conversation to be less of a rare commodity. It feels...comfortable. Far too late you realize that you might want this to last longer, for your time with Cooper to last longer. But a dark mass on the horizon stands out against the smear of violent pinks and oranges of the sky, taking shape the closer you get. A town.

Relief and dread mix in your gut, making it flip and churn with unpleasant sensation. Reaching town will provide food, water, maybe even a roof over your head for the night. But it also means the end of the road.

The final approach to the settlement is still a few hours walk through the broken wreckage across flatlands. Cresting a low ridge, you spy the town perimeter. A haphazard fence of welded metal and stacks of scrap cars, watch towers standing at each corner and the main gate.

If the ghoul notices how your pace slows in the final stretch, he makes no mention of it, only gives a quick side glance. 

“You made good time,” the ghoul eventually gives, scanning the horizon as if searching for something else to say. “Didn’t think you’d last the trip.”

There should be a sting from his words, but there is none. You take them as intended. Off handed praise.

“Thanks,” you allow yourself a small smile, meeting his eyes. After a few seconds he looks away, as if the sun was in his eyes.

Together, you close the distance to town, feeling the tension gathering, the world closing and ready to crumble down on your small circle of peace. A pair of guards stand at the gate, surly but professional, waving you through with only a second glance. Once you have cleared the gates and are off the main path, the ghoul stops walking.

“Looks like this is where you pay up and we part ways,” his tone is easy, but the words still feel like a punch to the gut. 

Not trusting yourself to speak, you give a small nod, digging through pockets and producing four yellow vials. Cradled in your palm, you hold them up in offering. “As promised,” you find your voice, but it is soft enough to be barely above a whisper. “Thank you for getting me this far.”

Moving gently, he handles the vials with such care you half expect them to shatter anyway, long fingers sliding them off your palm with surprising delicacy. A thumb brushes the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, a gesture so careful it seems accidental. You almost expect him to say something soft, almost. Instead the ghoul grunts, tucking the vials inside his coat and turns away muttering, “Don’t get yourself killed.”

You want to say something, anything that would make him stay, but there is nothing else that you can offer. Coat tails catch dust as the ghoul walks away, slipping through the crowd and disappearing with such ease it is hard to believe he was ever there in the first place. For longer than you would like to admit, you stand at the gates, ignoring the stares of locals. Eventually, you push yourself to move, because it is all you can do.

Finding the general store is easy enough. Pushing open the heavy door greets you with the clatter of a bell, the smell of musty fabric and gun oil hitting you with full strength. Inside the walls are lined with dented shelves, but blessedly stocked with enough clean water and packaged food to supply a small army. Behind the counter sits a man, peering down at a battered ledger with one good eye, his only eye. 

“Can I help ya?” He smiles at you, and although it is more hole than teeth, it feels warm and welcoming.

“Just looking for food, water, maybe some medical supplies,” you say, already moving towards a shelf stacked top to bottom with boxes of pre-war food. The shop owner grunts, gesturing with his hand at the shelves.

After a few minutes, you return to the counter, setting down enough supplies to last you two weeks at least, a month maybe if you ration. It forms a moderate pile. You watch with vague interest as the man begins to add up your total, but something resting within a case behind him catches your eye.

Fading light flickers off glass, casting speckles of yellow across the ceiling and walls. “How much for those?” You point toward the three vials, the shop owner turning to follow your line of sight.

The man smiles, waddling with a bum leg to the case to retrieve the vials and sets them amongst your stack of supplies. “Tell ya what,” he watches your face for a moment before nodding, as if contemplating something and coming to his own decision within a fraction of a second. “For the whole lot, call it three hundred even.”

You have seen the same amount of vials alone sell for triple the price. Either this man is a fool, or is incredibly kind. Seeing the prices marked on some of the other items behind the counter, you have a feeling it is the latter.

“Deal.” Counting out the caps, you slide them across the counter, and pack away your purchases into your bag. The vials you keep tucked in the pocket of your coat.

By the time you finish and step back out onto the street, the sun is already sliding down behind the hills, orange having faded into a deep purple. For a few minutes you wander town, absentmindedly wondering where the ghoul had gone off to before you can catch yourself. Best not to dwell and let the feelings grow. At the far end of town is a motel, neon signs flashing in waves of red and blue.

The main lobby is empty besides a frail woman, looking thin enough a strong breeze could blow her over. But the shotgun resting on the countertop near her hand likely keeps trouble away well enough.

“I need a room,” you muster up a smile, resting your hands on the counter.

“Sorry, kid,” she begins, sighing and looking past you as if you were the least interesting thing in the world. “Just had a ghoul come through, booked the last one.”

