#chxfoc

They were waiting in an old office for Elder Lyons to come speak with them. Well, technically, he was coming to speak with Summer, nor Charon. He wasn’t supposed to be in there. But she didn’t feel great leaving him alone somewhere and honestly, she wasn’t too keen on letting him away from her side in this snake’s nest. To make matters worse she’d been doused in mutant guts on the way in and had been forced to change into the only spare clothes she had on her, some sparkly blue knee-length dress that she’d picked up for God knows what reason. Sure, the Brotherhood had offered her some of their uniforms, but she refused since they’d refused all help up to this point, why should she act like they were friends now.

So, that’s how Summer had ended up wearing a blue dress meant for singing on a stage, leaning against one of those old wooden desks that were only accessible from one side, trying to figure out where to hide her almost seven-foot-tall companion and explain to him why he had to hide. And she wasn’t looking forward to it. He was already radiating violence from the fight just to get here and the less than warm welcome they’d received upon bringing a behemoth to the Brotherhood’s doorstep. She chewed at a hangnail that had been bugging her for a while now, trying to figure out how to best broach the subject while looking around the room for places to hide him. There were some lockers to the side of the room, but he was almost definitely too big. There was also a closet at the back of the room, which would be perfect if she wasn’t out of bobby pins to pick the lock.

“So, Charon, you know how we’re waiting for the Elder to arrive?” she asked. He was leaned against the desk, shotgun laying across his lap, one finger resting on the trigger guard. He nodded, his face like a mask. They hadn’t been traveling together for long and their working relationship had its good days and its bad days. Seemed like today was bound to be a bad day. She could only imagine how big of an idiot she looked to him while wearing this dress, waiting on a meeting that could decide the fate of the wasteland. “Well on the way in the Paladin who sent us to this room to wait and set up the meeting with the Elder mentioned how he wouldn’t take too kindly to you, being here for it, and suggested you wait elsewhere.” She rushed the words out. His eyes narrowed at her and she could see him bristle at the insult.

“That is not a command.” He replied.

“I know, it’s just, do you think we could…” the sound of heavy power armor moving and knights saluting their Elder reached both their ears signaling the man’s approach.

“Hide!” she grabbed his arm and without thinking tugged him under the desk just as a knock sounded on the door. It was a command, so Charon was forced to squeeze himself into the too-small space, then to add insult to injury she sat down and scooted her chair in, poking him with her knees and resting her feet on his lap. The door swung open and in walked Elder Lyons. She mock stood, hoping Charon didn’t mind her putting her weight on his leg, and shook the Elder's hand before sitting back down and scooting in. The Elder chose to stand across from her, wreaking havoc on her nerves like a disapproving schoolteacher.

“It’s good to finally meet you, we’ve been hearing so much about your mission…” he began.

2

Charon was furious. That was an understatement. The Brotherhood pissed him off with their holier-than-thou attitude and disdain for anything that wasn’t purely human or anything that wasn’t purely Brotherhood. Which is why he was currently crammed under a desk, listening vaguely to the conversation happening above his head, all the while Summer kneaded her toes nervously in his lap. He’d let her know what he thought of this when she let him come up, but for now, all he had to focus on was her bare legs.

They were smooth, except for a scar she had circling one calf up towards her thigh. There was hair on them, which felt like a marvel to Charon given his lack of hair pretty much anywhere, but hers was so fine it was just barely there, and soft he found when he reached out to touch it. A conversation came back to him from a month or so ago when she discussed boundaries with him. He’d told her he wasn’t allowed to have boundaries as such, so far as the contract was concerned, she just couldn’t be violent against him. She said she’d match that, so they were at least equals there. He heard more talk from above, talk of the Purifier and the Enclave, but he barely paid them any mind. He was focused on the scar, his fingertips lightly tracing it up her thigh as it wrapped behind her knee and kept going. He lifted her dress just a little, leaning in, intending only to find out where it ended when her knees clamped together on his cheeks and held him in place. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

They were locked in place, foreign emotions tugging at Charon’s brain as he breathed in her earth scent. He hadn’t thought about sex in a long time. Hadn’t even really thought about his owner being a woman since he was a ghoul and in his mind, that would never happen. For a moment he was distracted, continuing to trace the scar until it disappeared over her hip, but then his eyes returned there. She was unshaven, just like the rest of her. The dark curls looked soft and inviting as he traced a hand up to touch them. She jerked, her voice faltering in their conversation but it had freed his head and for that he was glad.