Air leaves your nose in a hot rush, heaving your own sigh as you push off the counter and storm back out the way you came. Outside, the temperature has already begun to drop, a chill running down your spine underneath the dying light. For a moment you consider finding a place undercover to curl up for the night, but you lack the willpower to move. So you stand there, watching the faint fog of your breath.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” a familiar voice calls from your right, pulling your attention. The ghoul leans against the wall, one boot propped up behind him, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk gracing his face. Hazel eyes catch in the neon light as they sweep over your dejected posture. “Let me guess, no vacancy? Seems I must’ve got the last room.”

“It would appear so,” taking three steps toward him, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, you struggle to meet his gaze. When you finally look up, your fingers twitch and twist at your waist. “Was thinking...maybe we could work out another deal.” 

Skin pulls tight over Cooper’s cheek bones, the corner of his mouth quirks upward and brow ridge lifting in clear question. Pulse quickening, a flush crawls up your neck that has nothing to do with the night air.

“Just picked these up from the general store,” you reach into your coat pocket, producing three vials, palm tilting to let them catch in the neon light. The yellow liquid glows bright against surrounding darkness. “Share your room and they are all yours.”

Lips curl at the corners, grin slowly spreading across his face as teeth begin to dully gleam in the darkness. Narrowing eyes flick from the vials in your palm to your face, and back again. Pushing off the wall, boards creaking beneath his weight, he closes the distance between you in two strides. A palm turns upward between you.

One of your hands slips beneath his, steadying it while you place the vials gently into his awaiting palm. Fingertips brush as you curl his fingers closed around the glass. Even through the leather of his gloves, you feel his warmth despite the night chill. Your thumb moves up, brushing a sliver of exposed skin at his wrist. His eyes find yours, pupils wide.

Abruptly, you release him and look away, appreciating the red glow of the motel signs hiding the color of your cheeks.

“Well, come on then,” he mutters, already turning toward the motel entrance, pausing at the doorway until he hears your hurried footsteps as you follow.

The door swings open to reveal a room with peeling wallpaper and a single bed, so worn down that a few springs poke out one side through the threadbare sheets. A couch sits against one wall, sagging in the middle in a human shaped depression, and held together by mismatched patches of fabric covering decades worth of tears. Behind the closed door on one wall, you assume you will find a bathroom. Your eyes focus on the mattress, small, but wide enough for two.

Tossing the room key onto the nightstand, Cooper begins to shrug off his bandolier and holsters, coat following suit. They hit the floor with a soft thud. “Couch is yours.”

Your shoulders drop an inch, swallowing hard, fingers tightening around the strap of your pack before setting it down beside the couch with deliberate care. Something in your chest aches as you watch him claim the bed with casual indifference, one hand pressing into the mattress to test its give.

Ducking into the bathroom, you mutter something about taking a shower, but Cooper is already halfway horizontal, boots thudding one after the other against the floor as you close the door. Pipes groan and spit a thick rust colored substance before water finally cascades down. Twisting beneath the spray, you let the water work the knot between your shoulders. Fingers press into your lower abdomen, massaging slow circles as another cramp ripples through you. When the tightness loosens, you reluctantly turn the squeaky knob, the pipes groaning protest.

Wrapping a fraying towel around yourself, you crack open the bathroom door, stepping out when all you hear is the slow rhythm of the ghoul’s breathing. Lying near diagonal across the bed, Cooper rests with one arm flung wide, the other curled against his chest. On the nightstand rests his revolver, safely within reach, and moonlight catches a sharp metallic edge peeking from beneath his pillow.

Pulling clothes on over damp skin, fresh cloth between your thighs, you ease onto the couch. A spring digs unpleasantly into your thigh. You shift positions three times before finding one that isn't entirely uncomfortable. Outside, boots scrape against gravel, a bottle shatters, someone laughs. More distant, a pack of dogs howl. Eyes drift, tracing over Cooper’s shadow on the bed, over the curve of his shoulders and hollow of his throat. Limbs grow heavy, darkness slowly swallowing you whole, dragging you into a sleep sweeter than you have known in months.

Heat greets you in sleep, dreams finding you back in the wasteland, only this time the sky is crimson and the ground sizzles with every step. The ghoul, Cooper, is with you, gripping your hand tight. You tell him to let go, but he only pulls, dragging you closer until heavy breath wafts over your neck. Kisses sear down your throat, burning all the way down your spine and leaving the prickling sting of need.

A hand spreads across your sternum, the weight gentle at first, but growing, pressing until you both lower to the ground. It isn’t enough pressure to hurt, but you can’t move, not even to touch him in return. Mouth moving lower, Cooper does more than kiss, something that burns with fiery intent. Nuzzling your throat first, he then bites your neck. Not enough to break skin, just enough to hurt, echoing the shadow of a threat that lets heat bloom under your skin.

The ghoul laughs when you gasp, the sound breathy and bordering a moan. “What’s the matter? Scared?” Ending in a growl, he runs a palm down your belly. “Or is it somethin’ else?” Words wouldn’t leave your lips even if you could find them. 

Dipping lower, a thumb hooks into your waistband, dragging it down, leaving you feeling exposed yet helpless to stop it. Not that you want it to stop. You want it, even as you burn with the knowledge that blood awaits below. Cooper finds it, of course, wants it even. Making a show by dragging a thumb through your folds, bringing the wetness to his lips to lick clean with a flourish, eyes never straying from your face.

With a gasp, you wake, heart pounding, chest tight, and wetness between your clenched thighs that has nothing to do with menstrual blood. Already your hand is trapped between your legs, pressed over your clit. You must have been grinding against your palm in your sleep, friction already feeling all too much while not enough as you try to shift. Need throbs along with the beat of your heart.

Unable to shake the dream from your mind, you resume palming yourself, chasing your pleasure in desperation. Tension is there, ready to draw tight and snap at any moment. It is almost embarrassing how badly you want to cum. Ashamed by the reality of being so close to the edge from just a dream. 

Springs creak, a soft whisper of sound coming from the bed, but you ignore it. Until a voice soon follows. “You gonna keep that up all night, or you gonna finish and let a guy sleep?”

Hand half buried between your thighs, you freeze, caught between humiliation and pure need, wishing the floor could just open up and swallow you. Breath trapped in your throat, your eyes flick to the side, just making out the shape of him through the dark.

“Don’t stop on my account,” there is the soft rustling of sheets as Cooper shifts, turning to watch you, head propped on his hand. “If you’re going to make that much noise, might as well finish. Some people are tryin’ to sleep.”

“Sorry...” When you find your voice, it is little more than a wheeze. 

A beat of silence. Cooper sits up on the bed, elbows resting on his knees as he leans even further towards you, face hidden in shadow. But you see the flash of teeth as he grins.

“Need some help with that, darlin’?” Though the tease is clear in his tone, Cooper almost sounds out of breath.

Swallowing hard, you glance back up at the ceiling, mind racing with so many thoughts, so many questions. Was this still part of your dream? But your mouth works faster, the only sound coming out is a soft, “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You don’t remember standing. Shivering from the cold, nerves and adrenaline combined, your legs feel like jelly, wobbling unsteadily on your feet. You feel as graceless as a child. But you reach the bed, standing at the edge of the mattress between Cooper’s spread legs, unsure if you should lie down, sit, or run away.

Something in your eyes must betray your nerves, a clear outcry for guidance, for in a surprisingly tender moment, the ghoul reaches out to grab your hands, thumb stroking your knuckles. A gentle tug has you moving forward, knees hitting the mattress. It is enough to spur you back into motion. On hands and knees, you crawl the rest of the way up the bed, rough sheets rasping at your shins.

Cooper scoots closer, swinging his legs up to kneel at the foot of the bed. Resting on your back, knees pulled halfway to your chest, you watch as he pulls off his leather gloves with his teeth, tossing them without care to the side. Rough, warm palms wrap around your ankles, sliding up the length of your calves, up your thighs, before hooking into the band of your underwear. 

“Wait,” shame has you reaching out, closing around both his wrists to keep him still when you feel the slightest tug at the fabric. Maybe in your dreams he was all too eager to find the mess that awaits him. But reality? Not so likely. “I’m still bleed-”

“Shut up,” the tone of his voice lacks heat, simply unbothered, undramatic, as if telling the dark to stay dark.

Putting you enough at ease to release your hold, letting out the breath you hadn't known you were holding as Cooper gives your hips a firm yet gentle squeeze. Steady hands drag your waistband down, exposing you to his eyes inch by inch. When free of  your ankles, he drops the garment over the side of the bed.

Hands are once more upon your burning flesh, teasing up your calves before hooking under the crook of your knees. Spreading your legs wide, the ghoul grins, staring at his newly revealed treasure until you feel the itch to squirm under the weight of his gaze. You want to, but those hands finally move to secure your hips, anchoring them in place. Fingers dig into soft flesh, holding you open as if he owns you.

Warm breath fans across your folds, sending a jolt up your spine that has you bucking against hands keeping you down. A sudden irrational fear flickers through your mind that he is going to eat you alive, but you are too far gone with need to not risk it. Tensing, you expect him to be rough, hot and heavy from the start, but Cooper surprises you. Gently, the tip of his tongue traces up and down the outline of your labia, ending with a long upstroke that ends with a teasing pass at your clit. 