A voice somewhere in the back of his mind told him to stop. Told him that this was his employer and this was inappropriate, but another more petty voice told him that she had directly stated that he could touch her anywhere, no boundaries. This probably wasn’t what she’d meant at the time, but he wanted some small revenge on the woman who’d bought his contract and shoved him under a desk, and although Charon was well versed in revenge, this type was brand new to him.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her knee, holding her firmly in place, and leaned his head forward a little further to rest his cheek against the inside of her thigh. He felt her breathing hitch, but the conversation continued. She was sitting right on the edge of her seat so when he pushed her other leg to the side, she was fully exposed to him. He blew lightly, watching the hairs shift under his breath and enjoying the goosebumps that peppered the insides of her thighs. She was damp, there was no other word for it in Charon’s vocabulary, a luxury of being fully human and the worse side of him wanted to be buried in it immediately. Still, Charon was nothing if not restrained, and he wanted to take his time here. He reached up with his free hand, carefully separating the folds, running the tip around each one of them and collecting as much of her wetness as he could. She flinched, her foot sliding off his thigh and scrambling for purchase again in his crotch. She probably didn’t even know it, but she pressed right onto his hard dick and it took everything he had not to groan. His teeth clamped down on the inside of her thigh, not enough to hurt, just enough to distract both of them. The conversation up top faltered and for a moment, Charon wondered what would happen if they got caught. The Brotherhood would probably kick them out or shoot them dead, maybe both, but somehow this made the situation all the more appealing to Charon.

His finger found that soft little bundle of nerves just above her slit and he massaged it, always careful not to press too hard. Still, her thighs clamped shut over his hand and he had to gently pry them back open. His mind was going fuzzy, everything being shaded with arousal. He let his hand wander, anywhere from cupping her round ass to messily spreading her juices around, he just went for it. Then when she seemed ready for it, he eased a finger in. He had large, calloused hands, not very good for small detail work, but for this they were good. He found himself leaning in, nuzzling his way up into her folds, careful that his breathing didn’t become too loud. He curled his finger into her heat once before slowly licking a stripe right up her center. Her hips gave a little wiggle, but otherwise, she stayed put for him. Hopefully, her face wasn’t getting too red from all this attention, but he found it hard to care.

He curled his finger again, rubbing against the front wall of her insides as his tongue tried to lap up every bit of moisture he could as though he were going to die of dehydration if he didn’t. She tasted heavenly and sweet, probably from all the mutfruit she ate, but he couldn’t complain. He didn’t like the fruits on their own, but on her they might’ve been his favorite flavor. His face was getting too warm and his brain was clouding over, all he could think about was pulling her down off that chair and sliding her beautiful cunt onto his dick, then fucking her under the desk. But he couldn’t, not yet at least. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this situation was getting out of control, but it was difficult for him to reign in the stray thoughts that floated through his hazy mind. So, instead, he kept making circles. Circles with his tongue, circles with his finger.

Summer stood abruptly, Charon’s finger and face dislodged as she leaned over the desk again to shake hands with the Elder. Her dress acted as a shield to them and she stayed in that half-standing half-leaning posture until the door to the room was closed and the Elder was gone. When she plopped back down on her chair she was further away, dark curls falling around her shoulders, pupils blown wide as she stared at him. She opened her mouth, looking like she was getting ready to scold him when he placed his finger in his mouth and sucked all of her off it. When his finger popped free, she’d closed her mouth.

“May I come out now, Mistress?” he asked, still bound by his contract to hide. He didn’t use the title of mistress often on Summer since she disliked it, but if there was ever an appropriate time, it was now. She nodded and Charon began unfolding himself from beneath the desk.

“I kinda thought you still hated me.” She said, her voice almost a whisper. He moved to his knees, placing both hands on her thighs and gliding them up, enjoying the rough catch of his broken skin on her perfect skin.

“I don’t do this for you.” He murmured, lifting the hem of her dress and draping it back out of the way. She watched him with those careful brown eyes of hers, caught somewhere between predator and prey. He prized her apart again, the remnants of before still glistening on her skin.

“Then why?” she asked, her hand cupping the side of his skull. It was more tender than he expected from her right now. He expected rage, or disappointment, some emotion that he understood.

“That is a good question.” His voice was low, mouth mere inches from her warmth. He couldn’t fathom it anymore either. This was no longer about being petty or getting revenge, it had morphed into something else. Some desire that he hadn’t experienced in a lifetime or more. It was almost ethereal, as though he were a servant, and she was his savior. Then again, he supposed that wasn’t too far off from the truth, and in a way that made sense to him.

He licked her again, moving his tongue less delicately now that he could make noise. Two fingers slid in with ease this time, working in and out of her smoothly. Both her hands came to rest on his head, not pushing or holding, simply grounding her to him. She twitched under his ministrations, gave him rewards of breathy little sighs and quiet exclamations. This was better to him than the loudness. He’d witnessed enough of his employers getting their rocks off to know how unattractive he found loud women. This was just enough though, enough to let him know he was affecting her, without drawing the attention of a raider band several miles away, or in their case the Brotherhood knights stationed outside their door.

“Charon.” She moaned his name, they made eye contact and he pushed in once more. He felt himself go, completely untouched, swayed just by the look in his eyes that said she wanted him. He grunted, giving one final nip to her clit as she squeezed his fingers and flooded them with moisture. He withdrew his face, panting, resting it against her thigh like the softest pillow he’d ever encountered. His name rang in his own ears, some sort of benediction that made his dick twitch.

“Charon.” She said again. He pulled his fingers out slowly, cleaning them off as he’d done before. His mind was settling, what he’d just done sinking in. He flung himself back onto his ass, out of reach of her, a cold fear running down his spine. Would she want to sell his contract now? How badly had he fucked this up? It was only now that he was realizing how good of an employer she was, not that she had much to live up to, but out here in the wastes, decent people were hard to come by, let alone good ones. He was panicking, his mind flying from one terrible scenario to the next.

“Charon.” He froze as he placed a hand around his wrist. It was light, barely any pressure applied and when he looked up her eyes were calm and soft. They soothed him.

“They’re giving us a room to stay in tonight, we should head there and get cleaned up.” She said, standing and pulling him up after. Despite her kind eyes, he wondered what would become of him now.

3

The walk to their room felt shameful, but neither could figure out how to get out indiscreetly, so they didn’t bother trying to hide it. She could tell that something was off with Charon the whole walk there. Unlike his usual, massive presence at her side, he felt shrunken and small, like a beaten animal. She didn’t like it, but to be fair, a lot had just happened, and she wasn’t absorbing it all that well either. Sure, she’d been attracted to Charon for a while now. What could she say, she liked watching him work. He moved smoothly, confidently, and what girl doesn’t like a big, strong guy protecting her? But she’d thought he hated her, disliked her at best, and now it felt like they were on uncertain ground. The knights that looked at them with judging eyes as they made their way to their room only made it worse.

Once they were inside Summer flopped onto the bed. Strangely, she still felt completely safe with Charon, despite the fact that Charon didn’t seem to feel safe with Charon. She felt the stress piling on and building in her temples as Charon stood next to the door. Where to start with him? He was still such a mystery to her, but she had to try to mend this. She patted the bed beside her and he made his way over, wary like a caged animal about to strike. He sat a respectful distance away and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“We’ve got to sort this out. What’s going on Charon? With us? With you?” she felt like she was rambling as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks reddened thinking about Charon’s head resting below the fabric.

“I do not know what came over me. I am sorry.” He said, his voice back to the monotone it always was. Her heart sunk a little at his confession.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind…” she bit her bottom lip, not sure whether to back down or just go for it. She picked the latter.

“I actually enjoyed it… a lot. It’s been a long time for me, and well… I never really enjoyed that side of things, but I might have to rethink that now. I just don’t want you beating yourself up over any of this…” she paused her ramblings, trying to wrangle in her thoughts.

“I do not know what overcame me, but it seems my feelings are… complicated.” He managed. She snorted and he finally turned to look at her.

“You say that as though it’s never happened before.” She says, a smile smudging across her cheeks.

“It has been many years.” He said, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. She reaches a hand out to rub comforting circles on his back.

“Well, on the bright side, you’ve got plenty of time to sort through them.” She said. There was a long pause in their conversation where she just rubbed his back and he thought, his brow heavy with concern.