Gasping as his tongue flattens, wide and steady pressure working you from bottom to top, you clutch at the sheets. Humming against you, the ghoul circles your clit before enveloping it in his mouth for a brief, teasing suck. If he was not already holding you down, he would be now, hips fighting to arch and buck against the heat of his mouth.

Shame hasn’t fully left, and you think to ask reassurance that he really does not mind the strong scent of iron, the heavy taste of copper on his tongue. Every time your mouth opens to ask, he tongues you harder, delving into your depths or paying extra attention to your clit, as if he could taste your words before they can escape your lips and chooses to replace them with other, sweeter sounds.

Beneath you, the mattress shakes. Trailing your eyes down, you watch as Cooper grinds his hips against the bed, desperate for friction, getting off at the taste of you on his tongue. That knowledge pushes you even closer to the edge.

Something in you feels brave, willing to take a chance, test a theory. “Cooper,” voice little more than a breathy moan, you test his name on your tongue. 

Whatever you are expecting, it is not the way he grins against your heat. Eyes snap to yours, maintaining eye contact as he curls his tongue in a way that has your toes curling. It is all too sweet, stars painting your vision.

The cry that leaves your lips as Cooper pulls away should feel humiliating, sounding so pathetic and desperate for him to come back. Unintelligible pleas and whimpers leave you, hands reaching for the ghoul’s, but instead closing around empty air. 

“Greedy one ain’t you?” Streaks of red paint Cooper’s lips as he leans back, hands working his belt and pants open to free himself. “Shouldn’t be havin’ all the fun just by yourself.”

Another moan escapes past your lip at the sight of Cooper’s hard, heavy length the moment he is free from the tight constraint of his pants. The tip is flushed a deep pink, already leaking in a steady stream. Wrapping one hand around himself, the ghoul gives himself a few slow pumps, the other hand sliding up your inner thigh to caress where hip and leg meet. 

No other warning is given before two fingers slide knuckle deep into your already dripping entrance. You groan at the sudden stretch, the fullness. Working you open, Cooper crooks his fingers just right to make your vision blur, knees quake. 

Pleasure burns through you like a roaring fire, bringing you to the ridge of ecstasy, feet digging at the mattress for purchase, to brace yourself for the fall. Those fingers know how to play you right, as if strumming beautiful music on a guitar. When you feel a third finger slide in, you scream, raw and ravaged. 

As sudden and helpless as being shoved off a cliff, your orgasm hits like a tidal wave that drowns away everything but the feeling of your walls clamping around the ghoul’s fingers. You convulse, back arching and hips bucking wild to drive those fingers just a little deeper. Cooper works you through the peak, thumb adding pressure to your clit that has you sobbing. Even as you come down, not stopping until you are squirming away from the overstimulation.

“Let me,” you are barely able to work words past your lips, throat raw and hoarse from the steady stream of moans and  final climactic scream. Hoping the message is clear enough through action alone, you reach for the hand stroking himself now in a faster rhythm, seeking to find his own end.

If you were not so keenly aware of everything that is Cooper, you would miss the way he briefly falters, caught off guard by the brush of your fingertips on his shaft. But he recovers quickly, grinning wide as he pulls his hand away. 

“By all means,” you think he has more to say, but whatever it is gets lost when you close a fist around him. All that comes is a hiss through clenched teeth.

Bracing against the mattress, the ghoul snaps his hips up to meet your fist in sharp thrusts, your timing right to meet him at the base every stroke. It doesn’t take long for his rhythm to fumble. When your fingers tighten their hold it drags a groan from him, the extra friction driving him wild.

Then you are watching as Cooper raises one hand, gazing at the three blood stained fingers with a look lost somewhere between hunger and lust. When his tongue peeks out to flick, just to get a taste, you stare with jaw slack, barely remembering to keep up the motion of your hand. Plunging all three into his mouth, the ghoul sucks your flavor off his fingers with a sinful moan. It seems to be the final thread that snaps, for not a second later you feel the first spurt as he paints your mound and belly. Marking you. 

You keep up the motion of your hand until you feel him begin to soften and pull away. While you sag boneless into the mattress, Cooper tucks himself away behind his zipper before collapsing beside you. Subtle heat ripples through you as his eyes examine his work, a finger dipping into a puddle just above your pubic bone. With the same finger, he runs one last teasing stroke up your length, circling your clit to reward himself a final shriek.

Both of you lie there for a moment, out of breath and quaking with the aftershocks because it is all you can do. It is almost tender. As your head lolls toward him, the ghoul hooks a finger under your chin to tilt it up, eyes only cast on your lips. When rough, warm lips press against yours it feels as if your heart skips a beat.

All too quick the moment is over. Just as you begin to kiss back, pressing a hand to his chest and running it up to his neck, Cooper leans away. Something churns behind those blown wide pupils, a conflict of emotion you can’t read. But then you feel a nudge, followed by another, and suddenly you are falling. Landing on the floor with a soft thud, you blink, mind taking too long to make sense of things, turning back to the ghoul with wide, questioning eyes.

“Back to the couch.”

“But..” You want to argue, to question, but Cooper is already turning away, rolling to lie on his back in the center of the bed. Leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions that you try to piece together. Shame? Used? Rejected? None of them really seem to align with your feelings, as though connection was made before stalling at the next hurdle.

It’s lazy to blame you, though. The fault is his. Without preamble or flourish he draws his revolver and starts emptying shots into the spill of sorry sons of bitches that decided they would ruin his evening.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you move forward, weapon drawn. His lip twitches. Your grip is good, but your stance is horse-shit. If this is going to become a thing–you taggin’ along like this–he’ll have to show you how to properly fire a gun.

He refocuses quickly, stepping forward to keep himself angled between them and you. The ambush isn’t anything special: just a bunch of jumpy junkies with twitchy trigger fingers looking for their next score. He takes a shot to the shoulder, another to the sternum. He doesn’t feel anything but the impact and pressure of irradiated flesh being forced apart around the bullets. There’s no pain, not so long his system is flooded with chemicals.

It’s your cry of pain that sets his nerves ablaze. He fires two more shots–dropping the men who hit him–before he whirls around, a hot rush of fire rolling through him at the sight of you with a man pressed up against your back, one arm fitted around your throat while he crushes your wrist in his other hand, squeezing hard, keeping your gun pointed at the ground as he chokes you out.

That’s when he sees the knife sunk into your thigh, blood soaking a wide crimson circle into your clothing around the knife’s hilt. In this infinitely long and horrible instant that your gaze meets his. The pain and fear in your eyes trigger something in him, and the whole world becomes both brighter and slower all at once.

Cooper aims, fires, but his revolver clicks emptily. He doesn’t reach to reload. Instead, he moves on pure animal instinct, bearing his teeth and charging with a guttural snarl.

Adrenaline mixes with the chemical cocktail in his veins and he moves faster than the man reacts, ripping his hands from you and throwing your assailant to the ground with such incredible force it dazes the man, his eyes glazing over. He roars in the raider’s face, spittle and yellow flecks coating his dirty skin, before he lunges, sinking his teeth into the pulsing jugular below.

He lends no thought to how natural it feels to bite into warm, living flesh.

Rearing up, mouth bloodied and full of viscera, Cooper winds his fist back and strikes the man in the face. His first blow hits his jaw. The next strikes his temple.

Straddling him, he doesn’t stop hitting. One fist after the other. He aims for the jaw, the temple, the high of his cheek. He misses and shatters his nose with a satisfying crunch, blood spewing from his nostrils to coat his knuckles. His jaw breaks with a pop. Broken teeth and bone slice flesh, mixing with gore and falling to the dirt in wet chunks.

The violence feels raw and good, like the first deep inhale of a vial or a hot wet fuck. He swallows the blood and meat lingering in his mouth and lets out a rough breath. Gritting his teeth he hits harder, driven on by the scent of blood and dirt. The gurgle of choked breaths. The slip of split flesh against his fists. It's all gasoline on the flames your peril sparked.

Cooper thinks of him stabbing you. Choking you. He thinks of your watery eyes, bright and terrified. He thinks of everyone he’s ever let down, ever failed to save, and he keeps hitting. Even when the man beneath him seizes. Even when he drowns in his blood.

Even when he dies.

Cooper is beating on a hunk of ruined flesh when he finally stops, drenched in the blowback of it.

Wheezing breaths saw from his lungs as he places one hand on the dirt road, lifting himself off of the mess of battered meat. He stares down at his knuckles where pain throbs with every heartbeat. It's a welcome sensation. Not because he deserves it, but because the raider did, and because he delivered. Destruction with his bare hands. Suffering where it’s meant to be found. He drags his tongue along the soaked leather of his glove and greedily swallows what collects on his tongue.

Heart thundering in his ears, Cooper stands, dipping briefly to pick up his gun. The grip slides around in his bloodied hand before he holsters it, cloudy eyes scanning for movement until his gaze lands on you. Down on the ground, clutching your wound, you look like a doe with a bum leg, your eyes blown wide and afraid. You look… irresistible. Not just as a woman, not just as his woman, but as an easy meal.

He takes a step forward, lips parted. The edges of you are blurry to his addled mind. The only part of you that’s in focus is the bright red of your wound seeping into your clothes. His memories of lapping the salt from your skin cross wires in his brain and all he can imagine is holding you safe and sound as he devours you.