“Do you wish to rid yourself of my contract?” he asked, his voice lower and more gruff than usual. Summer felt her eyes go wide and her hand stopped its slow pattern. She turned him toward her, meeting his eyes.

“No, not unless you don’t want me to hold it anymore.” She said, holding both of his hands in hers. He nodded, taking a deep breath. He turned more towards her, a grimace crossing his face, and looked down at his lap.

“Oh, we should probably get you cleaned up… I can help, if you want.” She said the last part carefully, catching Charon off guard. He held his breath, couldn’t say no, couldn’t say yes. She reached for the zip to his pants, making him stand so she could tug the dirtied garments off his hips. They pooled around his ankles, but she couldn’t focus on that when confronted with what was possibly the largest dick on the planet. He was hard again, painfully swollen and red with cum dripping off of every inch. She gulped, flush rising in her cheeks as she got to her knees and opened her mouth. He smelled strong, like flesh and rads, like the wind after a storm. Her mouth was almost on him when he stopped her. She looked up to find a new expression on Charon’s face. He looked tortured, not in a painful way though. Then, the next thing she knew he was pushing her over onto her back and lifting her dress up.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe as he lifted her legs and lined himself up at her entrance. His heat was apparent already, dripping onto her in a way that mesmerized. For a moment she visualized cleaning him off this way, with one good thrust into her, her hungry cunt would accept everything he had to offer including the cum that already coated his dick. She watched him slide home, surprised at the stretch. Her hands found purchase on his chest, clawing at his shirt until he was just inches from her and fully sheathed inside.

“Tell me that you won’t get rid of me.” He said, his voice cracking as he rested his head on the bed beside her. He didn’t move, just held her there around her knees, fully inside of her. A pang shot through her heart at his voice. He sounded confused and worried, overwhelmed with everything.

“Never, not unless you want me to.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his back. She placed a light kiss on his cheek and he pulled out almost all the way and slid back in releasing a sigh from her chest.

“Tell me you want me to stay.” He said, rolling his head to the side to look at her and thrusting again, agonizingly slowly. She felt too warm all over and jittery like she was already close to the edge.

“Please stay.” She begged. He thrust again and again, starting up a slow rhythm that felt deeply intimate as she could feel every inch of him, experience him in slow motion as he watched her react.

“Tell me…” he grunted, pulling her tighter to him. “Tell me you want me.” There was something begging in his eyes and it almost broke Summer’s heart. She placed her hands on either side of his face.

“I’ve wanted you for so long now.” She said, pulling his lips against hers in a slow first kiss. Her face tingled with the contact, all her nerves coming alive. It was like a dam broke in Charon and he began thrusting into her in earnest now, his hands roaming her body, searching, but she didn’t know for what. He planted himself deep inside her, his legs shaking between hers, muscles twitching as he emptied himself again. His hand found her clit, massaging until she let go too. She let her hands wander as well, following the patterns in his skin and the map of his muscles. Their breathing was heavy, but in sync, and when a knock sounded at the door, they both froze.

...But she likes to think about it as, 'learning something new about her companion.'

She's coming back from Gob's Saloon around midnight when it happens.

She'd told Charon she'd be gone a while; that she was planning on getting piss drunk and possibly passing out on the floor. She's done this enough times that Charon isn't worried about her safety in Megaton or her ability to get home. Usually, he comes with her, but tonight she could tell he wasn't up to it, so when he moved to follow her out the door she told him to stay home.

She knows he's probably still awake, cleaning his shotgun or repairing something, waiting for her to appear. He won't expect her this early; she'd lost her enthusiasm for drinking halfway into her first beer and headed back, but usually she's gone until 2 or 3 AM.

It has nothing to do with the asshole at the bar, slinging names at her for having a ghoul companion, but really it has everything to do with him. She hates the things they say about Charon, that they say about her for treating him like a human being. She's heard every insult under the sun about his rotten dick and what she must be hiding under her clothes to choose to be with a ghoul, and she's even more frustrated because none of it's true.