“Cooper?”

The sound of your voice acts like a shock to his system that drags him back from the sweet coppery tang of warm, fresh blood in his mouth. He’s standing above you, closer than he realized he got. The sweetness in his mouth sours into putrid rot and he takes a step backwards, rasping out a cuss under his breath. He turns his head and spits, aggressively wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away blood and little chunks of flesh, abruptly and horribly aware of himself.

Shame blooms in his gut, unfurling all the way up to a tightness in his chest. He looks down at the mutilated body on the ground. There’s no head left, just wet gore soaking into the hungry dry earth below.

He completely lost control of himself. He spits, wipes, spits, wipes, rubs his mouth raw against his sleeve in an attempt to scrub away the taste and feel of it before he dares look at you again. He contemplates shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth just to chase away the lingering tang. He never wants to see you–to think of you–like that again. Like you’re just another hunk of meat.

Your touch makes him jerk away. He looks at you sharply, furious that you would come so close after what he’s done. What he could have done to you.

“Cooper–”

“M’not right,” he says roughly, taking hold of your wrist. You flinch and he realizes that he’s snatched the same wrist the motherfucker he beat into a paste had been crushing. He softens his grip, throat tight like there’s a hand squeezing it. “Fuck, would y’just–m’not right,” he says again, an edge of desperation in his emphasis.

“I know,” you say, voice tender, as if somehow he’s the one in need of gentleness. “I know. So come back. Don’t shut me out.” There’s more authority in your voice than you have any right to have in your position, shaking like a leaf while you touch his face, hushing him with such tenderness it fractures something in him that he thought long dead and buried under the weight of the last two hundred years.

Wish I could, he thinks, wiping his hand on his thigh. That you would look at him like that even now, as if he’s somehow still a man, eats at the very core of him. Makes him want to shy away, prove you wrong, and disappear into you all at once. He takes in a steadying breath before he clutches both of your arms, moving you to the ground. 

“Easy,” he says, voice barely above a rasp. “Y’bleedin’.”

You’re holding onto his elbows as he lowers you, gritting your teeth against the pain. He focuses on your discomfort, on the risk you face, fragile thing that you are, to keep his mind far away from the abyss he walked the edge of while maiming the body behind him.

His first priority is to stanch the bleeding. His movements become practiced, hands that of a soldier. He uses a strap from his pack to create a makeshift tourniquet, twisting it around a scrap rod. All the while he’s hyper aware of your gaze on him and the shallow huffs of your breath, the way it catches when he pulls the binding tight.

“Hurts,” you say tightly.

“I know,” he says, drawing his knife. He lifts your blood soaked pant leg–don’t pause, don’t think, don’t breathe it in–and slices open the fabric. “S’about t’hurt a whole lot more. Gimme a count, I’ll pull it on three,” he tells you, bracing one hand on your thigh, the other gripping the hilt of the knife.

“Okay, okay,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “One–”

Cooper yanks the blade free, startling a yelp out of you that carries into a pained groan.

“What happened to three?!” You ask sharply, fingers digging into the dirt.

He hurriedly smothers the wound with the cleanest cloth he has before he works on tightly wrapping the wound. “S’better when y’don’t know it’s comin’.”

“Asshole,” you breathe.

The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth is reluctant, as if there’s an invisible string tugging at it against his will. “Can’t be that bad if y’still mouthin’ off.”

“It’ll take more than a measly stab wound to keep my mouth shut,” you say, familiar playfulness slipping in alongside the strain in your voice.

“Don’t I know it,” he grouses, glancing up at you. There’s nothing reluctant about your smile. It’s the opposite of his, earnest in a way he’s long forgotten how to be. You’re making an attempt at comforting him, he realizes, looking back down to finish his work, removing the tourniquet once he’s satisfied with the dressing.  “It’ll do for now. Y’need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively, shifting onto your knees.

He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, sheathing his knife. “Would it kill y’not to be so damn contrary?”

“It might,” you say, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling at him, bringing his attention back to you. He looks down at your hand, stained now with the crimson wetness spattered all over his coat. His clothes are soaked heavy with misery and blood, but it doesn’t dissuade you any. You touch his jaw with your other hand and lift his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re close enough that he should feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, but he can’t. Most of the subtleties of life are lost on a man so close to death. The only ghosts he knows now are those of his past. “You okay?”

Holding your gaze, he doesn’t answer you. Sometimes you feel like one of them, like another specter haunting him. The only difference is that you haven’t died yet.

Yet.

“Come back to me,” you murmur. His vision refocuses, finding you closer than you had been a second ago. The warm pressure of your lips grazing his cheek makes him falter, wanting the tenderness of your touch so viscerally it feels dangerous to admit even to himself. “Stay with me.”

Your hand lightly cups the back of his neck, holding him without caging him. You move closer, settling in his lap, grounding him with the weight of your body against his. He moves at that, grasping your hips and squeezing.

“Stay with me,” you say again, the words as fervent as prayer. His own lips parted, he can taste the breath of each word, sweet and warm, the way a distant part of him remembers things like love could be.

Why? He nearly asks. You won’t.

He had thought himself immune to this sickly feeling. This sense of grief for someone who isn’t yet gone, but you rip it out of him. The truth of the matter is that the Ghoul should never have entertained your company. He should have left you where he found you and been on his way without ever casting a backwards glance. The Ghoul would have.

It’s Cooper who didn’t. It’s Cooper’s hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your ribs and pulling you closer, deeper. He kisses you hungrily, craving you the way the Ghoul can’t. The way a man craves.

I ain’t dead yet.

And neither are you.

Two hundred years of surviving for tomorrow has eroded his ability to exist in the here and now, but your touches demand it of him. Your lips against his bring him into the moment as he lives it. As you live it with him.

“I ever look at you like that again,” he says gruffly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, catching yours in the process. He moves you back enough to lock eyes with you. “You put a bullet between my eyes.”

Your lips curve in a bittersweet kind of anguish. “Like you’re gonna eat me? Because right now–”

He gives you a sharp little shake. “Y’know what I mean,” he says, startling the smile off your face. From day one he’s liked your wit, the cavalier way you face life, but on this matter he needs you to hear him. “You ever look at me, and I’m not there, you promise you’ll put me down.”

The set of your mouth turns to a flat line, your gaze somber, and you nod. “I promise.”

Some of the tension in his haggard lungs eases and he kisses you again, need shooting up his spine like a hot geyser. “That’s my girl,” he breathes, leaning back and bringing you with him, saddling you properly astride his lap, his long legs stretched out behind you.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, heedless of the blood and gristle between your melding bodies, and he’s forced to remind himself that this is the only world you’ve ever known. There’s no time before this, not for you. Your life has always been full of horrors, and for reasons he’ll never fully comprehend, you’ve decided he’s one that you want close.

He slips his hands under your thighs and squeezes, hiking your legs around his waist until you’re seated closely enough to feel the growing ache between his legs. You don’t miss a beat, grinding down against him so fervently his breath breaks into a low groan. Not even he can deny his humanity in this. You turn his blood hot and shock the deadened thump of his heart into thunder. You make him feel alive.

He’ll return the favor. He’ll turn his spit to wine on your tongue and make your whole body fucking sing.

Breaking from your lips, he uses his teeth to tug his glove free, letting it fall to the ground. His mouth feels sandpaper dry, but your lips are plenty wet. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles, parting your lips with the tips of his middle and index fingers. Your eager tongue slips molten wet between his fingers, your eyes hazy on his. He pumps his fingers slowly, cups the back of your head to keep you still while plunging all the way to his last knuckles before drawing them back. “That’s it… Get ‘em good and wet.”

It’s agonizing how easily you fall apart under his touch, and even more so how good you look doing it. Somewhat reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and with practiced ease maneuvers his hand down the front of your pants, curving his fingers to follow the contour of your pelvis until his fingertips slide through hot, wet arousal.

“Cooper,” you exhale, the pitch of your voice canary-sweet. If you have any care regarding the death that surrounds you or the blood between his body and yours, you don’t show it, nor pay it any heed. You’re focused entirely on him, lips parted on shallow breaths of pleasure. He strokes your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the rest of the world falling away the longer he watches your euphoria build.

Fuck, you’re goddamn beautiful. Why the hell you let a creature like him have you is beyond him, but he won’t let go. Not now. Not so long as you still look at him like this.

He swallows dryly, finally slipping his fingers into the welcoming heat of your pretty cunt. You’re soaked, his own personal oasis in the Wastes, velvet walls quivering around his toughened fingers. He angles the pad of his thumb against your clit and starts to finger fuck you in earnest, his cock throbbing beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you keen softly. Your hands braced on his shoulders, you meet every thrust of his hand, huffing divine little sounds while he fucks you with his fingers, crooking them until he feels you shudder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, enraptured. “That’s it. Got y’now, don’t I? Ah ah, don’t get shy on me,” he tsks when your eyes fall shut. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Eyes on me,” he says, voice frayed. You pry your eyes back open and hold his gaze, your own heavily lidded. “Good, s’good. Y’close now, ain’t’cha, sweetie?”