Charon saves her life on occasion, and watches her back, and gives her enough shit that she thinks they're more than just employer and bodyguard, but she knows better than to jump someone's bones when they're under contract to her, even if she's maybe sort of madly in love with him. She doesn't want to roll over afterwards and realize she's expected to pay up, or to find out that Charon's just following orders. And she's too chickenshit to sit down and have a woman-to-man talk with him. He's never so much as glanced at a woman admiringly, and she refuses to fall into the narcissistic trap that any Ghoul would want a human just because they have all their skin. She may have all her skin, but that doesn't do much for her knobby knees, her perpetual awful farmer's tan, or the freckles that cover her face like a blanket.

So maybe she punches the asshole in the face a few times from frustration. And then knees him in the groin. And then spits on him as he rolls around in pain. She hadn't hurt him that bad, though she'll probably have to apologize to Doc Church for the wake-up call she knows he got.

Anyway, the point is, she just isn't in the mood to drink anymore, so she's come home. And she doesn't really want to explain to Charon why she had a sudden change of heart.

So she shuts the door as quietly as possible and toes her boots off in the corner. Dogmeat is snoozing in the corner, too far gone to give her away. She smiles at the way his paws twitch from whatever dream he's having. She contemplates cleaning the dirty dishes in the sink, but decides that's too much work after her traumatic experience and leaves them where they are.

Charon's door is closed. She'd half-expected him to be in the living area somewhere, but it's not unusual for him to retreat to his own space when he's wanting some privacy. Quiet as a mouse, she empties her pockets onto the kitchen counter and creeps upstairs, planning to slip into her room and catch up on some sleep. She can leave the door cracked so Charon knows she's home when he inevitably comes to search for her.

A strange noise stops her at the top of the stairs. It comes from behind Charon's closed door. She freezes and listens, because it sounded almost like a groan of pain to her, and she knows that if Charon's sick or injured, he'll hide it from her as long as possible so she can't mother him about it. She's caught him more than once attempting to tend his own injuries and botching the whole job.

The noise comes again, a soft groan followed by a rhythmic slapping sound that gets a bit faster as she listens. She's confused for a minute, but soon enough red blossoms on her cheeks as she realizes what she's listening to. The creaking of the bed cements it.

Charon is jerking off. And she's listening to it.

As gross as it is to be standing on the stairs, listening to someone masturbate, she can't move right away because the thought of Charon doing anything remotely sexual is completely alien to her. If you'd asked her what Charon does in his free time, masturbation would not have been on the list. He doesn't sneak off when they're out in the wasteland or ask for 'alone time'. He doesn't wink at cute girls in the bar or ask for separate rooms the few times they spring for a hotel room. Sure, he wakes up with morning wood occasionally, so she's aware that he's got working equipment (and hey, it's not like she's deliberating snuggling up to him when they share a bed, she just happens to get cold easily) but even then, when he goes to the bathroom after it's just to piss.

So really, she's just learning a little more about her companion. Nothing weird about that.

Not at all.

Charon groans again, and this time there's a word somewhere in the noise, though she can't tell what it is. The slapping gets louder, and she feels a sudden warmth in her abdomen that's horridly embarrassing. She is NOT getting turned on by listening to someone masturbate, not even someone that she's been mooning over for weeks now. It's enough to make her start creeping up the stairs again, resolving to slip into her room and shut the door and try her hardest to forget this ever happened.

The word is repeated two steps up, and this time she thinks she makes it out. It sounds like...

..her name.

The third time, it's completely clear. He's moaning her name, more frantic now by the sounds coming from the room, and she's been wrong this entire time about what Charon may or may not feel about her and now she doesn't feel at all embarrassed by the fire in between her legs. Charon wants her.

She's not wasting this opportunity.

She sneaks to his door without hesitation and, before she can lose her nerve, pushes it open. Still, it's more than she can do to cross the threshold, not until she's taken the scene in. All movement stops at the first squeak of the door.

Charon is lying on his bed, torso propped up with one arm. The other hovers above his shirtless abdomen, clearly snatched away from the angry red length protruding from his unzipped pants. His face betrays a little shock before he slams the lid down and forces it blank, but he doesn't move to sit or cover himself at all, just watches her like a wary animal as her eyes trace up and down his body. She doesn't let her eyes linger below the waist because it's making it hard for her to focus. Even just the fact that she'd managed to surprise him makes a little more warmth bloom in her chest, which is a really weird thing to get excited about but she doesn't have time to be embarassed by her weirdness right now.

“Was that my name?” she asks redundantly, because she needs to know. She has to make sure.

“...yes.” Charon says steadily, his calm only faltering a little bit. His honesty is impressive but unsurprising, not when she's been traveling with him for so long. She knows him inside and out. She takes a step forward and sees the way his muscles tense, his eyes plotting out escape routes and guessing at her next move. The atmosphere is horridly awkward, and she's not sure how to fix it, so she stops again.

“How long?” she murmurs then. He understands her meaning without elaboration.

“A while. ...few months.” he says uncomfortably. Finally, he moves, pulling a sheet over his exposed lower body, and hiding his lovely cock from her hungry eyes. It's been longer for him then her then. The thought is both surprising and a little arousing. She's always been a little slow on the uptake, but when she thinks about the way he watches her and realizes what his mind might have been doing while she was sweetly oblivious, her muscles clench with a sweet rush of pleasure.

That's all it takes to get her moving again. She strides up to the edge of his bed with no hesitation, careful to block any escape route by keeping her body firmly between his nightstand and the pack he's left at the foot of the bed. When he goes to sit up, her hand is there on his chest, blocking him, and she pushes him back. He slumps back down with a little grunt and then she's on him, legs on either side of his waist and hands framing his head. She leans down to catch his ruined lips with her own and waits patiently for him to respond.

He doesn't. In fact, he doesn't do anything at all. The lips below her own are rough and warm, just like she imagined, but they might as well be stone for all the reaction she gets. So she breaks the kiss and backs off, confused by his sudden lack of interest. Was she wrong?

Charon's face is uncharacteristically open. There's a little bit of shock there, enough to let her know that she's really surprised the shit out of him. Some suspicion too, which she tries not to take offense to. She knows he can tell she's not drunk, since she hasn't fallen on her face yet (not that she doesn't do that sober), but still, he's not giving in for some reason.

“Charon,” she says, “I want this. I've wanted this for a while.”

She lets her hand cup the side of his face and draw her thumb across the exposed muscle of his cheek, wondering if she's misread the signs. He doesn't react to the touch, still like a statue beneath her body. Some guys are pickier in real life than they are in fantasy, she knows, and she hopes with a selfish desperation that Charon's not one of them, because it's going to scar her forever if she has to do the walk of shame out of his room.

Charon catches her hand in his and draws it away from his face. She lets him, but the strength in his grip tells her that he would have forced her too, even if she fought it.

“You sure, smoothskin?” he growls up to her. “Because if you tell me now you are, there's no changing your mind later. I don't play easy.”

She reads the meaning behind the rough words, the way he covers his traces of uncertainty with callousness and distance. Charon's never been good at the soft stuff, but she's pulled too many bullets out of him to be confused by it now. So she leans down and presses her forehead to his, his breath a warm cloud against her face.

“As long as it's you, and me, and this, I don't fucking care.” she breathes. His icy blue eyes lock onto hers for a long moment, and then before she can react, he has one hand on her back and he flips their position with no effort at all. Her legs react instantly and lock around his hips, her head caged in by his long arms as he leans down. She's able to take one quick breath before his lips are pressed against hers. She whimpers as his body presses down in one smooth line, chest to hips, not resting all of his weight on her but enough to feel the largeness of the man above her. His half-hard cock is pressed into her thigh and his tongue is suddenly in her mouth, swirling around hers. He explores the flat planes of her teeth and the contours of her mouth like a man taking his first breath after nearly drowning. The experience is both overwhelming and just what she imagined. He draws her lower lip into his mouth and nips sharply, which makes her gasp and arch against him.

They've only touched a few times, just brushes in tight spaces and a few hurried medical procedures where survival was paramount to touch. Now, she can press her palms to the hard planes of his arms freely, feeling the roughness where his skin has ripped and the warm wire of his muscle. There's no hesitation or disgust in her fingers; she drinks him up like a fine wine as he tilts her head to the side and bites at her pulse. The feel of teeth makes her shudder underneath him.

He slides his hands under the bottom of her shirt and begins tugging it off. She helps him pull it over her head before he loses patience and rips the t-shirt into shreds, and then his hands are wrenching the straps of her bra down off her arms, baring her breasts to cool air. At the feel of his rough lips on one nipple, she keens, long and loud. When her hips buck up and her torso writhes against his mouth, he puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her into the mattress. She feels the easy strength in his body as he holds her still and takes what he wants and it's more than a little hot.