You nod fervently, moans bubbling up instead of words, your sweet features twisted in the exquisite agony that comes just before climax. You roll your palms against his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his coat. He wishes he could feel the bite of your nails on his bare skin, wishes it were his cock sinking into you, but all that wistfulness is erased the second you cry out, your back arching, your cunt squeezing his fingers as you’re pitched forward into the throes of release.

Cooper grits his teeth, baring them like an animal as he fucks you through the tremors, grabbing hold of your jaw to keep you from collapsing, to keep your eyes on him. You slide your hands up and cup either side of his face, yanking him into a messy kiss. He falls into it easily, slowing the thrust of his fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm settle until his hand is still against you, fingers pressed in deep, savoring the feel of you.

You kiss him leisurely with tongue, teeth and barely sated hunger. Your bliss slows you, and Cooper is content to simply feel. Even the lingering ache of his own need is a welcome sensation in a world he so often walks through feeling numb.

After a time, he slides his fingers from your pants, wiping them absently on his own before wrapping his arms around you. You sink into him in turn, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The sun has almost disappeared completely, and the chill of night is beginning to nip the air. All of this carnage will attract predators soon, but he finds himself unable to rush the matter. His embrace tightens.

“I love you,” you murmur.

There was a time long before his heart became an open grave that he would have been eager to return the sentiment, but hearing those three little words turns his tongue to lead. They flood him with memories of an era where love came naturally–the way only violence does now–and shooting a man in the head was the most abhorrent act he could fathom for himself.

These days, a headshot is a kindness.

His stomach is tight, a bile-like burn creeping up his throat. He screws his eyes shut, swallowing it back. To his relief, you aren’t tense with anticipation. Instead, you pepper butterfly light kisses along the scarred column of his throat, paying special attention to the nicks and scars along the way to his jaw.

You kiss him. He takes your face in his hands and deepens it, pushing into you until your back arches. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers against your lips, the words both a promise and a prayer. Not to God–He gave up on God a long time ago–this prayer is for you. It’s what he knows. It’s what he is. No matter the monster that threatens you, you’ll always have one of your own to bite back. You’ll always have him.

Strained, quieter yet, he says, “I swear.”

Or so help me, I’ll swallow the bullet myself.

“I know,” you say, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. There’s a blissful kind of sorrow in your expression, but so too is there understanding. He kisses you, closing his eyes against the dry burn of them. He’s not sure he’s even capable of tears anymore. He’s been worn down to the bone by sandstorms and bloodshed. Nothing goes untouched by the misery of the Wastes. No one goes through it unscathed.

No. Not again. Not you. @the-faceless-bride Summary: The Ghoul of the wasteland had accepted the man he once was is dead. He isn't caring. Isn't loving. Isn't feeling. Friendship, companionship, partnership... love? Wasn't for him. Not anymore. But all that comes crashing down when he meets you... you brought something back from the dead.. though it isn't as 'good' as it used to be... Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Animal Instinct @ghoulbrain Summary: When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Jealousy @bountydroid Summary: The sweet reader is always doing unnecessary favors for him, like secretly giving him discounts on rad away and supplies, taking care of dog meat, and getting him information on bounties. Until he brings along Lucy, misunderstanding the whole situation, the reader’s heart breaks thinking the worst and slowly stops trying and acting cold and distant, making Cooper notice that the only tolerable person he has ever known in this god forsaken world is ignoring him. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

On the Surface @moonlitdesertdreams Summary: Lucy knew traveling with the Ghoul would be tough, but no one told her it would be so... weird. Especially when he stops to pick up another companion along the way. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

stormy weather. @villainsoftheweek Summary: you and the Ghoul have tried to kill each other, forget each other, outrun each other — and failed every time. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

lacy, oh lacy… @sexy-monster-fucker (X) Summary: Lucy has just joined the group and the Reader is growing jealous of how Cooper acts around her.. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Mine @midryss (X) Summary: Immortal and disfigured as a result of surviving a vault, you become the monster society expects you to be. But in a constant battle to survive the wasteland, you form a strange relationship with the fierce cowboy Ghoul along the way. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

songbird @buryustogether Summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him? Warnings: None Special Tag: None

As A Dog @ghoulfuckersincorporated Summary: The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog Warnings: intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication Special Tag: None

Unnamed @forever-rogue Summary: None Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Hand That Feeds @plutoswritingplanet Summary:The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Only for you, darlin @your-averagewriter Summary: Cooper heads into town in search for some RadAway for you when he stumbles upon a cute gift Warnings: None Special Tag: None

bewildered @htchnr Summary: Reader asks to borrow his hat to keep the sun out of her eyes and maybe Lucy is there just watching in disbelief as he actually loans reader it for a while Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Take the damn shot @moonlitdesertdreams Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

no use cryin' over spilled milk @ghoulphile (X) Summary: being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.