He drags her out of her pants with little protest from her, panties following quickly behind, and she's naked except for the bra trapped around her waist. Charon moves his mouth to her other nipple and lifts his hips so he can slide one hand down her body. She gasps at the warmth of his hand between her legs, and then he is parting her lips with one finger and pressing deep inside, his finger crooked in just the right way. She squirms again, but another warning bite to her collarbone keeps her from pushing into to his hand in a quest for relief. She whimpers and scratches at his arms, but it brings a deep groan of pleasure from him instead of pain.

He opens her in sharp, swift movements; two fingers, three, and then he's practically fucking her on his massive digits as his erection grows against her leg. She wants to ask him to slow down, but she feels the wildness in his shoulders and the harshness in his breathing tells her he's already going as slow as he can. She wonders how long it's been since he last had someone underneath him. She's always been too afraid to ask, but she thinks it may have been a few decades, by the way he's rutting desperately at her leg as he struggles to prep her.

It's like being trapped under a wild animal, feeling the way he quivers under her fingertips and nearly loses control. He's a wire that's just about to snap. She loves it.

When she circles his erection with one hand and squeezes gently, he shudders against her body with a wild groan. He pushes his trousers down with one quick movement and kicks them off, so she can wrap one leg around him and squeeze. She pumps his length in her small hand, urging him to slide up her body and line himself up. He doesn't fight her, just props his body up on one elbow and removes her hand from him.

“Last chance to change your mind.” he says, his voice thick with desire, the head of his cock already nudging her in a way that makes her muscles seize. She can't think like this, feeling the way he's lined up and trembling with desire to piston forward. She nearly forgets that he even spoke.

“Would you stop if I told you to?” she asks, her own voice faulty and breathless. He looks her in the eye and lets one side of his mouth curl up in amusement.

“No.” he replies, just before his hips snap forward. Her breath catches and then she groans at the sharp pain that follows as he sinks in, but before she can catch up, his hip are already moving in a steady, relentless rhythm. It's too much, just this side of painful, but her hands grip his biceps and that grounds her against his bodily assault, and if he feels her nails digging in, he doesn't complain. Instead, he lifts his body up on his elbows so he can look down at where he's thrusting into her and lets out a low groan. The sight of it is intensely erotic, and though she knows there's no chance of her getting off this round with the rate he's going, she doesn't mind. The sweat on his face and the weight of his body on her is enough.

Before long, his rhythm gets erratic and his breathing intensifies on her neck. He thrusts twice more and then buries himself into her, sharp hipbones cutting into her thighs, and his teeth dig into the meat of her shoulder like he's trying to really take a chunk out of her. It fucking hurts, but the feeling of his cock twitching inside of her as she clenches distracts her away from the pain. He's not the only one it's been a long time for.

The throbbing in her clit reminds her that she should really make sure it's not quite as long until the next time.

When the aftershocks pass and he can finally move again, he pulls out quickly and collapses to the side of her in a boneless heap. His half-limp penis leaves a trail of slick between her thighs, but she feels no urge to clean up. She can't see his expression underneath his arm, but the crescent marks she's left on his skin make a thrill of something go through her.

“...sorry.” he says quietly to the ceiling. “I guess that wasn't very good for you.”

He goes to sit up on the bed, his eyes sliding over her without looking. There's a sudden change in the atmosphere, a tense feeling, and she knows by the way he's carefully not touching her that he's trying to give her another out, even let her pretend this never happened if that's what she wants, so she rolls over and into his side, trapping him on the bed. He could push her off, could stand up and walk out no matter what she tries to do, but instead he lets her sling one leg over his two and pillow her head on his shoulder. She traces his chest lightly, feeling the old leather of his skin against her callused fingers.

“Guess you'll have to make it up to me.” she says confidently, enjoying the ache between her thighs and the way he shifts uncomfortably as her slickness rubs off on his skin.

It's a gamble, but she wins. His mouth turns up at one side, just half a smile, and the arm under her head curls around her shoulder.

“Guess I will.” he murmurs. His large fingers brush an abused nipple, trail down her stomach, and nudge gently at the spot where she's pressed up against his thighs.

She smiles back and lifts her leg out of the way, closing her eyes. When she finds the strength to get out of bed and actually go somewhere, she's going to have a long talk with Nova about how right she was, but for now...